Reflecting on the Power of Language – Or, “Am I Making Myself Clear?”

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about words and, more broadly, language. (More so than usual, that is.) Part of this stems from the way current events and historical context have been discussed. Part of it comes from wrapping up a contract gig as a writer and editor for a healthcare IT consulting firm, where I learned that the combination of healthcare IT jargon and consultant-speak can be quite the word salad. All of it, I think, is related.

One key goal of writing, regardless of genre, is to establish credibility and authority with your audience. There are typically two ways to do this.

One is simplicity – breaking a topic down into words, phrases, and sentences that a general audience can understand. It’s the “Can you explain this to your parents?” principle. It’s a cornerstone of good journalism, approachable nonfiction, and relatable marketing.

The other method, conversely, is obscurity – discussing a topic in a convoluted way to elevate the author’s expertise above that of the reader. This isn’t necessarily about using big words and lots of semicolons, though that doesn’t necessarily help. It’s about writing in a way that makes a general audience feel excluded.

I’ve seen this happen in three key ways. They seem similar but have nuanced differences.

The first is sticking to language that’s meant for a niche audience when your goal is to inform a larger audience. This happens frequently in the trade press, where the assumption is that the audience “just knows” what the alphabet soup of acronyms and abbreviations means. (I have been guilty of this.) Character limits on social media posts and in headlines certainly don’t help. This can reflect that a seasoned writer knows their stuff, which is certainly helpful for covering complex topics. However, it also conveys a level of insider status that separates the writer and the audience.

The second is declining to modify language that was written with a specific intention in mind. Think about the times you’ve seen language lifted from a press release, police report, earnings statement, or research paper and plunked, unedited, into a news report. The ethical ramifications of this practice notwithstanding, this suggests that an author and their editors have left it up to the reader to define a non-compliant patient, a digital therapeutic, a payvider, and so on. Those words are made-up at best and loaded at worst, and it’s the job of the writer and editor to explain what they mean (or just avoid them altogether). Just because a source said it doesn’t mean it needs to be restated verbatim.

The third is neglecting to explain, or outright excluding, meaningful information. As a local news reporter, I had to provide context in every story, even if I was covering the proposed housing development for the 45th time and was sick of writing the same details over and over again. When those details are omitted – the location, the number of units, the name of the developer, etc. – you imply, “You don’t know? Well, you should have been paying attention all this time.”

As we write, we need to avoid obscurity. (Or, as Dennis Miller said in his short-lived stint as a football announcer, eschew obfuscation.) The last several months have taught us that accurate, meaningful, and relevant information – about what happened in the past, how that is affecting what is currently happening, and how that will drive what needs to happen – is both deeply valuable and difficult to find. I’m committing to making my writing clearer, and I hope that you do the same.