Words Matter: How Language Shapes the Way We See People and Behaviour
Author: Dr Tia Martin
Continuing the Conversation
Part of the Estia Centre's Learning Together 2026 blog series, featuring articles from conference speakers and contributors.
Some background
For quite some time, there has been debate in social care, health and education about the ‘right’ way to describe behaviours that serve as a barrier to quality of life. Much of this debate is centred on subjective experience, rather than broader research. These experiences are important - hugely so - but this same subjectivity may also be contributing to the problem.
The words we use, as English-speaking people and within services, are not neutral. They shape how we think about people, how we understand behaviour, and what we see as reasonable, necessary or acceptable. They can affect how people are treated.
In Positive Behaviour Support, we often talk about values, dignity, rights and quality of life. But one area that is easy to overlook is the everyday language used in reports, handovers, incident forms, care plans and team conversations. Far from simply describing an approach to restraint reduction, language might be part of the approach itself.
Words can become so familiar that we stop noticing them. Someone is described as ‘attention seeking’. Someone else is called ‘manipulative’. Behaviour is described as ‘aggressive’, ‘challenging’, ‘demanding’, ‘pathological’ or ‘abusive’. These words may feel like shorthand and are often used without any intention to harm, but they are rarely just descriptions, because they carry judgement.
Our research
A central question in our research so far has been: does the language used to describe an incident affect how acceptable people think restrictive or aversive responses are? The answer appears to be yes.
In the study, people read descriptions of the same incidents. The events were the same, but the language differed. Some descriptions used objective, factual language. Others used subjective or emotive wording. Participants then rated how appropriate different responses seemed, including physical intervention, withdrawal, seclusion, medication, cancellation of activities and disapproval.
The results showed a small but significant effect. When the incident was described using objective language, restrictive or aversive responses were rated as less acceptable. When the same incident was described using more subjective language, those responses were rated as more acceptable.
This matters. The effect may not have been huge, but small effects can still be important when they happen repeatedly, across many decisions, in real services with real people. One word may not determine how we treat a person, but a pattern of language can contribute to a reputation that becomes hard to shift.
Why it matters
Restrictive practices are already an area where language can obscure what is happening. Terms such as ‘calming room’, ‘safe space’, ‘withdrawal’, ‘time out’, or ‘being held’ can make restrictive practices sound softer or more acceptable than they are. Sometimes language can function like a ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’: what is restrictive or potentially harmful is presented in language that sounds caring or therapeutic.
If language softens or disguises a practice, people may not fully understand what is being proposed or used. The person themselves or their representatives might agree to something they otherwise wouldn’t have. That raises questions about informed consent and organisational culture. What are we willing to name clearly? What are we trying to avoid naming?
There is also an issue of attribution. If someone shouts, we might describe THEM as aggressive. If we shout, we might say WE were overwhelmed, frightened, tired or stressed. The same behaviour receives a different explanation depending on whether it is an ‘us’ behaviour or a ‘them’ behaviour. This effect may well be worsened in social care settings.
This is why objective language matters. Objective language helps us stay closer to what actually happened. It slows down judgement and makes space for context. It tells us what happened and helps us figure out what responses might genuinely be legitimate.
Over time, a person can become known through the language used about them. New staff or providers hear labels before they meet the person, and the way they feel about the word starts to influence how they feel about someone they have never met. Before we even begin, the person starts to be seen as the problem.
None of this means we should avoid naming risk or pretend that behaviour is not sometimes distressing, unsafe or harmful. Clear language is not soft language. In fact, objective language is often more honest. Good descriptions should help us understand what happened, what the person may have been needing, what context mattered, and what support might reduce the likelihood of it happening again. Poor descriptions invite blame, fear and control.
If we want services that protect dignity, reduce restriction and support better lives, then the words we use are not a side issue. They are part of the intervention.
About the author
Tia is a co-founding director of PBS UK. She has worked in social care since she was 17 - starting as a voluntary respite worker, then as a support worker and eventually moving into PBS. She has an MSc in Autism, and MSc in Developmental Psychology and a PhD in Behaviour Analysis which focussed on teaching safety skills to reduce the risk of accidental death and excess mortality for autistic people with a learning disability. Her favourite topic now is language and how the way we speak about behaviour impacts how we might support people.
Email: cmartin@pbsuk.org Website: www.pbsmatters.co.uk