This week I’ve been thinking a lot about words.

Maybe it was listening to Mamdani’s powerful speech when he was elected. Maybe it was the training that I attended this week, which revolved around how to deal with difficult patrons and how to de-escalate the situation. Or maybe it was the difficulty I had in writing a piece of dialogue in the book I’m writing.

Who knows. But I was thinking that words have enormous power. They can really affect someone. They can hurt, they can trigger trauma, they can make us totally lose it in a fit of laughter and they can make us feel a really strong connection.

I don’t think it’s an accident that in J.R.R. Tolkien’s mythology, the creation of that whole universe begins with words. The Ainur sing for Iluvatar, the main God in Tolkien’s mythology, and with their songs they weave themes and they describe the world that will be. Iluvatar listens to their themes, he adds some too, for example the creation of the elves, and then once he is pleased he says, “Eä!” which is to say “let it be” and the world came to existence.

In Ursula K Le Guin’s Earthsea series, magic revolves around understanding the real, or true name of things. Le Guin doesn’t give a full explanation but the book conveys the idea that everything in the universe has an original true name, knowing that name gives you power and dominion over them, but this is a power that we must understand and use with responsibility, which is what wizards must learn to do.

I find Le Guin’s conception of the power of words translates to our world (minus the magic, I suppose). Words are incredibly powerful and we must learn them, understand them and then use them responsibly. And, yet, we always encounter people who speak without thinking, without realising the effect their words are having on others and are quick to say: “It’s just a word mate” or “it’s just words.”

I scribbled some words on paper a few years ago along these lines.

"Words" you say
"they're only words” 

But they can fan the flames of fear inside,
turn kindness into greed, day into night,
fight injustice, start rebellions, bring light.

"Words," you insist 
"they're only words.”

But powerful empires have collapsed,
great minds have unravelled, gone mad,
fanatics have done unthinkable acts.

“Words,” you scream
“they’re just words!”

But friends and relatives have gone to war,
justice has been eroded, rotten to the core,
refugees have been imprisoned away, offshore.

“Words…” you say,
running out of words.

As if they could not break hearts and minds.
As if they could not inspire dreams,
smother hope, condemn souls to death,
bring meaning to the lost, give a new breath.

Never underestimate the power of words.

Having said all that, maybe words do act like magic. After all, how is it possible that certain words trigger such strong emotions?

And thinking about magical words, I often go back to the Basque language (which we call euskera), which, to me, happens to have some sort of poetic alchemy.

Just a bit of background first, though. The Basque language is a mystery to linguists. A language spoken in a small part of, what is now the north of Spain and south of France. Despite many attempts the Basque language has not been linked with any other language in the world. In fact, Basque is the only surviving pre-Indo-European language of Western Europe; older than the Roman Empire, Latin and Greek.

Consequently, we do not feel neither Spanish, nor French. We are Basque people, which in our language is euskaldun. Interesting, word, because the meaning of euskaldun is “one who speaks Basque.” In our own language, a Basque person is one who speaks Basque. So, for example, my son, who was born in Australia, is euskaldun, and my wife, who’s family background is from England, Scotland and Germany, is euskaldun because she made the effort, she put in the hard work and speaks Basque.

It’s easy not to analyse one’s own language but since my wife started learning it and we’ve had lots of conversations about different words, their meaning and translation, I’ve discovered that the Basque often creates words by fusing different elements together.

I remember explaining to my wife very early on that to be in love in Basque is to be maiteminduta. Maite means love. Min means pain. Duta adds the action of being hit or stricken. So, all put together maiteminduta is to be stricken by love.

A cemetery, is an hilerria. Hil means dead. Herria means town or village. Hilerria then, translate as village of the dead. And we name the moon ilargi, from hil meaning dead and argi meaning light. So the moon for us, is the dead light, or light of death. Whichever you prefer.

And continuing with death. The Basque Country is made of mountains and forests, and it’s very lush and green, so no wonder that a desert for us is a basamortu, putting together baso, which means forest and mortu from the latin mortem. So a basamortu is a dead forest.

Past the desert, there lies a volcano, which we call sumendi. Su means fire and mendi means mountain. When put together it means a mountain of fire, which is exactly what a volcano is.

When we talk of the east, we say ekialde. Eki is sun and alde is the side. When put together it refers to the side where the sun rises.

Continuing our journey, as we face the sun, we find a rainbow, which we call ortzadar. Ortzi means sky and adar means horn. So a rainbow in the Basque Country is a horn in the sky. And in a similar fashion, using ortzi, again, for sky and muga which can mean border (as in the border between countries) or limit (the end of a zone or area), we have ortzimuga, where sky and land (or sea) meet, which is to say the horizon.

We may never reach the horizon but we arrived back to our town and as we enter the old familiar streets, we remember how much we value our neighbours and community. Two key words stand out. The first one is bizilagun, derived from bizi which means life and lagun which means friend. So a neighbour for us is a bizilagun, a friend in (our everyday) life.

Even more, in the Basque Country, like in many other places in the world, there was (and thankfully there still is, especially in smaller towns and rural areas) an old and important tradition for auzolan. Auzo means neighbourhood and lan means work. Auzolan literally means neighbourhood work, and it’s very important in our culture to help and contribute to the community.

And, of course, we do this musutruk, wich is to receive or give something for free. Musu (sometimes written muxu, with the x pronounced as the english sh) means kiss. Truk means in exchange. So, put together musutruk means in exchange of a kiss. I don’t expect anything, I’m giving it for free, maybe just a friendly kiss on the cheek between friends. Musutruk.

And, back home, in our community, we’re almost at the end of this journey. We may do auzolan in our community for free, but we also have our ogibide. Ogi means bread. Bide means path, road or way. So ogibide, all together means, the way to bread. English has something similar in the word breadwinner, but the importance of bread may be lost to some. I know plenty of people in Australia who can have lunch and dinner without bread but a Basque person cannot ever sit down to eat without bread.

Now that we know what ogibide is, I don’t make a living for writing, this is just something I do for fun (and for my own sanity). My profession in English is librarian, which sounds fine but it sounds so much more epic in Basque and I love saying it. I’m a liburuzain. Liburu means book, clearly derived from Latin liber and zain means to guard or take care of. Put together, a liburuzain is a guardian of books, one who takes care of books and protects them. Beautiful.

But perhaps, the most beautiful examples of poetry in one single word are two that I took for granted.

When a woman gives birth, for the act of giving birth, we say erditu. Erdi means half, -tu gives us the action. Erditu all together then, refers to the way the woman separates from the child that was inside her for nine months. To give birth is to cut what was one, to separate so the child may begin a life of their own.

But let’s finish this journey with a word that is debated which refers to the organ that keeps us going all through life. The word for heart is bihotz. As the story that many like to tell goes, bi means two and hots means sounds. All put together bihotz means two beats or two sounds, clearly referencing the sound of the beating heart.

As I said, this is open to debate, and many think it derives from the Greek bios which means life. This last word, may be disputed, because no language, no matter how ancient, no matter how unique, can survive in isolation. But, whether it’s true or not, I love to add bihotz, to that tradition of alchemical words in the Basque language, because bihotz is absolute poetry packed into one word with six letters, one of which, the H, is silent.

TREATY

Talking about powerful words, this week Australia’s first treaty was signed in Victoria. The first of its kind and, hopefully, not the last. It could just be seen as words on paper. But this treaty is the culmination of years of hard work. As Assembly Co-chair Rueben Berg said:

The Treaty we have signed is full of hard fought words. Every single line of the Treaty is imbued with the spirit of our people who have pushed us to do this work.

We’ll see what the future brings but to see Victoria’s First Nations Assembly and representatives of the government signing the treaty is momentous and, hopefully, the beginning of a new era.

The Yoorrook: Truth Be Told report that was published in July opened with words that I found incredibly stirring and powerful:

We were told this land was empty. A myth stitched into maps and laws,
into classrooms and monuments. But
the truth was always here—in the
earth, the rivers, the sky. In culture forbidden
but not forgotten. In the whispers that survived
when language was punished.
The history of this land is bound by two cloaks.
One is warm, woven from fibres of care and
culture, wrapped close around Country and
kin. The other is a heavy cloak of forgetting and
silence: truth draped in denial. This second
cloak was meant to smother. But even under its
weight, memory moved; quiet but alive.

What is now called Victoria existed long
before its name. It was held, sung, walked and
remembered. Knowledge was carried in story
and ceremony; in hands that lit fires the right
way, that harvested without greed. This was not
emptiness. It was presence, deep and abiding.
The hatted strangers came from all directions
under the southern sun. For half a century,
word of their arrival had spread along ancient
songlines. The moment of contact may not
have been a surprise—but it was seismic.
The forever-point.

I hope that one day, the Basque Country can have its Yoorrrook Report. I hope one day we can exercise the right to self determination.

In the meantime, I will celebrate this treaty in Victoria. It’s been a long hard road, there’s a lot of work still to do, but Victoria’s First Nations have worked hard for this victory and it must be celebrated. And, may it also be an example to follow for other states in Australia.

KICKING AROUND THE NET

• I didn’t see this coming. Totally unexpected but the American Library Association has published a press release explaining the donation and support of Cards Against Humanity and I love the fact that the game maker is supporting the ALA’s efforts against censorship for the freedom to read.

• I recently read Karen Hao’s The Empire of AI: Inside the Reckless Race for Total Domination, quite a tome but totally engrossing. It’s a definite must read to understand how AI was developed, in what ways it’s now following the steps of colonialism and why we need to seriously resist the way it’s being developed and forced onto everything and everyone. AI is not evil but general purpose AI as it’s being rolled out by the big tech companies definitely is. Now I think I should read If Anyone Builds, Everyone Dies: The Case Against Superintelligent AI by Eliezer Yudkowsky and Nate Soares.

• In related news, it’s great to see communities starting to push back against the use of generative and general purpose AI in schools and universities. Here’s a recent article that makes excellent points and outlines some of those concerns and takeaways from the community of Malden in Massachusetts.

• We’ve seen lots of data breaches lately: Discord, Optus, Qantas… it’s hard to keep count and remember them all. When you ask anyone if they care about their privacy everyone will say yes. And yet, we don’t seem too alarmed by the data breaches. We continue to use these services and platforms, we continue to click on Accept without reading all the terms and conditions, and we just hope for the best. Rohan Grover and Josh Widera explore this issue with some great data and insights and they say that “when people are made to feel as if data collection and abuse are inevitable, they are more likely to accept it – even if it jeopardizes their safety or basic rights.” It’s up to us though, to resist this and to push back against the media and big tech narrative that all this is inevitable.

• We have heard it so often in the last two three decades when debating climate change action. We know that mining and fossil fuels must be phased out. The science is clear, but an insidious narrative was built through lobby groups and the media around all the jobs they provide and the loss of jobs, in order to justify inaction. And now, the tech industry is following the same playbook with Microsoft and Google claiming that data centres provide thousands of jobs. The problem is that when you look into their own data, their claims don’t hold water.

• What’s happening at the BBC has been orchestrated by right wing forces and media, it’s disturbing and has serious implications for Australia. There’s no doubt that the Panorama program made a mistake in not making it clear how they had edited Trump’s speech. But the BBC (like all other media) makes tonnes of mistakes all the time. This time though, right wing forces have seen an opportunity to either weaken the BBC more and make it move more to the right or to totally ruin it. We should be concerned, because this is something that right wing forces in Australia such as Trump aligned One Nation and the IPA, have long wanted and will definitely try to replicate here. What’s needed is reform so the BBC and ABC boards are even more independent and never appointed by the government.

PHOTO OF THE DAY

Since I talked about the Basque Country quite a bit this week, I thought I’d share a photo of taken in the Basque Pyrenees, which is the border between the Basque provinces in the Spanish side and the Basque provinces in the French side. The pottoka is an endangered, semi-feral breed of ponies typical to the Basque Country pyrenees. I took this photo a while back. I miss the Basque mountains.