Dear readers of the Oscar Wilde Blog.de,

for some months you have been reading posts by Fenna Reus, both in English and in German. She is now a student of English and Political Sciences at University, and this time, with the 125th anniversary of Oscar Wilde’s death approaching, I asked her to read and study The Picture of Dorian Gray in its uncensored wording from 1890, edited by myself, and relate the novel to a critical study of Toxic Language by Monika Schwarz-Friesel which I read in its first edition some years ago, which made me change my approach to translating the scenes where the Jewish director of a London theatre and his associates appear. Since, the rise of antisemitism in the streets of Berlin and many other German cities following the attack of Israel by Hamas terrorists on 7 October 2023 has made many more people reflect on how Western societies at large have become susceptible to anti-Jewish and antisemitic ideas over the past two millennia. It is thanks to Toxic Language that Wilde’s idea about verbal influence can be put into place, and Fenna Reus takes advantage of her reading of an essay by Austrian writer Adalbert Stifter – also referred to in her post – to develop an idea of how to brace ourselves for using words more responsibly on the one hand and for developing the art of apologizing immediately once we have committed an unpardonable verbal slip. So please enjoy and pass on her post “Words that Shape Us” to other interested parties,

all best wishes,

Jörg W. Rademacher

 

 

 

Words that Shape Us

Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! (The Picture of Dorian Gray, p. 33)

Words carry weight. Just consider how political rhetoric can mask intent, like when the German chancellor Friedrich Merz used the term “Stadtbild” (city-scape) to justify limiting immigration, sparking fierce debate over whether he was subtly invoking ideas of ethnic homogeneity. Across Europe and the U.S.A., even a single word can ignite controversy and reveal deep societal tensions. Even though more and more people commit to mindful language use, toxic thought patterns are stored in many people’s minds. From there it is only a conscious or unconscious step to verbalize those toxic ideas.

Already in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray what appears today as topical is foreshadowed: language as an instrument of power. Dorian Gray undergoes a development from a young man respected for his behaviour and appearance to a murderer. The question arises how such a development is possible. The answer lies in the intellectual influence of Sir Henry, Dorian Gray’s lifelong friend. More precisely: in the toxic language Sir Henry addresses to Gray.

Berlin Linguist Monika Schwarz-Friesel compares, in her book Toxische Sprache und geistige Gewalt – Wie judenfeindliche Denk- und Gefühlsmuster seit Jahrhunderten unsere Kommunikation prägen (Toxic Language and Intellectual Violence – How Anti-Jewish Patterns of Thought and Feeling Have Shaped Our Communication for Centuries), antisemitism to a poison that runs through our patterns of thinking and language, and she characterizes language as an instrument, calling everyday communication the “Tatort” (crime scene, p. 8) of antisemitism. It is Sir Henry’s communication and choice of words that move Dorian Gray to his deeds.

How does this poison get into people’s heads? And once it has arrived there, what does it do to their thoughts?

Through daily communication values, ideas, evaluations and the like are constantly reinforced. That need not be bad per se. The endeavour to communicate “neutrally” is a utopia. It is not only about the connotation of single words, but also about the fact that a verbal utterance can never be detached from the modes of thought represented within the respective speech community.

Language cannot be value-free, and that in itself is not fundamentally problematic. It becomes problematic when toxic thoughts are verbalized through language and thereby stabilized. According to Schwarz-Friesel, language is necessary because otherwise we could hardly form categories like “Jewishness,” on the basis of which people can be discriminated against. This does not deny other influences on conceivable prejudices, but it clarifies that a large part of toxic thinking would hardly be conceivable without language. So if we hear the word “Jew” used as an insult, our brain reacts before we can rationalize or reflect on the utterance. In the moment we ask ourselves whether an antisemitic remark was antisemitic, the poison has already arrived. Therefore, for the question of what is antisemitic, the speaker’s intention is irrelevant, because the brain does not distinguish whether someone was joking or meant it seriously: the poison has already taken effect. “Wahr ist nicht, was A sagt, sondern, was B versteht” (True is not what A says, but what B understands, Toxische Sprache, p. 86) is thus a relevant principle for judging utterances.

This is how toxic ideas enter people’s heads. This is not meant as a fundamental accusation against anyone, because this process is often beyond immediate control.

What does the poison do once it has reached thought? In the example of “Jew” used as an insult, a narrative takes shape. “Jewish” is still associated today with malice, stinginess, or greed when corresponding linguistic schemes are repeated. These attributions structure perception and expectations and thereby create the basis for discrimination.

How exactly do these mechanisms affect Dorian Gray?

Dorian is manipulated linguistically by Sir Henry, who, according to the Basil Hallward, “has a very bad influence over all his friends” (p. 31). Sir Henry addresses Dorian with language that is at once intellectual, ironic, and dangerous. He questions moral values, praises hedonism, that is, the pursuit of pleasure and beauty, as a life principle, and speaks of moral transgressions with lightness and elegance. His language works because it sounds seductive.

Dorian Gray repeatedly seeks out conversation with Sir Henry after decisive events, for example after the suicide of his fiancée Sybil Vane (cf. The Picture of Dorian Gray, pp. 87/88). Sir Henry’s stance relativizes moral standards and presents self-realization as the supreme goal. Through repeated suggestions previously held norms are re-framed: actions appear as expressions of individuality rather than moral failings. Dorian internalizes this language bit by bit. His perception of the world and his self-image shift from a morally oriented person to someone driven only by self-preservation and beauty.

Sir Henry’s influence does not work through single striking sentences alone, but through a system of formulations, attitudes, and evaluations that are constantly repeated. His dialogues with Gray are lessons in aestheticism, cynicism, and the relativization of moral standards. They frame action as an expression of self-realization and thus seemingly free it from social responsibility. In this way previously unthinkable deeds become linguistically available and emotionally attractive. Conscience is not simply broken; it is linguistically reshaped.

At first, Dorian does try to deal critically with what Sir Henry tells him. He wonders whether the book Sir Henry gave him harms him. After he parts from Sybil Vane he does not at first seek Sir Henry’s company, but eventually he fully adopts his thoughts.

Sir Henry claims that the suicide “is something to [him] quite beautiful […] because women have wonderfully primitive instincts” (p. 87). He also compares Dorian’s and Sybil’s love story to a play that one could watch on stage. Not once does he make Dorian responsible for the suicide, even though it follows from Dorian’s abrupt statement that Sybil had “killed [his] love” (p. 72) through her poor acting.

At first Dorian shows remorse, but Sir Henry’s influence turns guilt into self-justification. Without him Dorian would not have been able to articulate his thoughts. Words gave him access to his thoughts (cf. p. 88).

From this arises a central insight: language is necessary to gain access to one’s own feelings by naming thoughts and sensations. Humanity consists of the interplay of consciousness and perception, of the urge to make sense of impressions. Some experiences take us to the limits of what we can describe, like witnessing a solar eclipse, a natural phenomenon that reveals our own insignificance.

 

In the essay Die Sonnenfinsternis am 8. Juli 1842 (The Solar Eclipse on 8^th July 1842) the Austrian writer Adalbert Stifter (1805-1868) writes that one can “nur das Gesehene malen, aber schlecht, das Gefühlte noch schlechter, aber gar nicht die namenlos tragische Musik von Farben und Lichtern, die durch den ganzen Himmel liegt” (... only paint what is seen, poorly; the felt, even worse; but not at all the namelessly tragic music of colours and lights that lies across the whole sky; Natur Gewalt Tode Korrespondenzen, S. 69). The attempt to put the unspeakable into words is thus deeply human: words provide footing where experience overwhelms.

This need to order feelings linguistically is taken from Dorian Gray by Sir Henry. He loses his own access to his feelings because Sir Henry always supplies him with words and interpretations. This leads Dorian to the statement: “I am a man now. I have new passions, new thoughts, new ideas” (p. 95). What in truth is an indoctrination by Sir Henry appears to Dorian as personal development.

How harmful this influence really was is shown by Dorian’s internalized thoughts and his actions: he experiences evil as a means to fulfil his notions of beauty (cf. p. 131). These are Sir Henry’s thoughts, who advocates for the self-development of the individual without fear of moral ideas (cf. p. 165).

Dorian’s actions reflect this view: he breaks off his engagement, becomes cynical, and finally it is not he who ages but his portrait, the visible sign of his inner moral decay. At first he is horrified by Sybil’s suicide, but soon condemns it as “terribly pathetic” (p. 84). Over time, Dorian becomes notorious for his scandals; the climax is the murder of Basil Hallward, the painter of the portrait, who repeatedly challenges Dorian morally.

The Picture of Dorian Gray vividly shows how harmful linguistic influences operate and why they are so dangerous: they leave little room for critical reflection because one is exposed to their effects immediately. One would have to withdraw completely from all social contacts to be certain of never taking on such ways of thinking. That is practically impossible and not a personal failure. Becoming aware of one’s own thoughts and language use does not mean that one must forget the historical connotations of certain terms or shall no longer be able to name associations with it. It also does not mean never using formulations unaware of what one is doing. Awareness is an attitude of responsibility that shows itself in admitting mistakes and learning from them. Apologizing for a statement later and taking responsibility is not a flaw but a necessary step toward an honest rather than merely performative engagement with one another.

Closely connected to this are two often-misunderstood points:

first, linguistic influence is not per se negative. Rhetoric can connect people, create solidarity, and make concepts like solidarity or tolerance effective.

Second, education and intelligence do not automatically protect against this influence. Neuro-biologically we react to linguistic images before rational reflection sets in. Therefore two mistakes can occur: careless language use and the erroneous assumption that one is immune to suggestive images. It is precisely this self-assurance that makes one vulnerable. Susceptibility to manipulative formulations is not an exclusive trait of extremists or populists. It affects us all – including, sorry for this repetition, educated and intelligent people.

Therefore, in discourse we should do two things:

First, use language consciously and look out for one another. Offer criticism when expressions are outdated or hurtful.

Second, cultivate a culture of forbearance: problematic ways of thinking and speaking are more widespread than we like to admit, so good will matters more than perfection. This does not exclude accountability but connects it with the goal of perceiving each other as human and not remaining stuck in our learning.

Fenna Reus