The words we lose, the thoughts we erase
Two years ago, I became a consultant, and in the process, I began to pay closer attention to language - not just as a tool for communication, but as the scaffolding of thought itself. The way we phrase things, the words we choose, the structures we impose on our sentences - they don’t merely convey ideas; they shape them.
This realization led me to a deeper question:
What happens to thought when language is imprecise - or worse, deliberately stripped of meaning?
The Duality of Language: Expression and Constriant
Language works in two directions. First, it is how we express ourselves to others. A vague definition leaves room for interpretation, and often times, misinterpretation. A precise one clarifies intent. But second, and perhaps more importantly, language shapes how we think. If we lack the words for a concept, we struggle to grasp it fully.
This is why George Orwell’s 1984 remains so unsettling. In that world, the Party doesn’t just ban dissent; it erases the language needed to conceive of dissent. "Newspeak" isn’t just propaganda - it’s a systematic narrowing of cognition. Without the word "freedom," the idea of freedom becomes intangible. Without "justice," the demand for it fades into silence.
Excerpt from Newspeak (1984)
In 1984, Newspeak is the Party’s engineered language, systematically reducing vocabulary to crush intellectual rebellion; by erasing words like ‘freedom’ or ‘justice,’ it renders rebellious ideas literally unthinkable.
(Learn more here)
When Language Shapes Thought
Orwell’s nightmare is not purely fictional. We see linguistic manipulation everywhere:
Governments speak of ‘neutralizing threats’ rather than killing
‘Alternative facts’ enter public discourse as a substitute for lies
These are not just euphemisms; they are thought-shapers. If we accept "collateral damage" as a term for civilian deaths, we risk becoming numb to its reality. If we call censorship "content moderation," we may stop questioning its implications.
This is how power operates: not just by controlling actions, but by controlling the very framework in which actions are understood.
Precision as Resistance
But there is an antidote: precision. When we refuse vague or manipulative language, we reclaim clarity - and with it, agency. Consider the difference between:
‘We are optimizing resources’ vs ‘We’re cutting jobs’
‘Security measures’ vs ‘Surveillance’
The first versions obscure; the second versions reveal. Precision doesn’t just make communication clearer - it makes thought clearer.
This is why writing has always been a tool for refining ideas. The act of forcing a thought onto paper (or screen) exposes its weaknesses. A muddled sentence reflects a muddled idea. Rewriting it - choosing sharper words, tighter phrasing - isn’t just editing; it’s thinking more deeply.
The Words We Lack
The inverse is also true: when we lack words, we lack concepts. Linguists have long debated the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis - the idea that language influences perception. While few argue that language fully dictates thought, there is strong evidence that vocabulary shapes cognition. For example:
The Himba’s color classification
The Himba people of Namibia, whose language has multiple words for green shades but groups blue with green under one term, can instantly spot subtle green variations that English speakers miss, when shown the color tiles. Yet they struggle to distinguish blue from green, proving how language shapes perception.
(Source)
Guugu Yimithirr’s cardinal awareness
Guugu Yimithirr, a langague spoken in the north of Queensland, Australia, lack egocentric spatial terms like "left" or "right," relying instead on cardinal directions. Always “to the north of you” not “to your left side.” Speakers develop an innate, constant sense of orientation.
(Source)
This isn’t just about color or direction - it’s about how language carves up reality. If a culture has no word for "accountability," does the concept fully exist in its collective mind? If a society stops using "privacy," does the expectation of it fade?
Reclaiming Lanague, Reclaiming Thought
Orwell warned that
“if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.”
Would the reverse be also true then:
if we refine language, we refine thought?
So how do we do this? I do not have the answers to educate, but start thinking on some approaches that might be relevant:
Question vague or loaded terms: What does "innovation" really mean in this context? What is being hidden behind "streamlining"?
Resist ready-made phrases: Clichés and jargon often replace genuine engagement with ideas
Write to clarify thinking: The discipline of putting thoughts into words - whether in journals, essays, or even careful emails - forces precision
Read widely and wisely: Exposure to different vocabularies expands the range of thought
In the end, language is not just a tool - it’s a battleground. Those in power know this. They know that if you control the words, you control the thoughts that follow.
But we can resist. By choosing words deliberately, by refusing to let meaning be eroded, by insisting on precision, we protect not just communication, but the cognition itself.
This lesson has become my professional keystone. When a client says “the system is slow,” I now ask: “Slow compared to what? By how many seconds? Under what conditions?” When colleagues propose “thinking outside the box,” I request: “Which specific assumptions should we challenge?” In competitor research, I've learned to dissect vague categories - e.g., distinguishing between "providers" who offer infrastructure-as-a-service from those selling managed services or pure software tools.
The discipline is exhausting at first - like the Himba distinguishing blues from greens when their language merges them - but with practice, it becomes instinct. What begins as conscious questioning soon rewires how you think: “urgent” becomes measureable, “scalable” gets defined, and “value” transforms from an abstrction into specific customer outcomes. And in that precision lies clarity, alignment, and ultimately, better decisions.
Because the stakes are higher than clarity. They’re freedom.
