scientific and colloquial terminology¶

I always find the relationship between scientific and colloquial terminology fascinating. It's a dialectical process, where people naturally develop language to describe concepts as they come up, and scientists use language to eliminate ambiguity. These processes simultaneously inform each other and exist in constant tension, because both approach a similar challenge -- communication -- from distinct perspectives. It's the dialectic of spontaneous fulfillment of organic need vs constructed, systematic synthesis. They cannot be disentangled. The need to systematize does not exist without the social backdrop of engagement with the concepts being systematically studied. That engagement is shaped by an increasing mainstreaming of a systematic conception of those concepts. The fundamental feature of language is mutual intelligibility. That is, a particular term is exactly as useful as it is able to bring both speaker and listener together in agreement about what they're talking about about, ideally as efficiently and unambiguously as possible. "Natural" languages "spontaneously' develop to find that balance of being specific without being too encumbered with unnecessarily explicit terminology. If a shorter phrase can be taken to imply information, that's good enough, even if it introduces ambiguity. Whereas scientific language, thanks to its tight context, is free to prioritize specificity. Without the need to append lengthy explanations to highly specific terms, communication remains efficient without needing to imply anything -- as long as you're familiar with the jargon. The tension comes in when we have a long-standing term for a broad concept, like "fish," and when we analyze it, we notice that we are applying it to multiple different things with only surface-level similarities, like "lives in the water." When trying to systematically define these terms, we come up against irreconcilable contradictions. Definitions begin to require formulations like "Here is a list of features common to [X], but not required for it, and some non-[X] things can also have some of these features." Even concepts we take for granted, like "life" become vague under sufficient scrutiny, and have to be defined within this "hallmarks of [X]" paradigm. Over-defining just leads to confusion, because at their root, all definitions are really fueled by "I'll know it when I see it." The reason I bring this up isn't just academic navel-gazing. The practicalities of what language we use and how we use it are critical to movement-building. Being able to "meet the masses where they are" isn't just about using the same slang as them or "dumbing things down." It's about understanding the dialectic between specific and implicit meaning and using it to build that mutual intelligibility. It's impossible to synthesize some very important revolutionary concepts without being able to express them linguistically. The sheer breadth and depth of analysis we do as Marxists requires us to build up a vocabulary that encapsulates those concepts with enough specificity to discuss and further develop them. But in doing so, we generate an archive of uninviting jargon. We necessarily use terms that already have overlap in colloquial speech, injecting our own specificity to them for our use. We can't then expect the average people to automatically know those specific uses when presented in an unfamiliar context. Those more colloquial uses -- for example, nation -- aren't wrong, they're just being used in a less specific context. And being mindful of that means we often need to be more explicit in explaining how we're using these terms. Defining everything you say feels cumbersome and unnatural, because that's not how we usually use language. It can quickly become boring and confusing, especially when these definitions are presented all at once to someone with no familiarity. But you know what's even more uninviting? Taking definitions for granted and neglecting all the other associations your audience may have with those words. The more enmeshed you become in the "academic" sphere of Marxism, the easier it is to forget the vagaries of language. This is one reason simply presenting theses in text is such a hard sell. It's not just that "no one wants to read anymore," it's that the way we naturally learn language relies on more nuance than strictly carving definitions into stone. It needs to be a conversation. When you're speaking directly with someone, you can use tone, pitch, body language, pauses, emphasis, repetition, and so on, much more effectively. You can check for understanding, see their eyes glaze over when you ramble, hear their questions, clarify on the spot, etc. When that's not possible, and writing these treatises actually is necessary, try to treat them like you would a conversation. Anticipate the sources of confusion, imagine those micro-signals, adjust your tone as you go. And of course, wherever possible, field comments and absorb critique. Don't just habitually reject "disagreement" as obstinacy -- treat it as a disconnect in the respective expectations around terminology between you and your intended audience. Try to bridge the gap.