Language leads to lesson in history and grandeur

How absolutely grand a moment it must have been when the White House got the idea of comparing the American aircraft carrier USS Carl Vinson, en route supposedly to scare North Korea, to the Spanish Armada.

Why, Merriam-Webster noted online that the word “armada” steamed and, yes, “streamed to the fore of our lookups” after the word was used.

The present-day emotional debut of the history-laden word, of course, came from President Donald Trump himself, when he told Fox Business: “We are sending an armada, very powerful ...” And thus, the USS Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group, consisting of the carrier, two destroyers and one cruiser, set off across the Pacific (getting a little lost along the way, but never mind).

After that, the word “armada” seemed to take on a life of its own. It was in every headline in the newspapers and on every eager tongue on TV news. And as the word sailed on, one could almost see the huge original armada of King Philip II of Catholic Spain in 1588 — 130 ships carrying about 8,000 sailors and 19,000 infantrymen — sailing from Lisbon northward to destroy Protestant England. Flags flying, oceans roiling, empires shaking!

It so happens that history is painfully clear on the outcome of that bespoke Invincible Armada. The English were not only ready, with 197 ships with about 16,000 mostly experienced sailors, but the ships were low-lying and easily maneuverable, unlike the enormous Spanish sailing ships.

While the Spanish soon foundered in their huge and beautiful, but clumsy, ships, the English were making daring moves and raids, tormenting the Spanish with their long guns and using the winds they knew so well to confound their enemy. In the end, the defeat of the armada turned out to be one of the great routs of history — and is known everywhere as such.

The surviving Spanish retreated to Spain in shame, while some landed in Ireland, only to be killed by English troops. In the end, fewer than half the Spanish fleet was able to return home, while the English lost no ships at all and only a few hundred men.

I must pause here and note that this is only a bit of reflection, and it has no negative bearing on the value of our respected modern U.S. Navy. No. It is merely a reflection on language and the grandiose rhetoric that is an incurable illness caused by an obsession with cable news.

Since about 9/11, and since too many of America’s leaders apparently intend to keep our nation permanently engaged in one war or another, we can trace how the language of warfare in America has changed.

During the first months, and then years, of the Iraq War, Americans stopped speaking of American “soldiers.” It became fashionable to speak of American “warriors.”

Terms thus naturally inflate, like upgrading the Vinson strike group to an armada.

Thus one hears a new language, and it is the language not of democracy but of a yearning for old imperial grandeur, at least on the part of the White House.

So, maybe it would be a good idea if our leaders watched less cable TV and even occasionally read a history book, for history is a mischievous mistress and will always in the end have her way with you.

Meanwhile, assure us that no one in the White House has yet heard of Gallipoli, Dunkirk or Guernica.