The perils of lazy language

Since the beginning of the pandemic, two college friends and I have been video messaging daily, taking the time to record ourselves and then listening to each other as we go about our daily work of walking dogs, picking up children and folding laundry. This asynchronous communication has rejuvenated our decades old friendship - a lifeline in uncertain times.   

In her messages, my friend sometimes self-corrects her speech, stopping when she, for example, refers to someone as “crazy.” She calls it “lazy language.”  

I love the term. Lazy language.    

Professionally, and personally, I have been guilty of using it. You likely have too. That’s a problem, because as our society continues to examine the power and impact of words in politics, in the workplace, and on social media - we need to be more specific, more concrete, and generally, more focused on speaking to be understood. 

Dialogue is primarily an exchange of words. It stems from the Greek dialogos, meaning conversation. And thus, much of the work of dialogic interpretation and facilitation is assessing, in the moment, when the words a participant uses and the way they use them are obstructing the collective’s ability to learn from the speaker.   

Lazy language shows up when:

• We attribute our experiences with an individual as reflective of the qualities or behaviors of an entire group - “Look, doctors are driven by money.”

• We speak in certainties - “You always...,” or “I never…”

• We use words that are comfortable to us, but hurt others - allowing us to claim no responsibility for their distress.

• We hold on to inaccurate language because “that’s how we’ve always said it.”

• We use phrases to provoke or draw attention, words that intentionally prioritize shock over the promotion of clarity and understanding.   

• We feel, as I was reminded by my colleague Sarah Litvin of the Reher Center for Immigrant Culture and History, that an issue must be urgently addressed.  That urgency - though motivating - can make us more careless with others.  

Ultimately, the real danger in lazy language is that it shifts the responsibility of understanding to the shoulders of the listener, leaving so much to interpretation that, unless they are empowered to ask you to clarify what you’ve said, their - and the group’s learning - is stunted. 

I’ve included “lazy language” in a soon-to-be posted tool on my resource page, “When Do I Step In?” Where has lazy language shown up in your work?