Disordered Versus Toxic
Stewarding Our Words in an Age of Propaganda
The whole modern world has divided itself into Conservatives and Progressives. The business of Progressives is to go on making mistakes. The business of the Conservatives is to prevent the mistakes from being corrected. ~G.K. Chesterton, Illustrated London News (1924)
Do you share the sense that many of today’s raging controversies—especially online—are fought along battle lines that are slightly off? Many times, it seems as if we are pressured to take sides along lines that have been drawn such that there will never be a productive dialectic, or back-and-forth, between the dissenting parties. Indeed, one sometimes suspects that lines might actually have been drawn to ensure the fighting continues indefinitely.
Some disagreements are so fundamental, of course, that to resolve them requires a complete turnaround from one side. In such cases, the battle is really being fought over worldviews that are at odds. Yet, many even worthy battles are fought in a way that causes immense collateral damage.
One way this damage occurs is through our choice of terms. Take the word “toxic.” It is a powerful modifier often employed in problematic ways—not unlike a machine gun being used by an inexperienced soldier. By this, I mean that provocative terms can be used to bypass critical thinking. Because a term like “toxic” evokes a strong sense of disgust, it is more likely to sneak past our reasoning faculties, resulting in denigrating the very thing it modifies.
For Christians, verbal precision is a matter of stewardship. James 3:3-6 warns us that although the tongue is seemingly insignificant compared to the body, it is like a small rudder that commands a great ship, powerful enough to steer it through even the fiercest winds. If something so small can have such an immense effect, we must use our words with incredible care. This is exactly what I mean by collateral damage: when we use evocative terms like “toxic” recklessly, we are playing with fire and risking the denigration of the things the term is modifying.
This is why I have always objected to the term “toxic masculinity.” Masculinity itself is a very good thing. Regardless of its original meaning, if one is not careful, it is too easy to see the two words as a single unit and view all masculinity as toxic. It easily turns into a smear and is ultimately unedifying.
The same can be said for “toxic empathy.” My concern with labeling a virtue as “toxic” is that it can become an uncritical condemnation of something inherently good. While political propagandists certainly prey on compassion, few critics recognize why they are successful: they succeed because there is a genuine tension within the human heart between displaying compassion and speaking truth. In many complicated situations, there is often a struggle between compassion and candor. That tension is a sign that we are functioning normally; its absence is a problem.
It is certainly disgusting (toxic even!) when political movements exploit this tension, but that is the nature of propaganda. I am equally concerned with how political movements exploit fear (see my article here on “Fear and Strongman”). Actually, I am more concerned with the exploitation of fear; it is a more potent and blinding force than empathy. Should we call that “toxic fear”? No. There is such a thing as healthy fear.
Obviously, the use of provocative terms is not always a bad thing. If pressed, those who use the term “toxic masculinity” would likely say they are referring to abusive forms of masculinity—when men use their inherently greater strength to mistreat others. Similarly, those who speak of “toxic empathy” likely mean empathy used as a tool of manipulation to blind people to the truth. Nevertheless, we still must be very careful in how we employ provocation. This goes back to the idea of collateral damage (per James 3).
Instead of “toxic,” why not use “disordered”? If something is toxic, it implies it needs to be discarded with disgust, and it can more easily be seen as intrinsically bad, like a dangerous by-product of a chemical reaction. Something that is disordered is not essentially wrong, just misaligned with respect to truth, like a broken compass in need of repair.
Disordered masculinity: Masculinity that is not properly ordered toward the truth.
Disordered empathy: Empathy that is not properly ordered toward the truth.
Disordered fear: Fear that is similarly improperly ordered, especially with respect to the hope of our salvation.
I suspect, however, that “disordered” is not as effective at grabbing attention as “toxic.” But that is the nature of propaganda, and it is exactly why I struggle to accept these ready-made terms of engagement that are filled with much heat but little light. I would rather be precise and closer to the truth than provocative, especially when it comes to such vital things for a healthy society as masculinity and empathy.
This is where this all relates beautifully to something G.K. Chesterton observed about the modern world—and why much propaganda is successful. I would only add that what he says here also applies to our own hearts first and foremost—even as Christians. For we are also a work in progress, as we seek—by the grace of God and the Holy Spirit—to reorient our misaligned hearts and minds.
“The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. Thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (I am sorry to say) is often untruthful.” ~from “Orthodoxy”



Language really does shape how we think about people long before we realize it, and this piece points to how quickly labels can replace curiosity. I like the distinction between something being harmful versus something being misaligned, because it leaves room for growth instead of immediate rejection. Conversations online often escalate because words carry judgment before understanding has a chance to form. Choosing more precise language can slow reactions and make real dialogue possible again. It’s a good reflection on how careful wording can change not just arguments, but relationships too.
Thank you for offering a better word -- more descriptive, and less reactive.