The Abuse of Language
‘The abuse of power always begins with the abuse of language’
Joseph Pieper (1904 – 1997)
Pieper’s wise words are a fitting place to begin a discussion on the objects of war. For him, language has two primary functions: words convey reality allowing us to identify things, but they also have an interpersonal character. That is, we use language to communicate our experience of the world with others.
For this reason, Pieper does not consider a lie to be a form of communication. A lie communicates something which is not. It distorts reality, and so fails to identify or communicate our experiences genuinely, and thus makes communication a means to an end, rather than an end in itself. Another way of polluting language is to apply words to new objects where they do not belong. In such instances, words are used in a way that is misrepresentative of reality.
The word ‘war’ has many vivid connotations, and so means more than its literal definition. In the latter part of the twentieth century, the word ‘war’ has increasingly been used as a metaphor to describe political campaigns. We have seen a rise in ‘wars’ on concepts as political leaders have become more comfortable applying this delicate word to nebulous objects like ‘crime’, ‘drugs’, and ‘terror’.
Can war really be waged on a concept in any practical way? Is the use of the word here in any way consistent with its conventional definitions? More importantly, what ethical implications arise from applying war in ways that make ideas the target of political decisions?
Conventional Warfare
Carl von Clausewitz (1780 – 1831) famously said that war is a “continuation of politics by other means”, where rival groups fight to impose their will on one another. The Prussian military strategist believed there was a fundamental connection between politics and war: “the political objective is the goal, war is the means of reaching it”. The political objectives of different groups often come into conflict; when an amiable solution cannot be reached through diplomacy, an “act of force” becomes necessary. For Clausewitz, there is “no logical limit to the application of that force”, because the primary purpose of war is to subdue and subordinate the enemy. To achieve this, both sides must employ military strategy.
The use of strategy in war is well articulated by the Chinese strategist Sun Tzu (544 B.C – 496 B.C) in his military tract: The Art of War. He outlines ways strategy can be deployed in conventional warfare, with maxims ranging from the use of spies to manoeuvring through different landscapes. Tzu conveys how war essentially involves a relationship between opponents. It is never an isolated incident, but a series of events developed in response to a complex entanglement of political actors. It is the coordinated and premeditated efforts that give war its distinct character; without strategy, violent conflict looks more like a skirmish than a war.
The German scholar and jurist Carl Schmitt (1888 – 1985) makes an insightful contribution on what counts as a legitimate enemy. For Schmitt, a political enemy must be conceived in concreto (in real, concrete terms) and not in abstracto (as an abstract concept). A war cannot therefore be waged either against or in defence of ‘humanity’, for example. Such a claim is a political ploy, according to Schmitt, which political leaders often use to ‘cheat’ and trick society into supporting their aims. Politics, and by extension warfare, involves only “concrete antagonisms” between clearly defined groups – “friends” and “enemies” to use his wording. No matter how much we might seek to fudge this reality with rhetoric, it inevitably resurfaces and remains the sole driver of military action.
While these three thinkers by no means provide an exhaustive account of war, for argument’s sake, we can proceed with the following conventional definition: war is a series of premeditated armed conflicts between clearly defined political actors, whereby each side employs military strategy to subdue and subordinate its enemies in a bid to further political objectives.
Wars on Concepts
A series of wars on concepts were waged during the latter part of the twentieth century. Lyndon Johnston’s ‘War on Crime’ (1965), Richard Nixon’s ‘War on Drugs’ (1971), and George Bush’s ‘War on Terror’ (2001). The legitimacy of these political campaigns is irrelevant to our discussion. The concern is whether they can rightly be called wars, at least according to the conventional definition offered above.
Each of these presidents made use of war-like rhetoric when communicating these political campaigns to the public. Johnston aimed to clean up urban violence by giving federal government greater powers to protect “society from criminals”. Nixon declared drug abuse to be public enemy number one and pledged millions of dollars to waging an “all-out offensive”. George Bush’s ‘Global War on Terror’ was ambitious to say the least: “Our war begins with Al-Qaeda, but it does not end there. It will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped and defeated”.
These successive wars on ‘crime’, ‘drugs’, and ‘terror’ were of course continuations of politics, but they only involved one political actor. ‘Crime’, ‘drugs’, and ‘terror’ are not political actors. They do not command any sovereign territory, cannot deploy strategy in a receptive way, and have no political objectives. Career criminals, drug smugglers, and religious extremists might, but war involves groups that have some sort of political structure.
For these reasons, wars on concepts seem incompatible with our conventional definition of war. Concepts are not concrete entities, they are abstractions. Abstractions are broad in scope. They lack the specificity necessary to be an object of war, certainly in the way it was understood by Tzu, Clausewitz, and Schmitt. Attempts to make abstractions objects of war require a radical redefinition of the word. At a point it is better to find or create alternative words to describe things instead of polluting those which already have a vivid meaning. When we bend definitions too far, our language misrepresents reality and fails to communicate honestly and effectively.
The Abuse of Language and Power
Purity of language was of the utmost importance for Plato. As he watched Socrates debate with the sophists of Classical Greece, he grew troubled by the careless use of language by these learned and influential men. Thrasymachus and other sophists utilised elaborate rhetoric and intricate reasoning to bend the definition and application of words, with callous regard for how such abuse of language would impact society. For Plato, this was a direct threat to the common good.
For humans to live a meaningful existence, he argued, they must perceive things as they actually are and act according to truth. Not only are individuals nurtured by the truth, but society itself is sustained by public proclamation of the truth. Well-ordered language is thus essential for a well-ordered existence and, to quote Pieper, ‘language is well ordered when its words express reality with as little distortion and as little omission as possible’.
When political leaders use ‘war’, a word with such historical significance, to bolster support for political campaigns, they distort the public’s understanding of what a war is and how it should be waged. The term is heavily politicised for the purpose of stirring public resolution to fight what can never be fought. This can be of benefit to political leaders, despite the ethical concerns which arise.
Rules are overlooked in times of war. We see a rise in executive orders and extra-judicial powers. Individual liberties are restricted. Fear reigns. Sowing fertile ground for moral panics and populism. Furthermore, wars on concepts do not involve a clearly defined enemy, making it difficult, and at points impossible, to distinguish between combatants and non-combatants – a distinction salient to theories of ‘just warfare’. The wars on ‘crime’, ‘drugs’, and ‘terror’ are still ongoing – they’ll probably never end.
A modest yet practical solution would be to use different words to describe these campaigns. Johnston’s ‘War on Crime’ would have more accurately been called the ‘Campaign on Crime’ – the same can be said of Nixon’s ‘War on Drugs’. A ‘Campaign on Drugs’ has a more constructive overtone. Campaigns on ‘crime’ and ‘drugs’ never need to end; their objective can evolve with the times. Wars must end, however, unless we wish to find ourselves in a state of constant warfare.
A distinction should be made with Bush’s ‘War on Terror’, which did appear to have a specific organisation in mind. Why not call it the ‘War on Al-Qaeda’ then? Specificity is important when framing political campaigns. A ‘War on Terror’ could never end – ‘one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter’, as the saying goes – but a ‘War on Al-Qaeda’ could. These would have been more reasonable and accurate descriptions, which bring these wars on concepts more in line with a conventional understanding of warfare.
Moving forward, it might be worth finding a new word for wars on concepts. Probably best to call them what they are: nonsense.