Sticks and stones may break my bones but Ofcom’s “offensive” words can’t hurt me
When a member of staff at Edinburgh’s Waverley station accosted me for walking up the wrong ramp during the last lockdown, I asked to see his boss.
I think, therefore, I meet the criteria for a “Karen”, the relatively recently coined collective term for women who are typically middle-class (or is it middle-aged?), entitled and always demanding to speak to the manager.
I was at it again this week. When my daughter said her calls to report a broken washing machine to her landlord went unanswered, I promised to give him a piece of my mind. This, apparently, is classic Karen behaviour, but since a woman who stands up for herself (or others) is a target for ridicule, Karen is seen as a pejorative moniker.
Ofcom, the broadcast watchdog, has added the word to its latest list of offensive language following research with focus groups.
Karen joins other favourites that have crept into the lexicon of late, such as “snowflake” (overly sensitive youngster), “remoaner” (anti-Brexiteer who can’t accept the 2016 referendum result), “gammon” (middle-aged man on the right who is red-faced with rage), and even “boomer” (out of touch Baby Boomer).
Ofcom said it is trying to protect audiences and updates its problem words every five years to keep pace with trends. The new list covers mainly political terms, and unlike racial or most gender abuse, which is outlawed, these words are not banned, just flagged up as potentially upsetting to viewers and listeners. But are they, really? Even Ofcom says, “there is no absolute right not to be offended by things broadcast on TV and radio.”
“Consistent with rights to freedom of expression, broadcasters can include material in their programmes that is potentially offensive – but, to stay within our rules, they must make sure they provide sufficient context and adequate protection to audiences,” said its report.
Generalisations can be tedious but serve a purpose as social and political shorthand. The word “Nat”, meaning Scottish Nationalist, has made it onto the Ofcom danger list but is simply diminutive and widely used without apology north of the border.
There is also a word for its opposite, “Yoon”, which may have been included by Ofcom for balance, but is new to me, despite more than 20 years living in Scotland and supporting the Union, and certainly not as rude as other constitutional barbs.
One of the worst of which is “Quisling”, occasionally hurled at Scots who reject the secessionist cause and akin to “traitor”, as in the Norwegian politician Vidkun Quisling who became a Nazi collaborator.
Often it is not the word that offends but the people using it. Scots can call themselves Jocks, and Jocks is the name Scottish soldiers are called by their officers, but that doesn’t mean the English can get away with bandying it about.
Sometimes what is intended as an insult is worn as a badge of honour. Aberdonians were resentful when they were first called sheep shaggers by Central Belt Scots, but now many Aberdeen football fans wear sheep costumes to show they don’t care.
Karen is deployed by men as a sexist slur, wrote the feminist Julie Bindel in the Daily Telegraph this week, and of course, it is, but women call each other Karens too, sometimes in jest. And is it any worse than, say, the more dated Essex Girl? And what about the Blonde, which was what I answered to in one London newsroom, and which spawned an entire genre of “humour” in the era of the Blonde Joke?
In both cases, the caricature was based on female stupidity, so assertive Karens could be regarded as something of an advance for women.
In the days when I was the Blonde, my colleagues (male and female) were Bingo, Blackie (on account of his hair, not his skin), Dolly (a chap), Snotty and Stumps, to mention but a few. Individual nicknames are more likely than generics to be terms of endearment, but they all have in common that we do not choose them. Whether an offence is taken may depend on how fitting they feel.
Higher standards are expected in broadcasting than in real life and we tend to be more affronted by a slip of the tongue over the airwaves, where it can be regulated, than in the pub or office, where we have to defend ourselves.
But perhaps the most striking point about Ofcom’s new naughty words is that, in contrast to its long list of forbidden anatomical terms and swear words, few people would recognise them, let alone use them in everyday conversation.
If the meaning is lost on most of us, then the slight rather loses its sting. There is nothing here to get exercised about, even if you are a Karen.