The concept that simply refusing to talk about climate change as such can stop it is a fascinating demonstration of magical belief—made all the more poignant by the fact that Florida is on the front lines of rising global temperatures and shifting weather patterns. The federal government's National Climate Assessment, released last year, forecast a 5-degree temperature increase in Florida by 2100; predicted a $40 billion loss in tourism revenue by the 2050s; and predicted increased flooding, among other effects.

And outside of the DEP, many Florida politicians have given up on denying that. “Sea level rise is our reality in Miami Beach,” Mayor Philip Levine told The New York Times last year. “We are past the point of debating the existence of climate change and are now focusing on adapting to current and future threats.” Other elected Republicans are making moves to deal with issues caused by higher tides.

One of the great ironies is that the term "climate change" itself came into wide usage through the efforts of Republican politicians. Its genesis comes much closer to the sort of pernicious twisting of language Orwell decried. In 2002, with the GOP concerned that it was on the defensive on global warming—to use the term then in common circulation—the party turned to Frank Luntz, the famed message consultant. Luntz produced a memo with several suggestions. For one thing, he suggested playing up the few scientists (now an even smaller group) who dissented the widespread consensus that the climate was being transformed, a tactic "climate skeptics" have employed to great success since. Luntz also recommended that President George W. Bush and others quit using "global warming" and begin referring to "climate change," which seems less frightening (and, it might be added, sounds much more like a natural process). It has taken years, but "climate change" seems to have finally caught up to "global warming," at least in the United States:

Trying to will something away by refusing to say its name isn't totally without precedent, even if you don't count the Harry Potter universe. A Republican Tennessee state legislator has been trying for years to pass a law that would prevent schools from discussing homosexuality. That effort has come to naught, compared with Florida's apparent success in stifling "climate change." But one wonders about how durable such a policy can possibly be—especially assuming the effects of climate change continue to manifest themselves.