It has been noticed before that words require expert handling in theatres of war. That truth has come home to us in new and appalling ways in the wake of hostilities and regime change in the Middle East: dossiers have been sexed up, interrogation techniques enhanced, bottom-up reconciliation puffed up to do the work of diplomacy. Such "swindles and perversions," as George Orwell once put it (353), have prompted a new wave of linguists to probe and puncture the soft play of euphemism, and to scrutinise all over again the various kinds of drifting, bleaching, borrowing and compounding that typify semiotic procedure when language is conscripted. 1 Collateral, now, will be forever bound to damage, no matter how many words you slot between them. Heartened, certainly, by this renaissance in the field of lexical semantics, language philosophers of a more pragmatic disposition have shown a fresh concern for what we might call the performativity of warspeaka true Orwellian bit of jargon, and one that sets the tone for this essay. Picking the plumpest euphemism is important to those who dictate foreign policy, critics agree, but the difference between inciting feeling and effecting action is not only semantic, for there is an illocutionary distinction to be drawn between war-mongering and war-declaring, between the gravity of a speech and the weight of a speech-act. Declaring war is a delicate business, as Brien Hallett reminds us (2012)a business that relies on an exact coincidence of intonation, circumstance, and perceived authoritywhich makes it all the more surprising that rhetoricians have not always shown due regard for the conditions of political utterance: 2 Since Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor had created a state of war, President Roosevelt's message needed only to be a statement of that fact. But it was much more: with his skill in radio speaking the Commander-in-Chief welded a nation of listeners into a single great weapon of determined effort for victory.