A man may take a drink because he feels himself to be a failure and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts. The point is that the process is reversible.
This is the central argument of the essay. Poor use of language leads to lazy, unoriginal thinking which in turn makes for even more misleading language language. But as with the cycle of the drunk, the cycle of poor thinking-poor speaking can be broken. This last point is important. Orwell isn't presenting an inconsequential critique of English language in his essay. As he will later claim that everything now is political, his essay is a call to action, to a resistance to the degenerative effects of poor and inaccurate uses of language. To that end, he offers a set of tools.
If one gets rid of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step towards political regeneration.
This quote follow from the previous one. It's relevant to emphasize that he makes the political claim at the opening of the essay, as this point gets put to the side as he begins his analysis. The consequence of the struggle for better language, he states here, is of worldly consequence.
Each of these passages has faults of its own, but, quite apart from avoidable ugliness, two qualities are common to all of them. The first is staleness of imagery: the other is lack of precision. The writer either has a meaning and cannot express it, or he inadvertently says something else, or he is almost indifferent as to whether his words mean anything or not. This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing. As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract. (252)
Orwell has given a number of passages with examples of the above issues. The two common qualities are important to note, as is their stated cause: this lack of independent and rigorous thinking on the part of the writer is one of the main reasons for the cycle of poor speaking-poor thinking that he describes. Again, he refers to political writing, which will be his main target in the essay. His last point is especially relevant as he will also be going after the way that vague and abstract language distances itself from reality and becomes a form of dishonesty.
Ring the changeson, take up the cudgels for, toe the line, ride roughshod over, stand shoulder to shoulder with, play into the hands of, no axe to grind, grist to the mill, fishing in troubled waters, rift within the lute, on the order of the day, Achilles’ heel, swan song, hotbed. Many of these are used without knowledge of their meaning (what is a ‘rift’, for instance?), and incompatible metaphors are frequently mixed, a sure sign that the writer is not interested in what he is saying.
Orwell presents a list of bad habits that allow writers to avoid independently constructing good prose (and in that way, avoid thinking independently). The above quote is an example of what he calls Dying Metaphors. Unlike original metaphors that present fresh images for the reader and force the writer to attempt to illustrate their given meaning, dying metaphors allow the writer not to think at all. The prose that they subsequently produce is rendered less effective, if not mute or dead.
Bad writers, and especially scientific, political and sociological writers, are nearly always haunted by the notion that Latin or Greek words are grander than Saxon ones, and unnecessary words like expedite, ameliorate, predict, extraneous, deracinated, clandestine, sub-aqueous and hundreds of others constantly gain ground from their Anglo-Saxon opposite numbers.
This is an example of the "bad habit" that Orwell calls pretentious diction, a habit that he opposes for the way it disguises poor thinking as something elevated or more profound. Strong ideas should be able to stand alone without excess adornment, he argues, particularly in political writing. He presents a long list and discussion of pretentious diction and its effects. He also goes after Marxist jargon in this section.
Many political words are similarly abused. The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies "something not desirable." The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice, have each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt to make one is resisted from all sides. It is almost universally felt that when we call a country democratic we are praising it: consequently the defenders of every kind of régime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that they might have to stop using the word if it were tied down to any one meaning. Words of this kind are often used in a consciously dishonest way.
Under the category of "bad habits" that he call meaningless words comes this helpful quote on the ways that words such as fascism and democracy are rendered meaningless by be used as a catchall for something negative or good, always serving the political agenda of the one who uses it. Orwell suggests here that a word like fascism has become divorced from its meaning, but it's important to note that this doesn't mean that Orwell thinks the meaning can't be learned or that the word shouldn't be used.
A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly? But you are not obliged to go to all this trouble. You can shirk it by simply throwing your mind open and letting the ready-made phrases come crowding in. They will construct your sentences for you—even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent—and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself. It is at this point that the special connexion between politics and the debasement of language becomes clear.
This quote, on the challenges of direct, honest and independent thinking and writing, reflects Orwell's main point about the connection between politics and language. When a writer leans on cliche metaphors or reuses familiar turns of phrase, they are in danger of not thinking independently. As unthinking writers, they then fall prey to pantomiming political ideas and serving a broader political agenda.
In our time it is broadly true that political writing is bad writing. Where it is not true, it will generally be found that the writer is some kind of rebel, expressing his private opinions, and not a ‘party line.’
This quote further develops the previous one, emphasizing the point about independent thinking. He says that the rare cases of "good" political writing are also cases of independent thinking, which, he explains, becomes interpreted as rebelliousness.
In our age there is no such thing as 'keeping out of politics.' All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer.
This is the pivotal quote that implicates Orwell's own writing in the argument that he's making. The issue of language, he implies, is a political issue, and so too is the thesis that he's putting forth. It doesn't subscribe to any "party line" and in that way it might fail to be recognized as a political claim. In accordance with Orwell's discussion, it might seem "rebelliously" independent. Perhaps the most important point here is that a critique of language is a political critique, and a necessary one for cutting through mindless ideological reinforcements and dishonest abstractions.
Political language—and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists—is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
In the conclusion of the essay Orwell sums up the ultimate implications of cliche and abstract political language. Here it is "in a nutshell."
