Warfare of the Unsayable: Language as Psychological Warfare in Soviet and Modern Russia
SOFIA DANAILOV
In his acclaimed novel 1984, George Orwell paints a picture of a world in which language is something plastic, malleable; something to be tampered and played with. However, the games that were taking place in this linguistic world were anything but joyful, and they certainly did not belong to the realm of childhood.
Language, in the hands of a dictatorial state, became a Machiavellian tool of repression. The prior linguistic constructions were sieged and incinerated; whatever was left amongst the ruins received the name of Newspeak. Its unfortunate speakers unknowingly jumped a hopscotch of simplification, daily reaching a dying zenith. There were New, broken ways to Speak. Orwell’s vision finds unsettling parallels in both Soviet and modern Russia, where language has long been weaponised to reshape reality, suppress dissent, and control thought.
The mechanisms of linguistic manipulation I will discuss in this piece are undoubtedly some of the most fascinating devices of subjugation I have ever come in contact with, even in fiction. The point, however, is precisely the fact that it is not fiction that we talk about, when we talk about Newspeak.
In this article, I will put forward an analysis of the linguistic routes of manipulation and coercion of individual and collective freedoms that Russia has taken since the Soviet Union until our contemporaneity. My ideological approach will be based on the theoretical framework of two of the greatest minds of the last century: George Orwell and Ludwig Wittgenstein. Their ideas will assist me on this journey of disassembling the intricate and very real mosaic that is Newspeak. Because, as much as it is painful (and yet, brilliantly fascinating) to admit, this “made-up” language is by no means only an invention in a dystopian piece of fiction, but a lucid critical analysis of our reality.
Newspeak или Новояз:
It might not be easy to imagine, at first, how the elimination of words from our common vocabulary would mean their erasure from the world (that is, our world). However, words are attached to concepts: these, in turn, can be visible (concrete) or invisible (abstract). Giving a name to the invisible implies pinning it down, making it graspable. “Atoms” have not always been an obvious part of our world, and most people without access to a lab only have as proof of their existence their presence as an accepted part of the language. Language is the means by which we store our treasure of knowledge.
And, as much as it is true that there are some things that language is not able to encompass due to its own limitations, we can still acquaint them in some way, through intuition, for example. Others, however, might forever remain outside the realm of our grasp.
The mechanisms used by the government of Orwell’s Oceania in 1984 in order to control their ever-simplifying population were those of limiting freedom of thought in order to eliminate any possibility of disagreement - any opportunity for dissent. The usage of the word “freedom” became illegal. And, as it follows, the concept itself soon after disappeared from view.
To expand on this point let’s now put forward these conditions for a thought experiment. What would happen if:
1. The sign (the word) “freedom” had been long ago erased from our vocabulary.
2. We lived in a completely unfree world.
What would happen? Would we be able to feel unfree? It would be interesting to see how far platonic intuition could carry us in our learning. To see if we could intuitively apprehend something that is missing, to blindly draw the other side of the coin. If we could conjure up something that we are yet to know, yet to get acquainted with. Something we might never know, that we might never get acquainted with.
Ultimately, a word is but a sign. A sign related to a rule of meaning in an array of ways; conventionally, phonetically, semantically, and syntactically. It is a rule of signification, a rule of utterance. Insofar as we are able to put signs onto conceptions, we have the power to nominate; that is, to build worlds, to give names. Nominating is an act of wonderful generosity, as it allows us to share understanding with the other, to create a linguistic community. It gives us the capacity of expanding the frontiers of our realities. For, quoting Wittgenstein, “The boundaries of my language are the boundaries of my world.” Enriching our vocabulary is to explore unknown lands, to master new possibilities, to dive into foreign modalities. To have our language impoverished, however, is the antithetical process; it is to have our lands raided, our houses burnt, our cattle stolen. Progress and complexity taken away, vindictive a return to a Darker Age.
This impoverishment takes many shapes within Newspeak. Synonyms and antonyms were eliminated, leaving only one word for each concept. That is, "good" was sufficient, whilst “bad” became “ungood.” Then followed the destruction of nuance, a reduction of vocabulary so total that it ensured complex ideas could not be articulated, not even in thought. For words are building blocks, and the complexity of our mental architectonic structures lies in the resources available for their building. Inflexible grammar made the expression of rebellious or non-conformist ideas grammatically impossible. This was accomplished through such rigid control of grammar that they were able to prevent the formation of complex sentence structures in the first place. This would be the equivalent of taking away the modern materials that we have engineered generation after generation, which have allowed us to build skyscrapers and rockets, to suddenly replace them with the primitive tools with which we used to build huts. A total regression to the limitations of the past, without the glimmering of a brighter future ahead.
These, amongst others, were some of the tools used to ensure the vanishing of the possibility of critical thought. Handcrafting a population that could not even conceive of the idea of rebellion, so simplified was their thought process. This is so insofar as the very language structures needed to articulate dissent were systematically and intentionally eradicated. And so, the warmth that was felt was no other than the brutal proximity of an all-consuming fire, the crackling echo of a burning. The disappearance of a Library of Alexandria.
OldSpeak: Soviet Linguistics
The Soviet Union employed parallel means of linguistic manipulation in order to control thought, enforce ideology, and erode the capacity to understand, or even conceive of freedom. Concepts that might inspire rebellion, such as freedom or democracy, were either stripped of their original meaning or replaced with language aligned with Soviet ideology. Euphemisms like “liquidation” replaced “execution,” and the pejorative term “kulak” turned priorly prosperous peasants into enemies of the state…The systematic suppression of dissent went hand in hand with a deliberate simplification of language.
Doublethink, that is, forcing two contradictory or paradoxical ideas to be accepted as both true, was central to 1984. It was also deeply embedded in Soviet propaganda. Terms like “democratic centralism” and “people’s democracy” masked the autocratic nature of governance, while phrases like “historical inevitability” invoked Hegelian ideas to present Soviet rule as the natural and inevitable result of historical progress. This reframing not only distorted reality but actively discouraged alternative systems of thought.
Language became a living weapon. Names, terms, and concepts were erased or redefined alongside political purges, ensuring that even the vocabulary needed to discuss dissent disappeared.
Soviet dictionaries were updated to reflect these shifts, adding terms like “Stakhanovite” (celebrating overachieving workers) while erasing or redefining concepts deemed politically dangerous. In this way, the Soviet Union showed us a living example of Orwell’s thesis: control language, and you control the structure of what is. Control language, and you control reality.
The Special Military Operation: ModernSpeak in the Russia of Today
Public Opinion on the "Special Military Operation"
Linguistic manipulation, as you probably have imagined, is by no means a thing of the past. This is evident in modern-day Russia, as made clear by the all-encompassing linguistic trends spread through official media in the whole country. In this section of the article, I will analyse the data of an anonymous poll I conducted last December, when I was working as a journalist in Moscow and St. Petersburg. The survey, titled “Общественное мнение о «Специальной военной операции»” (“Public Opinion on the ‘Special Military Operation’”), captured the views of individuals aged 18 to 26 in universities and quite randomized bars around both cities.
Though the group surveyed was not highly diverse (due to obvious reasons of security and disclosure), their responses give us a glimpse of how the conflict has shaped people’s beliefs, linguistic usage and daily lives. These are the two most relevant questions I asked in my interviews, with the subsequent responses translated to English but left untouched:
Вопросы (Questions)
Какова, по вашему мнению, история в СМИ о причинах «спецоперации» в начале по сравнению с нынешней?
How Has the Media Framed the Reasons for the "Special Operation" Over Time?
"At first, state media justified the operation as liberating Russians who were being oppressed, but now it seems to focus on eliminating so-called Nazis."
"In my view, nothing has changed. The sides have maintained their positions despite shifts in the front line, and the reasons for the operation remain the same."
"Initially, it was all about preventing possible aggression from Ukraine in Donbas and helping the people there. Now, I hear much more about U.S. interference in Russia and Ukraine and the West being blamed for the situation overall."
"Originally, the justification was 'denazification,' but now it appears to be about territorial control and waging war for war's sake."
2. Как вы думаете, какие причины стоят за тем, чтобы люди соглашались идти на фронт - экономические, патриотические, из-за обязательств?
What Reasons Do You Think Motivate People to Join the Front (Patriotic, Economic…)?
"Some certainly go out of conviction, but it seems the majority are motivated by money."
"It’s a mix of factors, but economic reasons stand out. The financial incentives offered to volunteers can significantly improve their families' living standards. That said, there are still many who join out of duty or patriotic ideals."
"Economic and social reasons dominate. In many Russian regions, particularly outside major cities, it’s hard to earn enough for a decent life. Salaries are low, prices rise much faster than wages, and the economy has worsened due to the 'special operation.' For some, going to war is the only way to support their families. Those in small towns or poor regions often had no choice when mobilized, as they couldn’t leave the country. While a few go for patriotic reasons, I don’t think they are the majority."
"Patriotism fuelled by propaganda."
Language as a Battlefield
There are various ways of approaching the reading of this data and responses, but I would like to centre upon the choices of linguistic usage as key points of analysis. Perhaps the most telling theme when talking to people was how language itself has become a battlefield. As we have discussed, terms like “Special Military Operation” have replaced “war,” and euphemisms like “neutralization” or “denazification” obscure the reality of conflict, and they are extremely common and well-used in daily speech and conversations about the conflict with Ukraine. These linguistic choices (encouraged by propaganda, a concept that is very consciously present in the responses) echo the methods of the Soviet Union, showing how the erasure or distortion of language limits the capacity for dissent and leads, even if it is reluctantly, to acceptance.
And so, the battle over language continues. Limiting vocabulary constrains our ability to think freely, to challenge, to rebel. Language shapes the way we conduct our lives, how we choose our daily actions. It can drive the choices we make, the sides that we pick. To enlist or not to enlist. Убивать или не убивать. To kill or not to kill. For it is certainly different to be convinced that you are killing Nazis, than to think you are shooting innocent civilians. This is how each erased word strips away a fragment of our shared reality, forcing us into narrow, manipulated and teleological frames of mind. And just like door frames, through them we can look, through them we can walk. They can lead to places of violence. Thе war on words is not merely an erasure of meaning, but an assault on our capacity to imagine, to create and to even conceive of alternate realities. It is a reminder of what is at stake when language, the ultimate tool of human connection and understanding, is weaponized. It is an extremely relevant remark on what can happen when words are used to build walls, instead of bridges.
As a final analogy, I think we could compare manufactured word-usage to hand crafted wings. Just like Icarus, when one gets too close to the sun (to the truth, to the light, to what is moral and real) these are bound to disassemble, feathers falling out, wax melting. However, the danger lies not only in what happens to the wings themselves. Our worry is about the beholder of speech, he who wears the wings. The individual who blindly follows a path, arguably the only path available to him in his nurturing. Then we get the falling apart of a world, just like the body of Icarus falls. Words crumbling around us. Scalded, broken, too heavy when faced with the gravitational forces of reality.
What this reality really consists of; however, I don’t know. For, who am I to say my wings are any less mechanical? That they will support me in my soaring? After all, common grammars inherently encompass political structures, for these are part of our world. How can we (we over here, be that England, Latin America or the Kilimanjaro) be so sure that we can fly closer to the sun? That we are any closer to righteousness? For we are not the holders of anything absolute, and that certainly includes truth. Language builds our reality too; of this we should be critical, of words we should be dubious. But that, I am afraid, is a whole other topic, and it would be a subject for another, exponentially more critical, article.
Red Sqaure, Moscow, December 2023
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“The limits of my language are the limits of my world.”