Navigating language minefields in pursuit of civil conversation 

Two years ago, I began to hide a silver star that once hung openly around my neck. Today, although I no longer hide, my fears have only worsened. 

I hesitate to express my Jewish lineage, incessantly second-guessing each word before daring to speak, uncertain of a safety that once felt assured. This is what it means to be Jewish in Australia today. 

In an age of polarisation, extremism, and terror, language strikes with alarming gravity: one misstep, and dialogue between differing views isn't just halted, it's obliterated. 

Since October 7, 2023, it has become apparent to me, as a Jewish student at university, that words such as “Zionist”, “apartheid” and “genocide” do not only describe political positions. They trigger defensiveness, tap into trauma and all too often, shut down the very conversations they are supposed to initiate. The more I attend tutorials, observe protests, or scroll through the modern battleground that is comment sections, the clearer it becomes: language is quietly determining whose pain is listened to and whose is dismissed. 

Some of these trigger words describe collective identities; others make claims to facts. Yet that line now feels dangerously blurred. These words no longer communicate clearly. They collapse nuance, arrive burdened with assumptions, embody clashing moral identities, and act as formidable barriers to understanding, conversation, and empathy. 

In today's social media landscape, algorithms trap us in echo chambers where alternative views rarely surface. Disparate communities consume curated content that blocks genuine dialogue and stalls real progress. This fuels a polarising downward spiral of closed-mindedness and conversational starvation.