Say what you mean

'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on. 'I do,' Alice hastily replied; 'at least - at least I mean what I say - that's the same thing, you know.' 'Not the same thing a bit! said the Hatter. 'Why, you might just as well say that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see!"'
Lewis Carrol - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

I had a strange encounter with a voice recognition system a couple of weeks ago when I was in Canberra. The taxi company has changed over to a VR system for booking calls. It had no difficulties with the pick-up point at all. But it was another story when it came to my destination.
- I'd like to go to the Australian National University.
- You want to go to Murrumbateman. Is that correct?
- No. I want to go to the Australian National University.
- You want to go to Captain's Flat. Is that correct?
- No (getting irate and speaking through gritted teeth now). I don't want to go to Captain's Flat or fucking Murrumbateman. I want to go to the Australian National University.
- I don't understand. Please state your destination.
- Can I speak to a human being?
- I don't understand. Please state your destination.

It occurred to me that trying to talk (and listen to) bureaucrats and politicians offers a similar Alice in Wonderland experience. They seem to speak and (god forbid!) think in a language that appears to be English; but not only is it difficult to get a straight answer to a straight question, you also have difficulty interpreting precisely what particular words or groups of words mean.
You know the sort of thing: words like resources, issues, prioritising, deliverables, performance indicators and so on, which are strung together like fat beans on a string. They're used by an in-group among themselves and we assume that they all understand precisely what they're talking about - although the words in question are always ill-defined to the point of being ephemeral. So maybe they don't.
But then they go out into the real world and start talking in the same terms to people who speak and think in plain old English. And because we don't like to be thought of as stupid, or because we're too damn polite for our own good, we rarely stop them to ask what they mean by a particular turn of phrase. And then we start using them, too!
Why? Partly, I think, because we want to be seen to be part of a power elite and so we use the language of power whether we really understand it or not. And maybe partly because we're too tired to resist any more.
But you can't reach those dizzy heights without mastering the use of the passive voice - the ultimate in power tripping. People don't get together to do things. They're '...invited to participate...'.
As you can see, the term puts one group (the elite) in the position not just of 'inviting', but defining what it is that the other group (those without power) will 'participate' in. Whatever the result (the current fave is 'outcome'), it will be described as '..a meaningful (now there's a much misused word!) exercise in community involvement...'.
It's nothing of the sort, of course. It's one group of people getting another group to do something they've already defined and whose 'outcomes' they have already predicted.
If you're serious about people defining their destiny, then you don't 'invite them to participate' in anything. You ask them what they want to do and then make damn sure nothing stands in the way of them doing it. As long as it's a reasonable and negiotable ask, that is.
This misuse of the language is doubly damnable when bureaucrats try to use the language among people who don't have English as a first language. Not just Indigenous people, either; people from other countries who now live here. It's very easy to use the words to soothe people into believing someone cares about what they say, they're really listening and something is happening that they'll like - or at least something that will be good for them.
And then reality bites. Fine-sounding policy is revealed for what it is - generally a cynical exercise in avoiding responsibility - and the real people become at best exhausted and at worst embittered by the experience.
As a taxpayer, I don't think it's too much to ask of governments who say they want to serve the public good to make sure (ensure) its diverse servants (our servants) at least learn how to speak and - more importantly - how to listen - without turning everything into their own polysyllabic porridge.
To return to Alice ('Remember Alice? There's a song about Alice. Which shows my age, I think), say what you mean!