Against “Leaning In”
I should clarify that title before someone thinks I’m writing about the hot topic of quiet quitting. Nope, I’m not talking about the merits of leaning in vs. leaning out (not today, anyway); I’m talking about jargon, the overused, nearly meaningless phrases with which we fill our writing, conversations, and powerpoint decks.
The phrase “leaning in” is emblematic of how off-putting jargon is. Off-putting, meaningless, irritating, and detrimental to connection with our audience. I’ve written before about jargon, but I think about it way too much for a normal person, and it burrows its way into my brain. I make fun of jargon a lot, and I sigh over it even more, and of course, I use it. You can’t work within an industry without picking up the slang your colleagues use. I’ve encouraged teammates to leverage their past experiences. I’ve put topics into the parking lot for later. I’m not immune to the draw of jargon.
But when I remember what it was like to be a graduate student in English Literature, or what it was like to be the newest member of a marketing team in my 20s, or even how I felt when I came to UVA in my late 30s, I can think of a myriad of examples of how uninviting jargon is. Even when the people using it aren’t purposefully trying to exclude, jargon is a way of putting up a wall and saying, “if you don’t know our lingo, you can’t belong.” Understand, I’m not talking about terms of art and the language we use to talk about the intricacies of our area of specialty. There’s a clear difference between using the terminology that accurately describes your profession and its details and using jargon. When I joined central finance, I learned about ledgers and fiscal years and so on; thankfully from people who were eager to help me. That’s different than sitting in a meeting and hearing an almost different language, one in which we “solution for” problems instead of working on solving them.
Here are a few of the problems with jargon:
Jargon puts a barrier between those who understand it and those who don’t. It can be used intentionally to make our work and ideas seem more complex and difficult than they are to those who are new or uninitiated. It’s a way of “gatekeeping:” it proves you’re a part of the group: you know the language, you have the code words, you’re a seasoned professional. But wait . . . why would we want barriers between our newer employees and ourselves? These are the people whose ideas we need, whose effort we want, and whose experience we value. The sooner they become comfortable on the team, the better!
Jargon removes humanity and empathy from our language. Telling a colleague “I’m having a hard time sorting out the information so I can work with it,” invites more connection and maybe even opportunity for collaboration than “I’m drinking from a firehose.” It is easy to get the impression, especially in a working environment as high-functioning as the one I’m in, that everyone else is handling things better than you — that they’re somehow more professional than you, and that they don’t struggle or get dorkily-excited when things go right. When we use plain language instead of jargon, it’s easier for us to see one another as what we are: a group of human people doing our best working toward the same goal, not weird business automatons outside of the range of human feeling.
Jargon reduces the chance that our audience will find meaning and inspiration in what we say. I work in finance, which is not the same as researching cures for cancer. However, I do need my colleagues across the University to listen, to understand, and to actively be our partners so that we are successful and the University can continue researching cures for cancer. They’re more apt to do all of this if I use terms that actually mean something. Which sounds more sincere: me asking for someone to lean in on a project, or me telling them I need their help? How about if I tell you “I thought this task would be in your wheelhouse” versus “this task made me think of you because of your deeper knowledge of Excel and talent with numbers”? We need connection not only to relate most effectively with one another, but also, to bond with one another and get satisfaction and maybe even some joy out of working with one another. Jargon is a barrier to that connection.
Jargon makes us lazy writers, speakers, and thinkers. I’ve already admitted not being immune to the lure of jargon. It can become a shorthand that we lean on to help us convey meaning when we’re pressed for time, when our attention span is stretched thin, and when our minds have been wandering in a meeting and someone asks us what we think. We’re going to use it sometimes, inevitably. It’s when we keep leaning on it that it weakens us — it can get too easy to offer a glib soundbite in a meeting, or drop a comment that seems appropriate but really means nothing, and think you’ve checked the box on contributing to the conversation. It doesn’t take much effort to trot out a great jargon-filled line, and to be honest, the rewards are usually there for us when we do, because it sounds smart, right? But remember: jargon really doesn’t say much. It rarely inspires new thought, it almost never makes people look at a problem differently, and it is often an excuse for people who dislike it to tune out the conversation entirely. Language is wonderfully precise and used carefully, it can inspire thought, illuminate ideas in a way we haven’t previously considered, convey nuances of meaning, and forge connection between people and ideas. Language shapes our minds and opens up neural pathways. Don’t trade the opportunity for original, potentially problem-solving thoughts for the well-worn and uninspiring paths of jargon.
Language is best when it’s a bridge between us and our audeince, or a path that invites further investigation, not a gateway that slams in others’ faces. History and etymology illustrate language as a force that changes as it encounters new ideas and cultures, and it in turn shapes those cultures and ideas. Language opens us up to new thoughts and access to deeper meanings and provides clarity for complex ideas. The vigorous use of language makes us more likely to connect with one another, solve problems, and feel satisfaction in the work we do.
Everyone buying into the virtues of using meaningful language instead of jargon? Okay great — let’s go synergize!
(sorry, bad joke) :)
