Words as weapons

In politics as in education, language matters. Campaigns for the United States presidential elections are providing instructive lessons on the weaponizing of words for political advantage.

Slogans or slurs must be short and memorable. “Dangerous Donald” to describe Donald Trump proved too bland and general. “Stolen valor” packed more punch. This was the crime that Republican vice presidential candidate J.D. Vance accused his Democratic counterpart, Tim Walz, of committing, when he claimed that he had served in combat and, more seriously, when he retired from the Army National Guard, allegedly to avoid deployment to the Iraq War frontlines.

Second, the source of political attacks must possess both credibility and proof. Vance served for six months in Iraq during his four-year stint in the Marine Corps. Though serving mainly in headquarters as a combat correspondent writing articles for internal Corps publications, assignment in a war zone earned his allegations against Walz a hearing. But to make the “stolen valor” charge stick, Vance had to show evidence that Walz retired to escape combat duties. The record argues against the accusation.

The average term of National Guard service was six years; Walz served for 24 years, including about a year in Italy with an artillery regiment providing logistics support for the Iraq War. Assignment to the artillery force led to hearing loss that eventually required surgery. Walz earned promotion to command sergeant major, one of the highest enlisted rank in the army, but reverted to a lower rank on retirement because he had failed to complete the final, in-person training course requirement. Walz was then considering the option to retire, which he was entitled to do after more than 20 years of service, and to run for Congress. At this time, there were already rumors that his unit might be sent to Iraq. But Walz had filed papers for retirement and his candidacy in 2005, months before the official call for his unit’s combat deployment.

Third, attack ads must not expose their vulnerabilities to adversaries, a danger Vance overlooked. In focusing attention on Walz’s military record, Vance reminded the public that his principal, Trump, “dodged” the Vietnam War draft five times, four times on student deferments and the fifth with a medical certification that he suffered from bone spurs. When later interrogated by The New York Times, Trump seemed uncertain about which foot had been affected. The issue Vance raised also placed him in the awkward position of explaining Trump’s documented statements reflecting disdain for “suckers and losers” who volunteered for military service, especially those not smart enough to avoid capture or death.

Comparable examples of backfire would be Harry Roque proclaiming the importance of defending human rights after he was sentenced to 24-hour detention in the House of Representatives for lying during a hearing. Political observers noted that he was not so vigorous in defending the human rights of Leila de Lima during her nearly seven years in jail. Or Vice President Sara Duterte demanding that police searching for Apollo Quiboloy observe the due process that had been denied to victims of extrajudicial killings during her father’s presidency.

The most recent American example of political comment causing self-inflicted injury was Hillary Clinton’s dismissive assessment that half of Trump’s supporters in the 2016 presidential campaign belonged to a “basket of deplorables.” The Trump campaign seized upon “deplorables” and turned it against Clinton as proof of her elitist orientation and the Democratic Party’s disdain for average Americans. The Democrats were never able to recover from this boomerang damage that contributed to Clinton’s defeat.

The surprise political term of 2024 was “weird,” used by Walz to describe Trump. Republicans thought that the Democrats had once again stumbled, that “weird,” like “deplorables,” would also drive a wedge between the Democrats and the voters. It did not. First, because Walz clearly used “weird” to describe, not the voters, but only Trump (and Vance). Second, because the charge of weirdness is hard to refute. “Weird” translates into the Tagalog “kakatwa” or “kakaiba.” Both terms cover a range of meanings that share the sense of being “different” but not all necessarily carrying a negative load. “Iba” could describe someone “creepy,” “odd,” or “eccentric” bordering on crazy. But it could also refer to an “awesome,” exceptionally skilled, or talented person approaching genius.

The terms are not obviously insulting, could even be endearing. It was difficult to get people enraged enough to demonstrate against the charge that their candidate was different. But attaching “weird” or “iba” to Trump and to politicians like him suggests that they are unlike ordinary, normal people; unlikely, therefore, to share people’s concerns and undeserving of their support.

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Edilberto C. de Jesus is professor emeritus at the Asian Institute of Management.

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