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How do politicians encode political messages to reach certain sections of society?

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A far-Right protester in front of the US Supreme Court in Washington, DC, on 1 April 2023. Photo by Andrew Caballero-Reynolds/Getty

by Jennifer Saul + BIO

How are so many politicians today able to get away with overtly racist utterances? By using rhetorical 'figleaves'

Accusations of racism in politics long predate the current era. But, by the beginning of the 21st century, they tended to revolve around what were often described as coded phrases or 'dogwhistles'. One classic example in the United States is the use of 'inner city' instead of 'Black'. Another is the rhetoric of 'states' rights' as a signifier for Southern racism - 'states' rights' having been a rallying cry for the Southern states in the Civil War, and for segregationists in the Civil Rights Era. Such phrases allow racist sentiments to be expressed in ways that can pass as innocently non-racial concerns. For some time, the accepted wisdom in political psychology was that more open expressions of racism would doom a national campaign. Two political psychologists in 2005 suggested that, going forward, 'the racialisation of politics' might 'increasingly take place mainly at the level of code words, or words that are fundamentally non-racial in nature that have, through the process of association, assumed a strong racial component'. It was more than reasonable to expect that the 2016 US Presidential election would follow this pattern.

Of course, things did not turn out according to expectations. With Donald Trump on the political scene in the US, the racism became much less subtle, with the candidate and then president calling Mexicans 'rapists', advocating a ban on Muslims entering the US, and using phrases like 'shithole countries'. And although Trump initiated the change, it was not confined to him. Such language has become common enough that there was only brief media attention when a Republican senator suggested in 2022 that reparations for descendants of enslaved people was money for 'the people that do the crime', or when a Republican congressperson in 2021 referred to a fellow congressperson who is Muslim as a member of 'the jihad squad'. Utterances like this have become, to a significant extent, the background noise of our politics. This Trump-era change needs explaining.

I have very much not been the only one struck by this. But, puzzlingly, many people have turned to dogwhistles for an explanation. A dogwhistle, literally speaking, is a whistle that can be heard by dogs and not humans; it provides a way of secretly sending a message. The term, however, has come to be used in discussions of political communication. Here it means a way of communicating whereby something that violates widely held norms - eg, a racist sentiment - is veiled so that only some people perceive the true meaning.

One kind of dogwhistle functions like a secret code: the number 88 is for most of us just a number. But for neo-Nazis it signifies 'Heil Hitler', because 'H' is the eighth letter of the alphabet. Another kind of dogwhistle is even sneakier, working not like a code but like an unconscious nudge. The most famous example of this is the 'Willie Horton ad' that George H W Bush used in his presidential campaign against the Massachusetts governor Michael Dukakis in 1988. This ad did not mention race, but showed the face of Horton (a Black man) while describing the violent crimes he'd committed while on furlough from a Massachusetts prison. Important work by the political scientist Tali Mendelberg indicated that this ad activated racial attitudes outside of voters' awareness, making racially resentful white voters more inclined to vote for Bush.

A figleaf is a communicative device that provides just a bit of cover for something that one isn't supposed to show in public - like racism

Both kinds of dogwhistles are powerful tools. The coded ones facilitate communication and organisation among people engaging in behaviour that violates societal norms. The others can manipulate people to act (or vote) in ways that they might not if they were aware of what was happening. (Mendelberg also showed that, when voters were prompted to consider a possible racial element to the Horton ad, the effect she had previously observed disappeared.)

I can see, then, why people find dogwhistles so fascinating. However, they are not sufficient to explain the change in political speech in recent years. When Trump called Mexicans rapists and advocated a Muslim ban, he was not using subtle, coded terms that only some people would pick up on. He was not just nudging people toward racist views without their awareness. The racial elements of these utterances, which clearly targeted people of colour, were very much out in the open.

The tactic on display was something that is less often discussed: the use of 'figleaves'. Traditionally, the image of a figleaf was used by artists to cover the body parts (think Adam and Eve) that they were not supposed to show in their paintings. As I use the term, a figleaf is a communicative device that provides just a bit of cover for something that one isn't supposed to show in public - like racism.

To see how this works, let's first take a closer look at Trump's call for a Muslim ban. Here is a statement, cast in the third person, that he read aloud in December 2015:

Donald J Trump is calling for a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States until our country's representatives can figure out what the hell is going on.

The anti-Muslim message is loud and clear, and not hidden at all. But the end of the statement is the bit that I want to focus on: 'until our country's representatives can figure out what the hell is going on'. For some people, this phrase provided reassurance that Trump isn't racist - because a real racist would want to ban Muslims period, not just while we figure out what's going on. This is a figleaf: it provides just enough cover for the racism that isn't acceptable to show in public.

One reason that figleaves like this work is that many white people accept what the sociolinguist Jane Hill called 'the folk theory of racism'. This view sets a very high bar for what counts as racist: a racist has to consciously believe in the biological inferiority of people of colour, and intend to be racist. Somebody like this would want to ban Muslims forever, not just temporarily. Similarly, they wouldn't suggest that 'some' Mexican immigrants are good people, as Trump did. Nor would they have a Black friend, or declare themself to be non-racist, this line of thinking goes.

A view such as this one makes it very easy for utterances to serve as figleaves for racism. These figleaves allow a voter to continue supporting a candidate who has made a comment that might have worried them. They don't need to become fully convinced that the candidate is non-racist; it's enough in many cases to be uncertain about whether the utterance indicates racism. When I examined discussions among Trump supporters online, I found people who worried about Trump's views on Mexicans being reassured by those who pointed out that he also said some of them are good. 'I didn't hear him say anything racist against any race,' one person posted. 'What I did hear him say is, "Illegal Mexicans bring drugs, crime, and are rapists, but I'm sure some are good people." Seriously, whats racist about that?' Another Tweeted: 'Trump is not racist ... Trump is not against all mexicans just the illegals.'

They introduce wildly implausible conspiracy theories, with the thought that they are 'just wondering' or 'just asking questions'

Another classic form of figleaf involves reporting the words of others, either specifically ('John Smith says...') or in a vague, handwavy way ('Lots of people are saying...') This is a great way to avoid responsibility for what one is inserting into the discourse. We see this technique in the British politician Enoch Powell's infamous 'Rivers of Blood' speech in 1968, in which he described a constituent (a 'quite ordinary working man') as saying: 'In this country in 15 or 20 years' time the black man will have the whip hand over the white man.' Reports like these help to normalise the sentiments expressed, while distancing the speaker from them.

Figleaves are not for everyone. Some people don't need them: fully committed racists are happy with blatantly racist comments, no figleaves required. Many people won't be convinced by them: antiracist activists, for example, will see right through the attempted reassurance. For others, though, they provide just what is needed - a licence to go on supporting the person they feel drawn to.

The power that figleaves have to shift what is considered racism - to make someone think, for instance, that it isn't racist after all to enact a ban on Muslims - is dangerous indeed. And it can help to explain how we moved from a political scene in which experts confidently predicted that expressions of racism would grow increasingly subtle and covert to the situation we've found ourselves in now.

But figleaves are not just for racism. Whenever someone wants to make norm-violating ideas seem more acceptable, figleaves are an effective technique. Think of controversial commentators like Glenn Beck or Joe Rogan. As they introduce wildly implausible conspiracy theories, they often lead with the thought that they are 'just wondering' or 'just asking questions', or they report what others are saying, carefully distancing themselves from commitment. Here's a typical example, from Rogan's podcast of April 2021, with figleaves bolded:

This doctor was saying ivermectin is 99 per cent effective in treating Covid, but you don't hear about it because you can't fund vaccines when it's an effective treatment ... I don't know if this guy is right or wrong. I'm just asking questions.

These kinds of phrases are effective figleaves for spreading shocking claims, because one doesn't need to believe something to wonder about it or ask questions. Some people who might hesitate to share their uncle's post asserting that Bill Gates is monitoring people through microchips in vaccines may be more comfortable sharing a post that just 'wonders' whether this is true. And this helps the messages to spread. As this happens over and over again, ideas that would never have garnered mainstream attention in the past come to seem like normal parts of public discourse. And, with repetition and normalisation, they can seem increasingly plausible.

So, what can one do about these tactics? A good start would be to spread awareness of figleaves. Right now, people feel more comfortable if they encounter a figleaf attached to something that looks a bit dodgy; more willing to vote for a candidate and more willing to share a message. It's important that people start to realise that figleaves can be used to manipulate them into accepting what they wouldn't previously have accepted. When people come across a figleaf, they should see it as a warning sign to proceed with a little more caution. Not to assume something nefarious is happening - after all, sometimes it's totally fine to just ask questions - but to look more closely. If you encounter a potential figleaf, you might consider what you would think of a claim if that part of it wasn't there. You could also consider whether the speaker might be trying to get you to go along with something that would otherwise make you uncomfortable. If what they are saying would make you recoil without the figleaf, ask yourself just how reassuring you should find it.

In recent years, in too many places, political norms have shifted so that what was once inconceivable becomes ordinary. These shifts often begin from changes in political discourse, engineered to move previously outrageous racist and conspiracist views into the mainstream. Understanding the mechanisms that facilitate these changes is a vital step toward learning how to combat them.

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Beyond dogwhistles - racists have a new rhetorical trick | Psyche Ideas

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How are so many politicians today able to get away with overtly racist utterances? By using rhetorical 'figleaves'

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Politician change their language depending on their audience.

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Politician change their language depending on their audience.

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What purposes does this serve in terms of knowledge?

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By Paul Adams Diplomatic correspondent

Watch: Zelensky calls on people to 'support freedom' one month after Russia invaded Ukraine

While his army has fought tenaciously on the battlefields of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky has waged an information war on the capitals of the Western world.

He's addressed 10 parliaments in two weeks, receiving standing ovations everywhere.

Live by video link from a besieged capital, wearing a green t-shirt and sporting several days of stubble, he often signs off with a clenched fist salute. As applause rings out, he disappears. He's a man in a hurry, after all, with truly existential matters to attend to.

"He knows how to embody the spirit of the nation," says Jonathan Eyal, of the Royal United Services Institute. "Not only in speech, but also in the way he appears, in his backdrop, where he speaks."

Same but different

The speeches have a single urgent purpose - to muster international support - and President Zelensky goes about it with a series of highly tailored messages.

From the fall of the Berlin Wall to the 9/11 attacks on New York and Washington, Mr Zelensky taps into epic national events and traumas.

In Paris on Wednesday he invoked the national motto of "liberté, égalité, fraternité". In Japan, he raised the spectre of nuclear disaster.

The references aren't subtle. They're not supposed to be. They're visceral.

And Mr Zelensky doesn't waste time getting to the point. Within a minute or two of his address to MPS in London on 3 March, he was comparing Ukraine's 13 days of war to the Battle of Britain, the country's era-defining battle in World War Two.

By way of Shakespeare ("To be or not to be"), he arrived, inevitably, at Winston Churchill. Mr Zelensky did not name Britain's wartime leader, but subtly adjusted Churchill's iconic 4 June, 1940 speech to fit Ukraine's geography.

"We shall fight in the woods, in the fields, on the beaches, in the cities and villages, in the streets, we shall fight in the hills," he said.

But as Mr Zelensky's parliamentary tour has progressed, other more strident notes have crept in. He's not been afraid to chide and scold the West for what he sees as its failure to deliver enough support.

Power of shame

"In each of the speeches, he's saying what sort of person are you?" says Nomi Claire Lazar, professor of public and international affairs at the University of Ottawa, who studies political rhetoric. "What sort of nation are you? If you fail to live up to this moment, then shame on you."

In a speech to the US Congress littered with references to Pearl Harbour, Martin Luther King and Mount Rushmore, President Zelensky rebuked his audience in distinctly undiplomatic language. "We ask for a response," he pleaded. "For the response to terror. Is this too much to ask?"

President Zelensky used shame to land his message to the Italian parliament

Addressing the Italian Chamber of Deputies on Tuesday, President Zelensky again resorted to shaming his audience, pointing out that members of Putin's circle have enjoyed vacationing in Italy.

"Don't be a resort for murderers," he scolded.

As the president of a country suffering an unprovoked invasion, Prof Lazar says, Mr Zelensky has earned the right. "You can't really go into foreign legislatures and say shame on you," says Prof Lazar, "unless you've already set yourself up as a moral arbiter."

From his unique perspective, as the leader of a country that's just been invaded, without provocation, it's perhaps understandable that Mr Zelensky feels the need to shake any vestige of complacency out of his audience.

"I think there's some frustration in him and his team," says Orysia Lutsevych of the Chatham House think tank. "They don't feel people are shaken enough to the ground."

Standing ovations

For each of his speeches, co-written by close aide Dmytro Litvin, Mr Zelensky has had a captive audience: politicians electrified by his unconventional, direct rhetoric, and fixed too in the uncomfortable spotlight of the Ukrainian leader's righteous anger.

But he's also talking for and to his own people.

He speaks in Ukrainian, and shuns the sharp suits normally associated with this kind of political spectacle. It's an extraordinary transformation for a politician whose approval rating had been falling for months before the war began.

Canadian MPs gave Mr Zelensky a standing ovation that lasted nearly three minutes

Until the war, Mr Zelensky's past as a comic actor often felt like a liability. Under attack, it's suddenly an asset.

"Comedians make their living through this very intimate connection with their audience," says Prof Lazar. "This sense of what makes us uncomfortable. What makes us elated. What makes us laugh."

The performance, with its simple, unadorned message - do more to help us - has one last audience: domestic public opinion in the West.

"He's trying to create this sort of pressure from below," says Prof Lazar. "Domestic pressure on governments, which is particularly important, because what he's asking for is really expensive."

Setting the agenda

This, ultimately, is what it's all about. Mr Zelensky did not embark on this virtual tour of the world's legislatures merely to garner sympathy. Ukraine is fighting for its very existence, and can only carry on doing that with massive, sustained military assistance from its allies.

For weeks, President Zelensky has been asking Nato to establish a no-fly zone over Ukraine. He knows he won't get it. But he might get the next best thing. "I think they are saying 'no-fly zone', because if it's a no, what do they give you in exchange?" says Ms Lutsevych. "I think that's the strategy."

On Tuesday, the head of Mr Zelensky's office, Andriy Yermak, brought up alternatives to a no-fly zone. "Please enforce the no-fly zone or give us reliable air defence systems," he said.

Efforts to improve Ukraine's air defences are already being made, and the US is reportedly considering the supply of ageing but still effective Soviet-made equipment.

Jonathan Eyal says Zelensky's relentless approach is paying off.

With Western leaders about to hold a day of intense discussions about the war, "the agenda will be exactly what other equipment should be handed over to him", he says.

War in Ukraine: More coverage

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'Shame on you': How President Zelensky uses speeches to get what he needs

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In 10 parliaments over two weeks Ukraine's leader has used shame and national trauma to set a global agenda.

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Political language that demonizes minorities

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Political language that demonizes minorities

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The nouns, adjectives, and metaphors we use to talk about groups matters...

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LONDON, Oct 31 (Reuters) - British Home Secretary Suella Braverman said the country faces an "invasion" from people travelling in small boats crossing the English Channel as she fought back against mounting pressure over her repeated security breaches.

Braverman was reappointed interior minister by Prime Minister Rishi Sunak last week, six days after she resigned from the same role for sending a government document from her personal email to an employee of a member of parliament in breach of rules for ministers.

Speaking to parliament over allegedly failing to listen to legal advice on the prolonged detention of migrants at an asylum processing centre in southern England, Braverman said the current system is "broken" and "out of control".

"Let's stop pretending they are all refugees in distress, the whole country knows that is not true," she said.

The comments came a day after a man threw petrol bombs attached to fireworks at an immigration centre in the southern English port of Dover on Sunday before killing himself.

Sunak, who became Britain's third prime minister in two months last week, has seen his early days in office overshadowed by the row about her reappointment.

Opposition parties and even some members of parliament in the governing Conservative Party have questioned Braverman's suitability for the role. Tommy Sheppard, a member of parliament for the Scottish National Party (SNP), accused her of "far-right and inflammatory rhetoric".

On Monday, Braverman acknowledged she had sent official government documents to her personal email address six times, raising fresh concerns about breaches of ministerial rules while in charge of the nation's security.

"POLITICAL WITCH HUNT"

Braverman defended her decision to keep thousands of people at a migrant centre in Kent after some of her colleagues accused her of deliberately ignoring legal advice to transfer people from the site to hotels.

Conditions at the site at Manston in Kent were last week described by Independent Chief Inspector of Borders and Immigration David Neal as " pretty wretched".

Intended to house around 1,500 migrants for less than 24 hours at a time, numbers have swelled to more than double that, with one Afghan family saying they had been there for 32 days.

During the debate in parliament, Braverman said she agreed with a lawmaker who said migrants can "get on a dinghy and go straight back to France" if they believed the accommodation in Britain was not good enough.

Kim Johnson, a lawmaker said for the main opposition Labour Party, said Braverman's language would embolden racists and extremists to attack vulnerable asylum seekers.

Anne McLaughlin, an SNP member of parliament, said she was "disgusted, absolutely disgusted to hear a home secretary deliberately use inflammatory language about vulnerable asylum seekers". She called the remarks shameful.

A record number of asylum seekers have arrived in Britain on small boats across the Channel this year, with government figures showing more than 39,000 have arrived so far this year, up from 28,526 last year - with the highest number from Iran followed by Iraq, Eritrea and Syria.

The government says that 90% of the asylum seekers who make the journey are men, many of them economic migrants rather than genuine refugees.

About a fifth of British voters say dealing with immigration is the most challenging issue facing the country, according to a YouGov poll published this month.

Braverman, who is in charge of the ministry responsible for policing and immigration, said she was facing a "political witch hunt" from opponents.

She supports Britain's exit from the European Convention on Human Rights, which she views as the only way the country can solve its immigration problems, and says it was her "dream" to see a flight deporting asylum seekers to Rwanda take off.

Reporting by Andrew MacAskill; Editing by Nick Macfie, Angus MacSwan and Josie Kao

Our Standards: The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

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UK home secretary complains of asylum seeker 'invasion'

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LONDON, Oct 31 (Reuters) - British Home Secretary Suella Braverman said the country faces an "invasion" from people travelling in small boats crossing the English Channel as she fought back against mounting pressure over her repeated security breaches.

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Language and slang are mysterious in politics...

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During an interview with NASCAR driver Brandon Brown on Oct. 2, 2021, NBC sportscaster Kelli Stavast made a curious observation. She reported that Talladega Superspeedway spectators were chanting "Let's go Brandon" to celebrate the racing driver's first Xfinity Series win.

In reality, however, the crowd was shouting a very different phrase: " F-k Joe Biden," a taunt that had become popular at college football games earlier in the fall.

The deliberate misinterpretation of the crowd's chant was a deft bit of verbal legerdemain on Stavast's part. Although she hasn't publicly explained herself, it seems likely that she was defusing the obscene, politically charged epithet so as not to offend her network's sponsors and viewers.

The phrase, however, quickly took on a life of its own. It provides an interesting example of how language and politics make strange bedfellows - for conservatives and liberals alike.

Making the unacceptable acceptable

Judging from recordings of the interview available online, it is unlikely that Stavast misheard the crowd's chant. If she had, her error would be classified as a mondegreen, which is a slip of the ear. Examples include mishearing Elton John's " Tiny Dancer" as "Hold me closer, Tony Danza."

The enthusiastic adoption of the phrase by President Joe Biden's detractors suggests that "Let's go Brandon" is best described as a minced oath. These are euphemisms used in place of a taboo or blasphemous expression.

Such oaths have a long history in English; an early example is "Zounds," a euphemism for "God's wounds" that started being used around 1600. "Darn" in place of "damn" emerged by 1800, while "heck" and "shoot" became popularized by the 1870s and the 1930s, respectively.

Minced oaths have also been used extensively on television. In these cases, the goal is to circumvent constraints imposed by a network's standards and practices, with certain terms used by characters in place of profane language, whether it's " frack" in "Battlestar Galactica, " fork" in "The Good Place" or " fudge" in "South Park." Even Homer Simpson's oft-repeated cry of dismay - "D'oh!" - is a minced oath for "damn."

Taking language back

The "Let's go Brandon" phenomenon also illustrates the process of linguistic reappropriation or reclamation.

Some Biden supporters are turning the phrase into one of support for him. And as a variant, some of the president's supporters have begun to employ, "Thank you Brandon."

This is itself a callback to the earlier " Thanks, Obama." Republicans often used the phrase to sarcastically criticize the 44th president, but it was later reappropriated by Democrats who used the phrase literally. The dizzying linguistic arms race eventually rendered the phrase meaningless.

As with minced oaths, there's an equally long history of insults being adopted by the groups being disparaged.

During the English Civil Wars, for example, Parliament supporters mockingly referred to the backers of Charles I as "Cavaliers." In a feat of verbal judo, the royalists adopted the moniker to refer to themselves. By doing so, they drained away the epithet's negative connotation.

A similar process has occurred for the use of the word "queer." Once a highly offensive slur directed at gay people, the LGBTQ+ community adopted and rehabilitated it.

Several other cases of linguistic appropriation have recently occurred in U.S. politics. A good example is " Nevertheless, she persisted." Republican senator Mitch McConnell first used it to rebuke Democratic senator Elizabeth Warren, who read from a letter by Coretta Scott King during a confirmation hearing after McConnell had warned her not to.

Warren's supporters quickly seized upon the slogan, proudly using it to celebrate women who resist being silenced. Chelsea Clinton went on to publish a series of books honoring women entitled "She Persisted."

Republicans have proved just as adept at this as Democrats. In 2016, when presidential candidate Hillary Clinton said that half of Donald Trump's supporters could be put in a " basket of deplorables," the Trump campaign released commercials using it. Clinton's words were played over clips of Trump's admiring supporters.

A universal phenomenon

These phenomena aren't limited to U.S. politics. Citizens in repressive societies employ coded criticism as a way to challenge authority.

Following the crackdown on dissent after the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989, demonstrators in China smashed glass bottles in public places to protest the policies of leader Deng Xiaoping. Although the connection is lost on those who don't know Chinese, "Xiaoping" and "little bottle" are pronounced the same way in Mandarin.

NASCAR's concern with its family-friendly image has caused its president, Steve Phelps, to distance the organization from the ongoing "Let's Go Brandon" imbroglio. And a Southwest Airlines pilot is under investigation for using the phrase while airborne.

Others, however, have been happy to make use of the association. On Nov. 18, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, a Republican, made a point of signing bills outlawing COVID-19 vaccine mandates in an unincorporated community nearly 300 miles from the state capital.

Its name?

Brandon, Florida.

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'Let's Go Brandon' and the linguistic jiujitsu of American politics

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During an interview with NASCAR driver Brandon Brown on Oct. 2, 2021, NBC sportscaster Kelli Stavast made a curious observation. She reported that Talladega Superspeedway spectators were chanting "Let's go Brandon" to celebrate the racing driver's first Xfinity Series win.

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Whataboutism is common in political debate. As Geographer Danny Dorling (2023) commented: "When a state begins to fail, attempts are made to suggest that claims of it shattering are exaggerations. Typically, a list of apparent problems faced by other countries will be produced whenever their people are said to be doing better [...]: 'What about suicide rates in Finland". "what about Germany's reliance on Russian Gas?", "What about the rise in 'populism' in the US, Brazil, Hungary, Turkey, and Russia?" This response is so common now that it is labelled "Whataboutery."

One of the functions of whataboutery is to paper over the cracks by diversion and subterfuge. It draws people's attention away from what they should be looking at by attempting to make false comparisons, or confusing them with terms of reference."

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Whataboutism: what it is and why it’s such a popular tactic in arguments

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As strategies go, whataboutism is more attack than debate. Using it isn’t about reasoned argument but winning a fight, no matter the cost to truth.