'Shirtfront' is word of the year? What makes Abbott's linguistic inventions stick?
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Version 0 of 1. Now that this year’s Australian word of the year has been announced, I find myself begging for pointless internet acronyms like Fomo (fear of missing out), an annoying phrase almost guaranteed to die off quickly. But no. The Australian National Dictionary Centre has announced that 2014’s word of the year is “shirtfront”, popularised when the prime minister of a G20 nation vowed to settle a diplomatic dispute by bludgeoning another world leader with his speeding chest. (Reminds me of the time Barack Obama didn’t promise to clothesline Ahmadinejad.) At least when a word is popularised by the internet community, as with 2013’s winner “bitcoin”, it doesn’t necessarily reflect the character of a nation. Shirtfront, however came at a time when the spotlight of the international community was very much on Australia. What does that say of the national character? What example does it set? Somebody at work misbehaving? Rugby tackle them! Got a dispute about your restaurant bill? Give the waiter a dragon punch to the groin! The runner up was “Team Australia”, another creation borne out of the sewn together worlds of sport and politics. It’s like Tony Abbott is a modern day linguistic Frankenstein, creating language monsters that wreak havoc on society and their master. The influence of “Team Australia” on the national lexicon is all the more saddening because it was a phrase that automatically identified who might not be considered part of the team. Are homosexuals on Team Australia yet? Climate scientists? Asylum seekers? Women? Unfortunately for the prime minister, the sheer impropriety of his expressions make them stick, not their mainstream appeal – as with Fomo, Yolo (you only live once) and the like. And stick “shirtfront” will: the image of a leader in the 21st century resolving his grievances by using his stampeding nipples is graphic, immediate, and visceral. It was pure viral fodder, turning Abbott into a sort of ambulatory flesh meme. “Team Australia”, likewise, stuck in the mind for all the wrong reasons: it conjured images of an entire country in sports kit, unquestioningly following a captain as opposed to a democratically accountable politician. If I could give any advice to the prime minister it would be to immediately start brushing up on some viral word hits for 2015 that don’t involve a violent manoeuvre, or a jingoistic mentality that makes life on earth a competitive sport. Last year, along with the winner bitcoin, the shortlist included “selfie” and “twerk”, suggesting a narcissistic, buttock-obsessed society that immediately calls for an Interstellar-style exploration of alternative worlds to live in. The combination of “shirtfront” and “Team Australia” are even more depressing. If you were forced to come up with a logo for Australia right now, it would be a flag draped around two snarling pecs on a playing field, alone. There is something positive to take from this, however. “Shirtfront” and “Team Australia” obviously made an impression in 2014. They’ve been imprinted on us. In the same way that a misspelled tattoo is a physical reminder never to get that recklessly drunk, perhaps these two phrases, tattooed on the national psyche, will be a reminder to demand a little less machismo next year; that questioning your country is better than having blind faith in it for the sake of making the team. |