The language we use to describe architecture and design fundamentally shapes how we perceive and interact with our built environment, and changing common terminology could be an important first step toward solving systemic issues in the industry, according to design and sustainability writer Katie Treggiden.
Research demonstrates that language literally influences how we see the world around us. Studies suggest that native speakers of languages with distinct words for similar colors - such as "galazio" as a separate term for "light blue" in Greek, distinct from "blue" or "ble," or "pink" as a separate term for "light red" in English - are better able to distinguish between these colors. The native Australian Pormpuraaw community, who don't use equivalent terms for left and right but instead rely on compass points, can orient themselves more quickly and accurately even in unfamiliar environments.
A 2018 study found that participants reading identical descriptions of someone either "battling cancer" or "on a journey with cancer" were more likely to expect the patient to feel guilty when given a terminal diagnosis if the term "battling" was used. This research highlights how our descriptions of design influence not only our perceptions but also how decisions get made and who feels welcome in the spaces we create.
Treggiden argues that if words matter, we need to watch our language carefully. She suggests replacing "planning permission" - a term that evokes approval bestowed by distant and uncaring officials - with "community consent." This shift would emphasize active listening over box-ticking in the consultation process and transform relationships from "them and us" to "all of us," while reminding authorities of their duty to the communities they represent.
Some terms are already evolving. Primary bedrooms were once called "master bedrooms." The word "master" comes from the Latin "magister," meaning chief, teacher, or director, but has historically described men in positions of power, from the "master" of the household to the "owners" of enslaved people. Given these hierarchical, sexist, and racist connotations, the word has been replaced in the context of bedrooms. However, the architecture industry still uses "masterplan" - another loaded term rooted in authority and control.
Reframing masterplans as "living frameworks" would invite collaboration, iteration, and recognition that no place is ever finished. This represents more than a semantic change - it's a shift in power dynamics.
Language matters even when attempting to be inclusive. "Wheelchair access," while well-intentioned, positions wheelchair users as people who need special treatment while omitting those with other disabilities altogether in environments designed for the non-disabled. "Universal design" is not only a better name but a better approach. Pioneered in Norway, Japan, and America, it puts those with atypical needs at the heart of the design process so that spaces actively welcome everyone without requiring adaptations. Also known as "inclusive design" and "design for all," it demonstrates how much words matter, though it takes more than a name change to implement effectively.
Choosing better words to drive better processes isn't a new concept. In 2011, a $700 million "economic development" project in Preston, Lancashire, collapsed, leaving the local community struggling. Instead of working with two of the world's biggest developers to build a shopping mall that would attract global brands as planned, the council found itself looking to grassroots projects in Spain's Basque region and Cleveland, Ohio, for inspiration.
The council coined the expression "community wealth building," and this new terminology signaled a move away from growth at all costs toward an inclusive economy that kept contracts and spending local, even creating worker-owned cooperatives. According to an academic study conducted 12 years later, the outcome is residents who are "happier, healthier, and wealthier."
Similarly, it's significant that Vienna calls its social housing blocks "Gemeindebauten," or "communal buildings." The Austrian capital has virtually eliminated stigmatization of this tenure type, focusing not only on providing shelter for the city's poorest but on creating a more equitable society for everybody. Three-quarters of the city's population qualifies to live in its public housing estates, which feature central locations, generous communal spaces, and porous boundaries.
Treggiden suggests the industry could go further with language reform. Would people have more patience with engineering works if they were rebranded as "care and repair," as Mark Miodownik suggested during a panel discussion at Clerkenwell Design Week in May? With 76 percent of London's green belt already in use for agricultural purposes, golf courses, and hospitals, could further development in these spaces be more carefully considered if they were renamed "biodiversity protection zones"?
In contrast, the phrase "brownfield site" implies dirt or contamination, but these often-overlooked spaces can be rich with architectural history and untapped potential. Calling them "heritage regeneration sites" might foster more interest and imagination in their development.
While it will take more than words to fix systemic issues, language reform represents an important first step. Design and architecture need a new vocabulary because language embeds assumptions into our processes and priorities. It shapes not only what we see but how we act. When we change how we talk about design and architecture, we begin to change how we practice design and architecture. We can reclaim language as a tool not just for description but for change.
If the industry wants to become more inclusive, sustainable, and equitable, professionals can start by watching their words. This approach recognizes that terminology isn't merely descriptive but actively shapes the built environment and the communities it serves.
Katie Treggiden is a craft, design, and sustainability writer and author of "Broken: Mending and Repair in a Throwaway World" (Ludion, 2023). Her commentary highlights the urgent need for the architecture and design industries to examine their language choices as part of broader efforts to create more equitable and inclusive practices.
