Арсен Аветисов – Political Narratology. How Stories Shape Power and Compliance (страница 7)

We are accustomed to seeing language as a neutral vehicle for information. In politics, this is a dangerous fallacy.

Language places emphasis, creates causality, assigns responsibility, sets the emotional tone, and defines permissible formulations.

Consider: ‘reform’, ‘optimisation’, ‘reduction’, ‘cutback’, ‘deprivation’. The underlying fact may be the same; the realities constructed are different.

Political language is not a reflection of the world; it is its architecture.

Words with Lost Innocence

In politics, there are no ‘pure’ words. Each key concept carries the trace of prior use.

Words like ‘freedom’, ‘security’, ‘order’, ‘tradition’, ‘the people’, ‘the state’ seem self-evident, but are in fact containers for meaning. Their contents change, but the form remains, which is precisely what makes them so effective. A political narrative does not invent new words; it rewires the old ones.

Language as the Boundary of Permissible Thought

It is not only what can be said that matters, but also what cannot be said. Every stable political narrative creates a zone of the unthinkable: topics that seem strange, dangerous, absurd, or ‘inappropriate’. Not because they are false, but because there is no language to discuss them.

When a question cannot be framed in words, it disappears from public consciousness. This is one of the softest and most effective forms of power.

The Symbol as a Condensed Narrative

If language is the fabric of the story, the symbol is its knot. A flag, a coat of arms, a monument, a date, a gesture, a melody, a colour – these are not mere ornaments but concentrations of meaning. A symbol does not explain; it includes the narrative.

A person may not understand a manifesto, know the facts, or grasp the arguments, but a symbol works directly through emotion, the body, and habit.

A symbol is a narrative experienced without words.

Why Symbols Provoke Such Strong Reactions

A rational argument can be discussed; a symbol cannot.

Try ‘calmly debating’ a symbol, and you will see the reaction is disproportionate. This is because the challenge is perceived not as criticism but as an invasion of identity.

Symbols answer the question, ‘Who are we?’ They store not information, but belonging.

Rituals as Body Language

Political rituals are the language through which the body of society speaks. Elections, parades, moments of silence, oaths, ceremonies, anniversaries – these are not formalities. They are means of synchronisation.

A ritual habituates: it creates a sense of normality, repeatability, and stability.

Through ritual, a narrative ceases to be a thought and becomes a habit.

Memory as a Political Arena

Collective memory is the product of selection. A society cannot remember everything; it remembers what has been narrated and repeated. Everything else dissolves and disappears.

Therefore, memory is always political. It is not distorted; it is structured.

What is recalled as a feat, what as a tragedy, what as an error, and what as a necessity – this is decided not by the past, but by the present.

Forgetting as a Form of Power

Equally important is the question: ‘What is forgotten?’ Forgetting is not an empty space; it is the result of silence, the absence of rituals, the absence of language.

If an event receives no symbol, no date, no name, it ceases to exist in collective consciousness, even if it was traumatic.

In this sense, power governs not only memory but also amnesia.

Rewriting Without Rewriting

Modern politics is not inclined to crudely rewrite history; that is too conspicuous.

More often, the frame of interpretation changes: the same events begin to ‘mean’ something else.

Victory becomes a ‘complex victory’; defeat, an ‘inevitable stage’; violence, a ‘response’; and resistance, ‘chaos’.

The facts remain; the plot changes.

The Language of Crisis and the Language of Stability

Every political regime has its dominant language. In a crisis, the language of threat, urgency, mobilisation, and exceptionalism prevails; in stability, the language of order, development, normality, and gradualism.

A shift in language always anticipates a shift in politics. When the lexicon changes abruptly, it means the story into which people are being prepared has changed.

Why the Struggle for Language is a Struggle for Reality

Whoever determines how things are named determines how they are experienced. To call a protest ‘disorder’ is one thing; to call it an ‘uprising’ is another. To call it a ‘movement’ is a third.

None of these words is neutral: each immediately proposes a role, an emotion, a conclusion. Therefore, political struggle begins with terminology, not with actions.

Media as a Language Amplifier

Modern media accelerate and simplify language. Complex constructions vanish, leaving short formulas, images, clichés, and repeated phrases.

This makes narratives more viral but less stable: they capture attention rapidly but burn out faster.

In such an environment, symbols and concentrated words become even more crucial.

When Language Breaks Down

The most alarming moment is not a lie but a complete loss of trust in words themselves. When all words seem like manipulation, when any statement is perceived as having a hidden agenda, language ceases to connect people; it begins to divide them.

This state we call cynicism, and a separate chapter will be dedicated to it.

What Understanding Language, Symbols, and Memory Provides

Political narratology does not offer ‘correct words’; it teaches one to hear the structure. Understanding which words work like hooks and traps, which symbols switch emotions on, which memories are activated and which are suppressed – this is not protection from the influence of politics, but protection from dissolving into it.

As long as a person can notice the language, they remain a subject, not merely a carrier of history. From this understanding, we move on to how political narratives unfold over time.

Chapter 8. National History as Narrative

Traditions are often invented.

History as a Story About Ourselves

Every society lives not merely in the present but within a story about itself. This story need not be precise; it must be comprehensible.

National history is a narrative in which a society answers several fundamental questions: ‘Where did we come from?’ ‘What have we endured?’ ‘What sets us apart?’ ‘What are we proud of?’ ‘What has traumatised us?’ ‘Where are we going?

Without this narrative, the ‘we’ cannot hold.

Why History is Always Simplified

The real past is chaotic, contradictory, and multi-layered. The collective consciousness cannot contain it. Therefore, national history is always reduced: complex processes become a few turning points, multiple causes become a single line, contradictory figures become heroes or villains.

This is not falsification but a psychological necessity. A society, like an individual, requires a coherent biography.

History as a Justification for the Present

The national narrative almost always explains why the current state of affairs is ‘the way it is’. Through history, borders, institutions, hierarchies, traumas, fears, and expectations are justified; the past becomes an argument.

The phrase ‘it has always been this way with us’ is one of the most powerful political formulas. It absolves the present of responsibility and transfers it to the realm of fate.

The Myth of Origin

At the centre of any national history lies a myth of origin. This is not necessarily a lie; it is the assembly point of the entire narrative.