tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/political-language-17703/articlesPolitical language – The Conversation2023-08-10T20:00:05Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2093752023-08-10T20:00:05Z2023-08-10T20:00:05ZHow ‘witch-hunts’ and ‘Stockholm syndrome’ became part of political language (and what it has to do with wrestling)<p>It’s hard to sympathise with powerful people hounding out innocents — which is why the Coalition wanted us to know the Robodebt Royal Commission <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/live/2022/nov/09/australia-live-news-peter-reith-sri-lanka-parliament-senate-estimates-defence-industrial-relations-workplace-laws-anthony-albanese-peter-dutton-environment-cop-peter-reith?page=with:block-636b23298f0850c5a4cd486b">was</a> a political witch-hunt. Poor Donald Trump wants us to know <a href="https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/trump-campaign-calls-latest-indictment-part-of-a-politically-motivated-witch-hunt">he’s</a> the victim of a witch-hunt, too.</p>
<p>To be fair, maybe the Coalition and Trump are trading on the good reputation of witches. After all, a 2013 <a href="https://www.publicpolicypolling.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/PPP_Release_CONGRESS_108.pdf">poll</a> found most Americans preferred witches (also cockroaches and haemorrhoids) to politicians. </p>
<p>But much like polls, political terms tell us something about society and language. Words like “witch-hunt” take us on an illustrative - and sometimes illusory — journey through metaphor, semantics and the politics of, believe it or not, professional wrestling.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/brekkies-barbies-mozzies-why-do-aussies-shorten-so-many-words-192616">Brekkies, barbies, mozzies: why do Aussies shorten so many words?</a>
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<h2>The cynical political power of metaphor</h2>
<p>Pollies and pundits love metaphors. In fact, we all do. They are the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conduit_metaphor">containers</a> you put ideas in before you hand them over to the world. And they can be shiny linguistic confetti for the brain.</p>
<p>Going back as far as Aristotle, scholars have emphasised the ability of metaphors to bring to mind new aspects of the world and new ways of understanding <a href="https://www.routledge.com/The-Routledge-Handbook-of-Metaphor-and-Language/Semino-Demjen/p/book/9780367581428#:%7E:text=%22The%20Routledge%20Handbook%20of%20Metaphor,between%20theory%2C%20methodology%20and%20application.">reality</a>. They have been shown to be effective pedagogical tools, and their therapeutic value is well established.</p>
<p>Metaphors can be helpful — but they can also be harmful.</p>
<p>Good political metaphors can move a nation. Post-war Australian Prime Minister Ben Chiefly’s “light on the hill” had good pedigree (the Sermon on the Mount) and a positive message (“betterment of mankind” in Australia and beyond).</p>
<p>But the pedigree and message of political metaphors can get dark, very fast. When Premier Dan Andrews was up in the polls, some political <a href="https://www.skynews.com.au/australia-news/high-polls-for-andrews-clearly-equate-to-stockholm-syndrome/video/6b4650a173335ea606eb91994d22fc63">pundits</a> accused Victorians of suffering from “Stockholm syndrome” — a traumatic bonding as might happen between captives and their abusers. Metaphorical uses of this controversial condition, and the domains it’s been applied to, have <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/41679728#:%7E:text=In%20other%20words%2C%20rather%20than,range%20of%20situations%20where%20mind">grown</a> exponentially since the 1970s.</p>
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<p>Metaphors are effective spin doctors when it comes creating political realities and <a href="https://www.academia.edu/30634964/METAPHOR_AND_PERSUASION_IN_POLITICS">influencing public perceptions</a>, all the more so in the current climate of general scepticism towards experts. “Knowing stuff isn’t enough”, as one <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/the-real-reason-that-we-don-t-trust-experts-a7126536.html">article</a> put it. Two epoch-making events, Brexit and Trump, were bankrolled by persuasive metaphors.</p>
<h2>Cappuccinos and witch-hunts</h2>
<p>It’s not hard to find bizarre examples of powerful people moulding language and others accepting it. At a café in tech company WeWork’s headquarters, the “cappuccinos” <a href="https://decider.com/2021/04/02/wework-documentary-hulu-adam-neumann-latte/">were called</a> “lattes” because CEO Adam Neumann insisted they were.</p>
<p>“Witch-hunt” is a particularly egregious use of metaphor. When the term first <a href="https://www.oed.com/dictionary/witch-hunter_n?tab=meaning_and_use#14154100">appeared</a> (originally as witch-hunter) in the 1600s, literal witch-hunts empowered some people at the expense of others to cope with the unknown - failed crops and things that went bump in the night.</p>
<p>But at a deeper level, witch-hunts often served to settle personal grudges and punish (largely) women who didn’t conform to a community’s expectations. Most importantly, witch-hunts were at the discretion of the powerful and at the expense of the less powerful.</p>
<p>“Witch-hunt” <a href="https://www.oed.com/dictionary/witch-hunt_n?tab=meaning_and_use#14153918">has had</a> metaphorical and political currency for more than a hundred years. It’s been drawn into many 20th century debates, including racial politics in Canadian elections (1900) and, perhaps most famously, US Senator Joseph McCarthy’s (1940s-1950s) campaign against communism. Links between <a href="https://www.britannica.com/event/McCarthyism">McCarthyism</a> and witch-hunts strengthened with Arthur Miller’s 1953 play about the Salem Witch Trials, The Crucible – which was an allegory of McCarthyism.</p>
<p>In the 21st century, “witch-hunt” has become the go-to metaphor for powerful people, especially men, evading scrutiny. The persecution of Harvey Weinstein led some, like Woody Allen, <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/10/woody-allen-harvey-weinstein-witch-hunt-atmosphere">to claim</a> a witch-hunt of Hollywood men was afoot.</p>
<p>And, perhaps most famously, Donald Trump - by his own account - is a prolific victim of witch-hunts – whether through investigations of his business practices, his nominees to government positions or his practices as president.</p>
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<p>In short, there’s a bit of blatant, moral inversion at work here. Witch-hunts left many thousands of victims in their wake – usually the less powerful at the hands of the powerful. Now, the powerful are invoking “witch-hunt” as a metaphorical and moral shield, and to claim victimhood.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/from-technicolour-yawn-to-draining-the-dragon-how-barry-humphries-breathed-new-life-into-australian-slang-204542">From 'technicolour yawn' to 'draining the dragon': how Barry Humphries breathed new life into Australian slang</a>
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<h2>Language, kayfabe and keeping the bastards honest</h2>
<p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Luntz">Frank Luntz</a> - the Republican Party pollster who <a href="https://www.sourcewatch.org/images/4/45/LuntzResearch.Memo.pdf">helped shift</a> the debate from “global warming” to “climate change” - has aptly <a href="https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/dr-frank-luntz/words-that-work/9781401385743/?lens=hachette-books">pointed out</a>, “it’s not what you say, it’s what people hear”.</p>
<p>Increasingly, we don’t hear the same things.</p>
<p>Studies of Trump’s speeches suggest he speaks at a 4th-6th grade level. Some have <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/trump-fire-and-fury-smart-genius-obama-774169">celebrated</a> supposed empirical proof that Trump is a dummy. Others <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/05/03/donald-trump-speaks-like-a-sixth-grader-all-politicians-should/">point out</a> this makes him more accessible. Trump’s fan-base loves that he speaks to them in their language - and it’s a robust <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Audience_design#:%7E:text=Audience%20design%20is%20a%20sociolinguistic,response%20to%20a%20speaker's%20audience.">finding</a> in linguistics that this is exactly what he should do.</p>
<p>But witchcraft and similar metaphors point to a more sinister strategy. When it comes to language, some of us want a fact-based debate, whereas others want a pro-wrestling spectacle. More than a few <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1478929920963827">scholars</a> and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/26/opinion/vince-mcmahon-wwe-trump-kayfabe.html">journalists</a> have drawn parallels between something called “kayfabe” and contemporary politics - especially right-wing politics.</p>
<p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kayfabe">Kayfabe</a> is a pro-wrestling term <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13528165.2014.928516">referring</a> to “the performance of staged and ‘faked’ events as actual and spontaneous”. In other words, we know wrestling is scripted and the wrestlers know we know it’s scripted, but we all maintain the pretence of believing it isn’t. The same can be true for political language.</p>
<p>An even more understated part of kayfabe are the “marks” — they <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1478929920963827">are</a> the ones who don’t know it’s all scripted.</p>
<p>So, we’re faced with witch-hunts, <a href="https://www.afr.com/politics/expelled-anti-abortion-mp-declares-liberal-values-dead-20220524-p5anzb">lynchings</a> and Stockholm syndrome. People don’t hear the same thing, and even if they do, it may or may not be real. Language as a social contract has more loopholes than footholds.</p>
<p>Journalist and essayist Abraham Josephine Riesman, lamenting the impact of kayfabe on US politics, might be observing language when she <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/26/opinion/vince-mcmahon-wwe-trump-kayfabe.html">writes</a>:</p>
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<p>perhaps the only antidote […]is radical honesty. It’s less fun, but it tends to do less material harm, in the long term.</p>
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<p>We love metaphors, but accountability and honest debate disappear in a mist of kayfabe when powerful people use them. But metaphorical meaning requires collaboration - sometimes we just have to say, no, actually, that’s a cappuccino.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/209375/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>How politicians have cynically used metaphor to imply meaning through language.Howard Manns, Senior Lecturer in Linguistics, Monash UniversityKate Burridge, Professor of Linguistics, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1916562022-10-06T17:26:10Z2022-10-06T17:26:10ZPoliticians dropping the F-bomb: There’s more to it than you might think<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/487459/original/file-20220930-1555-m9k4id.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=54%2C174%2C3258%2C1524&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">When politicians swear we might think they’re simply overcome with emotion. But there’s often more going on behind the language they use. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Shutterstock)</span></span></figcaption></figure><iframe style="width: 100%; height: 100px; border: none; position: relative; z-index: 1;" allowtransparency="" allow="clipboard-read; clipboard-write" src="https://narrations.ad-auris.com/widget/the-conversation-canada/politicians-dropping-the-f-bomb--there-s-more-to-it-than-you-might-think" width="100%" height="400"></iframe>
<p>In August 2022, while dealing with QAnon conspiracy theorists who had descended on her city, mayor Diane Therrien of Peterborough, Ont. <a href="https://www.sudbury.com/beyond-local/fk-off-you-fkwads-peterborough-mayor-says-to-qanon-followers-who-tried-to-arrest-police-5706603">responded in a less than diplomatic way</a>. She tweeted at them to “fuck off, you fuckwads.” </p>
<p>Nearly overnight, Therrien became the best-known mayor anywhere in the country. Her tweet went viral and was widely commented on in national news, and even made headlines in <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/aug/23/queen-of-canada-qanon-rise-conspiracy-alarm">international papers</a>. The discussion, of course, focused entirely on her choice to use a swear word, not once, but twice.</p>
<p>Most reactions seemed positive to her choice of words. She was praised for “<a href="https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/opinion/2022/08/19/mayor-diane-therriens-f-word-tweet-makes-her-the-profane-princess-of-peterborough.html">telling it like it is</a>” and for “<a href="https://globalnews.ca/video/9067433/mayor-of-peterborough-has-strong-words-for-weekend-protesters">saying what we are all thinking</a>.” At the same time, much of the commentary made certain assumptions about her emotional state — most notably, that she was tweeting <a href="https://www.thepeterboroughexaminer.com/opinion/editorials/2022/08/26/kevin-elson-mayors-foul-language-tweet-was-fuelled-by-frustration.html">out of frustration</a>.</p>
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<h2>Swearing in politics</h2>
<p>This framing is not surprising. The idea that swearing functions as an emotional release valve has become well-known in the past decade: <a href="http://dx.doi.org/10.1097/WNR.0b013e32832e64b1">a 2009 study</a> which is often <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/27/smarter-living/the-case-for-cursing.html">cited in the popular press</a>, emphasizes the cathartic effect of swearing. </p>
<p>In addition, Anglo-Canadian society expects politicians to take on public personas that preclude using vulgar or “unparliamentary” language. Swearing is normalized for blue collar work sectors, or in environments like sports teams and bars — places where you can let go of rigid behaviour rules. But when politicians swear, they are often seen as overcome by emotion and in breach of expected norms. What else could explain such a social gaffe, such inappropriate-to-context speech?</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-british-politicians-keep-swearing-on-the-campaign-trail-78124">Why British politicians keep swearing on the campaign trail</a>
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<p>As linguistic anthropologists, we examine language in its social contexts and consider the cultural meanings of how it’s used. We wonder what this narrative of emotional release might be obscuring about the social impacts of taboo words.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A man in a grey suit and pink tie speaking while pointing his finger." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=434&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=546&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=546&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/487457/original/file-20220930-21378-mvicnb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=546&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Romeo Saganash rises during question period in the House of Commons. Saganash served as the NDP MP for Abitibi—Baie-James—Nunavik—Eeyou from 2011 to 2019.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">THE CANADIAN PRESS/Adrian Wyld</span></span>
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<p>Consider another notable example. In 2018, Romeo Saganash, an Indigenous NDP MP, said in parliament that <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/romeo-saganash-f-bomb-house-commons-1.4838124">Prime Minster Justin Trudeau “doesn’t give a fuck” about Indigenous rights</a>. Saganash quickly apologized (though he has continued to stand by the sentiment) after the Speaker of the House noted that this was very clearly “unparliamentary language.” </p>
<p>In a <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/radio/unreserved/standing-up-and-speaking-out-meet-indigenous-people-motivated-to-take-action-1.4857364/why-fed-up-mp-romeo-saganash-dropped-the-f-bomb-in-the-house-of-commons-1.4858438">CBC interview</a>, he described feeling “exasperat[ed]” and “fed up.” Yet, in the same interview, he revealed that he had, in fact, planned to make this statement in the House of Commons. As he put it, “I showed my question to them [his seatmates] just to apologize in advance to them — to them at least — but no one else knew.” In other words, his statement was planned in advance: a purposeful social intervention.</p>
<h2>The power and purpose of performative language</h2>
<p>Saganash, like Therrien, was not swearing willy-nilly, nor was he the victim of an uncontrollable outburst of emotion. Their transgressions were not accidental. To understand the force of these utterances, it is helpful to consider them performative speech occurring in response to the language and actions of others.</p>
<p><a href="https://doi.org/10.1093/OBO/9780199766567-0114">Performative speech</a> refers to the way certain forms of speaking constitute meaningful social action. The easiest way to understand these is through what <a href="https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/austin-jl/">language scholar J.L. Austin</a> called “explicit primary performatives.” </p>
<p>For example, an officiant “pronounces” two people to be married, and therefore they are. A new president takes an oath to assume the full power of the office. These strong performatives require certain contextual conditions in order to be effective: a random person saying the oath of office doesn’t automatically become the president. </p>
<p>Taboo language falls into the category of performatives, but their power rests on the sense that they cannot be said. The proscription on using certain kinds of words defines the moral and political meaning of different spaces and relationships. As we avoid taboos, we collectively set boundaries on how we understand a wide range of social phenomena.</p>
<p>In other words, by agreeing that the word “fuck” is prohibited or restricted, we create conditions in which saying it accomplishes something powerful. When politicians swear, the performativity of “fuck” is heightened; it becomes all the more transgressive.</p>
<h2>Language as a response to actions</h2>
<p>By saying that emotion is the underlying reason Saganash and Therrien uttered a taboo word, the general conversation misses the mark. It fails to realize that uttering a taboo word — violating the norm — is precisely what is being accomplished. </p>
<p>Furthermore, while framing taboo as emotional reaction situates both instances of swearing as reactive, they might better be understood as responses.</p>
<p>Saganash’s now viral comment was made <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/radio/unreserved/standing-up-and-speaking-out-meet-indigenous-people-motivated-to-take-action-1.4857364/why-fed-up-mp-romeo-saganash-dropped-the-f-bomb-in-the-house-of-commons-1.4858438">in response to the government’s position on the Trans Mountain pipeline</a>:</p>
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<p>…Canada will not be able to accommodate all Indigenous concerns. What that means is that they have decided to willfully violate their constitutional duties and obligations…Why doesn’t the Prime Minister just say the truth and tell the Indigenous Peoples that he doesn’t give a fuck about their rights? </p>
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<p>Notice the mirroring effect: Saganash’s violation of parliamentary language occurs in response to a violation of Indigenous rights.</p>
<p>In parallel fashion, when asked about QAnon conspiracy theorists, <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-wednesday-edition-1.6553693/peterborough-mayor-defends-her-use-of-the-f-word-in-response-to-weekend-protest-1.6553815">Therrien commented</a>: </p>
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<p>They treat communities and people with disrespect constantly. And yet they get outraged when we respond with that kind of disrespect.</p>
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<p>Note that she frames her swearing as deliberately mirroring the “disrespect” of the protesters, not as an expression of her feelings.</p>
<p>In both cases, they are responding in kind to other transgressions. These speakers recognize the actors they are responding to with their taboo violations as the ones who initiated the transgression of social norms: building a pipeline through Indigenous territory, or by enacting citizens’ arrests over public health protections. </p>
<p>Next time a politician surprises us with a carefully placed f-bomb, remember that while they may be frustrated, there could be more to the story. When we focus on their emotional state, we lose sight of what they are trying to accomplish with their performative speech.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/191656/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Politicians dropping the f-bomb tend to be seen as acting out of emotion, but the way we use taboo language is often about what we can accomplish by violating rules.Sarah Shulist, Associate Professor of Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, Queen's University, OntarioHannah McElgunn, Assistant Professor, Department of Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, Queen's University, OntarioLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1285212019-12-11T13:40:28Z2019-12-11T13:40:28ZThe British election explained in five key phrases<p>The UK government’s decision to hold its third general election since 2015 is a baffling one to many – including the weary voters who have to take part. </p>
<p>Tensions have been high as the country attempts to resolve the identity crisis first sparked by the Brexit vote in 2016. It’s a complicated moment for the nation and, at times like these, it can help to observe the big issues through the lens of language. The slogans and terms that get thrown around again and again during a campaign can often tell us a lot about the bigger picture. Here are five such slogans that can help explain what’s happening in the UK right now. </p>
<h2>‘Get Brexit done’</h2>
<p>Anyone who has so much as dipped into British politics over the past three years knows that Brexit remains high on the agenda. The enduring divisions are captured in the campaign slogans for the 2019 election. The Conservatives want to “<a href="https://theconversation.com/lets-be-clear-about-what-get-brexit-done-really-means-128347">get Brexit done</a>” while the Liberal Democrats simply want to “stop Brexit”.</p>
<p>Despite the opposing messages, the two are actually similar. Both directly address the voter and appeal to a sense of frustration about Brexit dominating the national agenda for so long. Both suggest that voting for a particular party will to put an end to it all, albeit via different routes.</p>
<p>It’s certain that the British people are desperate to “get Brexit done”, but unfortunately the Conservative slogan is a misnomer. The consequences of Brexit will trigger a process that will last for years, long after the UK has left the EU. The Liberal Democrats’ slogan asks for that process to be stopped altogether – definitive in one sense but also likely to open up all kinds of other debates about the original referendum decision. Both sides are speaking to the same frustrations and neither seems likely to be in a position to put an end to them. </p>
<h2>‘The NHS is not for sale’</h2>
<p>Founded in 1948, Britain’s National Health Service (NHS) provides free healthcare at the point of need. While many British people are very proud of it, they also worry that it is struggling to meet increased demand and that it may be <a href="https://theconversation.com/will-drug-prices-rise-following-a-uk-us-trade-deal-126473">privatised and become unaffordable</a>.</p>
<p>The Labour party has tapped into those fears by suggesting that the NHS may be “up for sale” or “on the table” when the British government negotiates a trade deal with the US after leaving the EU. On a recent visit to London the US president, Donald Trump, sought to reassure voters that the US wouldn’t want the NHS even if it was presented to them “on a silver platter” – having said on a previous visit that “<a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/uk-48516196/trump-nhs-on-the-table-in-us-uk-trade-deal">everything will be on the table</a>”.</p>
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<p>All these phrases turn one of the world’s largest and most complex organisations into an object that can be bought and sold. The reality would be much more complicated of course, involving many parallel negotiations about different parts of the service. Still, Labour’s message uses the <a href="https://theconversation.com/we-interviewed-more-than-200-people-about-the-nhs-theyre-angry-at-politicians-worried-about-its-future-127672">emotional resonance</a> that the NHS has for many of its voters, even if its language greatly simplifies reality.</p>
<p>This tension between public and private is part of a much broader debate in this election. While the Conservatives stand accused of bowing to the interests of big business in their Brexit planning, Labour’s far-left leadership is proposing the biggest renationalising of services in decades.</p>
<h2>‘It’s time for real change’</h2>
<p>“Time for real change” has been the main campaign slogan of the Labour Party in 2019. On the face of it, it’s fairly bland, but it actually says a lot about the high stakes involved in this election. </p>
<p>Labour has been pushing for far-reaching changes that many believe would <a href="https://theconversation.com/british-politics-is-changing-dramatically-and-the-left-sees-an-opportunity-127546">utterly transform</a> the British economy and society. It wants to reverse spending cuts and then embark on a large-scale programme of nationalisation. Its manifesto proposes an ambitious green agenda and a resetting of the relationship between government, businesses and the people they employ.</p>
<p>Many voters appear to have <a href="https://theconversation.com/2019-election-polls-how-to-understand-a-confusing-picture-in-the-last-days-of-the-campaign-128416">felt daunted by the choice</a> between these radical propositions and the relatively hard Brexit on offer from the Conservatives. Others argue that almost ten years of austerity under Conservative and coalition governments have damaged public services and led to high levels of poverty and inequality, making this proposed “real change” necessary.</p>
<h2>‘Oven-ready Brexit deal’</h2>
<p>Brexit has spawned a vast number of metaphors, but this one from the Conservatives has stuck. The idea is that Johnson negotiated a Brexit deal with the EU that is quick and convenient to implement – provided that the election leads to a parliament that plays along. This reminds us of why Johnson called the election in the first place – because he wants a majority in parliament to get his deal through. He claims that parliament is blocking his path – although even that is under debate. </p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1203055861188497408"}"></div></p>
<p>While the Conservatives claim that parliament is showing how out of touch with voters it really is by frustrating Johnson’s Brexit plans, Labour appeals to popular sentiment by casting Johnson as a member of the elite – a “posh boy” who doesn’t care about normal people. Johnson’s own language often does little to counter this point. He regularly drops arcane words and insults and deploys upper-class phrases – such as his accusation that parliament has done nothing but “dither and delay” on Brexit. </p>
<h2>‘Tactical voting’</h2>
<p>Both Johnson and Jeremy Corbyn, the leader of the Labour Party, have engendered bad feeling by hesitating to apologise for antisemitism and Islamophobia in their parties. For significant numbers of voters, neither leader is particularly appealing and many are reconsidering lifelong party allegiances. As a result, a big theme of this election has been talk of voting tactically – supporting a party other than your own in order to boost the chances of another party winning in your area. It almost seems as if, for many voters, the election is more about <a href="https://yougov.co.uk/topics/politics/survey-results/daily/2019/12/10/6fe2b/1">who they don’t want than who they do</a>.</p>
<hr>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=176&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=176&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/300096/original/file-20191104-88414-1yh2yvf.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=176&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/newsletters/the-daily-newsletter-2?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKGE2019&utm_content=GEBannerB">Click here to subscribe to our newsletter if you believe this election should be all about the facts.</a></em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/128521/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Veronika Koller does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>One side wants to ‘get Brexit done’ while the other shouts the ‘NHS is not for sale!’. What does it all really mean?Veronika Koller, Reader in Discourse Studies, Lancaster UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1245182019-10-02T14:00:18Z2019-10-02T14:00:18ZResearch shows Boris Johnson hardly ever mentioned the war before Brexit<p>The UK prime minister, Boris Johnson, is well known for his colourful language but he has come under criticism in recent weeks for using militaristic terms to describe Brexit, which some feel is inciting division. </p>
<p>He has said he’d rather “die in a ditch” than extend the Brexit deadline and condemned the legislation organised by MPs that would prevent him from taking the UK out without a deal as the “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/sep/26/pms-divisive-surrender-bill-phrase-neither-careless-nor-casual">surrender bill</a>”, as though to suggest Brexit is a war between the UK and EU. To add extra embellishment to this image, a Number 10 source <a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-7516083/No-10-probes-MPs-foreign-collusion-amid-plot-John-Bercow-send-surrender-letter-Brussels.html">briefed the Mail on Sunday</a> that the legislation had been drafted by rebel MPs “in collusion” with “foreign powers”.</p>
<p>My research shows that this kind of language is far from being a general aspect of Johnson’s brand. It is, in fact, a very new tactic. He may have a longstanding interest in Winston Churchill, but before Brexit reached boiling point, Johnson hardly ever mentioned the war. </p>
<p>I’ve been examining the language Johnson used in written material authored between July 2015, when he became MP for Uxbridge and South Ruislip, and July 2018, when he resigned as foreign secretary from Theresa May’s government in protest over her Brexit deal. I’ve looked particularly at his use of historical and military imagery, before, during and after the Brexit referendum.</p>
<p>Given the kind of language being bandied around during the referendum, with Nigel Farage’s “battle bus” blasting out <a href="https://uk.reuters.com/article/uk-britain-eu-worldwartwo/brexit-debate-brings-out-britains-world-war-two-fixation-idUKKCN0YP1XO">the theme from the Great Escape</a>, we might have expected Johnson to have used many historical references in his writing. But he rarely did during this period.</p>
<h2>Don’t mention the war? no problem</h2>
<p>In his newspaper articles, Facebook posts, letters and transcribed speeches from this time, Johnson barely mentioned any wartime terms or phrases. Indeed, he only wrote one article between May 2015 and July 2018 which specifically referenced any wartime events, and he later apologised for its content, having <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/05/14/boris-johnson-the-eu-wants-a-superstate-just-as-hitler-did/">compared the EU to Nazi Germany</a>. </p>
<p>It was only after Johnson resigned as foreign secretary that he began, almost immediately, to reference World War II and use overtly militaristic terms in his writing. In his ministerial resignation speech in the House of Commons, Johnson argued that there had been a “<a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/politics/2018/07/19/boris-johnsons-resignation-speech-full-not-late-save-brexit/">stealthy retreat</a>” by the May government from their Lancaster House plans and that Britain should “not be stampeded by anyone”.</p>
<p>Undoubtedly, resigning from the cabinet gave him more freedom to present his arguments in his own unique way but the contrast is nevertheless striking.</p>
<p>Temperatures were certainly high during the referendum but the approaching Brexit deadline on October 31 has led to a sense of desperation across the political spectrum. With neither side budging, consensus seems impossible and so the language has become more confrontational. </p>
<p>Then there has been the arrival in Downing Street of Dominic Cummings, the self-styled Svengali of the Leave campaign. His unflinchingly combative approach, while successful in the Brexit referendum, appears to have raised temperatures even further – although he himself describes the current situation as a “<a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/video/video/video-2014540/Brexit-negotiations-walk-park-claims-Dominic-Cummings.html">walk in the park</a>”.</p>
<p>Another key difference may be that the government is running out of Brexit options. Where once Brexit supporters were able to talk of all kinds of different models for the UK’s future relationship with the EU – from a “Norway deal” to a “Canada option” – there is now only the choice between no deal, remaining or whatever deal Johnson hopes to strike with the EU at the eleventh hour. As the options become more stark, so does the language. As doors close, analogies become more urgent, more militaristic. Conservative MP Mark Francois cites his time in the Territorial Army, saying he “wasn’t trained to lose”. He and other members of the European Research Group call themselves “<a href="https://theconversation.com/brexiteers-are-right-to-compare-themselves-to-spartans-but-not-for-the-reasons-they-think-115037">Spartans</a>”.</p>
<h2>Why it matters</h2>
<p>For as long as politicians have been speaking to the masses, they have used military analogies to make their point. Terms referencing violence, war, weaponry and abuse have long been used, in a relatively benign way, to highlight dynamism and a determination to “get the job done”. These terms are equally a part of the daily lives of many people, and are largely meaningless. The violence they suggest is confined to the language used.</p>
<p>But it is clear that language matters, and it matters most in an uncertain, potentially dangerous political environment, such as exists in Britain at the moment. As a political environment becomes more febrile, the spectre of violence begins to become a reality.</p>
<p>MPs have warned as much, to Johnson directly at times. Labour MPs, most notably <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-49833804">Paula Sherriff and Jess Phillips</a>, have highlighted the murder of the MP <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/jo-cox-28509">Jo Cox</a> in 2016 and warned that the warlike language being used by politicians was also being used in by the people sending them threatening emails and social media posts.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">‘We must moderate our language’: Labour MP Paula Sherriff.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>If language doesn’t matter, it raises the question of why the Conservative government have labelled the Benn Act “the surrender act” in the first place, and why they and others continue to use such violent and militaristic language. </p>
<p>For those who want to “win” the Brexit argument, language is a useful shorthand to sell your argument, to accuse the opposition of cowardice or collaboration with the “enemy” you have created. Johnson has deliberately changed his language since July 2018, using far more militaristic and warlike discourse than was evident before that date. And the difference is so stark that it indicates it was a deliberate rather than accidental change.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/124518/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Victoria Honeyman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A look at his published writing shows the prime minister has ramped up the rhetoric as Brexit has approached.Victoria Honeyman, Lecturer in British Politics, University of LeedsLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/580542016-05-09T20:05:16Z2016-05-09T20:05:16ZFrom donkey votes to dog whistles, our election language has a long and political history<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/121657/original/image-20160509-23386-ypn7v3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">'Candidate' has its roots in the word 'candid', to be frank. It's hard not to believe that we've strayed a little from those noble aspirations.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Cesare Maccari/Wikimedia Commons</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>We now know that July 2 will be the day when our politicians, in the words of Alfred Deakin, get dragged from the tart-shop screaming. </p>
<p>We’ll do our part to fill in the lengthy election coverage by looking at language and polly-talk. We’ll cast a close eye on how politicians use language to connect with voters, how language impacts our view of candidates, and, perhaps the most fun of all, the polly-waffles and linguistic stuff-ups along the way. More so, we’ll put political language in its historical and often slippery and weasely contexts. </p>
<p>The best place to start this coverage is the words that form the backdrop to the election. The origins of these stretch from Ancient Rome to the modern United States. But not to be outdone, Australia’s got its own series of words, and has made a few contributions to global political processes, too. </p>
<h2>The dazzling togas and open fields of Ancient Rome</h2>
<p>The 16th and 17th centuries saw hundreds of classical coinages flood into English. Many related to political aspects of life and were linked historically in different ways to gravitas. </p>
<p>Yet one recurring theme you’ll see in political words is a deterioration in their meanings. Links between foul play and politics have cast many of these words into the vast semantic abyss – if they didn’t already start their linguistic life there.</p>
<p><em>Candidate</em> is a relative of <em>candid</em> “frank”. Both go back to Latin <em>candidus</em>, “pure white, glistening”. In Ancient Rome those standing for election wore dazzling white togas. White (especially sheeny white) was the symbol of purity and light, freedom from evil intent and later freedom from bias. </p>
<p><em>Candid</em> is something we’d love our pollies to be, but bear in mind too that the Latin source also gave us <em>candida</em> the yeast-like parasitic fungus.</p>
<p><em>Campaign</em> goes back to Latin <em>campania</em>, “open field”, but the form that came into English (via French) comes from Italian <em>campagna</em>. The word took on a military specialisation – armies fought better in fine weather, and so when summer approached they emerged into the open countryside (or <em>campagna</em>) to do battle. This meaning of “military operation” gave rise to the political sense in the 1800s. </p>
<p>Interestingly, the word campaign is historically the same word as <em>champagne</em> (as a great filcher of vocabulary, English often swiped the same item more than once). So as you progress through this excruciatingly long <em>campaign</em>, know that you are linguistically justified in seeking solace in occasional glasses of bubbles.</p>
<p>Our final word of Latin pedigree is the little word <em>vote</em>. It derives from <em>vōtum</em>, a form of a Latin verb meaning “to solemnly promise”, and appeared in the English during 16th century with the meaning “grave undertaking” (a sense preserved in <em>vow</em>). </p>
<p>Out of this meaning developed a “wish, desire” sense, which then gave rise to the current election sense – the idea being that someone can signify their wishes by casting a ballot. Like so many words to do with politics, <em>vote</em> eventually took a cynical turn for the worse. In The Devil’s Dictionary (1911), Ambrose Bierce defines it as:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The instrument and symbol of a freeman’s power to make a fool of himself and a wreck of his country. </p>
</blockquote>
<h2>The salamanders and swashbucklers of US politics</h2>
<p>American English has given us plenty of political curiosities. <em>Gerrymander</em>, used to describe the “dishonest manipulation of constituency boundaries”, shows the name of the 19th-century (corrupt) American politician, Elbridge Gerry (governor of Massachusetts) blended with <em>salamander</em>. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=628&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=628&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=628&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=789&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=789&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/63232/original/wx28372d-1414623275.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=789&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Gerrymandering has been present in US politics since the 19th century.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Elkanah Tisdale</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>The inspiration for the blend was the map showing the boundary changes introduced by Gerry – it resembled a salamander in shape.</p>
<p>Another rather lovely word that’s been making recent appearances on the Australian political scene is <em>filibuster</em>, “a parliamentary procedure where prolonged speaking delays or even thwarts a vote on a proposed piece of legislation”. </p>
<p>The word is a linguistic bitser. Historically it’s the same word as <em>freebooter</em> (someone who scores free booty) – both words go back to Dutch <em>vrijbuiter</em>. French adopted the word as <em>flibustier</em> and then passed it onto Spanish as <em>filibustero</em>. </p>
<p>English (“<a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=4djICT7zgGoC&printsec=frontcover&dq=isbn:1847654592&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjm5e-EjqHMAhXG5qYKHQS7ApoQ6AEIHDAA#v=onepage&q&f=false">the vacuum cleaner of language</a>”) appears to have sucked up the word in all its different forms but the same meaning – both <em>freebooter</em> and <em>flibooter</em> appeared in the 16th century (“l’s” and “r’s” are notoriously unstable and swap places all the time – <em>grammar</em> and <em>glamour</em> is another doublet with the same origin); the French form <em>flibustier</em> arrived in 18th century and the Spanish form <em>filibuster</em> in the 19th century. </p>
<p>The current political sense first appeared in the US by the 1880s, in part aided by 19th-century military campaigns in Latin America, which were led by “unauthorised” US soldiers known as <em>filibusters</em>. This political sense has well and truly pushed out the earlier sense of “piratical adventurer”.</p>
<p><em>Pork barrelling</em> also acquired its political meanings in the US, but is now commonly used in Australia for those occasions where marginal seats are said to receive more funding than safe seats. Barrels of salted pork were once treasured larder items and good indicators of a household’s wellbeing, so it’s no surprise that <em>pork barrel</em> came to mean a supply of money. </p>
<p>In the 1800s it then extended to refer to any form of public spending to the community – it’s then that <em>pork barrel politics</em>, at least under this label, fell from grace.</p>
<h2>The donkeys and dixers of Australian politics</h2>
<p>Finally we leave you with three political D-words that Australia has gifted to the rest world. </p>
<p>There is the <em>donkey vote</em>, where voters allocate preferences in the order in which candidates’ names appear on the ballot paper, giving the top-listed candidate an advantage. In the past, when ballots listed candidates in alphabetical order, the first letter of a person’s surname <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/The_Collins_Australian_Dictionary_of_Pol.html?id=65umAQAACAAJ&redir_esc=y">could impact</a> whether they were selected as a party’s candidate. </p>
<p><em>Dog-whistle politics</em> is a targeted political campaign message containing some kind of coded significance that will reach only sympathetic voters (just like the special high-pitched whistle used to train dogs is inaudible to humans). </p>
<p>The modern practice itself is rooted in American conservative politics. For instance, Richard Nixon <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dog-Whistle-Politics-Appeals-Reinvented/dp/0199964270">used</a> the phrase “law and order” as a code for a tougher stance on race and anti-war protesters. Yet, the term <em>dog-whistling</em> is often linked to the Australian “<a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/who-is-lynton-crosby-the-evil-genius-behind-harpers-campaign/article26331033/">master of the dark political arts</a>”, Lynton Crosby, who has led conservative campaigns in Australia, Britain and, most recently, Canada. </p>
<p>Finally, the <em>Dorothy Dix(er)</em> has been used in Australian politics since the 1940s to refer to a rehearsed question asked of a government minister by a backbencher to score political points. Curiously, the expression isn’t known in the US, even though Dorothy Dix was the pseudonym for the American writer, E.M. Gilmer, who apparently made up questions for her agony column. </p>
<p>We can compare this with <em>kangaroo ticket</em>, a political expression not known in Australia but used by Americans to describe a situation where the vice-presidential candidate has more appeal than the presidential candidate. Kangaroos have more weight in their bottom halves, and they also propel themselves using their back legs. </p>
<h2>Sorting the roosters from the feather dusters</h2>
<p>As our pollies hit the hustings, you might be interested to know that <em>husting</em> is the oldest political term in English. Originally, <em>hus-thing</em> (from 11th-century Norse) referred to a council comprising members of the king’s immediate household. </p>
<p>It was literally was a “house-thing”. The development to the current-day meaning of “election proceedings” involves a series of shifts too spectacular to go into here. </p>
<p>Perhaps another day – it’s going to be a long few months and we have to maintain the rage.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/58054/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Many of the most commonly used election terms have a long linguistic history, stretching from ancient Rome to modern-day America and Australia.Kate Burridge, Professor of Linguistics, Monash UniversityHoward Manns, Lecturer in Linguistics, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/580562016-05-05T04:12:12Z2016-05-05T04:12:12ZA ‘new’ approach to communicating – oh, and jobs and growth – to be found in Budget 2016<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/121324/original/image-20160505-19755-rm3pgf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">In the past 20 years, budget speeches have been delivered in increasingly less complex language.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Lukas Coch</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>On budget night, Scott Morrison and the Coalition whipped out their little sack for the nation. “Budget”, you see, derives from the Old French <em>bougette</em> “little leather sack”. </p>
<p>Let’s review the language of these little sacks, and see how this year’s budget language measures up against past trends.</p>
<h2>A boring but subtle political frame</h2>
<p>How a budget is framed is <a href="https://theconversation.com/working-families-tonys-tradies-what-will-this-years-budget-soundbite-be-57354">critically important</a> to how the budget is received. More than a few commentators have noted that this is a boring but political budget. Fairfax political editor <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/business/federal-budget/budget-2016-its-delivered-and-now-its-time-for-malcolm-turnbull-the-great-persuader-to-sell-it-20160502-gojpwd.html">Michael Gordon wrote</a> the budget had:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>… all the wow factor of a lukewarm bath - and that’s its strength. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>In linguistic terms, there appears to be a stark contrast between this budget speech and general trends over the past 20 years. We examined few of these trends by using a text analysis tool known as the Linguistic Inquiry and Word Count (LIWC). </p>
<p>A striking development over the past 20 years has been a marked increase in pronoun use in budget speeches. Pronouns include words such as “I”, “you”, “we” and “someone”. This suggests budgets have been becoming increasingly personal and less subtly political. </p>
<p>In the 1996 budget, pronouns accounted for approximately one in 20 words used in budget speeches. By 2015, pronoun use had jumped to one in 10 words. Peter Costello’s use of first-person plural forms (for example, “we”, “us”, “our”) accounted for 1% of his 1996 speech. By the 2015 speech, these pronouns accounted for 3.9% of the word count for Joe Hockey.</p>
<p>In this budget, there was a slight drop in the use of pronouns as well as a shift in the way in which words like “we”, “they” and “you” were used. For instance, use of the first-person plural forms mentioned above dropped from Hockey’s 3.9% of the total to 2.7% of Morrison’s total. </p>
<p>The pronoun “you” appeared rarely in budget speeches at all until Wayne Swan’s 2013 effort. In this speech, Swan used “you” as an impersonal device rather than a pronoun with a specific person in mind (for example, “you do not get to choose”). </p>
<p>Such impersonal uses of “you” accounted for most of its uses of the past 20 years. However, Hockey bucked this trend in the 2014 speech when he began to use “you” to address the Australian people. </p>
<p>On Tuesday night, Morrison also used “you” to address segments of the Australian population – investors and those receiving modest tax breaks – but he used “you” fewer times than either Swan or Hockey had. </p>
<h2>Keep It Simple, (not) Stupid</h2>
<p>Another trend bucked by Tuesday night’s budget relates to the complexity of the language style used. The past 20 years have witnessed budget speeches of decreasing language complexity. </p>
<p>LIWC measures complexity with reference to sentence length and words with six letters or more. The latter tend to be of Greco-Latinate origins and linked to scientific or more complex topics. </p>
<p>In the 1996 budget speech, 30% of the words consisted of six letters or more. In the 2015 speech, this percentage had dropped to 24.1%. From 1996 to 2015, sentence length had dropped from 21 words per sentence to 18.1 words per sentence. Sentences in the 2016 budget were by far the longest in past 20 years (24.8 words per sentence) and the six-letter word count at its highest since Swan’s 2013 budget. </p>
<p>It is worth noting that text analyses such as these can be crude measures of complexity. More so, they aren’t measuring the intelligence of the speaker but rather the degree to which the text is accessible to an audience relative to their educational attainment. </p>
<p>So, for instance, if we’re to use these text analyses tools exclusively to judge a speaker’s intelligence, then George W. Bush was a more intelligent speaker than Barack Obama in the US State of the Union addresses. </p>
<h2>Jobs and growth, in-‘new’-vation and, by the way, jobs and growth</h2>
<p>Shifting the discussion to specific words, there’s no question the Coalition was keen for us to pick up a few key words. In this case, we’re talking about Morrison’s somewhat laboured repetition of <em>jobs and growth</em> (13 times to be exact).</p>
<p>The word <em>jobs</em> appears 37 times in this year’s speech, making it the second-most-common noun after <em>tax</em>, which appears 71 times.</p>
<p>Yet, the key theme of this year’s budget was “novelty” – and a series of words associated with “newness”. <em>New</em> is the most common adjective in this speech, appearing 30 times. <em>New economy</em> appears six times as a phrase, and we see this linked to a range of concepts but, perhaps mostly saliently, <em>innovation</em>.</p>
<p>The word <em>innovation</em> can set off alarm bells when used by conservatives. For example, George W. Bush wielded innovation as a tool to argue for corporate tax cuts. After all, a heavily taxed corporation can’t be expected to innovate, could it? </p>
<p>So, is the government using innovation the way we’d like them to? Well, the answer to that question relates to how you’d expect or want it to be used. The word innovate derives from the Latin <em>innovatus</em>, the past participle of <em>innovāre</em>, “to renew” or “alter”. </p>
<p>Subtly relevant to this year’s speech, the element <em>nov</em> in innovation and its Latin predecessors is closely related to the modern English word <em>new</em>. Some of the earliest uses of innovation related to changes to language, by philosophers and with reference to the state of mankind. Yet innovation became tightly linked to technology and commerce during the industrial revolution.</p>
<p>In more recent years, there has been a rise in <em>innovation economics</em> and this underlies the current vision set out in the government’s budget speech and its <a href="http://www.innovation.gov.au/page/agenda">National Innovation and Science Agenda</a>. </p>
<p>We ran a corpus search (<a href="http://www.laurenceanthony.net/software/antconc/">Antconc</a>) on the information sheets of the latter and found that collective references to “business/commerce” in this policy outstretch those to “universities” at a rate of 4.5 to 1.</p>
<p>There are frequent references to entrepreneurs but there are no references to language, culture or anything that might be construed as humanities-related in this policy. And, by the way, the bias in entrepreneur towards the new is only recent. </p>
<h2>The vibes of luke-hot budgets</h2>
<p>Each year when the government whips out its budget sack, the media and opposition are quick to attach labels to it (“horror budget”, “magic pudding” and so on). </p>
<p>This year’s budget, in the words of ABC radio presenter Fran Kelly, has a different “vibe”. </p>
<p>There’s a lot of vague newness about – oh, and have we mentioned jobs and growth?</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/58056/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>We all know about the ‘jobs and growth’, but there was also ‘tax’ and various forms of ‘new’ – read innovation – in this year’s federal budget.Kate Burridge, Professor of Linguistics, Monash UniversityHoward Manns, Lecturer in Linguistics, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/427912015-06-09T04:18:27Z2015-06-09T04:18:27ZNavigating South Africa’s loaded political lexicon<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/84106/original/image-20150605-8704-1m5hdvg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Liberalism means something completely different in South Africa compared with the US and UK, and has racist connotations. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The concepts and language people use when discussing politics don’t mean the same everywhere we go. This is certainly true in South Africa. </p>
<p>These differences manifest in ideologies like liberalism and conservatism, objectives like nation-building, and phenomena like populism or the substance of democracy.</p>
<p>Liberalism means something completely different in South Africa compared, for example, with America. For the majority of South Africans it is a dirty word. The roots of this go back to early colonialism.</p>
<h2>The role of racism</h2>
<p>The South African understanding of liberalism has been traced mostly to the early Cape history. Compared with the racist nationalism of the frontier farmers and later the Afrikaner migrants, known as <a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/south-africa-1806-1899/great-trek-1835-1846">Voortrekkers</a>, South African liberals saw themselves as representing a more humane form of racism. For example, they supported a <a href="http://www.content.eisa.org.za/old-page/south-africa-historical-franchise-arrangements">qualified franchise</a> for black people. </p>
<p>During the apartheid period, liberals were against racial discrimination. But they were associated with big business, which most black opposition groups regarded as the economic basis of apartheid. This was a dominant view particularly among Marxists.</p>
<p>This tension is often referred to as the <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/00076798700000018?journalCode=fbsh20#.VW_n62SqpBc">liberal-radical debate</a> of the 1960s.</p>
<h2>Liberalism laid bare</h2>
<p>Liberalism’s most serious crisis occurred when <a href="https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/u/0/#!exhibit:exhibitId=AQp2i2l5">black consciousness</a> founder Steve Biko split from the <a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/topic/national-union-south-african-students-nusas">National Union of South African Students</a> and formed the South African Students’ Organisation. Biko’s <a href="http://abahlali.org/files/Biko.pdf">main target</a> was the white students who spoke against apartheid but did not act in solidarity with their black fellow members. </p>
<p>As a result, the paths of liberals and the internal resistance movement went their separate ways in the early 1970s.</p>
<p>Philosophically, <a href="http://www.da.org.za/2013/06/liberalism-has-always-been-a-powerful-force-in-south-africa/">South African liberalism</a> is focused on the individual in society. Its highest value is freedom – not equality. It insists on an open society where individuals have maximum opportunities to develop their own initiatives in a free market with the least possible intervention by the state or public sector.</p>
<p>This view holds that the state should be responsible for only the most general services such as military defence, international relations, public safety and some infrastructure.</p>
<p>Today, South Africa’s main opposition party, the Democratic Alliance, comes closest to this stance. Its new slogan is <a href="http://www.da.org.za/2015/06/together-we-can-build-a-better-nelson-mandela-bay/">freedom, fairness and opportunity</a>. It remains to be seen whether the party, now led by a <a href="https://theconversation.com/first-black-leader-breathes-life-into-south-african-opposition-41275">black leader</a>, will change the fortunes of liberalism among the country’s majority black population.</p>
<p>In the US, this philosophy is typical of the neoconservatives, or today’s <a href="http://global.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1673405/Tea-Party-movement">Tea Party</a> movement. It is a variation on what was earlier known as <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-politics-22079683">Thatcherism</a>. The tax policies of those parties are good indicators of the difference between liberals and conservatives. The Conservatives, or neoconservatives, are generally in favour of lower taxes as well as government spending.</p>
<p>On the other hand, liberals in the US – mainly in the Democratic Party – are in favour of big government and a greater role for the state, particularly in the social sphere. They support projects such as President Barack Obama’s health care reforms. This is why the party finds support from lower classes and trade unions.</p>
<p>In the UK, the <a href="http://global.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/326949/Labour-Party">Labour Party</a> is comparable with the <a href="http://global.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/157244/Democratic-Party">American Democrats</a>. The same values in the British context are not liberal but social democratic.</p>
<p>The European social democratic tradition has some points of similarity with the <a href="http://www.anc.org.za/show.php?id=206">African National Congress’</a> early policy propositions, especially those in the <a href="https://books.google.co.za/books?id=c0ugBAAAQBAJ&pg=PA249&lpg=PA249&dq=rdp,+Jay+Naidoo&source=bl&ots=SffOvPtgqy&sig=BjAG0ie8nsmTS6ttJMi8Zx6hxRg&hl=en&sa=X&ei=CB1wVeTOC4Ot7Abz_4KgCA&ved=0CD0Q6AEwCDgK#v=onepage&q=rdp%2C%20Jay%20Naidoo&f=false">Reconstruction and Development Programme</a>, the Mandela administration’s programme for meeting the basic needs of South Africa’s previously marginalised majority black community, such as housing, health care, education and electricity. </p>
<h2>Conservatism has its own complexities</h2>
<p>Conservatism is an even more elusive concept. Historically it is associated with philosophers like <a href="http://www.edmundburkeinstitute.org/edmundburke.htm">Edmund Burke</a>.</p>
<p>Permutations of conservatism appear in religious, social, ethnocentric or racial, and political, forms. Religious conservatives, who are present in most of the main religions, prefer a theocratic approach to politics. Social conservatives often use religious arguments for their views on, for example, the status of women, abortion, the death penalty and sexual identity.</p>
<p>Many shades of conservatism are found in most countries. Today, one of its forms is right-wing European populism in the National Front (France), Lega Nord (Italy) or the Party for Freedom (Netherlands). </p>
<p>Conservatives are protective of their own group, lifestyle and culture. They are therefore very nationalistic or xenophobic and protective of the status quo. </p>
<p>South African conservatism falls in broad terms within this description. Parties such as the <a href="http://www.vfplus.org.za/2014-election-manifesto">Freedom Front Plus</a>, the <a href="http://www.acdp.org.za/">African Christian Democratic Party</a> and the <a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/topic/inkatha-freedom-party-ifp">Inkatha Freedom Party</a> fit the description.</p>
<p>In philosophical terms, conservatism puts emphasis on the community as the main focus in society rather than the individual. Family and communal networks are seen as the essence of society.</p>
<p>In economic terms it tends more towards a welfare or social democratic orientation, but not absolutely in favour of free market ideology. </p>
<p>Contemporary English conservatism – presented by the Conservative Party since Margaret Thatcher – is exactly the opposite. It resembles very much what was earlier presented as South African liberalism. In many parts of the world, neoliberalism and neoconservatism can mean more or less the same thing. It all depends which country you are in.</p>
<h2>Nation-building is another kettle of fish</h2>
<p>A concept of equally divergent meanings is nation-building. South Africans are well-acquainted with the concept, especially since former president <a href="https://www.nelsonmandela.org/content/page/biography">Nelson Mandela</a> included it in his post-1994 reconstruction and democratisation policies. </p>
<p>It was a post-apartheid strategy to forge a new national identity by way of reconciliation, cultural convergence, political accommodation and power-sharing, the removal of discrimination as well as historical redress. It was seen as a process necessary for the new South African state to forge one, united nation.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=775&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=775&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=775&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=974&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=974&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/84100/original/image-20150605-8692-1c8c0ir.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=974&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Nelson Mandela spearheaded nation-building while Steve Biko, projected on the right, opposed liberalism.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">shutterstock</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Nation-building as a concept has a completely different meaning in, for example, the US. American military leaders involved in Iraq and Afghanistan cautioned against the costs of nation-building. This referred to rebuilding the state after a period of conflict rather than unifying the people.</p>
<p>Nation-building in this sense means to re-establish education facilities, restore the water and electricity infrastructure, retrain the police force and establish a new defence force. The challenges of nation building are graphically explained in Paul Bremer III’s book <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/12/books/12kaku.html?n=Top%2FNews%2FWorld%2FCountries%20and%20Territories%2FIraq&_r=0">My Year in Iraq</a>.</p>
<p>These examples show that it is important never to take any political concept at face value. Meanings are determined by a particular historical context and even nuances of understanding among people of the same origin.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/42791/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Dirk Kotze does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Liberalism is a dirty word for the majority of South Africans. This goes back to early colonialism. Liberals opposed apartheid but not the close relationship between capitalism and apartheid.Dirk Kotze, Professor in Political Science, University of South AfricaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.