Plain Language Awards

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Lynda Harris, Chief Executive of Write Group and founder of the Plain Language Awards, gave this speech at the Awards ceremony on 30 October 2025


Tēnā koutou — welcome

Thank you — not only for celebrating here with us tonight, but most importantly for all the caring, insightful, and hard work that brought you here. Since the first Awards ceremony nearly 20 years ago, I’ve given a speech as a plain language professional, hoping to inspire a captive audience like you, that communicating clearly, and truly reaching people, is nothing less than a superpower with limitless potential for good.

But tonight, I’m dropping my own perspective to allow the people on the receiving end of essential, but poorly written, information speak for themselves.

Two years ago, I stood here as we were celebrating the existence and potential of the Plain Language Act. This year, in an extraordinary turn of events, we’ve witnessed the move to repeal that progressive world-leading Act.

Tonight’s celebration, in this beautiful venue, is not the time or place to dwell on that, but, if we were to find a silver lining, it’s been the massive, publicly recorded outpouring of support for plain language. Submissions triggered by human experiences that gave us a deep, detailed, and sobering understanding of why plain language matters to real people in a very real way.

From the nearly 1700 submissions on the Plain Language Act Repeal Bill, we can get a picture of, and hear, the voice of the people. Given that it takes time and commitment to write a submission, and that many spoke on behalf of groups, I am confident that they represented tens of thousands more.

So who was speaking? And who were they speaking to?

If we could magically have all submitters up here with me tonight, rather than just being a grey number in the submissions list, this is who you would see and hear.

  • You’d see a large number of individual citizens, many explicitly identifying as neurodivergent, disabled, parents, older adults, or those having personal experience with language barriers. They’d share their personal stories of difficulty navigating government systems.
  • You’d see representatives of disability organisations, speaking for those with intellectual and physical disabilities, learning disabilities, neurodevelopmental conditions, and sensory impairments — and of organisations like IHC, People First, NDSA, Deaf Aotearoa, Autism NZ, Fragile X NZ, Rare Disorders NZ, Parents of Vision Impaired, and more.
  • Also standing here would be many representing Māori groups and perspectives: often highlighting disproportionate impact on Māori communities. You’d see many from other ethnic communities and church groups representing those who need to access services that may be beyond reach.
  • You’d see community organisations of all kinds: groups like Healthy Families Waitākere, the Zero Hunger Collective, and Citizens Advice Bureau.
  • Interestingly you’d also see quite a few past and present government employees, who argued for a much greater emphasis on plain language to stop wasting money and resources on inefficient communications.

Everyone from these diverse groups would speak from their unique perspective But their wishes are the same — no more complex, jargon-filled language that excludes people, leads to inefficiencies, that creates questions, more inquiries, and misunderstandings, and undermines trust in democracy and institutions who they should be able to rely on.

And just to be clear, these voices aren’t talking about what we might call gobbledygook — that’s rarely the problem.

It’s a question in an email they wrote that went unanswered …  a key piece of information they needed that was buried in voluminous web copy …  a string of acronyms that meant nothing … a tone that offended … muddled or contradictory instructions …  language that alienated … impenetrable terms and conditions that no one read … a template letter that missed the point …

Just everyday sloppiness or thoughtlessness that we’ve all experienced — a lack of care that becomes a solid barrier to accessing critical information.

If these voices were here, who would they be they speaking to?

They would be speaking to government employees…

If you work in a Ministry or other government agency, they are speaking to you.

Many are named, such as Ministry of Social Development (MSD), Ministry for Primary Industries (MPI), Inland Revenue (IR), Ministry of Health, Department of Internal Affairs

They are telling you about difficulties with benefit applications, emergency housing guides, tax forms, healthcare entitlements, disability support, financial penalties, and emotional distress

If you work in the Ministry of Health, public health services, and other healthcare-related government programmes, they are telling you about patient safety, informed consent, poor forms, and overall health equity, especially for disabled people, non-native speakers, and Māori/Pasifika whānau.

Parents of disabled children note the burden of deciphering bureaucratic language for support systems.

If you work in the Justice and Legal System Agencies, including family court, IRD and financial agencies they are talking to you about many aspects of access, inequality, inefficiencies.

If you work in Immigration New Zealand and MSD, they have messages for you too.

… and the private sector too

And they’d be speaking to the private sector, especially law, finance, and health — not covered by the Act but still featuring frequently in communications that cause disadvantage and confusion.

I suspect that if I asked for a show of hands now, to see who felt that they were being spoken to by the submitters, or people similar to them, most hands would go up. That’s because, collectively, you represent services that matter, from central and local government, to law, finance and health and more.

Your role as supporters of plain language

Of course, you’re listening as the converted. By being here tonight you’ve already shown that you understand. However, the majority in your sector probably don’t.

We have heard many of you say that, even without the Act, you will continue to write with your reader in mind. You’ll continue to embrace and write to an agreed standard that focuses on the reader and embodies empathy, clarity, and care.

But you are just 100 or so of over 480,000 people who work in central or local government, or other crown entities — close to 20% of our total workforce.

Add to this another 30,000-plus in legal and financial services and more in private health services, you can see that just across those sectors alone, well over half a million writers across New Zealand urgently need to adopt plain language principles to communicate life-impacting information to everyday people. That’s a big ask that relies on the converted, like you. especially when, you represent only 0.02% of that group.

Without huge, deliberate effort, poor-quality information will continue to waste precious resources and negatively impact us all in some way — especially the most vulnerable.

So, apart from continuing your good work, what can you do? Ideally, we’d have a ‘bring back Marmite’ style campaign 😊

Instead, let’s take away from here the very real voices you have heard. As we see the Awards being given out tonight, be inspired by the impact of the deliberate, thoughtful effort behind them. Celebrate your own success far and wide. Be the loud, persistent voice for the people.

When you see the template letter that doesn’t work, the webpage that causes confusion, the project poorly briefed, or simply a lack of empathy and care in writing, speak up. Let your ah-ha moments be contagious. You know that plain language principles are worth fighting for — you’re doing it for the people.

He aha te mea nui o te ao? He tāngata, he tāngata, he tāngata!
What’s the most important thing in the world? It is people, it is people, it is people!


Meet the winners of the 2025 Plain Language Awards

Meet the people who make the Awards happen

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