Getting the truth beneath the language

Simon Tisdall, The Dawn, Asia News Network, Karachi

Second World War posters warning that "careless talk costs lives" embodied an enduring truth. Then the fear was that fifth columnists might overhear conversations of value to the Nazis. Elsie: "Can you take the kids to the park?" Herbert: "Sorry, ducks, it's D-day. I'll be invading Normandy all week." The equivalent U.S. slogan was "loose lips sink ships".

Sixty years on, in another era of conflict, the careless talk comes more often from politicians -- but it is potentially just as deadly. When George Bush, soon after Sept. 11, referred to a "crusade" against al-Qaeda, he helped persuade the Muslims that they were under renewed attack from Richard the Lionheart in a U.S. navy bomber jacket. In the context of a mooted "clash of civilizations", Bush's loose use of language was not only insensitive. It was unthinkingly reckless.

Bush has avoided the word "crusade" ever since. But he still regularly talks about the need to defend "civilization" and "the civilized world" against "dark forces". He never quite says which part of the planet is the "uncivilized" or "dark" bit. Perhaps he means Kandahar. Or Eastbourne. It is unclear. But the unspoken implication is deeply divisive, even racist, not to say insulting.

Given that words, spoken, written or broadcast, are our main form of communication, and given that words have such inherent potency, it is a wonder that today's sound-biting leaders are not more careful what they say. In short, they should mind their language. Words can define how a people or a nation sees itself: The U.S. declaration of independence is one obvious example. Yet modern-day Palestinians also see themselves engaged in a struggle for "independence" and "freedom" from external oppression.

Words such as "imperialism", "emancipation", "self- determination" and "liberation" define how history is scripted, how the future will be shaped, how contemporary conflicts are perceived and thus how they may or may not be resolved.

Terrorism is a salient case in point. In the abstract, "terrorism" is a terrible thing; everybody deplores it; nobody supports it. Why then is terrorism such a growth industry? Because its definition is not agreed. It depends where you stand. Terrorism has, thus, become a much abused, highly fungible term.

For Donald Rumsfeld, for example, the weekend helicopter attack at Fallujah was simply the work of "terrorists". That statement conceals a larger, unpalatable truth. To the oppressed of the world, the men of violence are, variously, militants, freedom-fighters, guerrillas, insurgents, heroes, martyrs. The real terrorists belong to the "other side". Yet "state terrorism" is a concept that is barely recognized by the ostensible oppressors.

From Chechnya, Xinjiang and Indonesia to Colombia, Saudi Arabia, Uzbekistan, Pakistan, Palestine and the Philippines, the anti-terror "war" has expanded exponentially with Bush's blanket blessing. One never would have guessed there were so many terrorists! In this loose-lipped, rapid-fire lingo, such people, whether killed or locked up in Bagram or Guantanamo or a thousand other hell-holes, are by definition "evil".

Here, you might think, is another trip-wire for the unwary, to be sidestepped by sensible politicians in the secular, rational west. Not a bit of it. Ronald Reagan denounced the "evil empire" of Soviet times. But Bush, author of the "axis of evil", Tony Blair and others have gone for linguistic broke. Not for them, it seems, any deep reflection on the moral connotations of their language. The world divides into biblical good and bad, black and white.

Little wonder that Gen. William Boykin, a leading Pentagon Christian soldier, could declare that the U.S. was at war with Satan. Italy's Silvio Berlusconi has strayed into the same Islam- denigrating territory. Malaysia's Mahathir Mohamad let slip his own counter-bigotry last month, claiming that Jews "rule the world by proxy". Such crass slurs are enough to make a philologist pine.

The latest addition to pol-speak, to the modern leader's essential lexicon, is WMD (weapons of mass destruction). This is now a universally understood term, or so you might think. WMD is proliferating, it's deeply frightening, and it's coming to a cinema or tube near you. Yet totemic WMD is also a reason why civil liberties are everywhere under siege, why military budgets are rising, why the developing world is not developing, and why your opinion is ignored. In fact, WMD is a vague, non-specific term that can be (and is) used to cover a multitude of supposed sins.

There are certain words, conversely, that the west's leaders gingerly eschew. These include "resistance" -- too encouraging a label for the rag-taggle "remnants" opposing Iraq's emancipators, especially when used with a capital "R", as in French. And then there is "occupation". Occupation, as in Iraq, is a no-go word; liberation is far preferable. Occupation makes it sound as if the U.S. has barged uninvited into somebody else's country and refuses to go away. It makes Iraq sound like Palestine, Tibet, Afghanistan or, heaven forbid, Vietnam. That really is careless, ship-sinking talk.

Greater sense and sensitivity in the use of language is required of politicians -- and indeed the media. The urge to suppress arguably loaded words or phrases should as a rule be resisted as inimical to free expression and better understanding. As every spin doctor knows, acceptance of "official" terminology and definitions can amount to implicit endorsement of official policy. But the search for the right requires constant awareness of possible ambiguity and politically and culturally charged, multiple meanings.

As ever, in all human discourse, there is truth and there is propaganda. As ever, it is important to be able to tell the difference. Before passing the ammunition, pass the word.