Words matter. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.
Trump is “using your brain against you”, wrote George Lakoff in mid 2016. Lakoff, a cognitive science researcher, was cautioning against the techniques being used by Trump, including how he framed his arguments in a certain lens.
Maybe this is no surprise for politicians. But what was insidious about this was how people hardly realised it was happening.
How we word a problem can stump our logic.
One study by Tversky and Kahneman showed how two solutions to a problem (a theoretical disease outbreak) can be worded to stack the odds. One method was written in such a way that it looked like risk aversion. Meanwhile, the other could be framed so it looked like risk taking.
72 percent of participants chose the first method, while 22 percent chose the second.
Meanwhile, the two actual solutions were identical.
How we word a problem can change your moral response, too.
In a TED Talk, Mary Page Wilson-Lyons discussed how the words we use to frame people in poverty has an impact on how we act toward them. Our language can enforce stereotypes and expectations without us even noticing.
Many more psychological studies have investigated word choices and framing of information. Consistently, they show just how persuasive framing can be.
A simple metaphor can change our whole judgement of a situation. Subtle differences in wording can help us feel sympathy or distance; they can empower or dehumanise. And scarily, we’re not usually aware of it.
Here are two examples.
“Group of people” or “people in a group”?
Sound interchangeable? These two terms mean the same thing, but it turns out our brain interprets them in very different ways.
Psychologists explain this through mind perception. We can feel and relate for things that we sense have a mind of their own – that think, feel and act as a distinct entity.
Groups involve more individuals, each with their own mind. But instead of feeling more empathy for more minds, it’s the opposite. Our brains find it harder to differentiate individuals when there are so many. And our empathy for what we see as a faceless mob struggles as a result.
This is why you might find it difficult to relate to crowds of refugees or demonstrators on the news. We can more easily ignore large groups of people, rather than individuals.
This is where wording comes in. One study by psychologist Erin Cooley found that when the words “a group of people” were used, empathy dropped among participants.
But when you used “people in a group”, there was a substantial increase in empathy. Instead of being a nameless crowd, participants felt a connection just from a simple shift in words.
Imagine this in the real world. How are stories about refugees being framed? How do we speak about homeless people? Could our framing impact our empathy for people in need?
As Cooley commented:
I’m interested in how people make decisions that harm groups. For instance, would people think it is more ethical to attack ‘North Korea’ or ‘the people of North Korea’? Our findings suggest that word choice is not arbitrary; instead, it can affect whether we sympathize with those who are suffering or ignore their plight altogether.
The possibility for this to be misused is disturbing to say the least.
Is crime a “virus” or a “beast”?
Both “virus” and “beast” sound equally bad, right? But our response can completely change based on how a problem is described.
Take, for example, this research from Stanford University. Participants in one group read a mock news story with the headline saying, “Crime is a beast ravaging the city”. The metaphor of a “beast” conjured up ideas of attack and predatory behaviour. So most of these participants offered solutions to the problem that involved tougher law enforcement and mandatory sentencing.
The other group of participants read the exact same story, with one small detail changed: The headline read “Crime is a virus ravaging the city”. The “virus” metaphor suggested a systemic sickness that needs vaccination to combat it. These participants were more likely to offer preventative solutions, like measures to help people in poverty.
But here’s what really gets me: The metaphor played a bigger role in predicting the response of participants than even their political leanings (!). And most of the participants were unaware of the influence the wording had – only 15 of the 485 participants identified the metaphor as a factor in their response.
As one of the researchers commented:
People like to think they’re objective and making decisions based on numbers… They want to believe they’re logical. But they’re really being swayed by metaphors.
Or, as Mary Page Wilson-Lyons pointed out:
The headline of a news story is a better predictor of how a person will respond to a piece of journalism than their stated political affiliation.
We can think that someone’s politics will instantly determine their response to a news story. But maybe this polarisation isn’t as inbuilt as we assume.
How are words impacting us?
When you start to think about how your brain works, it begins to be clear that sometimes, wordings aren’t just semantics. They actually can change how you think.
I begin to think about real-world applications.
What would happen if we talked about refugees as “100 Syrian refugees in a group” rather than “a group of 100 Syrian refugees”?
Are we observing what metaphors are used to describe social problems, like the “virus” and “beast” comparison?
And how is simple framing making a difference to our decision-making? How are descriptions of events impacting how we relate to people of other races, sexualities, political leanings and beliefs?
How are we impacted for or against political parties or moral questions?
Observing what we read and how it impacts our thinking makes a huge difference. This is a reminder that our words matter.
