Say “bureaucracy” to yourself — and what comes to mind?
Even the word “bureaucracy” itself has that heavy, multi-syllabic quality that somehow fits its meaning perfectly - it sounds as cumbersome as the thing it describes. So let’s cover the clichés people say: Images of endless forms in triplicate, rigid procedures, impersonal systems, labyrinthine rules. Passing grey filing cabinets along a grey corridor as you go towards an interview,. Beige files lie on top of them and some are bulging, you sense that each has a hidden story and questions that need answering or approvals that need confirming. Out of the corner of your eyes you recognize numbered rooms with acronyms like FW 6.3 or A.L. 7.4. You are not sure what they mean. Fluorescent lighting is flickering and you arrive at your destination – counter 12 with your form in hand and the queue is long. At last you speak to the official but “it’s not my responsibility”. You get passed on to another department and “by the way, you ticked the wrong boxes, so the benefits form will be denied – and also a signature is missing.”
Beneath the weight of its folders and files there are a sediment of regulations and it is always easier to say ‘no’ than ‘yes’. Some are in fact are mere recommendations, but they are treated as if they were law. It feels like a slow, grinding machine that borders on inertia as files lie dormant for longer than needed. It claims to be slow for the sake of caution, yet seems to move fast when the market calls, but to drag its feet with a housing list that stretches for years. The urban planning bureaucracy, for instance, too often becomes a fortress and not the forum for the street-level realities to be addressed. So people feel that the bureaucracy is far from being a passive tool as it seems to quietly maintain injustice.
The systems are designed more to perpetuate themselves than to service you. It values compliance over creativity, more control than care, and due process and procedure over purpose with processes that circle back on themselves. A machine built to manage the many, now more often manages itself. It wears the mask of neutrality, yet citizens become case numbers, and we are nameless and the frontline workers are faceless acting like automatons. Not me , not my responsibility. It makes you want to scream.
Add to those images the bureaucratic language used that sounds dehumanized and abstract, examples include: “In the event of non-compliance with the aforementioned provisions, the applicant will be deemed ineligible for consideration.” In plain English: “If you don’t follow these rules, we can’t accept your application.” “The department is unable to provide confirmation of receipt at this juncture.” Or “We can’t confirm we’ve received it yet.” “Stakeholder engagement will be facilitated through multi-layered consultative frameworks designed to maximize synergies.” Or
“Stakeholder engagement will be facilitated through multi-layered consultative frameworks designed to maximize synergies.” In plain language that is: “We’ll consult widely with people to work better together.”
What does this language sound like? A fog as it clouds meaning, making it hard to see what’s really being said. Perhaps a maze as it’s full of twists and unnecessary complexity so you get lost before reaching the point. It feels like a wall of words designed to keep us out rather than let us in and so it acts as a mask hiding responsibility behind abstract phrases. The contrasts shows how bureaucratic language can obscure meaning, alienate people and erode trust — while plain language makes communication clear and fair.
That is all pretty bad……. but what if we think again. Read the next blog post.