Writing planning policies
What could possibly go wrong?
If you want to become a more effective communicator, writing policy provides the best training there is. Even if it scares you, try a stint with an official/comprehensive plan team tasked with an update. The experience will make you a better writer, and you’ll bring distinctive skills into every job that follows.
The policy challenge
Policy writing is exacting and demanding. It requires you to write with clarity, precision, and sensitivity. Every word must be carefully chosen; every sentence must have a purpose; every section must encapsulate a complete idea. Each individual policy must contribute to the whole, align with (or “conform to”) higher-level direction, and be built on an evidence-based foundation that will almost certainly be challenged.
It’s usually a team effort, too, with each contributor bringing their unique experience and perspective. The team weighs pros and cons, decides how prescriptive to be, argues about ambiguous terms and the placement of commas (mistakes can cost a small fortune!) It’s not uncommon to have planners and lawyers working side-by-side. Know that when you read a policy, many tense hours went into creating it.
So why, then, are so many policies strangled by indirect, passive, or confusing language? Why do we have to struggle to understand them, even when we’ve been working with them for ages? And why are they flattened so much that they become dull or overly complicated, so we only read them if we have to? Shouldn’t policy be inspiring and clear, so we know what we can do - and not do - in our communities?
I see a major role for plain language here. When you have an opportunity to draft new policy, start here:
identify your intended reader,
define a very clear purpose, and
organize the text to help the intended reader find, understand, and use it.
Your readers will find it easier to understand your intent, and your colleagues will find it easier to follow you. They may even enjoy working with the policies you’ve helped to create.
Same goes for writing reports - especially on those rare occasions when you can contribute to a high-profile, sensitive, multi-stakeholder initiative.
Philippa Campsie has a few thoughts on this.
Philippa is a retired plain language editor and former adjunct professor in the planning program at the University of Toronto. She was the first (and only!) to introduce planning students to plain language principles and techniques, and I took her advice to heart. I had always looked for opportunities to connect with others to move a change forward, and I used those principles and techniques in the countless planning reports, plans, and other documents I went on to write as a practitioner. [Enough about me!]
Here’s Philippa, in her own words:
“It was one of my first introductions to being a plain language editor. I was hired by a provincial ministry to work with an Advisory Committee at the end of a two-year process. The government had put together this group and they’d held design workshops and design competitions. They wanted to create a model community. They wanted to do everything right, with lots of green space, but dense urban stuff as well.
It was never going to work, but they were so hopeful. And the committee had everybody in the tent: people from the Province, people from the Region and the City, local residents, environmentalists, developers. I went to a couple of meetings, and they gave me the draft report. They said, “We just need a plain-language edit.” I went through it, and it was very vague in spots, so, in some cases, I edited it to say what I thought it said. I asked questions. “It's not clear, you might mean this here. You might mean that.” I pointed out the vague language, because it was such a disparate group, with very different views.
The edited report was like a hand grenade. The members of the committee read it and said, “Is this what we're saying? Oh, my God.” They had to set up emergency meetings over this report, because they had papered over their fundamental differences for so long with this vaguely written report that they hadn’t realized that they hadn't actually solved the issues. We had this furious back-and-forth, and I tried to put the thing together. And we did in the end, at the last minute, because everybody was under the gun, and we had a deadline. People made some trade-offs. And so they did all the stuff that they should have been doing in the previous two years in the last four weeks.
We submitted the report, and they all signed it. And they said, “Yes, this represents our agreed-upon opinion as to the future of this piece of ground.” About two weeks later, the provincial government was defeated and the whole thing just was swept off the table. And that was that.
It was an instructive lesson. People think they have buy-in when they don't, simply because the language is so opaque. Isn't it amazing that it took a plain-language edit for them to realize just how far away they were from what they were actually trying to achieve? All because the reports that kept coming out [before this draft] didn't say enough to make them realize how far apart they were, fundamentally, in their assumptions about a critical development.
Shudder. Philippa’s experience illustrates so much for me.
Don’t just assume everyone on your team will understand each other. Use clear, direct language from the beginning. Get rid of any ambiguity. Spell it all out so everyone understands the complete picture from Day One.
You’re creating something entirely new. It’s exciting! And people have opinions… It’s more important to be precise and clear than it is to see your exact words on the page. Let go a little and trust your writers (and editors).
You’re busy and probably have other things to do, too. Writing good policy that will stand the test of time is hard and involves a lot of on-going dialogue, too.
If you have a question, ask it! It could save the team from making a big mistake!
There is value in bringing in an impartial editor – someone who can stand back, see the big picture, and point out inconsistencies.
What rings true for you? Click the button below!
Plain language should be applied from the beginning of a process, not tacked on at the end. Even when we think we mostly understand one another, as colleagues with a shared task, ambiguous language can create significant problems.
It’s incredibly satisfying to write policies and plans that you know are going to have an influence over the long-term. And it’s a privilege to work with deep thinkers and knowledgeable, invested professionals. The process itself is unlike any other in planning. By the end it can feel like you’ve been through a boot camp together!
My recent posts have focused on the practical application of plain language principles and techniques, and the concept on civic clarity, for most of the documents planners prepare. I read the books and attend the events on effective writing and editing so you don’t have to! Of everything I’ve learned over the last 20+ years as a planner, and as a technical writer and editor, plain language has been a constant. I have Philippa Campsie to thank for that!
Question for Members:
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