George Orwell understood something most people miss: that language doesn’t just reflect reality—it constructs it. His warnings weren’t about vocabulary; they were about power. When words become slippery, so does meaning. And when meaning collapses, so does accountability.
Nowhere is this clearer than in his essay Politics and the English Language and his novel 1984. Orwell showed how political and institutional language could be used to disguise reality rather than reveal it. Today, those insights are more urgent than ever.
Orwell observed that the language of politics often serves to obscure, not clarify. Bureaucratic phrases like “rectification of frontiers” or “liquidation of undesirable elements” were not just euphemisms. They were linguistic anaesthetics, numbing public reaction to conquest or murder by turning them into paperwork.
That habit hasn’t gone away. Today, we speak of "collateral damage" instead of civilian deaths, of "enhanced interrogation" instead of torture. The language is cleaner. The actions aren't. Even phrases like "alternative facts" or "strategic ambiguity" perform the same trick: clouding the moral landscape, severing words from their moral anchors.
Orwell's central insight was this: distorted language doesn’t merely hide the truth—it makes it harder to think clearly about the truth. If your language can no longer express doubt or dissent, then even the thought of resistance becomes harder to form. What begins as spin can end in silence.
This was the function of Newspeak in 1984: not just censorship, but pre-emption. If there’s no word for freedom, then the concept itself becomes unthinkable. Orwell's totalitarian regime didn’t just rewrite laws—it rewrote the mental tools by which one might oppose them.
We don't live in Orwell's world. But we live with its temptations. Modern language manipulation doesn’t always come from the state. It seeps out of corporate PR departments, activist manifestos, academic theory, and algorithmic content moderation. The result is a culture where speech is either flattened into inoffensiveness or inflated into slogan.
Terms like "anti-racist praxis" or "justice-oriented outcomes" may originate in good intentions, but they often function as gatekeeping codes—intelligible only to the initiated, and protected from critique by their very vagueness. When questioning a term becomes taboo, it stops being language and starts becoming dogma.
That’s why Orwell’s rules for writing still matter. They weren’t just about style. They were about ethics.
Adapted for modern times:
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Never use a metaphor, simile, or figure of speech that you are used to seeing in print.
Lazy clichés like “thinking outside the box” or “the wheels of progress” don’t just bore your audience—they reveal a lack of original thought. For Orwell, fresh language reflects fresh thinking.
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Never use a long word where a short one will do.
Jargon thrives on unnecessary complexity. For instance, why say “utilise” when “use” works just as well? Orwell believed that simplicity forces precision, while complexity often hides confusion.
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If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
Language bloated with filler is like a fog that obscures meaning. Phrases such as “at this point in time” could easily be replaced with “now.” Trimming the excess clarifies the message.
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Never use the passive voice where you can use the active.
Passive constructions, like “mistakes were made,” avoid assigning responsibility. The active voice—“I made a mistake”—is clearer and more honest.
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Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or jargon if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
Pretentious language excludes rather than includes. Orwell urged us to speak to be understood, not to impress.
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Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.
Orwell valued flexibility over dogma. The goal is clarity, not rigid adherence to rules. If following a rule compromises your message, adapt as needed for clear, effective communication.
Clear writing demands clear thinking. And clear thinking is the foundation of a healthy democracy. If we lose the ability to say what we mean, we risk losing the ability to mean anything at all.
Orwell’s greatest warning wasn’t that language might be controlled. It was that we might willingly surrender it—not through force, but through fashion. Through jargon, slogans, euphemisms, and the seductive comfort of not asking what things really mean.
His solution was simple. Be precise. Be plain. Be brave.
Because when words fail, thought follows.
Further reading
Politics and the English Language by George Orwell
Orwell’s iconic essay lays out his vision for clear, honest language and remains a cornerstone for understanding the intersection of language, politics, and morality.
1984 by George Orwell
This dystopian novel brings Orwell’s ideas to life, depicting a world where language is weaponised to control thought and suppress freedom.
Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman
While not directly about language, Postman examines how media shapes our understanding of truth, offering insights into the cultural consequences of vague or manipulative communication.
On Writing Well by William Zinsser
A timeless guide for anyone wanting to write with clarity and simplicity, echoing many of Orwell’s principles.
The Language Instinct by Steven Pinker
This engaging exploration of linguistics sheds light on the nature of language, thought, and how words shape our perception of the world.
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