![]() The writer who wants to avoid using weasel words or simply wants to know more about them will find too much information online. Although the term was narrowly defined originally (its first use was in 1900, according to OED), it has over time amassed new meanings that altered its profile. In June 1900, a writer named Stewart Chaplin wrote that “weasel words are words that suck the life out of the words next to them, just as a weasel sucks an egg and leaves the shell. If you heft the egg afterwards it’s as light as feather, and not very filling…” Teddy Roosevelt later decried weasel words in the context of debate about military preparedness, railing against the use of the phrase universal voluntary training. “One of our defects as nation is a tendency to use…'weasel words’,” he wrote. “Now, you can have universal training or you can have voluntary training, but when you use the word ‘voluntary’ to qualify the word ‘universal’ you are using a ‘weasel word’; it has sucked all the meaning out of ‘universal.’” Over time and probably quite naturally, people came to use “weasel words” to mean words or phrases that allow the writer to be noncommittal. Words and phrases that suggest a slipperiness. These people are talking about the use of “reorganization” to mean cutting staff or, one of the more egregious offenders, “preowned” instead of “used." More sinister examples speak to the usefulness of weasel words to dictators and authoritarians: “reeducation” or “enhanced interrogation.” Some sources, such as Wikipedia, include attribution to vague or anonymous authority in the category of weasel words. Usages such as “experts say,” “according to authorities,” etc. I must say that in traditional journalism this type of construction is helpful and necessary—but of course the attribution must be accurate. If you’ve found 12 experts saying the same thing, it’s reasonable to begin a sentence with “Experts say…” But you want to follow with a quote or two from said experts to help your reader understand better (and believe you). Bryan Garner in Garner’s Modern English Usage includes a long list of weasel words that “merely have the effect of rendering uncertain or hollow the statements in which they appear.” I have to admit I was flummoxed by his list, which includes “candidly,” “clearly” “meaningful,” “reasonable,” “undue,” and “virtually.” The only such word he listed that I would argue fits his complaint is “undoubtedly,” (similar to “no doubt”) which somehow conveys the opposite of its literal meaning. As in, “What is the table made of? No doubt redwood.” Here, the speaker seems to be saying, “I believe it is redwood, but I’m not 100% certain.” All of which is to say that people seem to have an instinct about slippery language, and attentive readers are averse to it. It will help you tremendously as a writer to revisit your paragraphs for straightforwardness before considering your draft complete. Please feel free to share your the weasel words or phrases you try to avoid or let me know if you agree with some of those in Garner's list! Image generated by DALL·E through OpenAI.
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![]() Have you noticed how much stronger sentences become when you delete the word “very”? I'm not saying you should never use "very," that avoiding it is a cardinal rule; I'm saying that an easy and effective self-editing hack is to question every "very." Most often, your sentences will have more impact, be more self-confident, when you avoid the hiccup that is “very.” Let’s look. Which of each of the sentence pairs here feels more satisfying? “The guest speaker was adamant.” “The guest speaker was very adamant." “His proposition was ludicrous.” “His proposition was very ludicrous.” “Her patience was enviable.” "Her patience was very enviable." “The Olympian runs like the wind.” “The Olympian runs very much like the wind.” In each of these examples, “very” wants to be useful and intensify the action, but in reality, it only takes up space. Am I overstating the uselessness of “very”? Well, don’t take my word alone for it. Here is what Bryan Garner has to say in his widely used Garner’s Modern English Usage: “VERY. As a WEASEL WORD. This intensifier, which functions as both an adjective and an adverb, surfaces repeatedly in flabby writing. In almost every context in which it appears, its omission would result in at most a negligible loss. And in many contexts the idea would be more powerfully expressed without it...” It’s often helpful to seek out more descriptive and precise words than rely on “very” to amplify. For example, you can use “furious” or “enraged” instead of “very angry.” “Perilous” instead of “very risky.” “Filthy” instead of “very dirty.” And so on. This is where your thesaurus or wordhippo.com comes in handy! You should also watch that you don’t use “very” to modify an adjective that represents a fixed state, i.e., one that can’t be strengthened or increased by degree. For example, in my opinion, you should never, and I mean never, write that something is “very unique.” If it’s unique, it’s one of a kind--that’s it. Same goes for phrases such as “very infantile,” “very antique,” “very lukewarm,” etc. (Merriam Webster has a softer take, see [here]. Sometimes in writing, “very” is necessary—for example, when you’re establishing a contrast. As in, “I wondered if the mayor was a little corrupt.” If the next sentence is, “I decided the mayor was very corrupt,” then the modifier serves a purpose, which is to confirm and clarify degree. But generally in writing, you should make it a habit to question every use of “very.” Test your sentence mentally without “very,” and if deleting the term gets you more quickly to the point and makes the sentence feel more “solid,” then go ahead and delete. Last thoughts: Remember when you were a kid and filled out the page on your writing assignments with sentences like this: “The scientist had some very, very, very, very revolutionary ideas”? You had to hit a certain number of words and thought you were being clever. It didn’t work. Your teacher certainly was on to you and had seen this trick a thousand times before. But the attempt reveals the nature of “very.” Which is that, often—most of the time—it’s filler or a bit lazy. Illustration generated by ChatGPT's DALL-E tool based on a custom prompt. |
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