Every political era has its own slogans. Some are coined to summarise complex ideas, others to rally support, and still others to point the way forward.
Then there are the ‘totem words’: those that cease to describe reality and end up replacing it.

In recent years, a section of the right – particularly the European and Western sovereigntist wing – seems to have built its political identity precisely around this mechanism.
Rather than proposing a worldview, it has gradually developed a lexicon of fear – a sort of simplified dictionary in which every problem has its designated culprit and every social transformation is attributed to an easily identifiable enemy.

Words change over time, but their function always remains the same.

“Gender”.

“Woke”.

“Globalists”.

“Ethnic replacement”.

“Remigration”.

“Uncontrolled immigration”.

“Politically correct”.

“Elite”.

“The powers that be”.

“Deep State”.

In the past, depending on one’s ideological framework, there were the Bolshevik, the subversive and the bourgeois. Today, the list has been updated, but the principle remains the same: identify a target, pin all the blame on it and turn it into an existential threat.

The most interesting thing about these words is that they are rarely defined precisely. Indeed, their effectiveness depends precisely on their vagueness.

Let’s take the term ‘woke’. Originating in the United States as an expression linked to awareness of racial discrimination, it has become a sort of catch-all term in contemporary political debate. Anything can be ‘woke’. A TV series, a university, an advert, a teacher, a library, a brand of breakfast cereals, a particularly inclusive set of traffic lights or, presumably, a cat crossing the road with a progressive attitude.

The same applies to the infamous ‘gender’. In the sovereignist narrative, it is no longer a field of study used by sociologists, psychologists and anthropologists to analyse social roles linked to biological sex. It becomes a mysterious, almost metaphysical entity – a sort of all-powerful cult working day and night to destabilise Western civilisation, possibly starting with nurseries.

Then there is ‘ethnic replacement’, a conspiracy theory that posits a coordinated plan to replace European populations through immigration. A theory devoid of any demographic, historical or scientific basis, yet extraordinarily effective on an emotional level because it taps into the oldest fear of all: that of extinction.

Finally, the word that has taken centre stage in political creativity in recent months: ‘remigration’.

Behind this term lies the idea of repatriating millions of immigrants – or even European citizens of foreign origin – to their countries of origin. It is a proposal that presents such enormous legal, constitutional, economic and moral problems that it is almost impossible to imagine it ever being put into practice. Yet its power does not lie in its feasibility. It lies in its ability to suggest a simple solution to complex problems.

This is the common feature of all these slogans.

Complexity is perceived as an obstacle.

In-depth analysis as a waste of time.

Studying as a suspicion.

Reality as a nuisance.

Totem words serve precisely to avoid all this. They allow us to stop analysing and start reacting. They eliminate nuances and construct a world populated exclusively by friends and enemies.

Why bother asking about the economic causes of precariousness when we can just blame migrants?

Why discuss the cultural transformations taking place in Western societies when we can simply blame gender?

Why analyse how global markets work if there are globalists?

Why study the crisis of political representation when we have the powers that be at our disposal?

The result is a policy that gradually abandons any attempt to understand reality in favour of taking refuge in the constant search for a scapegoat.

And this is where the most interesting paradox emerges.

The very same people who denounce the alleged manipulation of the masses often end up relying on slogans that represent the most basic form of manipulation imaginable.

It’s a sort of ideological fast food.

Everything has to be done quickly.

Immediate.

Easy to digest.

Ready to use.

Three syllables, a threat and possibly an exclamation mark.

“Woke!”

“Gender!”

“Globalists!”

“Remigration!”

At times, it feels as though we are witnessing a political séance in which ever-new ghosts are conjured up to explain phenomena that would require quite different interpretative tools.

If it’s raining, it’s probably the fault of the ‘woke’ crowd.

If it doesn’t rain, perhaps it’s about gender.

If the cost of living rises, according to the globalists.

If it decreases, it suggests that powerful forces are plotting something.

If your son can’t find a job, it’s the migrants’ fault.

If he finds it, it’s probably thanks to a recommendation from the Deep State.

The beauty of this system is that it always works, because it never has to prove anything. It simply has to foster a feeling.

Fear.

The suspicion.

Anger.

It is politics reduced to a conditioned reflex.

A policy that does not ask us to understand, but to react.

Which offers no solutions, only targets.

Which does not build communities but identifies enemies.

For this reason, the problem is not so much the existence of these slogans. Every political movement produces slogans and symbols.

The problem arises when slogans take the place of thought.

When words cease to be tools for understanding reality and become shortcuts to avoid it.

At that point, we are no longer dealing with a political proposal. We are dealing with a form of modern-day superstition.

And like all superstitions, it works a treat until someone bothers to ask the simplest – and most dangerous – question of all:

“All right. But what exactly are you on about?”