When politicians slip up, it’s rarely just about the words they choose. It’s about the mindset that allows those words to slip out in the first place. Take Deputy Prime Minister David Seymour’s recent email to a constituent, where he wrote, ‘Are you ready to accept you’ve just had a beating?’ On the surface, it’s a cringe-worthy gaffe—one that Seymour has since apologized for. But personally, I think this incident reveals something far more troubling about the intersection of political communication and empathy in today’s polarized climate.
The Language of Power and Its Consequences
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Seymour’s choice of words reflects a broader trend in political discourse: the weaponization of language. Phrases like ‘had a beating’ aren’t just clumsy; they’re combative. They frame dialogue as a zero-sum game where one side must ‘win’ and the other must ‘lose.’ In my opinion, this kind of rhetoric isn’t just tone-deaf—it’s symptomatic of a political culture that prioritizes dominance over understanding.
Here’s the thing: the woman on the receiving end of Seymour’s email was a survivor of domestic violence, and the phrase triggered her PTSD. What many people don’t realize is that language, especially when it echoes past trauma, can be a form of violence in itself. Seymour’s apology, while necessary, feels like damage control rather than a genuine reckoning with the weight of his words. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just about one email—it’s about how politicians often underestimate the power of their language to harm.
The Context: A Spark in a Larger Blaze
The email exchange began over a seemingly unrelated issue: ACT MP Karen Chhour’s $17,000 airport parking bill. The constituent called it ‘revolting behavior,’ and Seymour responded by accusing her of ‘lazy thinking.’ One thing that immediately stands out is how quickly the conversation escalated. This isn’t unusual in political correspondence, but it raises a deeper question: Why do politicians so often default to defensiveness instead of engagement?
From my perspective, this incident is a microcosm of a larger problem—the erosion of civility in public discourse. Politicians like Seymour pride themselves on ‘answering directly,’ but what does that mean when the tone is condescending or aggressive? A detail that I find especially interesting is Seymour’s claim that he didn’t know the woman’s background. While true, it highlights a systemic issue: politicians rarely pause to consider the human stories behind the emails they receive.
The Broader Implications: When Words Become Weapons
What this really suggests is that political communication is broken. It’s not just about Seymour or his party; it’s about a culture where politicians are rewarded for being combative rather than compassionate. Personally, I think this incident should spark a conversation about the kind of language we accept from our leaders. Are we okay with politicians using phrases that could retraumatize vulnerable citizens? Or should we demand a higher standard of empathy and accountability?
Here’s where it gets even more interesting: Seymour’s apology included the line, ‘I chose the wrong words.’ But was it just a poor choice of words, or was it a reflection of his approach to dissent? In my opinion, the latter is more concerning. When politicians view criticism as an attack to be repelled rather than a perspective to be considered, everyone loses.
Looking Ahead: Can We Fix This?
If there’s one takeaway from this debacle, it’s that words matter—especially when they come from those in power. What many people don’t realize is that incidents like these erode trust in institutions. When a Deputy Prime Minister uses language that triggers trauma, it sends a message: your pain doesn’t matter as much as my argument.
Personally, I’m skeptical that this will lead to meaningful change. Apologies are easy; changing the culture of political communication is hard. But here’s a thought: What if politicians were required to undergo training on trauma-informed communication? Or if they were held to a code of conduct that prioritized empathy over aggression?
In the end, Seymour’s email isn’t just a mistake—it’s a symptom. And until we address the root cause, we’ll keep seeing these apologies, these half-hearted acknowledgments of harm. But here’s the real question: Are we willing to demand better? Or will we keep accepting ‘I chose the wrong words’ as enough?
