The Keys to Words

Is it me, or have words suddenly gained a lot of power depending on how they’re used? Take the word “Samaritan” from the series called Person of Interest, starring one of my favourite actors, Michael Emerson. You’d think a Samaritan would be a person or a thing that was selflessly helpful. A lot of us grew up with the story of the Good Samaritan, and that’s what informs our understanding of the word.

You might ask what Samaritan means in the drama series. For those who don’t immediately go to Google and look it up, stay with me. This series is rich with ideas about what kind of AI humanity needs. On the one hand, Finch, aka Michael Emerson, designs an AI system that forgets everything it was exposed to daily at midnight, which hampers its ability to learn. Finch’s team receives a number, identifies the threat, and protects the human unless the human decides otherwise. The other system presented is an all-powerful AI that tells humans what to do, aided by the villain, John Nolan, who is the top human in charge of operations. The programmers designed this system to eliminate threats at whatever cost to human lives, the earth, or structures. You can count on the definition of “threat” changing, too.

Samaritan, the computer program that secretly takes its cues from the villain, is being marketed as the world’s savior. Pretty quickly, the plot revolves around two super-powered AI systems that vie for supremacy. Both AI programs do good work; it’s what they do to people who oppose them that differs. Should AI be the god that makes most humans feel safe; or should humans limit AI? It’s a question for our place in time and history, but this post is about words, their meaning, and how it’s important to understand not only what people say, but what they actually mean.

We have a responsibility, as humans who use words, to take responsibility for what we say. Unlike a progressive AI program, people rarely see the end result of the words they use. Children give nick-names to their classmates, not realizing the damage those names can do. I was called all the nick-names with the name “Alice” in it: Alice in Wonderland, Alice the Goon, the big fat baboon. Later in life, I was called Alice B. Toklas (think brownies), with innuendos about getting anything you want from Alice’s Restaurant, Alice Blue-Gown with comparisons to Eleanor Roosevelt, and Alice, Alice, Who the F**** is Alice. I ignored the names, but some of them caused unwanted hurt feelings.

In my book, I write about my mother, who told me I looked like Eleanor Roosevelt. As a 17—year-old it pleased me to resemble a famous American President’s wife until I found pictures of her. That comment stayed with me for decades, whispering in my ear that even my mother thought I was ugly. I don’t think she realized what that casual comment did to the image I held of myself, but it underscores how important it is “to be responsible hearers, speakers, and doers of the word.”1 This brings us to the first key to words—precision.

Precision is, after all, not only a form of responsibility and a kind of pleasure, but an instrument of compassion. To be precise requires care, time, and attention to the person, place, or process being described.2

We need to be more precise in our use of words. Many writers and word nerds use our favourite words because we love them, not for clarity. I’ve done that. Marilyn McEntyre schools us again:

Precise language surprises like a dancer’s extra second of stillness in mid-air; word and experience come together in an irreproducible moment of epiphanic delight. The next time the word appears, it may have a different feel or color or emphasis. Contexts change; usage changes; assigned meaning shifts; words accrue rings of history like trees and become more dense with life.3

Words used with compassion feel better. If my mother had used the words intelligence and ability to think deeply like Eleanor Roosevelt, think about what whispers I would have heard in my ear growing up then. I know my mother would never have said the words she did if she had known how devastating they would be in my life. She was a kind woman who said something without thinking, or she was thinking of a different context. I didn’t question her about it either. However, I learned the second key—compassion—and the difference this very human emotion makes when we use it in our expression of words. Compassion makes us pause to search for the words that lift up, not tear down.

Something people don’t think about engaging when speaking with others or writing is intuition, the last key to using words. Intuition demands that we pause and listen to what’s being said or what needs to be written to help others understand our words better. It is the nudge that takes us in a new direction, or brings another word to mind that fits better. Intuition brings nuance, vision, and memories to the table.

Along the way, a single word can open a door. If you’re reading slowly, listening to be addressed, one word or another will summon you. Those are the places where, instead of going on, you go in. You pause. You do that countercultural thing you can’t do at the movies: you stop. You go into a zone. You let associations come up. You watch the dots connect and a constellation of meaning and message occur in ways that are often subtle, intuitive, and hard to track, whose character is that of gift or epiphany.4

If none of this resonates with you, I hope these three keys. enhance your experience with words and spark a moment of profound understanding. In the spirit of bringing precision, compassion, and intuition to my words, I found this quote by intuitive Ronnie Ann Ryan:

Your soul is the evolving storyteller of your existence. …your higher self is the steady lighthouse guiding you home. And you, in this beautiful, messy, miraculous human form, are the bridge between them. You get to tap into both. You get to feel and know. You get to heal and lead.5

So, should AI be the all-seeing eye that makes most humans feel safe; or should humans limit AI? Taken to the ultimate conclusion, the drama Person of Interest should conclude with a giant war between these two AI gods. Is there a third option? I don’t know yet how this series ends; however, there are two questions to be asked:

Why do we have to choose between the two?

Is it possible for an AI program to work with emotion, creativity, healing, intuition, synchronicity, and stillness?

I don’t believe so, but the answer is to recognize the responsibility of the “beautiful, messy, miraculous human form” that we are and take our place as leaders and healers instead of being cast aside as obsolete. We would do well to keep learning how to use our words with clarity, precision, and intuition. As Ronnie explains, we “are the bridge between our souls and our higher self.” We can’t program AI to lead and heal, nor do they possess consciousness, souls, or intuition. The keys to words lie solidly in human hands.

1 Marilyn McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, 2nd Edition (Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2021), p. 53. Kindle Edition.

2 Marilyn McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, 2nd Edition, p. 49.

3 Marilyn McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, 2nd Edition, p. 53-54.

4 Marilyn McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, 2nd Edition, p. 68.

5 Ronnie Ann Ryan, Soul Vs. Higher Self—Who’s In Charge?, https://intuitiveedge.biz/soul-vs-higher-self-whos-in-charge/