In so many ways, America has entered into a time that can only be described as Orwellian. For those of you who’ve forgotten the world described in 1984, or who missed Orwell’s essay on Politics and the English Language, allow me to suggest their renewed relevance.
As a recent essay in the Atlantic pointed out, “Newspeak” language is violence by another means, an adjunct of totalitarian strategies.
Clear language, Orwell suggests, is a semantic necessity as well as a moral one. Newspeak, in 1984, destroys with the same ferocious efficiency that tanks and bombs do. It is born of the essay’s most elemental insight: “If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.”
Orwell’s essay is often referenced by political scientists who emphasize the importance of clarity and shared meaning to the political process. As the Atlantic essay notes, however, American discourse increasingly lacks both.
But the essay, today, can read less as a rousing defense of the English language than as a prescient concession of defeat. “Use clear language” cannot be our guide when clarity itself can be so elusive. Our words have not been honed into oblivion—on the contrary, new ones spring to life with giddy regularity—but they fail, all too often, in the same ways Newspeak does: They limit political possibilities, rather than expand them. They cede to cynicism. They saturate us in uncertainty. The words might mean what they say. They might not. They might describe shared truths; they might manipulate them. Language, the connective tissue of the body politic—that space where the collective “we” matters so much—is losing its ability to fulfill its most basic duty: to communicate. To correlate. To connect us to the world, and to one another.
And semantic problems, as Orwell knew, have a way of turning into real ones. Violence descends; threats take shape; emergencies come; we may try to warn one another—we may scream the warnings—but we have trouble conveying the danger. We have so much to say. In another way, though, we have no words.
In yesterday’s post, I considered the real-world implications of the vast right-wing propaganda apparatus and its coordinated messaging. That messaging employs a language akin to Newspeak, a vocabulary intended to mask, rather than communicate, reality.
Donald Trump is certainly not an intentional purveyor of Newspeak–indeed, calling anything this twisted and unselfaware man does “intentional,” is to give him credit he clearly doesn’t deserve. But like so many tools used by would-be autocrats, he has unconsciously adopted its essence, what the essay calls the “dark art of plausible deniability”– Orwell’s doublespeak—a “jargon of purposeful obscurity.” He says whatever comes to mind, and reserves the right not to mean it.
When he describes “the enemy from within”—or when he muses about police forces fighting back against criminals for “one real rough, nasty day,” or when he announces his intention to spend the first day of a second term acting as “a dictator”—you could read each as a direct threat. You could assume that he’s lying, embellishing, teasing, trolling. You could say that the line, like Trump’s others, should be taken seriously, but not literally. You could try your best, knowing all that is at stake, to parse the grammar of his delusion.
It isn’t only Trump. That right-wing media ecosphere amplifies the practice. The Republican cult adopts it. And the results go far beyond a lack of clarity. Americans not only occupy different realities, we have lost the ability to explain our respective frames of reference to those who do not share them.
We can no longer communicate. And without communication, political negotiation and compromise–even basic human kindness–becomes impossible. (The essay makes the point that clear language is a basic form of kindness that considers the other person.)
Democracy is, at its core, a task of information management. To do its work, people need to be able to trust that the information they’re processing is, in the most fundamental way, accurate. Trump’s illegibility makes everything else less legible, too.
The quoted essay was published before the election of the Newspeak Administration. Had Trump lost, the threat posed by what we politely call “disinformation” would still be troublesome, but what we now face is a threat to our ability to understand political reality.
I don’t think most members of the “chattering classes”– the “mainstream” commentariat busily finding fault with those who still live in the reality-based community–even recognize the enormity of the problem posed by Americans’ increasing immersion in the language of delusion and our corresponding inability to communicate.
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