Language is not just how we communicate—it is how we think, act, and ultimately become. Certain words, though seemingly harmless, can be the very seeds of disillusionment.
Take the phrase “let’s create change.” Change by itself carries no moral direction. It could lead forward—or backward. Revolutions, coups, and reforms are all “change,” yet not all represent progress. So instead of change, we should say “let’s progress,” or “let’s improve.” These words imply conscious movement toward betterment rather than motion for its own sake.
George Orwell understood this danger. In 1984, he described “Newspeak” as the deliberate shrinking of language to narrow the range of thought. When a word disappears, so does the possibility of a certain kind of thinking. Consider how easily modern terminology blinds us to meaning. During the pandemic, we accepted the phrase “social distancing.” Yet what we truly meant was “physical distancing.” The word “social” refers to our bonds with one another—our empathy, interaction, and belonging. By pairing it with distancing, we unconsciously rewired its connotation. “Social” now carries the faint echo of isolation.
This linguistic confusion was already underway. “Social media,” for example, promises connection but often delivers solitude—digital echo chambers where we perform proximity rather than live it. Thus, when social distancing entered our vocabulary, it fit too comfortably within an existing pattern of disconnection. We normalized a phrase that subtly encouraged emotional withdrawal, even as we fought a biological threat.
Noam Chomsky has long warned that language can be weaponized to shape consent and perception. Terms like “collateral damage” sanitize the killing of civilians. “Human resources” turns people into assets. “Trickle-down economics” dresses greed in the costume of generosity. Every phrase carries a moral compass—either hidden or revealed.
That is why we must choose our words with intention. Every word that ends up on our website, in our campaigns, or in our narratives defines the horizon of who we are becoming. Language is direction. It is the steering of consciousness.
In motorcycle racing, when you lean into a corner, you don’t stare straight ahead—you fix your gaze on where you want to exit. The motorcycle follows your eyes. Words work the same way. If you look only at the surface—if you use language that merely describes—you will remain stuck in the curve. But if you choose words that embody where you want to go—words that already contain the truth you’re heading toward—then your entire movement will follow that intention.
We’re in the corner now—language is throttle and traction. Look through it, not at it. Choose words the way a racer leans: deliberate, fearless, fixed on the apex. Drift, and we lose the line. Hold it, and we will power out of the curve at full speed toward the world we’re meant to build.
