Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones, but Words?

"i aint seen no poems stop a .38
i aint seen no metaphors stop a tank"
- "Two Poems", Haki Madhubuti


Somewhere between reading poetry from the Black Arts Movement and Marx's Communist Manifesto, I have found myself perturbed by the question (yet again): "What do words DO?" It bothers me that as a student of literature I should ask so simplistic a question. I feel such a concern would more likely hail from the minds of the simplistic, the myopic, the avaricious capitalist. I, for more reasons than one, should know first-hand what words can do. Words have been at the root of many revolutions, political decisions and perspective transformations. Words hurt and heal, sting and soothe, yadayadayada. I know the effect of a brilliant writer who effortlessly moves a reader to tears or has one bursting into fits of laughter.

Still, outside of cliche answers like the aforementioned, of what real 'use' is reading the great words of those writers valourized by the canon? In an age decidedly and inadvertently affected by capitalism, what is the market value of literary words? Of all the pleasures I have experienced from studying literature, the one I most value is the ability to critically analyze people and, more often than not, predict behaviour. Now I don't need and economist or market analyst to tell me how understanding people can bring in big bucks. That's the point on which all successful advertising pivots: the understanding of people, what drives and satisfies them.

Francis Bacon in his essay "Of Studies" says "Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business." The efficacy of literary works are oft limited to the provision of delight and the display of wit for wit's sake. How tangibly do literary words boast the 'ability' aspect? Bacon's statement implies the underlying assumption that mere words as entity are somewhat inactive; their ability is proven in the disposition of business. What good does reveling in similies and synecdoches do in and of themselves? Must we always apply the skills this reveling gives us in order for the words to have value? Since when did value need validation from the materialist? Perhaps delight and ornamental attributes are good enough. After all, money is sought only to satisfy human desires (whether it is making another smile, launching a bomb, wreaking unfounded havoc or inflicting pleasurable pain). It has no implicit value. If hyperbole and onomatopoeia cut right to the chase, great!