The following post is the second of two posts on George Orwell written by Will Richardson (you can read the first part here), a literary and political writer and friend of the Radical Tea Towel Company. He writes his own blog called The Opinionist and his Twitter handle is @WillRichardson6. Agree with the post or not, we’d love your comments below!
Hello again! Or just hello if you aren’t one of the loyal millions who have read this riveting two-parter from the beginning. In the first half of this on-going discussion, I wrote about the use and manipulation of the English language in politics, and how George Orwell gave us the blueprint to identify the techniques used by our leaders to confuse and manipulate us, and to conceal the truth of matters, to make things sound like other things, basically.
And this because we have allowed our language to be diluted and softened and to have the power and the meaning taken out of it, to an extent.
We are not blameless for the degradation of our language and its manipulative, dishonest use in politics. Unfortunately we have taken the same attitude to English as we take to interior design: minimalism. And of course Twitter, with its hashtags and its 140 characters, has played no small part in this development. Twitter has enabled and necessitated the reduction of discourse down to soundbites and slogans and catch-all phrases, and has completely decimated nuance in public debate. Continue reading
The following two-part guest post is written by the talented Will Richardson, a literary and political writer and friend of the Radical Tea Towel Company. He writes his own blog called The Opinionist and his Twitter handle is @WillRichardson6
George Orwell is probably most famous for having the second most misused adjective derived from his name. (“Oh my Gawwwd, mum. I can’t believe you won’t let me skip Nan’s funeral. This is so Orwellian!”) Second only to Kafka, perhaps. (“Oh my Gawwwd this burrito is so Kafkaesque.”) He is also known for uttering a bunch of inconveniently prescient stuff, among which: “In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.”
1984, the book from which that shocking quote is taken, has the fine legacy of being the go-to example of dystopian tyranny (“First it’s registers for paedophiles, mate”, John insists, “the next thing you know, Government’s gonna be givin’ you a colonoscopy after every meal”). Although I’ll not try and convince you that if you are currently resident in Britain you are living in some dystopian Hell-scape bordered by barbed wire and overseen by oppressive, droid-headed CCTV; and I’ll not try to convince you that the powers that be keep us in fear and obedient through constant warfare, or that the government and the media tries to divide us by religion or colour or money; I shall be showing you the way in which that quote of old George’s is relevant to us in 2015. For it is not because should you tell the “truth” (man) you will get hauled into the back of a blacked-out van and lugged to room 101; no, it is because the manipulation and alterance of the English language in the political sphere and in public discussion has morphed to allow lies to become truth, and to make our truths lies.
To show what I mean, it won’t be George’s political fiction to which I’ll be referring; it will be his 1946 essay: Politics and the English Language. In this essay, the man elucidates how the politicos’ lingual use allows for truth to be concealed, or for the definition of truth and lie to blur.