George Orwell is best known for his dystopian novel ‘1984’ and his political fable ‘Animal Farm.’ But among journalists and writers, he is equally famed for a short essay – ‘Politics and the English Language’ – which was published 80 years ago this April.

In his essay, Orwell takes aim at the abuse of political language, which he says consists “largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness” and is “designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable.”

But Orwell doesn’t just whine about the state of ‘modern English.’ He also offers a series of writing tips that have become so well-known that 80 years later many British journalists can quote them by heart.

Orwell suggests that in every sentence he writes, a scrupulous writer should ask himself four questions:

• 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’ll probably ask himself two more:

• Could I put it more shortly?
• Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?

Orwell’s first question is probably the most pertinent, because the cardinal sin of many writers, politicians and communicators is failing to think clearly about what they want to say – or what their ‘core message’ is in modern-day parlance.

“This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing,” writes Orwell. “As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated henhouse.”

When I read a quote from the CEO of a well-known PR agency pledging to “double down on our growth imperatives for major markets and clusters while positioning key functions, sectors, and capabilities to drive our progress,” I think of Orwell’s prefabricated henhouse. Ditto when I get a message from a major tech firm inviting me to a ‘Driving New Value Together with Ubiquitous Cloud and Intelligence keynote.”

The second question – what words will best express what I’m trying to say? – was something of an obsession for Orwell, who argued in his essay, and in ‘1984,’ that just as thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.

“The great enemy of clear language is insincerity,” wrote Orwell, who died four years after writing the article. “When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink.”

If you listen to speeches by some senior EU officials, who spout meaningless meta-concepts like ‘making Europe smart, strategic and sustainable,” you’ll see why Orwell’s critique stands the test of time. Likewise, when you hear politicians and journalists trot out words like ‘epoch-making,’ ‘epic’ and ‘historic,’ bear in mind these are often used to “dignify the sordid process of international politics,” in Orwell’s opinion. And when businesses like Space X use euphemisms like “rapid unscheduled disassembly” for one of their rockets blowing up or the Kremlin describes its attack on Ukraine as a “special military operation,” you’re not far from Orwell’s parody of ‘pacification’ as meaning “defenceless buildings bombed from the air.”

Having posed six questions writers should ask, Orwell ends by offering six rules writers should stick to. I’ve added a few examples in italics to underline his timeless tips:

1. Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.

If you boast about ‘thinking outside the box’ you are definitely thinking inside the box. In the same vein, spare ‘low-hanging fruit’ for plucking bananas in Costa Rica. “Like a cuttlefish spurting out ink,’ on the other hand, is an image that’s fresh enough to have effect.

2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.

Prefer ‘end’ to ‘terminate,’ ‘is’ to ‘constitutes’ and ‘use’ to ‘utilise.’ Not only are they shorter, they are clearer and less pretentious.

3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.

When it comes to writing, less is more. And more is less. So reduce pompous phrases like ‘on account of the fact that’ to ‘because’. And be ruthless in your editing, getting rid of all repetitive, superfluous or unnecessary words. ‘Learn to kill your darlings,’ as writers say.

4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.

Using the passive voice is weasly as it avoids naming who is doing the action. For example: ‘It has been decided that smoking in our company offices is banned’. It can also sound downright weird, as in: ‘The baby was kissed on the forehead by the Pope.’

5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.

Instead of ‘align’ use ‘agree.’ If you’re going to write about the European Council, explain that it’s a meeting of EU leaders. And try not to use foreign words like ‘mutatis mutandis’ and ‘weltanschauung’, which Orwell says “are used to give an air of culture and elegance” to writers but are often unintelligible to readers.

6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

You have to try pretty hard to write in a ‘barbarous’ manner. But so much writing, especially policy and corporate writing, is “avoidably ugly.” Following these six simple rules will make it clearer, more concise and more convincing.