Using and misusing the language of war

(Representational image) The use of militarised metaphors is omnipresent. Examples include sales blitz, Covid warriors and the electoral battleground.

We live in a world shaped by war, writes historian Margaret Macmillan in her recent book on the subject. Large groups of people have suffered, been dislocated, and disappeared because of war. Some great art and literature have been inspired by war or the hatred of it. Many innovations and inventions in daily use came about because of the needs of the battlefield. Armed conflict is often a part of games children and adults play, online or offline.

Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in the language we use. Etymologist Wilfred Funk has estimated that for each year the United States was involved in World War II, more than 6,000 words were added to the American vocabulary. Among them are “debrief”, “clobber” and “flak”, as well as acronyms such as “radar”, “Jeep” and “snafu”. It was the same with the Great War, which contributed “strafe”, “zero hour”, and “shellshock”, to mention a few.

Macmillan points to several other examples in English. The expression “a flash in the pan” originated with early guns, when the gunpowder that was meant to ignite the charge flared to no effect. Taking French leave means departing rudely and abruptly, while Dutch courage refers to the confidence acquired by drinking gin. Of course, she wryly observes, the words “British” and “English” play the same role for the French and the Dutch.

New expressions apart, it’s the use of militarised metaphors that is omnipresent. In their pioneering book Metaphors We Live By, cognitive linguists George Lakoff and Mark Johnson unpack a few examples. Take the way we conduct an argument: by defending positions, attacking points of view, and refusing to retreat.

That is why it can be disorienting to read the news nowadays, at a time when the literal brushes up against the metaphorical. Ukraine is defending itself from invasion. Sports teams are launching offensives. Yemen is facing fire. Stock indices are under assault.

In AIDS and its Metaphors, Susan Sontag notes that war has come to be used as an analogy for “all sorts of ameliorative campaigns whose goals are cast as the defeat of an ‘enemy’.” Thus, there are wars against drugs, poverty, crime, cholesterol and – of course – terror.

More recently, debates between progressive and conservative points of view have worryingly been framed as “a culture war”. The waging of war, adds Sontag, “is one of the few activities that people are not supposed to view ‘realistically’; that is, with an eye to expense and practical outcome”.

Almost from the start, those in marketing and advertising have been enthusiastic about launching campaigns, crushing the competition and defending market share, while avidly reading books such as Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Suitably inspired, they launch into price wars, guerrilla marketing tactics, and sales blitzes.

Then, there are electoral battlegrounds, with debates in which politicians come under fire, attack weak points and target opponents. In their constituencies, rivals are routed, and gain or concede ground.

The pandemic is yet another case in point. The situation is routinely depicted as a battle against a dangerous foe, with doctors and staff on the front lines and vaccine-makers devising weapons to repel the invading disease. Collective sacrifice, warriors, and a resilient spirit are the needs of the hour.

When it comes to official pronouncements, columnist Simon Jenkins puts it bluntly: “Never, ever, should a government use war as a metaphor in a time of peace.” Writing about coronavirus precautions, he goes on to assert: “Words such as battles, fights, enemies and threats to nations are clearly directed at accreting power and suspending liberty. They encourage xenophobia and attacks on supposed ‘enemy agents’.”

War-like pronouncements, then, indicate an all-or-nothing approach in which corners can be cut, aggression can be justified, and the end justifies the means. Such metaphors displace blame. They lead people to focus on short-term solutions and ignore underlying and persistent structural problems. The implication is that once the “war” has been won, we can get back to business as usual.

It makes sense to step away from such analogies, or at the very least, notice the ways in which they are employed. We may be innately programmed to make sense of the world through metaphors, but it’s worth our while to think about the ones we use.

The question is, does such language make us more prone to taking an aggressive us-versus-them attitude? Or are we naturally hardwired to be belligerent, which is why we adopt such metaphors in the first place? Rosseau would have opted for the former; Hobbes, the latter. Either way, it can’t hurt to adopt Sontag’s suggestion: “About that metaphor, the military one, I would say, if I may paraphrase Lucretius: Give it back to the war-makers.”