Trust, One Word at a Time

Words matter. The words we choose shape how a story is understood or how an argument is presented. The wrong word—whether used accidentally or deliberately—can strengthen or weaken an argument. When a reader begins to suspect that word choices are being used to persuade rather than to describe, credibility begins to erode.

Credibility depends on trust. A reader expects that what they are being given are facts that are not exaggerated or stretched beyond what the evidence supports.

If a reader is not paying close attention, a writer can sometimes rely on similar-sounding or emotionally loaded words to strengthen an argument when the facts themselves don’t quite support that strength. It is a way of making a biased or misleading statement feel less so. It is not the same as outright fabrication, but it is still a form of persuasion in which language is doing more work than the facts.

This kind of word choice seems especially common in political writing. A recent blog post I read criticizing participants in the “No Kings” events provided a clear example. The writer described herself as a news personality offering political commentary. I was unfamiliar with her, but decided to read on.

Much of what she wrote reflected her point of view, which is to be expected. Some of her observations were fair. But then she wrote that President Trump had been fairly elected, had won in a landslide, and had been chosen by most Americans, even after years of opposition from the press and political adversaries.

“Landslide.” The word stood out immediately. It is a powerful term, carrying an implication of overwhelming support. The word “most” carries similar weight. Both suggest a level of dominance that deserves closer examination.

Donald Trump received 77,303,568 votes. Kamala Harris received 75,019,230—a difference of approximately 2.3 million votes out of more than 152 million cast. Trump also won 312 electoral votes to Harris’s 226.

Those facts describe the outcome clearly. But describing that result as a “landslide,” or suggesting that most Americans supported him, goes beyond description and into interpretation.

This may seem like a minor point, but it is part of a larger problem. In a time when trust is already fragile, small distortions in language matter. Trust is rarely lost in a single moment—it is worn down over time as readers begin to sense that words are being chosen to persuade rather than to describe. When that happens often enough, skepticism and cynicism flurish, confidence fades and trust goes out the door.

That shift in language matters. It subtly reframes the result from a decisive victory into something closer to overwhelming public endorsement. It suggests that criticism of the president’s actions or policies is somehow out of step with the will of the people.

I don’t see it that way. Winning an election does not make criticism invalid, nor does it transform political support into universal support and approval.

A small shift in wording can turn a narrow margin into something that sounds overwhelming. And when that happens, it is no longer just the facts speaking—it is “language shape-shifting”.