Sue de Groot says political correctness can soak up the messes made by poisonous speech 'Political correctness" is a phrase that has been derided for its sometimes bewildering extremes, such as when the PC establishment suggests replacing the offensively gender-specific pronouns "he" and "she" with "they". If this were mandatory, Cape Town's famous He & She driving school would become They & They. Which might be an improvement, come to think of it.Political correctness has its place, however, when it serves as an antidote to poison spilt by the injudicious use of free speech. Some speech is like flesh-eating acid: it should be kept in a beaker where it can do no harm, not flung around heedlessly.story_article_left1"Poison" is an interesting word. In some languages it is associated with the giving of a present (hence gif in Afrikaans and gift in some European languages). This is not so strange when you consider that the Greek word pharmakon means both poison and remedy.Agatha Christie researched all sorts of rare toxins on behalf of the murderous characters in her novels. She was fond of curare, which sounds like a cure for all ills but was actually a poison rubbed on darts blown out of pipes by Amazonian hunters. One drop could fell a giant anaconda, apparently, or a large sloth, or, in Dame Christie's hands, a vicar who knew too much.From Christie, or perhaps from one of her peers in the realm of fictional detection, I learnt that cyanide smells like almonds. At a recent party I spent a good hour wondering who was trying to poison me, and why, because my vodka-and-tonic gave off a distinct whiff of almonds. It smelt like a type of glue that used to be popular in kindergartens - I don't remember the name, but it was a sticky paste that came in small tubs, out of which it was lifted by means of a tiny trowel. Some children liked to eat it, so clearly it did not contain cyanide.This thought did not comfort me, however, because vodka is not supposed to smell like almonds. It came as a great relief when I examined the bottle from which I had poured my drink and discovered a tiny banner proclaiming "cherry almond flavour".There are two lessons in this. One, manufacturers should make their intentions clearer when concocting vile portmanteau beverages. Two, those prone to paranoia should not read too many detective novels.If one were of the poisoning ilk it might make sense to offer your victim an amaretto biscuit to mask the telltale smell of a cyanide-laced drink, but perhaps that is a thought best confined to novels.Christie's villains were not without redeeming qualities. Apart from being murderers, they were mostly quite polite, choosing their words with care. It seems odd that so many people were aware of the perils of rudeness even before the internet had been invented.story_article_right2Dame Aggie knew a lot about the harm a poison-pen letter could inflict. This phrase dates back to the 1890s and flamed into popular use in the US in 1913, during the criminal case in which a doctor's wife received anonymous letters calling her a "knave and tool of politicians".At the time, these words were as nasty as curare, which paralyses the skeletal muscles and leads to asphyxiation. (Like being speechless with rage, only a lot worse.)The thing about poisonous words is they don't end with simple pain, otherwise they'd be called knife words or needle words. Spouting venom at another person or group of people leads to infection that spreads. It opens a wound not easy to close.Political correctness isn't such a bad thing, if you think about it as a side-effect of tolerance and compassion. Avoiding rudeness is the first step towards a world in which people can co-exist harmoniously. Cultivating politeness helps avoid untold destruction.If "political correctness" has become a drab and clumsy term, maybe we need to rename the ability to morally monitor our own words. How about "polite conversation"? Or "poison control"?..