The Meaning Wars
Language, Power, and the Age of the Strongman
From “fake news” to “special military operations,” this is how political language is reshaped to suit power — and why it matters.
“Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.”
— George Orwell, 1946
In an age of algorithm-fed outrage and twenty-four-hour news cycles, it’s easy to become numb to political language. Slogans echo across podiums, tweets (or X’s?) are fired off like bullets, and words like “freedom,” “security,” “self-defence,” and “patriotism” are deployed so frequently that they begin to lose their meaning.
Orwell warned us about this almost 80 years ago. Long before “fake news” became a political weapon — a way of avoiding facts and deflecting accountability — and “special military operation” replaced “war,” he understood that the corruption of language was not a side effect of political decay: it was the mechanism. Language, he argued, could be engineered to blur reality, to suppress thought, to make the unthinkable seem thinkable — even necessary.
The world today is once again in the grip of so-called ‘strongmen’ — leaders who prize loyalty over the rule of law, spectacle over substance, and who wield language as a tool of suppression and dominance. From Putin’s bland euphemisms for invasion, to Trump’s linguistic sleight of hand, to Modi’s moral binaries, political rhetoric is no longer just spin — it’s a systematic assault on meaning itself.
In this post, the first in a three-part series on Orwell, language, and authoritarianism, I’ll examine how power reshapes language — and how language, in turn, reshapes reality. Because when meaning dies, truth doesn’t just become contested — it becomes optional.
Part One — The Language of Power: Orwell, Authoritarianism, and the Death of Meaning
Meaning and Language: A Philosophical Primer
Language is never neutral. It doesn’t just describe the world; it creates it. Orwell grasped this intuitively, but he wasn’t alone in thinking that the relationship between words and reality is both fragile and powerful.
As I wrote previously, Wittgenstein argued that the meaning of a word is found in its use. This seems obvious until you notice how easily that use can be changed. In the hands of the powerful, language becomes a kind of game — and they get to set the rules. The same word can mean one thing to a protestor and the opposite to a government spokesperson. “Security,” for instance, might mean protection to one and surveillance to another.
Swiss linguistic scholar Ferdinand de Saussure saw language as a system of signs made up of the signifier (the word) and the signified (the concept). The link between them, he argued, is arbitrary. Words only have meaning in relation to other words. Which means that if you start shifting the network of associations, you can shift meaning itself. That’s exactly what happens when political language is retooled: a border wall becomes a “peacekeeping measure”; censorship becomes “content moderation”; civilian deaths become “collateral damage.”
Orwell, building on these ideas in his own way, saw how political actors deliberately use vague, inflated, and euphemistic language to manipulate public perception. The goal isn’t communication — it’s control. As he put it, “If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.”
This philosophical scaffolding may seem abstract — but its consequences are chillingly real. When language is bent out of shape by those in power, the effects ripple outward: in how we speak, how we think, and ultimately, how we live.
The Authoritarian Lexicon
Strongmen don’t just rule through fear; they rule through narrative. And the most effective narrative is the one embedded in everyday language. Consider some recent examples:
Vladimir Putin refers to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as a “special military operation,” a phrase that drains the event of its violent, unlawful reality. Any citizen who dares to use the ‘W’ word — war — risks arrest, and often disappears into a system designed to silence dissent.
Donald Trump popularised “fake news” — a term originally coined in the late 19th century — to discredit any media coverage he doesn’t like.
Narendra Modi routinely frames dissenters as “anti-national,” collapsing the line between disagreement and treason.
Benjamin Netanyahu described Palestinians as “human animals,” a dehumanising move that opens the door to moral justification for collective punishment. He also framed Israel’s actions in Gaza and the West Bank as acts of ‘self-defence,’ despite widespread accusations of war crimes and ethnic cleansing — language that sanitises devastation.
Xi Jinping promotes the idea of a “harmonious society,” where censorship and surveillance are framed as cultural unity and stability.
These phrases aren’t accidental. They’re strategically vague, emotionally charged, and intentionally polarising. They shut down debate and bypass complexity. In short, they make it harder to think. And that’s one reason Trump was re-elected in 2024.
The Death of Meaning
The repeated use of hollow slogans and loaded language gradually drains meaning — and appeals to those who prefer not to think too hard about the choices they’re making. Orwell called this “duckspeak” — speech that repeats official ideas without engaging thought.When politicians utter phrases like “make America great again,” “thoughts and prayers,” or “taking back control,” they’re often signalling allegiance rather than offering substance.
Worse still, words that once carried moral or democratic weight become divorced from their original context. “Freedom” is invoked to defend violent insurrection. “Democracy” is used to justify authoritarian crackdowns. “Truth” becomes a matter of opinion — or alternate ‘reality.’ The result is not just a degraded discourse, but a degraded sense of what reality actually is.
In such an environment, language no longer serves truth. It serves power.
Reclaiming Meaning
If Orwell was right, then resisting authoritarianism begins with resisting its language. That means refusing to accept euphemism in place of clarity. It means questioning the slogans, unpacking the metaphors, and paying attention to what is not being said.
Language can be used to obscure, but it can also illuminate. Clear speech is an act of resistance. So is listening closely.
This is the first step. In the next post, I’ll explore how strongmen use not just brutal or deceptive language, but soft, soothing words to mask their real intentions. Because authoritarianism doesn’t always announce itself with a snarl. Sometimes, it comes cloaked in comfort. And that’s where the real danger lurks.