Shetland author and former editor Jonathan Wills criticises Shetland Islands Council communications about new education chief
Long ago, when I studied for my Higher English exam under the critical eye of the late John Graham, there was a thing called comprehension.
This often involved translating bureaucratic verbiage into plain words. Thus equipped, I’ve been trying to translate a press release put out by the council to announce that Fiona Robertson is the “preferred candidate” as our chief education officer (I think that means they’ve offered her the job).
Now Fiona Robertson is a very experienced teacher. She’s currently the heidie of Perth Grammar School.
The comments that follow are criticisms not of her but of Haywire House, as it’s sometimes called, where the council’s education service has its headquarters.
I’ve tried very hard to decipher the Haywire House press release and I’ve failed.
It could be my fault. My Higher English is now 61 years old, after all, and perhaps out of date.
Maybe the press release was written by a computer, rather than merely on one.
A news report quotes the council as saying that Fiona (I feel we’re on first name terms already) will “lead strategic development across all stages of learning in Shetland schools”.
Sorry? What? I know it sounds important, dynamic and dignified but do those words actually mean anything?
She’ll have “a dual role as manager of education and learning”. Are these not different words for the same thing?
Never mind, because this will “ensure improved outcomes for all children and young people” by “strengthening relationships across schools and communities and enhancing support for learning”.
Eh? But who needs meaning when anaesthetic language like this can create a feelgood mirage?
By now I was losing the will to live, or at least to read any more of this narcoleptic tosh but, wait, there’s still hope, because we’re told the new appointment will “play a pivotal role in tackling the current challenges facing education in Shetland”.
Pivotal? Me neither. What are they talking about? The shortage of teachers at AHS? They don’t say.
Then we get some smug, insular boasting, for Fiona will find that “living and working in Shetland offers a distinctive experience – one rooted in community, creativity, and self-sufficiency.” I feel good already, rooted, even, but am no wiser.
The director of children’s services tells us: “This appointment marks a significant step forward in our efforts to build a modern, resilient education system that reflects Shetland’s values while engaging with national policy and networks.”
Modern? Resilient? Well, of course. What else? But didn’t we have that already? Oh, I see...
Note the reference to “Shetland’s values”: presumably these are sturdy Viking values, no saft Sooth eens.
It seems we’re now so important that we’ll merely “engage” with national education policy, rather than follow it, as all local education authorities are supposed to do. “Fiona,” we’re told, “is a visionary leader who brings deep educational expertise, a passion for innovation, and a commitment to equity and excellence.”
I’m sure she is but she’ll need all the vision, passion and commitment she can muster as she grapples with word slurry like this press release, where no portmanteau phrase is shunned and no cliché left unturned.
Those who composed this lamentable document are, to put it kindly, functionally illiterate. By that I mean they’ve lost the ability, if they ever had it, to explain things in plain language to the people who pay their salaries. Presumably the authors passed their English Higher. I don’t think you can get far in education without one. Maybe the qualification should have an expiry date, after which you have to re-sit it?
Poor Fiona will have to wade through lazy verbal sludge like this every working day, groping for gobbets of meaning. She has my sympathy and, I hope, yours too.
Reading what Haywire House had to say about her selection as the “preferred candidate”, she may not suspect that many years ago our councillors signed up to the aims and objectives of the Plain English Campaign.
It’s still official council policy (and I quote the campaign’s website) to: “promote clear, direct communication by prioritizing short sentences, simple words, and an active voice. Key principles include writing for your audience, avoiding jargon and ... explaining any necessary technical terms. Testing your writing with a relevant reader is also crucial to ensure it's understandable.”
Someone has blundered but they’re not the first and they’re not alone. Yes, this latest example of council-speak is ridiculous. But it’s not really funny because of the potentially serious effects on pupils, staff and the general public. Senior officials who use this bureaucratic language will find it difficult to have what normal people would call a concrete thought.
If your head is filled with a miasma of vague notions and pretentious waffle it’s hard to identify real problems in the real world, let alone decide what to do about them.
The many fine council employees who do the actual work know this and increasingly regard our highly paid local rulers with contempt and ridicule. This is unhealthy for democracy and makes it harder to justify “more autonomy”.
So the mark is: 0/10 See me after extra prep.
By Jonathan Wills