Language has a power to manipulate narratives, control public perception, and shape beliefs, and the state uses it against us every day.
The Story of the State
I wrote in a previous blog that government is just an idea; a concept. I referred to it as an illusion. I want to add that it’s a carefully constructed narrative, and the primary mechanism for narrative is language. We would never allow any group of people to do what the state does unless we had a justification for it. So we are told a story to justify it. Language is a primary tool of the state because its existence is predicated on that story. The state only exists if we say so. There is no difference between Joe Biden and your neighbor, except Biden won a popularity contest, and consequently holds the monopoly on violence and coercion. Joe Biden is not particularly intelligent, nor does he have any out-of-the-box, novel ideas the average man couldn’t devise. He is the top ruler of a system that is based on our acknowledgement of its power.
Anyone could proclaim themselves emperor of America, but without acceptance and obedience, they are not the emperor. But if they did receive support from the populace, they could be the emperor. If we are told a convincing story about their right to rule, then we might acquiesce. If we suddenly decided there was no justification for our rulers, or anyone else to have the monopoly on violence, then it would naturally cease. That may or may not entail unfortunate things like bloodshed and civil war, but it would depend on how the ruler reacts to this change of perception. When someone murders another person without the authority of the state, well, that’s just murder. It’s a crime when someone outside the state apparatus does it. The only reason it isn’t considered a crime when the state does it is because we all agree that they can. We are told a story that they can. Otherwise they are just murderers, thieves, and liars. There is only one difference between a group of killers being called heroes and being called murderers, and that is whether they have the right to kill. Nobody has the right to kill innocent people, but three things give the perception that the state does:
- Rhetoric
- Narrative
- Propaganda
But they all amount to one basic thing: the manipulation of language.
What Is Language?
Language is a combination of symbols that substitute concepts. Those symbols can be sounds we make with our mouths, characters we write with a pen, on a screen, or carve into a cave wall. We have agreed-upon meanings for these symbols, but they can, and do, change their meaning over time. This is why it’s so easy for manipulators to reappropriate words, or stretch definitions to convey the narrative that suits them best.
The linguist, Noam Chomsky, has a hypothesis he calls the “universal grammar,” which is the innate ability of all human beings to communicate with language. That is why children pick up language so naturally just by being around it. They already have the mechanism for it. Even our thoughts take place in language, to one degree or another, whether in pictures, feelings, or words. Even people with no ability to speak find ways to communicate in symbols, like sign language, or even just pointing and grunting. It’s still language.
The Tower of Babel
The idea of a universal grammar brings to mind a well-known story from Genesis 11:
[1] Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. [2] And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. [3] And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. [4] Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” [5] And the LORD came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built. [6] And the LORD said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. [7] Come, let us go down there and confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.” [8] So the LORD dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. [9] Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth. And from there the LORD dispersed them over the face of all the earth.
Genesis 11:1-9 (ESV)
Mankind, in their prideful arrogance, tried to make a name for themselves by erecting a tower to reach the heavens, which literally put them in the place of God. Notice that God had no quarrel with their brick-making. Creatively stewarding the resources of earth is what he told us to do in the creation mandate of Genesis 1:28.
A case can be made that the Tower of Babel was a proto-government—an attempt to unite the world under one centralized rulership, represented by the tower. While that could be valid, it’s not the point I’m trying to make. The main point is that they glorified themselves over God. For this, God judged them with the confusion of language.
The universal grammar makes even more sense if all mankind once spoke the same language. Once they were no longer able to effectively communicate with one another, they scattered, abandoning their joint project. There is no better picture for lack of communication, cooperation, and unity on earth than the unfinished tower, standing decrepitly in the wilderness without a soul in sight to use it.
Telekinesis
I already mentioned rhetoric, narrative, and propaganda, and they all carry the judgement of the Tower of Babel with them. Chasms in our communication. They have all come, in varied degrees, to mean that what is being said isn’t exactly true. Perhaps it is mostly true, but skewed. Michael Malice is fond of saying that the corporate press can be “factual, but not truthful.” How is it that words can maintain fact without truth, and how can they be stretched to their linguistic limit to convey an idea without actually saying it? How can the phrase “conspiracy theorist” be factual to the letter, but convey that the person is dishonest, even when they tell the truth? We’ll explore more terms like that momentarily.
Stephen King, in his book On Writing, makes the case that writing is a form of telepathy:
Look—here’s a table covered with a red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. In its front paws is a carrot-stub upon which it is contentedly munching. On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8.
Do we see the same thing? We’d have to get together and compare notes to make absolutely sure, but I think we do…
This is what we’re looking at, and we all see it. I didn’t tell you. You didn’t ask me. I never opened my mouth and you never opened yours. We’re not even in the same year together, let alone the same room… except we are together…
I sent you a table with a red cloth on it, a cage, a rabbit, and the number eight in blue ink.
Words are an act of telepathy that puts images in our heads.
Deniers
Take the word “denier.” The word is most recognizable when it follows the festive word “holocaust.” Holocaust deniers doubt the truth of the most horrendous crime against humanity in living memory. They have become synonymous with the most dangerous crackpots, and cornerstones of the antisemitic “movement” in America today. But is the holocaust the only word you associate with the concept of denial? Maybe thirty years ago it would have been, but there is now a star-studded lineup of words that share that spotlight.
Since the majority dismiss holocaust denial, the political elite have used “denier” to discredit other things. “Climate deniers” has a very specific meaning, even though neither of the words represent it at all. Those who doubt the mainstream interpretation of predictive climate projections are in no sense climate deniers. To be a climate denier would be to repudiate the existence of a climate. Which is the same as denying the existence of weather. To my knowledge, none of them do.
“9/11 deniers” have been around for more than twenty years now, and they represent a spectrum of beliefs, but none of them could accurately be called denial. The belief is that the 9/11 attacks were a false flag carried out by our own government, with as many hypotheses to that idea as there are proponents. But none of them deny that September has an eleventh day, and none of them (to my knowledge) deny that the towers fell.
Just when all those deniers started to wear thin, their whacky cousins moved in, the “election deniers.” Again, not a very accurate term. None of them deny that an election took place. People showed, they voted, and they all wore those obnoxious participation trophies on their shirts for the rest of the day. The belief in question is whether something unsavory took place in the background. Again, there is a spectrum of belief that ranges from forged or uncounted ballots, to the undeniable fact that a story was covered up that could have swayed the election in Trump’s favor. What is most disgusting about this use of the word “denier” is to associate doubt in government with something as horrendous as the holocaust.
How They Stretch the Truth
What do all of these things have in common? The the ruling elite don’t want you to have these beliefs, and they use rhetoric to cozy them up to the holocaust denial teddy bear. When they say the word “denier,” whether conscious or not, it brings to mind a holocaust denier. This naturally makes the idea less believable, and perhaps even hateful, just because of its association. When the word “denier” is used, we think of anti-semites, greedy oil men who skew scientific data for profit, and pollute the environment, a disheveled man talking about what temperature can melt steel, or a man in a buffalo helmet who thinks Joe Biden unloaded crates full of ballots in the dead of night. Those mental images, as fantastical as they may be, are intentionally put in our heads. Stephen King is right. It’s telekinesis.
The corporate press paralleled January 6th to 9/11 before it was even over. It has come to be known by the date, just like that awful tragedy in 2001. This is a blatant attempt—a collaboration between state and state media to force a connection where there is none. It seems silly to waste time explaining the difference between 9/11 and January 6th, but to be thorough: one amounts to the murder of 3,000 Americans, while the perpetrators of the other didn’t murder anyone; one was a terroristic attack, while the other was a protest that caused far less damage than the BLM riots over the previous summer; one was used by politicians to justify terrible overreach of an authoritarian state, and… well, maybe there are some similarities between these events after all, but that’s where it stops. The attempts of comparison for these things become painful when it is referred to as “1/6.”
As recently as May 10th on the CNN Town Hall with former President Donald Trump, January 6th was referred to as a “deadly riot.” Here’s a link to an article that details everyone who died on and after January 6th, and spoiler alert: it doesn’t correspond to the picture that has been put in your head. Only one person was murdered, and that was Ashli Babbitt, an unarmed protestor who was murdered by the police. Everyone else died of poor health, and one was trampled. While that was tragic, it was a protestor who was trampled, and if these were murderous terrorists, that would have to be considered a good thing. There was no risk of an insurrection if the only people they managed to kill were themselves. It does little to support the narrative unless the details are left obscured, which they have been. We often hear the death toll without any additional context, putting a picture in our heads that all those people were gunned down by insurrectionists, but that’s not what happened. No lives were taken for political ends, which is the definition of terrorism—unless you count Ashli Babbitt.
These facts probably don’t reflect the reports you’ve heard, because when something is politically advantageous, the state exploits it.
Speaking of 9/11, it was portrayed as an attack on our freedom, which was how the war on terror received so much support. But it was actually a retaliation for more than a decade of bombs, sanctions, and occupation of the Arabian Peninsula; the holy land of Islam. But because of the story that was told, politicians were able to exploit it to this day.
If I can put a bunny with an eight on it in your head, I can manipulate language to put other things there as well. We’ve already talked about the myriad ways language is used to promote the ideals of the state: they make any dissenter a “conspiracy theorist,” they call shitheads breaking windows “domestic terrorists,” and a retaliatory attack as an “attack on our freedom.” The results, coincidentally, are good for the state. Conspiracy theorists can be ridiculed by people who hardly understand the subject matter. Trump supporters, or “MAGA Republicans,” are feared and considered dangerous domestic terrorists, while an actual terrorist attack is not remembered as a black eye on the face of the Pentagon, but as a justification for their wildest dreams. How could it be more perfect?
What Now?
What can we do? How do we combat this unfortunate politicization of language?
The first and most important thing is to define your terms as precisely as possible, and to ask others to do the same. When someone refers to January 6th as a “deadly insurrection,” ask them what they mean by that. Odds are, the images in their head don’t line up with reality.
A tactic taught by FBI negotiator, Chris Voss, in his book Never Split the Difference is to ask someone to explain their demands. Make them explain how you’re supposed to give them $1 million. Their inability to do so may show them how illogical the demand is. Similarly, if you ask someone to tell you exactly how 9/11 was an attack on our freedom, they might be at a loss. If not, ask more questions. “Why exactly do Muslims hate the West?” “If our lifestyles are so offensive to such a large population of the world, why don’t these attacks happen more often?”
How We Can Be More Accurate
Next, we have to update our nomenclature for accuracy. Michael Malice has popularized the term “corporate press” to refer to establishments like CNN and Fox News. This is a term that can appeal both to the right and the left, as it portrays these organizations not as “mainstream” or “legacy.” Since they get less viewers than Joe Rogan, Tim Pool, and other popular online shows, “mainstream” isn’t accurate, and “legacy” sounds too respectful. “Corporate press” explains what it really is: it is our ministry of propaganda, sponsored by an unholy alliance of state and corporations, and serves only to control what we think and obfuscate the truth.
Dave Smith recently spoke of the difference between the words “government” and “politicians.” (The podcast is behind a paywall, otherwise I would link to it). When I say “government,” it makes my skin crawl, and I’m sure my readers don’t like it either. But Dave Smith points out that some people see the word positively. Some see it as a collective structure that is used to fund social programs and protect people. However, government is just a collection of politicians and bureaucrats, so what if we called it that instead? What if instead of “government,” we referred to it as “politicians?” Instead of a government program, it’s a politician’s program. Even some of the most ardent supporters of the state don’t like the word “politician,” because it has become synonymous with lying crooks. Everyone has politicians they don’t like, even if they have some they do. Framing things in terms of “politicians,” and not “government,” may force a logical procession, and get people to rethink their positions. I’m fond of referring to them as “war criminals,” which gets right to the point and leaves no one out. But it puts me at risk of being a “conspiracy theorist,” so the battle over language rages on.
I have tried to be careful to refer to the phenomenon of 2020 as “lockdowns,” and never as “COVID,” or a “pandemic,” because I don’t want to grant validity to what took place. It is of the utmost importance that we never justify, downplay, or excuse what took place in those dark days. To make sure it is remembered accurately, call it what it is. COVID didn’t take your job, lockdowns did. A pandemic didn’t close your church, politicians did. Whenever you’re on the subject with a leftist, never miss an opportunity to call them “Trump’s lockdowns,” because it was ultimately his state of emergency declaration that gave such authority to governors.
Unfortunately, words cannot always be taken at face value, because they are constantly being used to trick us into believing things rather than knowing things. Be aware of the telekinesis taking place and be intentional with your language. Finally, turn the tables on state propaganda by calling things what they really are.
The White Pill
“Linguistic fractionalization” is a hypothesis that wars are more likely to occur between nations that speak different languages. For instance, the United States hasn’t been at war with an English-speaking country in over 200 years. That could be trivia, or it could be evidence that language is unifying rather than dividing, and the more obscure our communication, the more likely armed conflicts are. The Tower of Babel divided people, and that was a judgment. If we could hear Putin speak in English, would we believe the claims of politicians that it was an “unprovoked” invasion? If we had been able to hear directly from Saddam Hussein in our own tongue, would we have believed he had weapons of mass destruction? What if he was able to tell us about his previous dealings with the CIA, and his cooperation with the U.S. up until the early 1990s? How would that change public opinion?
As fun as the “what if” game may be, it does us little good. However, it’s worth mentioning that the internet has served as an equalizer of communication between people of different languages. It’s also made it easier to fact-check our rulers and remind people of their sordid history of deception, which has weakened support for things like the Russia-Ukraine war. Can communication of this sort avoid war in the future? That’s the optimistic position I take.
I don’t want to return to the Tower of Babel, or form a global government. I’m an anarchist, and I advocate for the dissolution of government everywhere. Our loss of common language and communication was a judgment from God, so the implication is that it was a privilege he once allowed us. It was only the idolatry of self that caused us to lose it. Is God allowing us to slowly regain that universal communication as his Kingdom take dominion over the planet? I hope so.