The Talk

Sex.  It’s the great forbidden topic.  This extends to the truly staggering number of words that have been coopted, either as slang or circumlocutions, to discuss anything related to sex.  The other day I wanted to use the phrase, “finger in the dike.”  I was thinking of that illustration of a little Dutch boy preventing a flood from some of my childhood reading, but I quickly realized that it could be construed as insensitive.  When I was a child I wasn’t like other kids.  Some referred to my interests as “queer,” although I am not a homosexual and am not afraid to admit that I have many friends who are.  That word, though, can’t be used without being thought to refer to sex.  While this is true of many words that were once slurs, such as “gay” and the whole arsenal of derogatory words associated with denigrating our sisters and brothers, other—more neutral—words also fall into this category.

The sheer number of words we use to refer to our genital organs would stun alien (off-world) linguists, perhaps confirming, in their own minds, the advantages of telepathy.  Who isn’t slightly embarrassed when someone introduces himself as “Dick”?  I remember a good friend, who happened to be a bishop (now, sadly, departed), who introduced himself to me as “Dick.”  (I was a seminary professor at the time.)  I had trouble calling him that, although we met on many informal occasions and he even wrote me letters of reference.  Sometimes I ponder how sex has become the most talked about stigma there is.  I’ve been on a private campaign against stigmas lately.  I know this is a fight I cannot win, but still, isn’t it worth talking about?

Probably the most frequently used adjective, among many subcultures, is the f-bomb.  No matter how many times we hear it used (and books have been written on it), it always manages to shock.  Even the word itself has spun a whole effing set of circumlocutions to refer to the word itself.  This is truly a remarkable state of affairs.  I’ve studied linguistics enough to know that some topics are like this, but I’m hard pressed to think of any others that reach the level of sex.  Many are the times when I want to use a phrase I was taught as a kid that I now have to resist.  I had a colleague once respond with open-mouthed shock as I used a word in public that remains perfectly innocent (which is how I was using it) but which could be construed the wrong way. Such is our world.  Ironically, you can see sex in the media quite easily.  Movies, television, the internet.  Just don’t talk about it.

Photo by Gama. Films on Unsplash

Artificial Ugarit

Yesterday a friend pointed me to an article in the MIT News entitled “Computer automatically deciphers ancient language.” The language in question is Ugaritic. The article, by Larry Hardesty, narrates how three computer scientists have developed a program that may potentially decipher as yet non-readable languages. Ugaritic was chosen as a test-case because it has already been decoded and since it meets the specific criteria needed for the program to work. Results from the program could be measured against the standard translations already produced by specialists. Perhaps Ugarit will have another day in the sun.

The larger issue, of course, is technology and its role in understanding the human endeavor. Written texts are an extension of the human mind and those of us who practice it copiously know that the written piece is a piece of the author. Ancient texts may not suffer the same burden of individuality – some undoubtedly were rote pieces set to clay only after a lengthy oral life – nevertheless they participate in the constant paronomasia that is the human psyche. We invent the myths that Ilimilku and his colleagues inscribed so carefully over three millennia ago. Computers may indeed aid us in unlocking their often obtuse forms of expression, but how close will they put us to laughing at Ilimilku’s jokes or wondering deeply at his profundities?

Having been involved in a research project involving computerization and the Ugaritic texts (I was an editor in the now defunct Ugaritic Tablets Digital Edition) I am very aware of the benefits that technology brings to the table. As a sometime writer, I am also aware of the ironies involved. Our ancient predecessors, humans like ourselves, wrote texts that they considered worthy of preservation. Their civilization collapsed. Their language died. We rediscovered it and eagerly wanted to know what they had to say. We, however, have lost the ability to understand. Computers have taken on a dominant role in disseminating the written word. They daily participate in the human experience. Perhaps some day it will be AI that is scrutinizing our whimsical words and trying to decipher what in the world we meant. When they succeed they will find we are not that far from where Ilimilku began.