Newspeak: Language And Politics In Tamil Nadu

In his immortal book 1984, written 70 years ago, George Orwell invented a language called “Newspeak”. The pun is obvious: not only is the language new, but is also the vehicle of that most incomprehensible of human activities – getting the real news. This invention of Orwell’s was to be used to control people’s thought processes and consequently, their behaviour.  Further, everything written before the era of the Party would become incomprehensible. With that one move, the past is lost and people have nothing to refer to for knowledge or perspective. Politicians could wield total control and the concept of political freedom could be smoothly replaced by “crimethink”, the crime of having thoughts that are unconventional.

Implication is one of the most powerful tools of politics and political speak. The language of politics makes assumptions about readers’ access to information, which is often not explicitly conveyed. The art of political rhetoric includes, but is not confined to, persuasion and double meaning designed to distance the audience from the speaker.

Take the recent happenings in Tamil Nadu politics. They have been enshrouded in a heavy mist of contrary statements and couched in language that deflects from the germane issues of political stability and continuity; real problems and solutions of governance versus grandiose claims to seats and centres of power; genuine succession plans versus the claims of emotional pretenders. We’ve seen contenders legitimise their claims by invoking the spirit of former chief minister, J Jayalalithaa. We’ve heard of legislators being held hostage in a resort in the outskirts of Chennai. Pitted against the word ‘hostage’ is the official statement from All India Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam, stating the party’s members of the legislative assembly are “free to do what they like.” Hostages who are free to do what they like – a perfect contradiction.

The power of language lies in its usage and right now, the language that is being used to convey indecision, fear, opposition, lack of political will, absence of legal intervention to a general populace willing to be led.  There is total absence of clarity and a sense of purpose. Instead, a sense of fatalism and foreboding pervades Tamil Nadu’s future.

The hostage crisis that followed O Panneerselvam’s rebellion indicated a certain insecurity in VK Sasikala that she fears being abandoned and being left to her own devices. In the past, she has said it is difficult for a woman to succeed, a self-evident truth that she has had firsthand experience of from her ringside view of Jayalalithaa’s political and emotional struggles.

What will future generations make of all this? Only what language allows – for it is in expression that all power lies.  Interpretation is the key, for the truth is not going to be known.

Tamil Nadu has had one of longest historical traditions of democracy outside Greece. The four main dynasties of South India – the Cholas, Cheras, Pallavas and Pandyas – ruled with great sensitivity and understanding of human nature and its needs.  Democracy was given shape in more ways than one by the Cholas even at the local level (through its grama sabhas) while one Chola king, Manu Nidhi Chozhan, installed a bell (araichi mani) that could be rung by any citizen, including animals, for instant audience and reparation of injustice. The language of governance was mostly used verbally with ministers playing a significant role. Proclamations were conveyed orally and while officials implemented laws, appeals could directly be made to the king.   All this direct speech meant that both the speaker and the listener understood all the same things and misunderstandings could by clarified – because of the language used.

Unfortunately, as the distance between politicians and their audiences grew, a process initiated and encouraged by the British who liked doublespeak and distance, the spoken word became more and more open to different and complex interpretations. It was encouraged in part by serious literature, in which words can be construed in different ways, according to the audience’s mood and background. For example, a tool of persuasion is to include the word ‘ we’ – a very seductive pronoun – implying to the audience or reader that first, they belong to the same group as the speaker or writer; and second, that the reader too has a stake in the outcome.

The present situation in Tamil Nadu is not free from these verbal sleights of hand. Reports of Paneerselvam becoming emotional (wiping his tears), but not maudlin (he did not burst into tears); of acting with introspective thought (meditation); of behaving with responsibility (he received instructions from Jayalalithaa) and not keeping secrets – all this combined to create the image of a politician who has been a faithful servitor, fighting against odds, trying to keep the balance between old loyalties and new fealties, now forced by his conscience to speak the truth regarding the final details of Jayalalithaa’s illness and death. Not just that, he is now forced to share with us, his public, the sordid details of the shady land deals and kickbacks from Tamil Nadu’s booming liquor industry, Sasikala’s involvement in all these backdoor enterprises through and with the Mannargudi mafia, as her relatives are known.  All this is couched in language that is deliberately intended to cause confusion, but not rebellion.

The public was left with questions. Why did Panneerselvam not speak before? Why did he go along with the charade? Why was Sasikala allowed to act unopposed when she excluded everyone, even family members, from Jayalalithaa’s life and later her death?  One possible explanation is that Sasikala made Jayalalithaa feel safe in an otherwise toxic atmosphere where everyone seemed bent on exploiting her.

What of the volte face now? What are we to read into the expulsions and counter-expulsions? What should we make of the critical gap between what is implied with the term “trust vote” and the reality of Tamil Nadu’s legislative assembly being wrecked by protesting members and strewn with broken furniture and the Speaker of the house accusing legislators of manhandling him? The governor has asked for a “factual report” of what happened in the assembly on Saturday. Will imposing the order of words on the chaos that erupted in the assembly make the political crisis any less critical?

For a party that promised to listen to the collective voice of those who voted them into power, it seems the only ones they’re hearing are themselves.

The author can be reached at contact@newslaundry.com