An Illustrated Book of Loaded Language: learn to hear what’s left unsaid

A Quick Introduction:

The Subtle Ways Language Influences Thought

Oh hello! Mr. Rabbit here. I’m pleased to meet you. You might be wondering how I’ve reached this, ahem, honorable old age. I’ll tell you: Careful listening is essential for a rabbit—and today, sneaky language is more prevalent than ever. It’s prevalent in everyday conversations, in newspapers and websites of record, in posts shared by influential people, and in speeches by eloquent intellectuals. It colors how we perceive our world. You’re holding a compendium of this kind of rhetoric—not only what’s said out loud, but also what’s left unsaid.

One reason rhetorical sleight of hand gets past us is that, when listening to someone speak, we tend to focus on whether we like that person rather than whether they are making any sense. Another reason is that our brains, by nature, process information differently based on context. Consider two well-known effects:

Priming. In a video that made the rounds online, a fun-loving group is sitting in a living room. Without showing any visuals, one of them asks another—an English major, no less—to pronounce T-W-A, which she does phonetically. He asks her to pronounce T-W-I, which she does, the same way. Then onto T-W-O, at which point her increasingly peculiar attempts leave everyone in stitches. Other videos of that sort of gag are aplenty.

What’s interesting here is that our English major is using instincts that normally serve her well to try to answer a seemingly simple question. But, the information she’s given at the start proves debilitating as she attempts to reason through what follows, all to great comedic effect. People are sensitive to what came just before!

Framing. In the classic example of framing, two groups of participants were asked to choose between two treatments for an imaginary disease that is about to kill 600 people:

Group 1 chose between A) a treatment that saves 200 people, and B) a treatment with a one-third chance of saving all 600 and a two-thirds chance of saving no one.

Group 2 chose between A) a treatment that causes 400 people to die, and B) a treatment with a two-thirds chance of causing all 600 to die and a one-third chance of causing no one to die.

Both sets of choices are equivalent, but in Group 1, given the positive framing, more participants chose the treatment with the certain outcome, A. In Group 2, given the negative framing, more participants chose the treatment with the riskier outcome, B.

These examples and many others show that our judgment, our instincts, our reflexes—which we rely on for so much of our daily decision-making—aren’t as reliable as we think. We’re susceptible to how information is packaged and presented to us. Cognitive bias—and social bias—creeps in.

Our biases—optical illusions, in effect—number in the tens or hundreds depending on whom you ask, and many are subtle. For instance, grouping countries by location feels natural, as does sorting things alphabetically. Yet these instincts are far from natural—they are in fact man-made. It’s this type of bias, in particular, that made me want to share this guide with you.

In the next seven sections, and accompanied by memorable illustrations (some of me!), I consider how the language we craft and consume shapes our beliefs. I’m primarily interested in language that manipulates, for example by creating sinister associations, concealing with vagueness, or feigning objectivity with apparent neutrality. My categories will overlap, and my chosen examples aren’t meant to be exhaustive.

Not all loaded language is intentionally devious: While some writers aim to mislead us, others may use it unwittingly—especially when implicit bias comes into play. When a journalist refers to a politician’s fact-free rhetorical style rather than his lies, she more likely seeks to entertain than to excuse. A good many of my examples are from sources generally considered to be neutral, unbiased, and nonpartisan. I try to lay any implicit bias bare.

Rhetoric—how someone says something—can offer useful insight into their underlying assumptions. But note that I won’t focus on evolving constructs like political correctness, or lazily exploitable ones like identity politics. I don’t discuss language that’s obviously bigoted or insincere (which I trust my discerning readers will recognize on their own)! I also leave the important topic of how someone’s culture informs their interpretation of language—since, after all, English speakers come from a wealth and breadth of cultures—to the relevant experts.

This guide is about the words used to talk about various issues, and not about the issues themselves. You humans have a divisive-enough political climate as it is; I don’t intend to contribute to it! To that end, I have adapted certain examples taken from real-world media to feature rabbits and badgers. A select few have been slightly embellished for comedic effect.

Any connection between badgers and the wrongheaded side of things is purely coincidental.

1. Language that conceals with vagueness

Vagueness is at the heart of insincere language; it clouds thinking and it muddies meaning. As Orwell writes about vague terms, The person who uses them has his own private definition, but allows his hearer to think he means something quite different.

Vague language is often used to dissociate someone (perhaps we ourselves?) from a contemptible act or bad memory. In a classic moral thought experiment, a runaway trolley will strike and kill five people—unless you flip a switch to divert it, in which case it will kill one person. All things being equal, the math is simple, but it feels more comfortable to cause harm indirectly than to take action (by flipping the switch) and become complicit. We see that same instinct at work with vague language.

Let’s look at some