'Political language is designed to make lies truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind,' wrote George Orwell in his essay, Politics and the English Language, writes David Adams
"In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defence of the indefensible ... thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness."
Orwell's essay was first published in 1946, when accomplished orators such as Winston Churchill, Nye Bevan, Hugh Gaitskell and Ernest Bevin still sat in the House of Commons. At the time British politics could hardly be considered lacking in representatives willing and able to expound at length on their beliefs.
But Orwell's complaint was not that there was a dearth of political discourse (closer to the opposite, I think) but rather that politicians too often used grandiloquent and indeterminate language to cause confusion and propagate lies and half-truths. Specifically, that they used benign-sounding words and vague terminology to shield from the public the unpalatable realities of their (in)actions. He accused them of employing the phraseology of euphemism to "name things without calling up mental pictures of them". "Defenceless villages bombarded from the air . . . this is called pacification. Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers."
Or, referring to our then ally, "Uncle Joe" Stalin, and his manner of dealing with dissent: "People are imprisoned for years without trial, or shot in the back of the neck or sent to die of scurvy in Arctic lumber camps: this is called elimination of unreliable elements."
This phraseology of euphemism is still the common currency of politics. Consider how far removed the following are from their practical, unsanitised ramifications, and the bloody mental pictures they seek to avoid us calling up: shock and awe; collateral damage; ethnic cleansing; legitimate target; pre-emptive defence; necessary protective measures; military intervention, and so on, and so on.
If Orwell was so outraged in 1946 (a golden age of clarity of political language in comparison to our own) one can barely imagine how appalled he would be by the state of things today. Nowadays, we don't even have the luxury of accomplished parliamentary performers to rescue us from the banal. But then again, I don't suppose we can fairly judge, given the distinct lack of opportunity to show off any such skills.
An average circus performance is less choreographed than a modern parliamentary debate, and arguably just as enlightening. And, while we do see and hear a lot more of politicians in 2004 than people did in 1946, they manage, somehow, to elucidate even less.
The European "debate" in the UK is a perfect example of how an issue of utmost importance can be rendered incomprehensible by the language of "euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness".
Party spin-doctors ensure that even the lowliest political mediocrity or cretinous apparatchik is properly versed in the art of public comment before being allowed anywhere near a microphone. Recording a commentary piece for television merely requires one to look good and give the impression of knowing what you're talking about. Irrespective of the line in questioning, only predetermined points are made and only agreeable subjects addressed.
In a live interview or debate situation, if someone has the temerity to raise an awkward subject, obfuscation or feigned anger and hurt is the preferred tactic - anything, to eat up precious time. The clock is the interviewer's concern, not theirs.
The malleable language of sound bite and cliche (what my father would have called "smart-arse remarks") that sounds good but can mean anything or nothing, is the modern-day politician's stock-in-trade. These rhetorical contortions and the studious avoidance of meaningful debate are, of course, designed to woo or, better still, fool the voters.
And the very opposite has been the result. A political milieu where, to the politician at least, style matters far more than substance, has created a situation where more and more people are simply not bothering to vote.
And who can blame them? It's hard to differentiate between individual politicians and well nigh impossible between political parties.
In the US, which, more often than not, acts as an early warning system for the rest of us in these things, it is usual for less than half the electorate to turn out to vote. The same pattern is beginning to emerge on this side of the Atlantic. But this doesn't overly concern our politicians, at least not yet.
For now, the important thing is not the percentage turnout - but what percentage of that turnout votes for them. Only when some extremist, utopia-promising party comes along and catches the imagination of a growing army of disgruntled, disillusioned and dissatisfied voters, will politicians begin to realise the danger. In the meantime, like Orwell, all the rest of us can do is protest in vain, while keeping a wary eye on the political horizon.