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  • Bush's Happy Performative
  • Diana Taylor (bio)

Before the first smart bomb and first missile hit Iraq in March 2003, President George W. Bush's war talk had already caused enormous, some say incalculable, damage. The promise of a preemptive attack undermined a long-standing tradition governing U.S. foreign policy; the United Nations was sidelined; stalwart allies were bullied and discarded; economic indicators plummeted; anxious U.S. citizens were told to create "safe spaces" with duct tape and bottled water. In this "war" that is not a war but an invasion, Bush's main weapon is what J.L. Austin called "the performative"—language that acts.

Declarations of war, contracts, curses—these are instances when saying something does something. The words establish a contractual arrangement within the specific framework or convention in which they are uttered. Unlike a constative, which states a "fact," a performative masquerades; it is a "disguised" form that "apes" a statement of fact while operating as a deed done. Austin posited this difference between constatives and performatives: "The constative utterance is true or false and the performative is happy or unhappy" (1962:54).

Austin was not thinking about declarations of war when he argued that performatives were either "happy" (carried through successfully) or "unhappy" (when they failed due to procedural or other errors). But here we are, nearly a half-century after Austin, faced with the paradox of Bush's happy performative and the untold damage it is accomplishing.

In the build-up to the invasion, Bush's language acted. Claims, boasts, and declarations masqueraded as truths. All evidence to the contrary was dismissed: the U.N. Security Council had failed—"[I]t has not lived up to its responsibilities"; inspections didn't work; diplomacy had failed—"[W]e are not dealing with peaceful men" (Bush 2003). Even when threatened with elimination, Saddam Hussein refused to leave Iraq of his own volition.

For a performative to function smoothly—to be happy—a series of conditions must be met. For starters, the utterance needs to take place in the context of an appropriate conventional framework. Next, the words have to be uttered by a person empowered to do so. Thus, in his 17 March 2003 address to the nation, the President of the United States was set up in the White House surrounded by flags and official seals, reminding us that he is indeed the person authorized to order an unauthorized "war" against Iraq: "The tyrant will soon be gone. The day of your liberation is near." This, Bush promised "by the oath [End Page 5] I have sworn, by the oath I will keep." Swearing makes it so. His insistence on authority and proper procedure almost makes us think "W" has read Austin. Having performed the right words in the official setting, he reminds us that his action—criticized by many as illegal and immoral—is "not a question of authority" but a question of the "will," "resolve," and "fortitude [...] to enforce the just demands of the world." "We" have the right stuff, while "they" (the United Nations Security Council, France, Russia, Mexico, Canada, and countless other critics in and outside the U.S.) have got it wrong. Convinced by his own show, Bush has not only accomplished the attack, he positions himself in the victorious aftermath, proclaiming that the "day of your liberation is near" (Bush 2003).


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President George W. Bush addresses the nation and gives Saddam Hussein and his sons 48 hours to leave Iraq, from the Cross Hall at the White House on 17 March 2003. (White House photo by Paul Morse; <http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/03/iraq/20030317-7.html>)

The centerpiece of the first wave of attacks is titled "Shock and Awe," an example of a genre that the Pentagon calls "effects-based warfare." This air campaign is one-part military and one-part religion. Shock is the military component: it signals "you don't have a chance"; "Put down your weapons—don't die for a dying regime." Awe is what we are expected to feel toward a superior power. In this case, the catchphrase enacts the hope...

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