Plain language starts with intention

When you wish to inform, communicating clearly to the reader comes relatively easily. You will try and provide all the required information or point the reader to where they can find it.

The reverse is also true. That is, when you do not wish to inform, you will not speak clearly. You will not point out helpful resources. You will write words and sentences that mean nothing, are not relevant to the reader, or at worst can mislead the reader.

Let me explain with two examples.

Exhibit A
A researcher approached the National Archives to request for some records. The National Archives told the researcher, “Research facilities are available for researchers subject to fulfillment of certain conditions as specified in the guidelines uploaded on our official website www.nationalarchives.in under the head, ‘what’s new’.”

The communication from the Archives failed because of two reasons:
1. It could have listed the conditions outright instead of sending the researcher on a wild goose chase.

2. Or, it could have pointed out the exact location on the website to the researcher. Not done either. (I visited the website but could not find the What’s New section. No wonder the researcher got frustrated.)

It also didn’t help that the entire communication was in officialese. When the Central Information Commission asked the Archives to communicate in "simple, clear language", I couldn’t help but wonder how this could happen when the context for clarity was missing. Government communication frequently tends to speak down and confuse. It is not the ecosystem for clear words and sentences.

Exhibit B
The Supreme Court recently pulled up legal firms for drafting confusing clauses. Clause 13 of an agreement said that the arbitration venue would be New Delhi, while Clause 14 said that Jaipur courts would have exclusive jurisdiction.

Seriously? I am surprised that the apex court of this land has to deal with such drivel.

Chief Justice Surya Kant exclaimed, “Why can't you simplify the clause when you enter into [an] agreement ...?”

In both these examples, the very intention to communicate and inform is missing. When this is so, it is a given that language will mirror the intention and be as confusing and intimidating as it can be.

Why do we write like this?!

 

This is an excerpt from the letter written by the Karnataka Forest Department to the municipality of Sirsi – my nearby town. The document was obtained through a Right to Information (RTI) application.

And here's the background: Some trees were marked to be cut down on a street in Sirsi. A few of us started asking questions to the municipality and the forest department. We were passed from one to the other until we were told that the forest department knew nothing about the decision to cut these trees down. As the trees were on municipal property, it was the municipality’s decision to do so.

A friend filed the RTI application and received this document. As it shows, the forest department knew very well about the proposed tree cutting. It has even made arrangements for the timber to be carried to its depot.

While the double-speak is one part of the issue, what caught my eye, or shall I say, jammed my eye, is this gargantuan sentence-paragraph made up of 60 words! Why write like this? Isn't it tiring to write, let alone read?

Perhaps the simplest and the most necessary first step in plain language translation is to break down monster paragraphs like these into human sentences.

The more I think about why we write like this, it seems to me there's an implied understanding that it's not really written to be understood. It's not written to express meaning. It is simply carried out as a chore. The human need to communicate has long gone missing. This is mostly always true of government communication, aka bureaucratese, but we see such examples all around us, all too often.

Have you come across bureaucratese or officialese recently? I can't say I'll be happy to know, but feel free to vent.