DITE LIEPA

LU Institute of the Latvian Language, Riga Stradiņš University

EVIJA LIPARTE

Reviewed by an independent reviewer

doi.org/10.35321/bkalba.2022.95.06

THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC AND THE WAR IN UKRAINE: THE USE OF EUPHEMISMS AND DYSPHEMISMS IN PUBLIC DISCOURSE IN LATVIAN, LITHUANIAN AND RUSSIAN¹

KEYWORDS: euphemisms, dysphemisms, COVID-19 pandemic, war, public discourse.

ABSTRACT

The article covers two lexical categories—euphemisms and dysphemisms—used during the two largest global-scale events that have shaken the whole world since 2020: the COVID-19 pandemic and the war launched by Russia in Ukraine. The euphemisms and dysphemisms included in the article refer to these events in Latvian, Lithuanian and Russian. For the analysis of both pandemic-period and wartime vocabulary, two lexical groups were selected for each: 1) words describing the COVID-19 pandemic and words describing the divided sides of society; 2) lexemes used to refer to Russia’s war against Ukraine and words describing the warring sides.

ABSTRACT

This article covers two lexical categories: euphemisms and dysphemisms in two major global events that shook the world since 2020: the COVID-19 pandemic and the war that Russia started in Ukraine. The euphemisms and dysphemisms featured in the article are used to designate said events in the Latvian, Lithuanian, and Russian languages. For the lexical analysis of both the vocabulary of the pan-

¹ The article is based on part of a presentation delivered on September 8, 2022, at the international conference held at Vilnius University, The Slavic Periphery at the Turn of the 20th and 21st Centuries. Language–Society–Culture–Identity. One of the article’s authors, D. Liepa, prepared the article as part of the Latvian state research programme project The Use and Development of Contemporary Latvian (No. VPP-LETONIKA-2022/1-0001).

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demic period and that of the wartime were selected two lexical groups: (1) words that describe COVID-19 and the sides of the society divided; (2) lexemes used to designate the Russia-Ukraine war and the words that describe the warring sides.

INTRODUCTION AND GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE TOPIC

Sociolingvistė Ina Druviete (2021: 7) yra nurodžiusi, kad „XXI amžiaus trečiasis dešimtmetis prasidėjo naujais išbandymais žmonijai, prie bendrų globalinių sunkumų – klimato pokyčių, smurtinių konfliktų, pajamų nelygybės ir kitų – pridedamas naujo viruso sukelta pandemija“. Dar nenurimus visuomenės aistroms dėl COVID-19, 2022 m. vasario 24 d. pasaulį sukrėtė nauja tragedija – Rusijos įsiveržimas į Ukrainą. Šie pastarųjų trejų metų globalinio masto įvykiai paveikė ir kalbos vartojimą. Pasak politinių eufemizmų ir disfemizmų tyrėjo Andrejaus Veisbergo, kalbos raiška pasidarė vulgaresnė – tai lemia reali situacija. „Apie Šveiko vertimą trečiame–ketvirtame dešimtmetyje visuomenė taip pat sakė, kad jis yra nepaprastai nešvankus ir su rusišku slengu, bet taip jau yra: karo metu žmonės keičiasi, ir tai galima suprasti“ (Valodnieki 2022). Vokiečių kilmės JAV kalbininkas, malედiktologijos² pradininkas ir bavapų–austrų keiksmažodžių žodyno sudarytojas Reinholdas Amanas panašiai rašė apie karą kitame literatūros kūrinyje: Homero vaizduojami didvyriai prieš kovodami ginklais iškoneveikdavo vieni kitus (Aman 1975: 160). Keikimąsi jis apibūdina kaip agresyvų žodinį veiksmą, kuris dažniausiai vyksta susijaudinus, būna sukeltas frustracijos (Aman 1975: 153).

To express emotions and reactions to a situation, people often look not only for slang words but also for neologisms: “<...> the spirit of the language is still alive. The language system is still flexible; people are able to respond to current events by creating new words and constructions based on existing patterns. Most importantly, neither the playfulness of language nor its creative element has disappeared. The presence of creativity in a language is one indication that it is alive, and that its speakers regard it as belonging to them, as a value. This confirms that Latvian is capable of adapting to any conditions” (Druviete 2022: 202).

² Maledictology (German Malediktologie, English maledictologie < from Latin maledicere ‘to curse, to abuse’) is a field of psycholinguistics, sociolinguistics, and psychology that studies cursing and profanity, that is, the lexicon used to perform one of the acts of aggressive speech: verbal abuse.

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The authors of this article have already discussed in publications in various countries the linguistic creativity prompted by the pandemic from the perspectives of lexicon and word formation, and have also written about the similarities and differences between Latvian and Lithuanian attitudes toward the pandemic and its realities³. Over the past three years, owing to public engagement in the media, publications, and social media comments, the vocabulary of Latvian and Lithuanian has been supplemented both with new terms and with terms known for some time but used less frequently, as well as with other neologisms⁴.

However, the linguistic experience of the pandemic is only part of the experience. In 2022, the vocabularies of the world’s languages were enriched with the lexicon of war. Society is only beginning to learn to live with it—as with the fact of war itself. Now that it is clear that a real war is taking place in Ukraine, it is becoming apparent that the use of the lexicon of war and combat during the pandemic had no objective basis.

During the Covid era, the heroic and self-sacrificing conduct of medical workers and their volunteer assistants (working irregular hours under difficult, arduous, and mostly risky conditions) was described using the lexicon of war and war terminology in figurative senses, for example: the Covid front, the front line drawn through hospital corridors, doctors as the real heroes, fighting in the front-line trenches, and so on. However, when Russia invaded Ukraine, it became clear that a real war had begun, and that the words war, front, trenches, enemy must be understood literally, not figuratively (see also Druviete 2022: 202).

Latvian columnist Pauls Raudseps wrote:

The pandemic is not a real war, but it is closer to war than anything the vast majority of Latvia’s population have experienced. The attacker is not the army of another state, but the virus is ruthless and persistent. As in war, it is impossible to defeat this enemy without courageous conduct and a clear understanding that, for the sake of the greater goal, both politicians and society must be prepared to make sacrifices (Raudseps 2021).

During the pandemic, the lexicon of war was used by politicians and medical workers alike, and it was also prevalent in journalism. The question arises as to how appropriate it was and how it was viewed. There was considerable discussion on this issue: those opposed to—

³ See the list of references at the end of the article.

⁴ Translator and linguist E. Lipartė has recorded more than 1,500 Latvian nominal compounds in online texts that gained currency or were coined during the coronavirus pandemic in 2020 (Lipartė 2021a); sociolinguist D. Liepa and sociologist Anda Rožukalne surveyed 256 new compounds used in Latvian online news comments during the first and second periods of the state of emergency (see below, footnote 12, for these periods) that included the lexemes ko-vid-, koron- (Rožukalne, Liepa 2022: 195).

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…were taken up by doctors, journalists, linguists, and sociologists alike. The discussion hosted by Jolanta Zabarskaitė (2020) in Kalbos klube showed that in the post-Soviet space this may be connected with the legacy of the past—with a way of thinking inherited from the Soviet era, when, living behind the Iron Curtain, any disruption or restriction of the usual rhythm of life was perceived as an enemy to be fought⁵. While agreeing with this idea, especially in the context of the 2022 Russia–Ukraine war, it should nevertheless be borne in mind that the real front, the frontline, and the heroes are in the war; therefore, language creativity in the field of health should take a different form (see also Liepa, Lipartė 2022: 66–67).

The war launched in Ukraine brought the lexicon of war into renewed relevance in European countries in its literal senses. In both Baltic languages—Latvian and Lithuanian—it had for some time belonged to the passive vocabulary, since there had been no active military operations in Latvia and Lithuania since the end of the Second World War. In the post-war years, struggles for independence and resistance took place—the Forest Brothers’ movements and dissidents’ protests. In 1991, the struggle to restore the countries’ independence took place, costing lives in both Lithuania and Latvia, but the war launched by Russia gave rise to a new lexicon of war in the 21st century, with no previous equivalent, and euphemisms and dysphemisms are among its active categories. When other weapons of language are too weak, indignation, despair, and aggression break through, and dysphemisms play a particularly significant role here. Russia, the aggressor, for its part seeks to mask or give other names to the attack, the demonstration of power, the imposition of its will, the armed fighting, and the massacres it has caused—thus, euphemisms replace direct terms.

The aim of this article is to examine the use in Latvian, Lithuanian, and Russian of euphemisms and dysphemisms that describe certain aspects of the COVID-19 pandemic and the war in Ukraine in public discourse. In this article, public discourse refers to websites from which written and spoken empirical material was gathered: articles and comments from news and opinion portals, and social media and forum posts on both topics⁶. This material cannot be considered comprehensive or exhaustive. It is a changing database that continues to be supplemented and is not restricted to a specific source or period. The collection of examples is limited only by the practical possibility of recording all the material found across the vast expanse of the internet. Linguists are only now beginning to synthesize material on the impact of the war in Ukraine on language, and therefore the findings should also be of interest and value

⁵ On political euphemization during the Soviet era, see also the article by Irena Smetonienė and Danutė Daučiūnaitė (2014).

⁶ See the end of the article for the list of sources.

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lyginamųjų tyrimų rezultatai (Druviete 2022: 200). Šis straipsnis – vienas lyginamųjų tyrimų. Jame apžvelgiami ir gretinami tiek skirtingų kalbų, tiek skirtingos tematikos pavyzdžiai.

Russian-language examples were included deliberately, as they reveal both the rhetoric of the Kremlin’s ruling policies and the democratic efforts of Russia’s opposition media to describe objectively what is happening in Russia and Ukraine. In addition, Russian may be considered the point of origin for the use and spread of the lexicon of war: media around the world cite, comment on, explain, and analyze the Russian-language lexicon of war. During the pandemic, official Russian media spread disbelief and doubt about the seriousness of the virus and vaccines not only in Latvia and Lithuania but also in other countries around the world; after Russia invaded Ukraine, they astonished the world by denying the war and describing it with euphemisms such as special operation, extraordinary operation, military operation, among others, thereby increasing the volume of disinformation in the overall information flow and heightening emotional tension.

For the analysis of both pandemic-period and military vocabulary, the article selected two lexical groups for each. In analyzing the lexicon of the COVID-19 pandemic, it discusses words characterizing the disease and the situation, as well as words describing the opposing sides of a divided society; in analyzing the lexicon of the Russia–Ukraine war, it examines the lexemes used to name the situation and words describing the warring sides.

The study addresses the following objectives:

1) to document the use of vocabulary from the specified groups on websites, identifying euphemisms and dysphemisms;

2) to compare instances of euphemism and dysphemism use in the discourses of the pandemic and the war in Ukraine.

The study uses descriptive and componential analysis methods, and, in part, a comparative method. Comparing material from several languages makes it possible to draw conclusions both about the universality of the realities and linguistic phenomena under review and about the possibility of adopting the latter. The article conducts only a qualitative analysis, without taking into account the number of euphemisms and dysphemisms, their relative proportions, or their frequency of use; nor does it distinguish quantitatively between traditional dysphemisms (including vulgarisms) and situational dysphemisms (including neologisms). The examples are not analyzed according to the methods of euphemization (see Kudirka 2012; Smetonienė, Daučiūnaitė 2014) and dysphemization. This could be the subject of a separate study, particularly metaphorical nomination, examples of which are especially abundant in both discourses reviewed here, in all three languages.

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1. EUPHEMISMS AND DYSPHEMISMS: EXPLANATION AND DEFINITIONS OF THE CONCEPTS

As Marius Smetona points out, the main problem in studying euphemisms is identifying and defining them. According to M. Smetona, there are many definitions of this concept, “because all scholars define euphemisms in the way required by their individual studies” (Smetona 2015: 6), thus adapting them to the aim of the research.

Definitions of euphemism in Latvian linguistics emphasize the stylistic aspect of euphemisms and the words they replace, identifying the replacement function alone as the purpose of using euphemisms: a euphemism is “a word or expression used instead of a taboo word, vulgarism, or another word whose use is restricted for ethical or other reasons” (VPsVe); it is “emotionally neutral words or phrases used instead of offensive, overly direct, or unpleasant words” (Veisbergs 1999: 17). The same is true of German: a euphemism is defined only as “a descriptive expression that embellishes, conceals, or softens an offensive or unpleasant word” (DUDENe).

Definitions used by researchers in other languages identify several purposes for using euphemisms, including reshaping reality, concealment, deceiving or misleading the addressee, ingratiating oneself with the person being euphemized, and so on.⁷ Taking these purposes into account, M. Smetona seeks to formulate a definition that encompasses them all: “A euphemism is a word or phrase used in an act of communication to ingratiate oneself with the object being euphemized and thereby alter reality, or to mislead—to make the listener understand reality as the speaker wishes—as well as to encode euphemized objects that violate primary taboos and the results of their further development, etiquette, and moral attitudes” (Smetona 2015: 25).

The Australian linguist Kate Burridge believes that “in a particular context, one can talk about a taboo subject without violating norms if a euphemism is used instead of a specific name. However, the euphemistic vocabulary found in such linguistic varieties as military, political, and medical jargon also adds dimensions of deception and secrecy to the cover. In this case, euphemisms are used not so much to avoid hurting feelings as to deliberately conceal and mislead” (Burridge 2012).

In their analysis of political euphemization in the headlines of journalistic articles in Lithuania, I. Smetonienė and D. Daučiūnaitė note that the aims of euphemization—

⁷ An overview of definitions of euphemism formulated by linguists from various countries is provided by R. Kudirka (2012) and M. Smetona (2015: 11–17).

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—may be to cover up, conceal, or distort essential matters. Political euphemization serves this function too; its “main aim is to express, in the mildest words and ways possible, something that may be unacceptable or unpleasant to the majority of society, or may provoke negative emotions toward the state authorities or certain state institutions” (Smetonienė, Daučiūnaitė 2014: 122; quoted in Moskvin 2001: 63). Vasilijus Mosk vinas, cited by the linguists, clearly distinguishes political euphemization from political disinformation, explaining the latter as a lie and an obvious distortion of the truth. On matters concerning events in Ukraine, both politicians and the media seek to be diplomatic; therefore, according to I. Smetonienė and D. Daučiūnaitė, they “avoid calling things by their proper names and, when speaking about unpleasant events or the inappropriate actions of other countries, tend to embellish and soften their actual names, concealing events associated with death, violence, and other disasters” (Smetonienė, Daučiūnaitė 2014: 125).

Dysphemisms are also defined in various ways, with reference to their stylistic aspects (vulgarity) and/or their aims—to hurt the addressee, exaggerate negative aspects, and so on. Definitions in Latvian linguistics emphasize that a dysphemism is “a familiar, vulgar word or phrase that is deliberately substituted for the stylistically and emotionally neutral name of the same referent” (VPSVe), or that it consists of “hurtful, offensive words that deliberately intensify negative concepts and convey what their user wishes to portray in a negative light” (Veisbergs 2002: 54). In Lithuanian linguistics, the following definition of dysphemisms has been formulated in describing the expression of impoliteness in criminal discourse: “words or phrases used instead of milder ones to create a negative opinion, lend a negative connotation, or insult someone” (Jakimovienė 2017). In German, the definition of dysphemism is very broad and imprecise, highlighting only its purpose: “a negative, disparaging description of a neutral or positive word” (DUDENe). Swearwords are treated similarly. R. Aman has emphasized: “Every word used aggressively is a swearword” (Aman 1975: 165). John E. Joseph develops this idea as well: “Language need not be blasphemous, obscene, or racist in order to be offensive” (translated from Latvian; see Džozefs 2008: 130).

According to A. Veisbergs, there is no answer to the question of what an offensive word is, because “the meaning of a word lies not only in the word itself. It is given by the speaker, writer, listener, and reader. This means that any word can be offensive” (Veisbergs 2002: 56). The scholar proposes distinguishing individual emotional dysphemisms from “true” dysphemisms—a term he uses for words that

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...used in public discourse when referring to enemies, adversaries, or foes. In such cases, generalizations and hyperboles are employed, animal and disease names are used, and backwardness, stupidity, etc., are emphasized (Veisbergs 2002: 56–57).

Writing about political language, A. Veisbergs described euphemisms as follows: „<...>in today’s information society, it is impossible to remain silent – people have to find a way to inform and disinform, justify, explain, or deceive. Totalitarian regimes had an easier time in this respect. They had much to hide both from the outside world and from their own citizens, and sometimes even from themselves. <...> Totalitarianism, which controls the media, can afford to remain silent, censor, and omit. Democracy has to speak, so euphemisms are much more widespread in it“ (Veisbergs 1999: 17). It should be added here that dysphemisms are also more widespread in democratic societies, since it is impossible there to suppress indignation, anger, disappointment, doubt, or simply emotionality. People express all this in various ways: they swear openly on social media, mock and insult one another ironically in website comments beneath articles, coin some situational dysphemistic neologism that attracts attention, and so on.

In this paper, which discusses medical and military varieties of lexis, and drawing on the definitions reviewed, euphemisms are understood as words or expressions used instead of words avoided for ethical or other reasons, while dysphemisms are words or phrases with negative connotations that deliberately replace stylistically and emotionally neutral names for the same referent. In addition, this article attempts to distinguish between conventional and situational dysphemisms. Conventional dysphemisms are those that have become historically established in a language and are used almost universally in various situations⁸, including vulgarisms (e.g., fascist, occupier, criminal, idiot, turnip, faggot), whereas situational dysphemisms are words coined in a particular situation⁹ (on the basis of associations, through blending, or by playing with language¹⁰, for example, through phonetic distortion: corona – shmorona) or words that acquire a dysphemistic connotation they do not ordinarily have (e.g., skiers). Nevertheless, drawing a strict line between these two groups of dysphemisms is difficult, since it is unclear what period of time or frequency of use should count as the criterion for a dysphemism becoming established (e.g., a dysphemism that emerged only during COVID-19

⁸ Apie tai dar žr. E. Liparte (2021b: 87–88).

⁹ Therefore, they can also be called (occasional) dysphemistic neologisms.

¹⁰ For an account of playing with language (Latvian valodas spēle) in Latvian colloquial speech and the devices it employs, see V. Ernstone (1997).

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pandemic, may be widely used and have various meanings). The euphemisms discussed in the article are not further differentiated, although it is sometimes proposed to divide them into new and old¹¹; in this case, political and propagandistic euphemisms would fall into the “new” category.

2. EUPHEMISMS AND DYSPHEMISMS DESCRIBING THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC

2.1. Euphemisms and dysphemisms for the disease and situation

M. Smetona cites Joanne K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels as a striking example of taboos surrounding a person and their name, and the use of euphemisms in contemporary fiction. Afraid not only of the evil wizard Voldemort but also of uttering his name, other wizards call Voldemort You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even his followers, the Death Eaters, do not call their master by name, but address him as the Dark Lord or the Master (Smetona 2015: 24).

In Latvia, associations with this character were prompted by the official name for the strict movement restrictions imposed during the pandemic, māj sede¹², which many people understood not only as a Latvian equivalent of the English term lockdown, but also as a euphemism for the military term komandantstunda ‘curfew’. This is illustrated, for example, by a post published on the social network Facebook in early 2021:

I see that for many people these official designations are just like Voldemort in the Harry Potter saga—“He Who Must Not Be Named” <...>. That is probably why all those “let's not mention it” meetings¹³ and so on (I see that for many people these official names are like Voldemort from the Harry Potter saga—“He Who Must Not Be Named” <...>. That is probably why all those māj sēdes and so on arise).

¹¹ Apie tokią galimybę užsimena R. Kudirka (2012).

¹² Māj sēde means “a special restriction on movement – a requirement not to leave one’s place of residence at a specified time” (Tēzaurs). It is a syntactic-morphological formation (< māj-a ‘home’ + sēd-ēt ‘to sit’ + ending -e; for more on this, see E. Liparte (2021a: 115–116)); in meaning, in the context of COVID-19, it corresponds to the nationwide quarantine that was in force in Lithuania. The term māj sēde began to be used as an official term in Latvia from the start of the second declared state of emergency (November 2020), when strict movement restrictions were introduced, including a curfew. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Latvia had three periods of state of emergency declared by the government in total, with restrictions of varying severity: 1) from 2020-03-12 to 2020-06-10; 2) from 2020-11-09 to 2021-04-06; 3) from 2021-10-11 to 2022-04-01.

¹³ In all examples provided, emphasis was added by the article’s authors, except for this word, which the author of the post had emphasized. In the examples and their translations, only the most egregious spelling and punctuation errors that would hinder comprehension have been corrected.

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Music critic Sandris Vanzovičs cites the official terms pašizolācija ‘self-isolation’ and karantīna ‘quarantine’ as euphemisms for movement restrictions imposed on people infected, or potentially infected, with coronavirus:

What is a creative person to do, trapped at home with no opportunity to perform or make music, carrying out within four walls moral self-guillotining and euthanizing, delicately referred to as self-isolation or quarantine? (What is a creative person to do, shut up at home with no chance to perform publicly or make music, carrying out moral self-guillotining and euthanizing within four walls, delicately called self-isolation or quarantine?) (Vanzovičs 2020).

Words describing the COVID-19 pandemic are often difficult to classify as euphemisms or dysphemisms because apparently neutral labels, e.g., Latvian ciparu pandēmija ‘digital pandemic’, papīra slimība ‘paper disease’, and the like, are usually used with a negative connotation, emphasizing either that there is no pandemic at all or that it was artificially created. This is evident from the context, for example:

Perhaps let everyone have this fake virus, since no one feels or even knows that they are ill. And then everyone will be at peace; there will be no one to infect, and it makes no difference anyway, being ill with paper disease and not knowing that one is ill (Perhaps everyone can have this fake virus, since no one feels or even knows they are ill. Then everyone will be at peace; there will be no one to infect, and it changes nothing to be ill with paper disease without knowing that one is ill).

Euphemisms expressed through certain pronouns are easier to identify: šis, viss šis, viņš. For example:

<...> friends to whom to write your thoughts and have a glass of wine together when “all this” will be over. (<...> friends to write your reflections to and [with whom] to have a glass of wine together when “all this” is over);

When I caught my virus in September (perhaps even the famous HIM), I felt unwell and had a headache (When I caught my virus in September (perhaps even the famous HIM), I felt unwell and had a headache).

Sometimes coronavirus is euphemized by using the name of another illness, e.g., Latvian iesnas ‘a cold’, gripa ‘flu’, mēris ‘plague’, triperis ‘an outdated name for gonorrhea’, or, more generally, sērga ‘epidemic’, and so on.¹⁴

Alongside stylistically neutral euphemisms for coronavirus, dysphemistic vulgarisms and slang words were also frequently used, e.g., colloquial Latvian sūds ‘shit’, slang zaraza <Russian зараза ‘infectious agent’, vulgar herņa ‘nonsense’, vulgar.

¹⁴ Apie koronaviruso eufemizmus latvių kalboje plačiau žr. E. Lipartė (2020b).

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huĩna ‘something bad, unsuccessful, disgusting; an unsuitable object; rubbish’¹⁵ (Tēzaurs), as well as compounds formed with these lexemes, e.g.: Latv. kovidsūdi ‘COVID-shit’, kovidhuĩna ‘COVID-shit’, koronahuĩna ‘corona-shit’, kovidfig̃na (Latvian slang fig̃na ‘nothing, naught; something worthless, unnecessary’ (Tēzaurs)), kovidfufelis ‘COVID-fuflo’¹⁶, kovidhujõvid, koronajobanā, and so on.¹⁷ Vulgarisms and slang words are often Russian words. A few more examples with the lexeme fuflo: Latv. vīruss ir fufelis ‘the virus is fuflo’, cf. Russ. фуфловирус (SRJKE, 249); Latv. vulgar fufeldēmija, Lith. Fuflodemija, cf. Russ. фуфлодемия, фуфло-пандемия, фуфлопидемия, фуфлоэпидемия (SRJKE, 250–251). Also cf. Latv. slang fuflo, fufelis, fufels ‘a lie, fraud; nonsense, rubbish’ (Tēzaurs) < and Russ. фуфло ‘the same’ (also cf. SRJKE, 249–251).

One internet user, writing comments on the delfi.lv portal, used a dysphemistic neologism containing an obscene word borrowed from Russian, as well as a euphemistic abbreviation concealing that neologism, formed from the initial letters of separate words:

Among those infected, 13.7 million have an active virus; the remaining 35.8 million have already overcome the diagnosis “hujviņzinkā positive test” (Of those infected, 13.7 million have an active virus; the other 35.8 million have already overcome the diagnosis “chui,”¹⁸ known as a positive test);

In Riga, most [people] with the diagnosis “H-V-Z positive test.”

The Latvian writer Māris Ruks has used the unusual, non-vulgar dysphemism piebūrums ‘a spell cast’¹⁹ to name the COVID-19 pandemic, portraying it as an organized global financial scheme and criminal act; he titled his latest book Piebūrums-19. Intīmi. Globāli. Nāvējoši (A Spell Cast-19. Intimate. Global. Deadly)²⁰.

A derogatory, dysphemistic attitude toward the COVID-19 pandemic is also expressed through phonetic distortion when naming the disease or the virus that caused it in various languages, e.g., in Latvian korona – šmorona. Also cf.:

¹⁵ Plg. liet. chuinia ‘niekai, nesąmonė’ (Zaikauskas 2008: 36).

¹⁶ The Lithuanian slang dictionary gives the following meanings for fuflo: ‘1. a lie. 2. a poor-quality, worthless, useless object; rubbish; a counterfeit’ (Zaikauskas 2008: 55).

¹⁷ Plačiau apie tai rašoma A. Rožukalnės, D. Liepos (2022: 195–196; 206–210) ir E. Lipartės (2020b: 30–31) straipsniuose.

¹⁸ This word is not included in the slang dictionary compiled by Egidijus Zaikauskas; Latv. vulgar hui ‘male sexual organ’ (Tēzaurs). In meaning, the word combination hujviņzinkā (< huj viņu zina kā ‘who the hell knows what’) is close to the expression bala zīno.

¹⁹ This is a noun derived from the verb pieburt ‘to cast a spell—to conjure, enchant, or charm’.

²⁰ Apie šią knygą žr. M. Ruks (2022).

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Latvian: Skaidrs, that covid/shmovid and everything related to it is exhausting (Obviously, covid/shmovid and everything related to it is tiring him);

Lithuanian: It’s Corona, Corona, Corona everywhere. And when someone starts talking about Corona again, all I want to say is Corona, Shmorona;

Russian: Pandemic-shmandemic, virus-shmirus, covid-shmovid (Pandemic-shmandemic, virus-shmirus, covid-shmovid).

2.2. Disfemistic labels for the sides of a divided society

Even more varied dysphemisms were used to describe people, because society became polarized during the pandemic.

The evidently universal pandemic dysphemism for naming people—used in many languages and with diametrically opposed meanings—was covidiot from the very first weeks of the pandemic (< English covidiot). It was used to refer to people who did or thought differently from the user of the dysphemism: both those who denied the existence or danger of the coronavirus and believed it all to be an artificially created, fabricated financial scam, and therefore deliberately violated or ignored government-imposed restrictions, and those who, out of excessive fear, stocked up on food and toilet paper or conscientiously observed precautionary measures and epidemiological restrictions (for more, see Liepa 2021: 159), for example:

It is no coincidence that a new word appeared, “covidiot” (a COVID idiot), referring both to those who hoard buckwheat and toilet paper and to those who carry on living as if nothing had happened, ignoring information about the virus (It is no coincidence that a new word, “covidiot,” appeared, referring both to those who buy up buckwheat and toilet paper and to those who continue living as if nothing had happened, ignoring information about the virus) (SRJKE, 97).

By bringing the two extremes together, the Latvian explanatory COVID-19 dictionary (Covid-19 skaidrojošā vārdnīca) kovidiots defines the term as “a person who does not behave sensibly during the coronavirus pandemic” (Veckalne 2020). In turn, other dysphemistic neologisms were coined to distinguish these two meanings: Latvian covidhistēriķi un covidpohujisti ‘covid hysterics and covid indifferents²¹ (see also: Liparte 2020a: 31; Rožukalne, Liepa 2022:

²¹ Latvian, vulgar pohujists ‘an indifferent person’ (Tēzaurs), Lithuanian, vulgar pochuistas ‘a person who ignores those around them, behaves as they please, and doesn’t give a damn about anything’ (Zaikauskas 2008: 122).

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205, 208²²), koronahisteri̇ki ‘corona hysterics’ (Rožukalne, Liepa 2022: 211); Lithuanian panderlogai, konevidonai, šlepetnikai, e.g.:

Panderlogai – covidiots gathering in groups; Konevidonas – a person who maliciously fails to observe quarantine (Klimenka, Klimenka 2020)²³.

In specific situations, neutral words of the standard language with no negative connotation were also used dysphemistically²⁴, e.g., Latvian Slēpotājs drīz būs lamuvārds (Skier will soon be a swear word), referring to the fact that at the beginning of the pandemic, people who returned from skiing in Italy infected with coronavirus failed to comply with the epidemic safety requirements imposed on them, while others, disregarding warnings, went skiing in Italy or other countries where the virus had already spread. In Lithuania, the term rizikos grupės asmuo (with the explanation: over 60 years of age and/or suffering from chronic illnesses) and the synonymous neologism rizikaamžis ‘someone of risk age (i.e., because of their age, at greater risk of being vulnerable to illnesses, etc.’; LKND) prompted conflicting reactions: some saw it as the authorities showing greater concern for people in this age group, while others saw it as disrespect toward them. These examples confirm the claims made by R. Aman, A. Veisbergs, J. E. Joseph, and other linguists that any word can be offensive.

A hateful attitude and discourse also accompanied the start of vaccination: some people got vaccinated and supported the vaccination policy, while others ignored it,

²² A. Rožukalnė, D. Liepa (2022: 205–211) ir E. Lipartė (2021a: 109; 2021c: 108–109) pateikia daug okazinių dūrinių su komponentais kovid- ir koron-, įskaitant emocinius ekspresinius asmenų pavadinimus, tačiau jie apžvelgti tik darybos požiūriu, reikšmių nenurodant ir pagal jas dūrinių negrupuojant.

²³ As these examples—and several hundred more—show, the humorous occasional neologisms and adaptations of well-known literary or musical works, jokes, and examples of modern folklore posted online in various languages during the pandemic by brothers Eduard and Gabriel Klimenka (who called themselves “pandemic wordsmith brothers”) and many others also made people laugh, without anger or aggression (see Lipartė 2020b: 34; 2021c: 110; Liepa 2021: 162–165; Druviete 2022: 202). Here are a few humorous descriptions of people that are neither euphemisms nor dysphemisms (i.e., they are not intended to disguise something or to offend or condemn): Lithuanian: Koronolas kovidinantas – the head commander of the pandemic task force (Klimenka, Klimenka 2020); vakcinolė (with a joking, expressive nuance) ‘a person who chooses vaccines against coronavirus according to the experiences a person wants to have’ (LKND); Latvian: Nus, koviddzeinieki, time to express your sorrow and joy (Well, COVID poets, time to express your sorrow and joy); kovidnavis (< kovid + nav ‘is not’ + ending -is) ‘a person who, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, believed that such a disease did not exist’; Russian: ковидёнок (humorously) ‘a child whose birth is planned during the coronavirus pandemic’ (SRJKE, 92); карантист ‘a karate athlete who continues training remotely’ – a blend: карантин + каратист (SRJKE, 78).

²⁴ Apie tai dar žr. E. Lipartė 2021c: 107.

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openly mocked it, threatened medical workers, journalists, government representatives, and police officers involved in implementing the prescribed restrictions and ensuring compliance with them. Emotional expressiveness in language increased, along with verbal aggression (see: Liepa 2022; Rožukalne, Liepa 2022). Latvian journalist Inguna Mukāne aptly described the situation in autumn 2021:

The pandemic showed us that in a free, democratic state, society can become divided even more dramatically than in an occupied land. The vaccinated against the unvaccinated, the people against the government—it seems this gulf is growing ever deeper. And above all, there is a range of emotions prevailing among people that had not previously been observed on such a broad scale. Anger and aggression, fear and panic, social absurdity and the search for scapegoats—these are only the most striking manifestations (Mukāne 2021).

Each side of the divided society had its own supporters, and communication between opposing sides was hurtful, aggressive, and hostile. This is evident from Lithuanian dysphemisms referring to people, published as lists on the social network Facebook in the summer of 2022, just before the outbreak of the war, by sociologist Rūta Žiliukaitė and supplemented by other users of the social network. The lists themselves were given neutral titles, namely One side and The other side, but the vocabulary included in them is not neutral. One side (1) is associated with supporters of conspiracy theories and disseminators of Russian propaganda²⁵, while the other side (2) is considered to consist of supporters of the official line (especially on vaccination):

1) Antistate rabble; Biomass; Byvalo; Heirs of Jedinstvo; Kremlin lackeys; Welfare scroungers; Pro-Kremlin riffraff; Dirty peasants; Putinists; Red losers; Russophiles; Turnips; Vatniks; A cancer on society; Anti-vaxxers; Flat-earthers; Bogeymen; Bawlers.

2) Fascists; Geyropa; Nazis; Landsbergis’s lot; Leftists; Liberatiztai; Fags; PIŠ; Russophobes; Satanists; Vaccinated; Sorosites; Soros’s people; Tapinoids; Just faggots; Rainbow people; Vaxxers; Brainwashed people; Thieves; Vaseline Award laureates; Zombies.

As these deliberately unabridged lists show (and they could be further expanded), the views expressed in these labels intertwine people’s attitudes toward both the COVID-19 pandemic and other painful issues. In addition, some of the names—

²⁵ Incidentally, Latvian media also described the use in Latvia and Russia of dysphemisms for conspiracy theory supporters as follows: Latvijā piespiedu vakcinācijas un cilvēku segregācijas pretiniekiem piekar „antivaksera“ un Kremļa aģenta birku, bet kaimiņvalstī šādi cilvēki tiek pasludināti par Krievijas interesēm naidīgiem elementiem un Rietumu aģentiem (In Latvia, opponents of compulsory vaccination and the segregation of people are branded “anti-vaxxers” and Kremlin agents, while in the neighboring country such people are declared to be elements hostile to Russian interests and agents of the West) (Beinerte 2021).

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These names can be considered traditional dysphemisms (dirty peasants, turnips²⁶, thieves, zombies, etc.), while some are situational dysphemistic neologisms coined during the pandemic (e.g., anti-vaxxers, vaxxers, tapinoids).

Similar vocabulary is also used for name-calling in Latvia. For example, supporters of conspiracy theories and opponents of vaccination have been called such things as: koviddaunis ‘COVID Down syndrome’; antivakserijas dauni ‘anti-vaxxer Downs’; antivakši ‘anti-vaxxers’; nevaxi ‘unvaxxed’; folijgalvas ‘tin-foil heads’; plakanzemji ‘flat-earthers’; pošņiži ‘those who hate vaccines’; pošmiži ‘those who piss themselves over vaccines = those afraid of vaccines’; etc. Supporters of the government’s official policy are described as kovidaferisti ‘COVID fraudsters’; kovidisti ‘COVIDists’; durtie ‘the jabbed’; lēticīgās aitas ‘gullible sheep’; nopotētie zombiji ‘vaccinated zombies’; nozombētie ‘zombified ones’; pakalpiņi ‘lackeys’; roklaīžas ‘bootlickers’; sorosisti ‘Sorosites’; vergi ‘slaves’, and so on²⁷. Vulgar and obscene words and expressions were often used; moreover, even state officials acted this way. In October 2020, then Minister of the Interior Sandis Ģirģens, speaking out against people who demonstratively took photographs of themselves without protective face masks to emphasize their indifference or even hostility toward epidemiological safety measures, wrote on the social network Twitter:

In general, Eastern Europe has this “pohuijism” gene. The Soviet collective-farm syndrome is still wandering around somewhere... As long as you yourself, or someone in your family, haven’t been laid low, you can keep taking selfies. (delfi.lv)²⁸.

This minister’s post and the article about it on the delfi.lv portal sparked a wave of public outrage²⁹. One commenter wrote:

²⁶ The structure, semantic evolution, and usage examples of the dysphemism runkeliai, which she describes as “an insulting metaphor already widespread in Lithuania,” are analyzed by Regina Koženiauskienė (2009: 58–59). According to Regina Kvašytė and Kazimieras Župerka, the word runkelis, used figuratively (metonymically) in a derogatory sense to describe a person, becomes a slang term (Kvašytė, Župerka 2021: 274).

²⁷ For name-calling and dysphemisms used in Latvia during the first years of the pandemic to refer to state officials and politicians, see E. Liparte (2021b); for the dysphemistic use of animal names to refer to people who followed the pandemic management rules, see E. Liparte (2021c: 111).

²⁸ The vulgarism pohuijisms ‘indifference; disregard for the consequences (usually of one’s own behavior)’ (Tēzaurs) is related to the aforementioned vulgarism Latvian pohujists, Lithuanian pochuistas.

²⁹ A publication on the 15min.lt portal titled Andrius Jakučiūnas: Miešlakalbiai prieš „bybianosius“. Apmaudžios lygi osios likewise provoked similar outrage in Lithuania. It too uses vulgar names—dysphemisms—for the opposing sides in a society divided by the COVID-19 pandemic (available online: https://www.15min.lt/kultura/naujiena/asmenybe/andrius-jakuciunas-mesl akalbiai-pries-bybianosius-apmaudzios-lygiosios-285-1402348).

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Well, if the minister is allowed to use profanity and talk about the “pohujism” gene, then I can tell him something new: in Eastern Europe there is also a “nahujism” gene. We in Eastern Europe send ministers who want to control us completely and turn our entire lives into a concentration camp in the appropriate direction, while telling tales about “protecting the elderly from the virus”

Another internet user expressed his opinion as follows: today the minister uses the word “pohujism,” but tomorrow – “go fuck yourselves”??? (a year and a half had not even passed³⁰). The situation in Europe and the world changed dramatically, and this vulgar phrase became a rallying cry, a motto uniting both the defenders of Ukraine themselves and the people supporting them elsewhere in the world.

3. LEXIS DESCRIBING THE WAR BETWEEN RUSSIA AND UKRAINE

3.1. Dysphemisms and euphemisms denoting the situation in Ukraine

When examining the euphemistic and dysphemistic vocabulary used to describe the situation in Ukraine after Russia’s invasion and the warring sides, particular attention should be paid to the sentence containing a dysphemism (a Russian swear word) used in the first days of the war, Русский военный корабль, иди нахуй! (Russian warship, go fuck yourself), which spread around the world at lightning speed. As emphasized in a discussion held on April 21, 2022, on Latvian Radio’s program Ģimenes studija (Family Studio), some swear words have become “good form”; the tragedy of war justifies their use (Lamuvārdi 2022).

The cruiser Moskva became grimly famous in the first days of the war, when it called on Ukrainian border guards on Snake Island to surrender, but they refused and rudely sent the warship away with this phrase. The phrase uttered in anger by a defender of Snake Island became the motto of Ukraine’s defenders: using it, the place names on road signs were repainted, thus demonstrating their attitude toward the invaders. When, on April 14, 2022, the Moskva sank (after being hit by Neptun missiles protecting the Black Sea), Ukrainians rejoiced—

³⁰ Lithuanian, vulgar nachui ‘1. a swear word used as an interjection: go fuck yourself <...>. 2. to hell with it, so be it. <...>’ it’s going to hell! ‘to hell with it, how awful’ (Zaikauskas 2008: 97).

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regretted that the ship had sailed where it had been sent. Later, this slogan was used to describe what was happening in Ukraine. Ukrainian writer, photographer, and soldier Artem Chapay (Артем Чапай) wrote:

Such things are inevitable, and one must try to understand this. One way or another, we’ve all gone a little crazy: unarmed people in Berdiansk send to hell armed occupiers, women in the Romny district send to hell armored old men. Everyone does what they can. Ukrainians are incredibly cool, like David facing Goliath (Čapajs 2022).

The phrase containing the Russian swear word also became popular outside Ukraine, probably because of its linguistic expressiveness. Latvians translate it only partially, leaving the original language’s central, stylistically marked element in the translation: Russian warship, go nahuj! (the Latvian equivalent go screw yourself would be much milder). The participants in the aforementioned radio program, including A. Veisbergs, commenting on this kind of vocabulary, referred to obscene words by various euphemisms (based on the initial letters of the respective words), e.g., b-words, ch-b-p, n-words, or used the phrase such vocabulary, emphasizing the word such. The program participants also discussed why coarse, obscene language becomes more prevalent during wartime: an overt conflict situation and heightened emotions; if one side uses such language, sooner or later the other side will follow suit. When stylistically neutral vocabulary is ineffective (does not provoke a reaction), stylistically expressive language is used, for example, dysphemisms.

Indeed, users of the Lithuanian social network Facebook have come up with a euphemistic, polite, and witty substitute for this phrase:

“GO TO ZET!”, — a short, clear, polite way for a certain breed of characters to send someone after a Russian warship

Another euphemism is to send in the direction of the ship (to send after the ship), which was nominated as Lithuania’s Word of the Year candidate and “is now widely used and understood without any context” (Urnėžiūtė 2022: 18).

The war that began on February 24, 2022, and which, without concealing reality, is called a brutal war against Ukraine or Russia’s war in Ukraine, is not called a war by the Russian leadership and official media, which use various euphemisms. Political scientist Jevgeņijus Roščinas writes:

2022 m. vasario 24 d. Rusijos prezidentas Vladimiras Putinas pranešė, kad vykdoma „specialioji karinė operacija“. Pridursime, kad pranešdamas apie „operaciją“, sakinio pabaigoje Putinas dėjo tašką ir nutylėjo, kad tai operacija, nukreipta prieš kitą valstybę, būtent Ukrainą. Toliau buvo kalbama apie demilitarizacijos ir denacifikacijos tikslus. Tačiau šiame kontekste svarbi būtent tokia gramatinė struktūra – žodis „operacija“ neturi papildinio (Roščins 2022).

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Sandris Vanzovičs, mentioned earlier, had already satirized in one of his feuilletons the situation Russia had thrust the democratic world into by starting a war in Europe while refusing to call it a war, using various euphemisms:

Well, Western countries tried to quickly come up with a way to name the war in Ukraine without having to call it by its true name, war—calling it a military operation, a military conflict, army exercises under wartime conditions, or a product of war (Vanzovičs 2022).

At first there was confusion in public discourse, and euphemisms were used: the current situation in Ukraine, deteriorating relations between neighboring states, conflict. Later, however, the situation began to be called by its true names: war, invasion, attack, and so on. In Russia, using the word war is prohibited, and some opposition figures refer to this in public discourse euphemistically using the phrase forbidden word, for example:

Feminism as a political force <...> cannot be on the side of [word banned in the Russian Federation] let alone — [word banned in the Russian Federation] occupying (Feminizmas kaip politinė jėga <...> negali pritarti [RF uždraustas žodis], juolab – okupaciniam [RF uždraustas žodis]).

It can be said that the euphemization of this war began as early as 2014, and researchers link this to the occupation of Crimea. I. Smetonienė and D. Daučiūnaitė cite the international words sanctions, entities, intervention as euphemisms associated with the occupation, which appeared in the headlines of journalistic articles in Lithuania (Smetonienė, Daučiūnaitė 2014: 125–126). According to the scholars, these words are less familiar to readers and even incomprehensible to some, and therefore provoke a less negative reaction than a direct name for the phenomenon (Smetonienė, Daučiūnaitė 2014: 132); thus, international words perform the function of euphemization very effectively.

Besides the euphemistic term military operation (Russian военная операция), Putin also used two less common international words, which were therefore unusual and less comprehensible: Ukraine’s demilitarization and denazification. The word denazification means ‘measures to eliminate Nazism’ (BLKŽ) and is related to the word Nazism, ‘the politics and ideology of the National Socialist Party; German fascism’ (DLKŽ). Specialists from various countries and fields use these concepts to explain the situation that has developed. Latvian political scientist Andis Kudors writes:

The theme of combating Nazism is convenient in Russia because of all the Soviet-era propaganda. And that is why they are now continuing it, saying that Russia is carrying out denazification and demi-

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militarization in Ukraine (Kudors 2022).

The Russian writer, journalist, and opposition figure Yulia Latynina (Юлия Латынина), reacting to the words Putin uses, stated:

I now have hope that, instead of denazification of Ukraine, de-Putinization of Russia will take place (LatyninaTV 2022).

Examples of propagandistic language also include euphemistic paraphrases—accounts recast in other words—which the Russian state media use extensively to describe the war in Ukraine. For example, the retreat and flight of the Russian army were described as follows:

<...> an operation to wind down and redeploy <...> troops into the territory of the DPR, a series of diversionary and demonstrative measures indicating actual troop movements (<...> the operation to pack up and relocate the army <...> to the territory of the DLR was carried out; numerous diversionary and demonstrative measures indicating the army’s actual actions were employed).

The Ukrainian side laughs at such descriptions of the situation in terms of words with opposite meanings, mockingly calling the retreat a negative offensive (Russian отрицательное наступление), and the sinking of warships a negative surfacing (Russian отрицательное всплытие), that is, an action opposite to a submarine’s ascent to the water’s surface. Meanwhile, jokers on the social network Facebook have put the following euphemistic phrase describing the Russian army’s flight into the mouth of the official spokesperson for Russia’s Ministry of Defense: the enemy is shamefully fleeing behind us (priešas gėdingai bėga paskui mus).

The ambitions of the Russian dictator, expressed through political euphemisms, are much broader. The Latvian online magazine Puaro (2022) analyzes Putin’s statements, in which he likens himself to Russia’s Tsar Peter I during the Great Northern War, and the current invasion of Ukraine to the recovery of what once belonged to Russia. “The regime makes extensive use of euphemisms—pushing back borders or expanding territory means conquering neighbors” (Veisbergs 2014).

Conquest is impossible without an army, which is formed by mobilizing the populations of both one’s own country and conquered lands. Yet in this war, which has involved heavy losses, mobilization is jokingly renamed mogilization, a word that also conveys a dysphemistic attitude by emphasizing the absurdity of the process. Rita Urnėžiūtė (2022: 17) cites this word as one of those that Lithu-

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In Lithuanian, they are adopted from Ukrainian or Russian and adapted to Lithuanian grammar. The lexeme mogilizacija ‘mobilization (the call-up of reservists for military service) as a direct route to death (the grave)’ has also been included in the Database of Lithuanian Neologisms, where it is identified as a newly borrowed-root word with an ironic, expressive connotation, derived from the Russian word могилизация < могила ‘grave’ + мобилизация ‘mobilization’ (LKND). The lexeme mogilizacija / mogilizaciya / могилизация in various languages can also be interpreted as having been created through phonetic deformation (one type of wordplay): replacing the letter б (Latin b) in the term мобилизация / mobilizacija with the letter з (Latin g) produces a word associated with graves (Russian могила ‘grave’). Lithuanian users of the social network Facebook, joking about mogilizacija, have also proposed Lithuanian neologisms: kapizaciją³¹, kapinizacija, mobilization to the grave (< grave), grabizacija, karstizacija (< coffin, casket), LADizacija, MOSK Vizacija (< LADA, MOSKVICH, i.e. car makes)³².

To avoid the words war and mobilization, Russia uses an entire array of false euphemisms to describe soldiers killed in Ukraine:

Погиб в качестве акта доброй воли в ходе выполнения заданий в рамках спецоперации (He died while carrying out a task as an act of goodwill during the special operation).

This text on a photograph of a gravestone invites parallels with the conclusions about the language of the Third Reich presented in the 1947 book LTI – Notizbuch eines Philologen (LTI – A Philologist’s Notebook) by Victor Klemperer, a German literary scholar, writer, and politician. Discussing obituaries for “soldiers who died for the Führer and the Fatherland,” the author identified several degrees of expression—from admiration to the demonstration of ideological dissent.

“The highest degree of loyalty was expressed in the words: ‘He died for his Führer’ <...>, while the Fatherland was not mentioned. <...> If someone completely opposed Nazism and wanted to express and demonstrate dissent, perhaps even hatred, yet avoid being counted among the opposition because they did not have the courage to go that far, the obituary would be worded as follows: ‘Our only child died for the Fatherland,’ with no mention of the Führer. <...>

³¹ This word has also been included in the Database of Lithuanian Neologisms, with the same meaning as mogilizacija and identified as a hybrid formation and calque (LKND).

³² These latter names are connected with a story broadcast on Ukrainian television: the parents of a Russian soldier who had fallen in battle used the compensation they received for their dead son to buy his favourite car, a LADA, and now proudly drive to visit their son’s grave. Wits on the social network Facebook took the joke further: the word son is similar in various languages (Ukrainian син, Polish syn, English son), whereas in Russian it is лада.

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Acknowledging the loss was not permitted, lest it sow anxiety among the local population. In such cases, the stereotypical Third Reich formula was: “He paid with his life for his tragic fate...” (translated from Latvian; see Klemperers 2004: 126–127).

Thus, Russia is also using lies and disinformation in this war, both when speaking about its actual actions and aims and about the course of the war and those killed in it. On the other hand, the war unleashed by Russia has brought so-called sensitive words (e.g., occupation, to occupy) back into use in Baltic and other languages, ending the earlier extensive euphemization. After regaining independence, the Baltic states sought to build respectful relations with their large neighbour and not to mention past injustices. In her doctoral dissertation Construction and Representation of National Identity in the Speeches of the Presidents of the Baltic States: Corpus-Assisted Critical Discourse Analysis, Līga Romāne-Kalniņa stresses that presidential speeches, particularly immediately after the countries regained independence in 1990, often used euphemisms by drawing on a shared political past and seeking to avoid mention of the negative role of the Soviet Union and Russia in Baltic history (Romāne-Kalniņa 2022: 33). Euphemization and ingratiation in language took place at both governmental and societal levels. The political scientist A. Kudors analyses the reasons for and consequences of this kind of political correctness:

The reasons for the emergence of political correctness have not always been malicious. In Europe, we live close to one another—it is not like living somewhere in the steppes. We are all crowded together, and in order to get along, we try not to offend one another. Unfortunately, we have gone to extremes not only in Latvia, but in Europe as a whole: people stop saying what they think. There is ingratiation and hypocrisy (Politinio korektiškumo priežastys ne visada blogis. Europoje esame gyvenę arti vienas kito – tai ne kažkur stepėse gyvenant. Visi esame suspausti ir, kad sugebėtume sugyventi, žiūrime, kaip vienas kito neužgauti. Deja, ne tik Latvijoje, bet Europoje apskritai esame nuėję į kraštutinumą: žmonės liaujasi kalbėję tai, ką jie galvoja. Vyksta įsiteikimas ir veidmainiavimas) (Kudors 2022).

According to Līga Romāne-Kalniņa, linguistic euphemization in communication with Russia is no longer taking place:

After Lithuania regained independence in 1990, its presidents placed great hopes in Russia’s emerging democracy, which would enable the countries to cooperate. Over the years, however, those hopes faded, as confirmed by changes in the content, discursive, and linguistic dimensions identified through a comparative analysis of the [presidents’] speeches (Romāne-Kalniņa 2022: 33).

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3.2. Dysphemisms and euphemisms denoting the warring sides

Lexemes fascists and Nazis³³ (Nazi) may be considered universal dysphemisms. The latter word is used particularly widely in Russia’s official public discourse, in connection with the denazification mentioned above, with denazification even being explained as de-Ukrainization. After the bombing of residential districts in Kharkiv, J. Latynina remarked ironically: Кто погиб, тот нацист (Whoever died is a Nazi) (LatyninaTV 2022). At the end of 2014, A. Veisbergs wrote about events in Crimea and their coverage in the media: “The most widely used labels are fascism and fascists. The word has long acquired a very negative connotation in Russian and, moreover, has an unclear meaning—it is used for everything that does not accord with the Kremlin’s wishes, especially when something is perceived as anti-Russian” (Veisbergs 2014)³⁴.

Ukrainians and their allies often call Russian invaders not only fascists, but also rashists (a blend formed from the country’s name R-ossija and the word f-ascists). In Russia’s official media and online outlets, Ukrainians and their allies are often referred to by the dysphemisms fascists, Ukrainian fascists; the expressions passive Nazis and Nazi collaborators, Nazi regime are also used, as are the Russian labels укронацики, секретные укро-фашистские лаборатории (secret Ukro-fascist laboratories). It should be added that such vocabulary also enters public discourse in other languages—it is used in articles published on various online platforms, for example: Lithuanian ukrofašistai (alfa.lt), Latvian ukrofašisti (delfi.lv, la.lv).

In public discourse both in Russia and in its occupied territories in Ukraine (since 2014), distorted names for Ukraine or its inhabitants are also used as dysphemisms, e.g., Russian Краина; укропы (the latter lexeme is graphically and phonetically identical to the Russian word for dill). The word укропас ‘Russian-

³³Both of these dysphemisms, as well as compounds and phrases formed from them, were also used in discourse about the COVID-19 pandemic, but only to designate one side—those who supported the official policies of states and government representatives. Lithuanian fascists and Nazis appear on one of the lists compiled by R. Žiliukaitė mentioned in the article, while the following examples were recorded in Latvian: covidfašistu banda ‘COVID fascist gang’, “medicīniskā fašisma režīms ‘“medical fascism” regime’, etc.

³⁴ It should be added here that, well before the annexation of Crimea, Putin was dubbed Putler (< Put-in + Hit-ler) because of his ambitions, while his supporters are called in various languages not only by the dysphemisms Putinists, Putinoids and the like, but also Putlerists, Putleroids, Putler-fascists. These names have not lost their relevance even now. In turn, Lithuanian users of Facebook nicknamed one of the pioneer organizations operating in Russia Putinjugend in spring 2022 (by analogy with Hitlerjugend).

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The derogatory term for a Ukrainian oriented toward Western Europe, used in social media, is also used in Lithuanian online media; it is included in the Dictionary of Lithuanian Neologisms as a loanword, a slang term with a derogatory expressive connotation (LKND). The Latvian lexeme ukropi was found in online news comments and social networks.

Even harsher dysphemisms are directed at representatives of other countries fighting alongside Ukraine’s defenders. For instance, the Donbas Analytical Service (Russian Аналитическая служба Донбасса) explains that, in an effort to stop the Russian attack, Ukrainians send into battle forces of little value—Georgians, western Ukrainians, and similar trash (Russian Бросают именно те силы, которые им малоценны – грузин, западенцев и подобный мусор).

On the other hand, public discourse in Ukraine and other countries also contains numerous dysphemisms directed at the aggressor, alongside terms that directly name the Russian military Russian army, army of occupiers, occupiers, occupying forces, Russian occupiers. These include distorted forms of Russia’s name, e.g., русня, and lexemes associated with aggressive, cruel creatures, e.g., orcs (Russian орки). The website of the Latvian Society for Fantasy and Science Fiction (Latvian Latvijas Fantāzijas un fantastikas biedrība) gives the following translated explanation of the concept orcs (Latvian orki):

various hardy, human-like fighting creatures in works of fantasy. <...> Orcs are usually depicted as deformed humans prone to brutality, sadism, and also timidity <...>, physically stronger or weaker than humans, but always gathered in large groups (Gustavsone 2022)³⁵.

The Dictionary of Lithuanian Neologisms includes not only the lexeme orkas ‘a Russian soldier—a demoralized, cruel aggressor in Russia’s war in Ukraine in 2022’, derived from English orc ‘a member of a race of fantasy creatures characterized by brutal strength and limited intelligence, in works of high fantasy, especially J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings’, but also derogatory expressive blends containing the element ork-: orkupantas ‘a demoralized, cruel soldier from the Russian occupying army in the war in Ukraine in 2022’ (< ork-as + o-kupantas); orktarakonis ‘a Russian soldier—a demoralized, cruel aggressor in Russia’s war in Ukraine in 2022’ (< ork-as + tarakon-as + the ending -is); Orkistanas ‘the country inhabited by “orcs” (i.e., Russia)’ (LKND). The latter word is presented in this dictionary as a word with a newly borrowed root, indicating

³⁵ Translation from Russian before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

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and equivalents in other languages: Ukr. оккупант; Rus. оккупант. The other two lexemes are included in the corpus as Lithuanian-origin formations. Rita Urnėžiūtė (2022: 18) also describes the word okupantai as a wartime neologism reflecting Lithuanian reactions. However, the material in other languages collected by the authors of this article indicates that the only Lithuanian neologism is orktarakonis (it is marked in the corpus as “isolated” and was not found in online sources in other languages), while the other two words were most likely borrowed from Russian; cf. Russ. ОРКУпанты / оккупанты, Latv. okupanti; Latv. Jūs arī orkistānas propagandas upuris? (Are you also a victim of orkistan propaganda?).

Another euphemistic name for Russia taken from works of fantasy and used since 2015 is Mordoras (Latv. Mordora, Russ. Мордор)—a country embodying evil. The Latvian media wrote:

In the first days of March, a large group of people in Melitopol, occupied by the Russian army, expressed their views about the “orc marauders.” Later that same month, in an official speech, Ukraine’s defence minister promised that Ukrainian soldiers would “withstand Mordor’s attack” (Lelū 2022).

The expression is vivid, and its creation draws on an allusion to the already-mentioned work by J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings:

Whether in the speeches of Ukrainian officials, press publications or social platforms, this comparison appears at every turn: peaceful Ukraine, like the Shire described in “The Lord of the Rings,” is defending itself against pure evil—the Russian army, resembling Mordor’s hordes, led from Moscow by Mordor’s hordes, by Sauron’s counterpart Vladimir Putin (Whether in speeches by Ukrainian officials, press publications, or social platforms, this comparison appears at every turn: peaceful Ukraine, like the Shire described in The Lord of the Rings, defends itself against pure evil, against the Russian army resembling Mordor’s horde, led from Moscow by Sauron’s counterpart Vladimir Putin) (Lelū 2022).

During the COVID-19 pandemic in Latvia, unusual names for new realities (see above) evoked associations with Voldemort, the character from J. K. Rowling’s novels whose name must not be spoken. In the context of the war, however, many countries came to understand more strongly that Voldemort is a specific person embodying evil. This is evident in an article by Lithuanian philosopher Aldis Gedutis about how conspiracy theories arise:

It is obvious that today’s Voldemort cares nothing for Muggles, whether in Ukraine, Africa, or—least of all—in Russia or anywhere else in the world. Yes, Voldemort has returned and settled in our eastern neighbour, and his alias is Vladimir (Gedutis 2022).

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Ukrainian soldiers at the front divided mobilized Russian soldiers fighting there into two groups—mobiks and chmobiks³⁶. In the euphemism chmobiks (Latvian čmobiki, Russian чмобики), the initial letter č (ч) corresponds to the first letter of the Russian word частично ‘partially’, and this euphemism refers to those called up for the war under partial mobilization. I. Smetonienė and D. Daučiūnaitė (2014: 127–128) have also written about replacing the word soldiers with other words as a form of political euphemization. However, the word чмобики can also be interpreted differently—as a dysphemistic derivative of the Russian word чмо³⁷.

Compared with the crude dysphemisms the two warring sides apply to each other, familiar concepts seem straightforward: the euphemisms goodies and baddies, denoting a binary opposition, which Reinis Pozņaks, a public relations consultant and one of the four initiators of the campaign Tvitera konvojs taking place in Latvia, used on his Twitter account:

Nenogurdināme lielceļu laivas ziņo, ka Tvitera konvojs ar 21 vienību nogādāts pāri robežai un nodots labajiem, lai tie sadod ļaunajiem. Slava Ukrainai! (The tireless highway lions report that a Twitter convoy of 21 units has been transported across the border and handed over to the goodies, so they can give the baddies a good hiding. Glory to Ukraine! (ir.lv).

SUMMARY

The pandemic that shook the world in 2020 divided society according to people’s attitudes toward the virus and, later, toward vaccination against it. The pandemic led to a state of emergency being declared several times; in Lithuania it was called karantinas, and in Latvia, “staying at home” (māj sēde; with curfews imposed periodically as well). It involved restrictions on movement, which generated considerable discontent among part of the population. During vaccination, society became even more visibly divided into two irreconcilable camps: supporters of vaccination and those opposed to it. To name new realities and describe the situations that arose

³⁶ These names were explained by the commercial media outlet TV24 in a special programme about the war launched by Russia. The explanation was given by Jānis Slaidiņš, a captain in Latvia’s National Armed Forces: “Mobiks are those who are in Luhansk and Donetsk as regular forces, while chmobiks are those being called up now” (Slaidiņš 2022).

³⁷ Cf. the Latvian slang dysphemism čmo ‘a dirty person who rummages through rubbish dumps’ (Tēzaurs). The Lithuanian Database of Neologisms also includes the blend čmobilizacija ‘the partial mobilization announced in Russia during the war with Ukraine, in which men unprepared for combat and lacking moral character are drafted’, with the etymological note: “Russian чмобилизация < частичная мобилизация ‘partial mobilization’; cf. чмо slang ‘a physically and morally degraded person, “shit”’” (LKND). Cf. also R. Urnėžiūtė’s (2022: 18) article on Lithuanian users of Facebook attempting to translate ironic Ukrainian or Russian blends, including the Russian бом̄жгвардия, rendered as vargėtar mija.

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new words were coined, and emotional expressiveness increased in language, along with verbal aggression, which often manifested itself in various dysphemisms, both conventional and situational. Thus, the pandemic intensified the use of aggressive vocabulary (including vulgarisms and other dysphemisms), mutual insults, and expressions of resentment toward certain categories of the population and/or the actions or statements of the government that introduced the relevant restrictions. Russia’s war in Ukraine likewise intensified the use of euphemisms and, in particular, political dysphemisms, which had long belonged to the passive vocabulary.

“Euphemisms and dysphemisms are two opposing linguistic devices that political regimes have actively used as a powerful weapon for dividing people and views into our own and the enemy’s. By controlling the means of communication, totalitarian systems can organize these processes very effectively, shaping a monolithic system of language use” (Veisbergs 2002: 70). As the examples from three languages reviewed in this article attest, this conclusion, drawn 20 years ago, also applies to the current situation (especially the war in Ukraine). The empirical material shows that one side strives to call things by their proper names, without avoiding dysphemisms, while the other does so selectively, using lies and disinformation and making abundant use of both euphemisms and dysphemisms; at the beginning of the war, it tried to force everyone to use them. In the democratic world, including Ukraine, however, Russia’s official euphemistic style of language is mocked, giving rise to new euphemisms and dysphemisms. In circumstances of physical aggression, both sides also resort to verbal aggression and irony. Thus, the use of political euphemisms and dysphemisms, especially during wartime, is not diminishing.

A comparison of the euphemisms and dysphemisms reviewed in this article shows that some are shared by the discourses of both the COVID-19 pandemic and the war in Ukraine (e.g. Voldemort ‘someone one is afraid to call by their real name’; Putinists, Putlerists, vatniks ‘consumers and disseminators of Russian propaganda’). The dysphemism covidiot was used as a universal dysphemism only in the COVID-19 pandemic discourse; it was widely applied to describe anyone who, during the pandemic, behaved differently from the way the person using the dysphemism behaved or thought. The lexemes fascists, Nazis, used dysphemistically, are universal only in the discourse of the war in Ukraine, because both warring sides apply them to each other, along with their derivatives or compounds (e.g. Ukrainian fascists, Nazi regime vs. fascists, Rashists). In the pandemic discourse, derivatives and compounds containing these lexemes (Latvian covidfašistu banda) were used only to describe one side—the representatives of the authorities and people supporting the official policies of the states.

The study could be expanded to include other public discourses (e.g. globalization, the economy, economic sanctions, politicians’ actions, nature

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cataclysms) in the languages examined here. They also frequently employ the rhetoric of war (e.g., concepts of the enemy, battles, and weapons) and abound in various euphemisms and dysphemisms.

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³⁸ In addition to the sources listed here, texts or their comments published on online portals (delfi.lv, jauns.lv, tvnet.lv, ir.lv, apollo.lv, nra.lv, la.lv, lsm.lv, satori.lv, puaro.lv, pietiek.com, lrt.lt, alfa.lt, lrytas.lt, 15min.lt, bernardinai.lt, diena.lt, asd.news, glasnaya.media, unian.net, among others), posts on social networks (Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Draugiem.lv, fb.ru), and internet forums (delfi.lv in the Cālis section, and the forums www.celakaja.lv/forumi, iauto.lv/forums, www.bmwpower.lv/forum, traders.lt) were also used.

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Gautas 2022 11 22

Priimtas 2022 12 30

DITE LIEPA, EVIJA LIPARTE

THE COVID PANDEMIC AND THE WAR IN UKRAINE: THE USAGE OF EUPHEMISMS AND DYSPHEMISMS IN LATVIAN, LITHUANIAN, AND RUSSIAN PUBLIC DISCOURSE

Summary

The 2020’s kicked off with a number of new challenges for the human kind: the COVID-19 pandemic and the war that Russia started in Ukraine. These global events of the past three years have affected the way we use language as well: a democratic society needs to talk about what is happening and have everything explained and be informed about it; besides, language has responded to these developments rather vigorously.

The pandemic has divided the society in two based on how the people approach the virus: its believers and its deniers. With the advent of vaccines the society split even further into two irreconcilable camps: those who supported the vaccines and those who were against them. Language saw an influx of new words, emotional expressiveness and verbal aggression were on a rise, and two polar linguistic tools, euphemisms and dysphemisms, were being used to describe the opposing factions.

The COVID pandemic was not over yet when, in February of 2022, the world was shaken by yet another tragedy as Russia invaded Ukraine. The brutality of the war and the fierce resistance on the part of the Ukrainians triggered the use of euphemisms, and politically tinted dysphemisms in particular, which had existed at the passive level of the vocabulary for a long time (following the collapse of the USSR and the restoration of independence in Latvia and in Lithuania). The empirical material of this article shows that one side tries to call a spade a spade without avoiding the use of various dysphemisms, while the other does it selectively, using lies and misinformation, using both euphemisms and dysphemisms in great abundance, attempting to force everyone to use them at the be-

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ginning of the war. However, in the democratic world, as well as in Ukraine, Russia‘s official euphemistic style of speech has been met with ridicule, leading to the creation of new euphemisms and dysphemisms. During situations of physical aggression, both sides also use verbal aggression and irony. Thus, the usage of political euphemisms and dysphemisms will not see any sort of decline, especially in a state of war.

The euphemisms and dysphemisms featured in the article are used to designate said events – the pandemic and the war in Ukraine – in the Latvian, Lithuanian, and Russian languages. A juxtaposition of the specific euphemisms and dysphemisms has established that some of them are common in both discourses: that of the pandemic and of the war (for example, Voldemort: ‘something that others are afraid to call by its real name’, putinistai // putleristai // vatnikai: ‘users and disseminators of Russian propaganda’). Only with the discourse of COVID-19, the universal dysphemism is covidiot, which is widely used to describe any person who, during the pandemic, behaves differently than the person using this dysphemism acts or thinks. However, used dysphemically, lexemes fascists, Nazis are considered universal only in the discourse of the war in Ukraine, because the two warring sides apply them and derivatives and compounds thereof (e.g., Ukrofas-cists, Nazi regime vs. Fascists, ruscists) with reference to one another. In the discourse of the pandemic, derivatives and compounds with these lexemes (e.g. Latvian covidfāsistu banda ‘covid-fascist gang’) were applied only to government representatives and persons supporting the official line of the state (the alleged ‘dictatorship’). Various new words (situational dysphemisms) have also been created to describe the realities of both the pandemic and the war in Ukraine. A comparison of material from the three languages highlights both the universal nature of the reviewed language phenomena, and the possibility of their adoption.

KEYWORDS: euphemisms, dysphemisms, COVID-19 pandemic, war, public discourse.

DITE LIEPA LU Latviešu valodas institūts, Rīga, Kalpaka bulvāris 4, LV-1050, Latvija [email protected] Rīgas Stradiņa universitāte Rīga, Dzirciema iela 16, C korp. 1B kab., LV-1007, Latvija [email protected]

EVIJA LIPARTE [email protected]

DITE LIEPA, EVIJA LIPARTE. COVID-19 pandēmija ir karas Ukrainoje: eufemizmų ir disfemizmų vartojimas viešajame diskurse latvių, lietuvių ir rusų kalbose

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DITĖ LIEPA, EVIJA LIPARTE

COVID-19 PANDEMIJA IR KARAS UKRAINOJE: EUFEMIZMŲ IR DISFEMIZMŲ VARTOJIMAS VIEŠAJAME DISKURSE LATVIŲ, LIETUVIŲ IR RUSŲ KALBOSE

Santrauka

XXI a. trečiasis dešimtmetis yra prasidėjęs naujais išbandymais žmonijai – COVID-19 pandemija ir Rusijos sukeltu karu Ukrainoje. Šie pastarųjų trejų metų globalinio masto įvykiai paveikė ir kalbos vartojimą: demokratinėje visuomenėje apie tai, kas vyksta, reikia kalbėti, aiškinti ir informuoti, be to, kalba į šiuos įvykius aktyviai reaguoja.

Pandemija visuomenę suskaldė pagal žmonių požiūrį į virusą: jo šalininkus ir neigėjus. Prasidėjus vakcinavimui, visuomenė dar akivaizdžiau pasidalijo į dvi nesutaikinamas stovyklas: vakcinų palaikytojus ir neigėjus. Kalboje radosi naujų žodžių, didėjo emocinis ekspresyvumas ir žodinė agresija, o apibūdinant priešingas puses būdavo plačiai vartojamos dvi poliariškos kalbos priemonės – eufemizmai ir disfemizmai.

Kovido pandemijai nepasibaigus, pasaulį sukrėtė kita tragedija – Rusijos įsiveržimas į Ukrainą. Brutalus karas ir ukrainiečių įnirtingas priešinimasis suaktyvino eufemizmų ir ypač – politinių disfemizmų vartojimą. Pastarieji ilgai (po SSRS žlugimo ir nepriklausomybės atkūrimo Latvijoje ir Lietuvoje) buvo leksikos pasyviajame sluoksnyje. Straipsnio empirinė medžiaga rodo, kad viena pusė stengiasi dalykus vadinti tikraisiais vardais, nevengdama ir įvairių disfemizmų, o kita tai daro selektyviai, naudodama melą ir dezinformaciją, gausiai vartodama ir eufemizmus, ir disfemizmus, karo pradžioje bandžiusi visus priversti juos vartoti. Tačiau demokratiniame pasaulyje, taip pat Ukrainoje, iš Rusijos oficialiojo eufemistiinio kalbos stiliaus šaipomasi, tad gimsta nauji eufemizmai ir disfemizmai. Fizinės agresijos aplinkybėmis abi pusės taiko ir žodinę agresiją, ir ironiją. Taigi, politinių eufemizmų ir disfemizmų vartojimas, ypač karo sąlygomis, nemažės.

Į straipsnį įtraukti eufemizmai ir disfemizmai įvardija minėtus įvykius – pandemiją ir karą Ukrainoje – latvių, lietuvių ir rusų kalbomis. Gretinant konkrečius eufemizmus ir disfemizmus, konstatuota, kad kai kurie iš jų yra bendri abiejų – ir pandemijos, ir karo diskursuose (pvz.: Voldemortas ‘kažkas, ko bijoma vadinti tikruoju vardu’; putinistai, putleristai, vatnikai ‘Rusijos propagandos vartotojai ir skleidėjai’). Tik COVID-19 diskurse universalus yra disfemizmas kovidiotas, plačiai taikytas apibūdinti bet kuriam asmeniui, pandemijos metu besielgiančiam kitaip, nei elgiasi ar galvoja disfemizmą vartojantis žmogus. Disfemiškai vartojamos leksemos fašistai, nacistai laikomos universaliomis tik karo Ukrainoje

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diskurse, nes jas bei vedinius ir junginius su jomis (pvz.: ukrofašistai, nacistų režimas vs. fašistai, rašistai) viena kitai taiko abi kariaujančios pusės. Pandemijos diskurse vediniai ir junginiai su šiomis leksemomis (pvz., latv. covidfašistu banda) būdavo skiriami tik valdžios atstovams ir valstybių oficialų kursą (atseit, diktatūrą) palaikantiems asmenims pavadinti. Ir pandemijos, ir karo Ukrainoje realijoms pavadinti sukurta ir įvairių naujadarų (situacinių disfemizmų). Palyginus trijų kalbų medžiagą, išryškėja tiek apžvelgiamų kalbos reiškinių universalumas, tiek jų perėmimo galimybė.

ESMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: eufemizmai, disfemizmai, COVID-19 pandemija, karas, viešasis diskursas.

DITE LIEPA

LU Latviešu valodas institūts, Rīga, Kalpaka bulvāris 4, LV-1050, Latvija

[email protected]

Rīgas Stradiņa universitāte, Rīga, Dzirciema iela 16, C korp. 1B kab., LV-1007, Latvija

[email protected]

EVIJA LIPARTE

[email protected]

DITE LIEPA, EVIJA LIPARTE. COVID-19 pandemija ir karas Ukrainoje: eufemizmų ir disfemizmų vartojimas viešajame diskurse latvių, lietuvių ir rusų kalbose

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