This week, Broadstairs columnist Melissa Todd explores the power of language and censorship, amid “an epidemic of pompous phrases that mean nothing”…

My pal Richard, cursed with a Proper Job, has invented a fun, absorbing game to help him grind down the long hours: he counts the number of times he hears the word “context”. Yesterday he got to 17. I recommend this game to you, too, if you’re stuck in your own personal professional middle management hell. In an urban context, was the last usage - or in town, as we used to say. As opposed to a rural context, or the country.

We are suffering an epidemic of pompous phrases that mean nothing, except that the speaker has disengaged his wits, using language to sound clever, as opposed to aiding clarity and understanding. It’s annoying, it makes my teeth itch; but it’s much worse than annoying, because sloppy language means sloppy thought, and vice versa: they feed one another, as sugar feeds bacteria. And thus our beautiful language has become a tool to conceal rather than express.

Perhaps this shouldn’t surprise anyone. Language is a powerful weapon. People have been tortured and killed for blaspheming: stretched on the rack in the Middle Ages for a simple “Oh my God”. There were complaints registered that the screams of blasphemers from the Tower of London were disturbing a local garden party, and requests that in future, torture only take place when festivities concluded.

Now I can type oh my God without fear of any kind of reprisal, but if I were to type certain racist slurs, I would promptly be cancelled. I would not type them, this illustrious periodical would not dream of publishing them, even with some of the offending letters asterisked out, even though you all know the words I mean. They were everywhere 50 years ago, safe and acceptable and downright dull. Now, works of literature are regularly altered or cancelled in their name. I’m told any Agatha Christie you possess on your Kindle can be altered to make it less offensive, without warning, irrespective of how offensive or not you may personally find such language. Is rewriting her work, and the epoch in which she wrote, offensive also? Surely removing unpleasant material shouldn't happen without the reader's full knowledge, if not consent?

I don't know. But I do know that the trouble with approving such censorship, even from the best of intentions, is that it tends to make censorship of all sorts more acceptable. Apparently 53% of school librarians have been asked to remove books from the shelves. Some librarians have been sacked for refusing. Often the books targeted are on LGBTQ+ themes. Censorship often seems to end up targeting the vulnerable it purportedly seeks to protect. In fact, for both practical and philosophical reasons, censorship of almost any sort (with the exception of a few hoary old cliches, yelling fire in a crowded theatre, incitement to violence) is ineffectual and idiotic. Dialogue is useful. Gagging changes neither minds nor hearts. It only makes the censored work appear more interesting and valuable.

I whispered “Oh my God!” myself on hearing Kemi Badenoch claim Keir Starmer “doesn’t have the balls” to express his views on gender during the recent trans debate. Whether or not you agree with the sentiment, or winced at the unfortunate pun, that phrase would have been unthinkable even 10 years ago. For centuries, Parliamentary language was weighed down with centuries of tradition and rules, all intended to ensure the House could not be brought into disrepute. No MP could accuse another of lying, for instance, only being economical with the truth. Yet Badenoch’s vulgar insult went unnoticed, consumed in the bitter fiery feud surrounding the trans debate.

Language should and will shift to accommodate our changing needs. It belongs to us and must serve our will and circumstance. But it does seem sad that Parliament can now harbour childish misandrist language without comment. So here I am, commenting. Let language change, of course. If rage matters to us now more than transparency, so be it; language must reflect the culture it serves. I don’t wish torture on blasphemers. I might wish the tiniest bit of torture on people who misuse the word "context". But certainly I regret the scarce-acknowledged demise of respect, and clarity, in Parliament, and elsewhere.