The double-edged tongue

In every culture and every faith tradition, the tongue has been both revered and feared. It is a tool of expression, persuasion, comfort, and wisdom — yet also a weapon of destruction, deceit, and division.  In our current times, this paradox is more relevant than ever. In a society driven by constant communication — from political rhetoric to social media chatter — the power of words has multiplied exponentially. A single statement can ignite movements or incite mobs. A tweet can bring down reputations; a speech can unite a fractured people, and all of it begins with the tongue. The tongue, when used wisely, becomes man’s greatest ally. It conveys love, calms tempers, spreads knowledge, and builds bridges. In a divided world, sincere conversation can be a balm for wounds that policies fail to heal. Dialogue between adversaries can avert war. Encouragement from a mentor can uplift a generation. A heartfelt apology, delivered with humility, can repair years of estrangement. This is the tongue as friend — gentle, thoughtful, and constructive. However, turn the tongue careless, and it quickly becomes the enemy. Words can humiliate, provoke, mislead, and harm. Hate speech and misinformation — often delivered with calculated ease — have the capacity to radicalize, destabilize, and destroy. In our region, we have seen the cost of incendiary language — how religious intolerance, ethnic chauvinism, or political hate speech fan flames that engulf lives and communities. Often, it begins with just a few unchecked words. In Pakistan, the need for linguistic responsibility is urgent. Whether in media, mosques, or parliament, we must learn the discipline of speaking with care. Our collective discourse is increasingly combative, polarized, and coarse. Civility has become a weakness; restraint, a rarity. Yet, in the long arc of history, nations that mastered the art of reasoned speech — and suppressed the allure of demagoguery — have been the ones to endure and progress. It is time we taught ourselves — and our children — not just how to speak, but when to speak, and more importantly, when to remain silent. Schools teach grammar and rhetoric, but seldom emphasize empathy and responsibility. Public discourse must evolve beyond point scoring and hatred. The old wisdom reminds us: “Speech is silver, but silence is golden.” But perhaps the truer wisdom today is this: speech is only silver when it is spoken with sincerity and sense. The tongue can be our greatest servant or our worst master. In a nation as vibrant and diverse as ours, the choice between those two paths will shape our collective destiny. When Malala Yousafzai addressed the United Nations in 2013, her words were clear. “One child, one teacher, one book, and one pen can change the world,” she said. Her voice became a symbol of hope — not just for girls in Pakistan but also for children everywhere. Similarly, Abdul Sattar Edhi’s few public statements reflected a deep humility and moral clarity that Pakistan sorely needs today. “Empty words and long praises do not impress God. Show Him your faith by your deeds,” he once said. His tongue, quiet and deliberate, was always the nation’s friend. So, what can we do? News channels must lead by example. Sensationalism may bring ratings, but it erodes public trust. Media houses should invest in fact checking, ensure balanced debates, and refrain from inviting guests who thrive on provocation. We teach English and Urdu grammar, but not the ethics of speech. Schools should introduce courses that train students in listening, debate, empathy, and respectful disagreement — all crucial skills for democratic citizenship. In the age of WhatsApp forwards and Twitter trends, Pakistan urgently needs national awareness campaigns around misinformation, hate speech, and responsible conduct.