Behold: the Platitudypus!
It’s a platypus that speaks exclusively in platitudes.
Got a platitude that gives you strong feelings? Give yourself some emotional distance (and a good laugh) by slapping it on a platypus.
All of us, at some point in our lives, bump up against these trite phrases and statements, designed to end conversations and placate everyone within earshot. Platitudes are generally regarded as benign tidbits of folk wisdom with a bad reputation because they’re usually not what someone wants to hear.
However, to dismiss them as silly and harmless would be exactly what the platitudypus wants. These phrases can worm their way into our thought patterns and exert imagination-crushing influence.
Because they’re so general, platitudes are difficult to disagree with. They coerce; they demand conformity.
Psychology Robert Jay Lifton coined the term “thought-terminating clichés.” In his 1956 book, Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism: A Study in “Brainwashing” in China, Lifton says,
“The language of the totalist environment its characterized by the thought-terminating cliche. The most far-reaching and complex of human problems are compressed into brief, highly reductive, definite-sounding phrases, easily memorized and easily expressed. These become the start and finish of any ideological analysis.”
Like a platypus, a good platitude conceals its poison.
My interest in platitudes includes religious jargon and disembodied metaphors: linguistic shortcuts that are widely used throughout evangelicalism. By the time I was in late high school, I’d sat through thousands of sermons and youth group gatherings and “life-changing” trips. I loved them, and I firmly believed that I lapped at the tides of truth in those settings, but the rigors of adolescence were rapidly outpacing my spiritual capacity to cope. In spite of all the time I spent praying, reading my Bible, and listening to other people who told me to pray and read my Bible, I couldn’t set my finger on any practical advice that would help me deal with the crumbling friend group, the high school drama, the boy problems. All the advice anyone could give me felt mainly designed to shut me up.
These pre-fabricated lines refuse to engage with whatever specific experience or question is presented. They interrupt critical thinking and quell dissonance.
What if the platitudes were a way to shut me up? To keep me (or anyone else) from probing deeper and recognizing the contradictions inherent in evangelical rhythms, or the impossibility of achieving the catharsis of salvation the way that my youth group advertised?
Pairing the phrases with a platypus has been a way of defamiliarizing stale language patterns, which allows me to evaluate my relationship to the statement.
What platitudes do you need to re-evaluate?
