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The Power of Language


Mary Atwood writes The Handmaid's Tale with an acute sensitivity towards language and its power to control human thought. One can guess that Atwood structures her novel and scripts the protagonist's  thoughts knowing that a bountiful vocabulary is synonymous with conceptual freedom. When words do not exist, one cannot name an idea and thus cannot fully comprehend meaning. For example, without the arrangement of letters that make up the word "freedom" the concept itself is less concrete. The idea of freedom becomes fragmented, a discordant synthesis of feelings and experiences. 


Preceding Atwood's novel, George Orwell's fictional world in 1984 implements Newspeak, a colorless language that lacks the vocabulary necessary to inspire Oceanians to rebel. According to the Appendix which describes the language at the end of the book, Newspeak is designed to be spoken "without involving the higher brain centres at all”  and it is used to "“make all other modes of thought impossible” (Orwell, 352 & 342).


Atwood explores this idea throughout The Handmaid's Tail. The names of the handmaids are composite, including the preposition "of" (insinuating possession) and their Commander's name. The names for these women are not unique -- they place emphasis on their status as objects, mere possessions of males. In addition, these names are not permanent, but subject to change as they move form household to household. The result is that no handmaid establishes a real sense of identity. Without a name to call one's self, it is impossible to achieve full self-awareness, to unify the elements that make someone an individual under one word. Offred, the protagonists reflects, "I tell myself it doesn't matter, your name is like your telephone number, useful only to other; but what I tell myself is wrong, it does matter"(94).

In the narrative, we see the damaging effects of her anonymity through her inability to put herself in a position of possession. When she sees the Commander coming out of what she describes as her own room, she is startled: "I called it mine"(59).

 She also considers the idea that names make people and things real while considering how to address her audience. She uses "you" because "attaching a name attaches you to the world of fact, which is riskier, more hazardous" (49).

Gilead has manipulated its population with language in a variety of other ways. They have officially outlawed the word "sterile," which creates culture where all blame is placed on women. The protagonist reflects, There is no such thing as a sterile man any more, not officially. There are only women who are fruitful and women who are barren..."(71).

The women themselves are not permitted to read and must constrain themselves to a prescribed dialogue,  filled with "praise be's"and other exclamations of Christian faith. The word "FAITH" itself is the only word Offred is given to read, embroidered on the pillow in her room. These practices drill into speech and, by extension, into the mind, automatic reverence towards the government religion. By contrast, positive musical lyrics have been banned. After reciting the lyrics to "Amazing Grace" in her head, Offred explains, "Such songs are not sung any more in public, especially the ones that use words like free. They are considered too dangerous"(64). Gilead authorities eliminate the possibility that songs like these will inspire rebellion against the government and its policies.

Atwood incoorporates in references to language used in the protagonist's past to contrast the regulated vocabulary of her current life in Gilead. She marvels at the vivid figures of speech from the past. She wishes she, Rita and Cora would talk and share, using "a quaint expression you sometimes hear, from older people: I hear where you're coming from, as if the voice itself were a traveller, arriving from a distant place. Which it would be, which it is" (21). She recognizes the vitality in this expression, the distinct emotion it conveys: empathy for someone who has experienced something you have as well. This saying contrasts with the emotionally stark language regularly exchanged in Gilead. 

In one instance, I think Atwood expresses what could be the core issue of this novel in the seemingly causal context of vocabulary.  Offred reflects, "Fraternize means to behave like a brother. Luke told me that. He said there was  no corresponding word that meant to behave like a sister. Sororize, it would have to be, he said" (21). Perhaps Atwood is insinuating that, without the word to unify the idea of "behaving like a sister," love cannot exist between fellow females in the same way that it can exist between males. This is already evident in what we know of Gilead -- the Marthas, Wives, and handmaids are all at odds with each other.  I believe that the course of this book should reveal whether or not this tension can be dissolved, and if, even without the vocabulary, sisterly connection can unify these females.