The Subtle Art of Sounding Clever (Or Not)

Why do some people sound smart whilst others sound like they’re in a pub fight?

Language is one of the great social equalizers, except when it isn’t. We all technically speak the same language, but how we speak it can determine whether we’re perceived as intelligent, competent, or just another person shouting about football at the pub.

Enter Basil Bernstein, the British sociologist who dared to point out that the way people use language isn’t just about personal choice—it’s about social class, education, and power. His theory of elaborated and restricted codes remains one of the most fascinating explanations of why some people sound effortlessly intellectual, while others are dismissed as rough around the edges before they’ve even finished their sentence.

The problem? Not everyone can switch between these codes effortlessly, and some of us—myself included—have a habit of unintentionally sounding like a Wikipedia article in casual conversation. Let’s explore why that happens, why some people get judged for their speech patterns more than others, and why language is still one of the most powerful tools for social mobility or exclusion.

Bernstein’s Theory: Why Some People Talk in Bullet Points and Others in Full Essays

Basil Bernstein identified two distinct ways that people use language: restricted code and elaborated code.

Restricted code is informal, context-dependent, and shared among tight-knit groups. It relies on assumed knowledge, inside references, and an economy of words. Think of how family members or close friends talk to each other in shorthand without needing to spell everything out.

• Example: “You seen him lately? Bloody state of it.”
• Meaning: The listener is expected to know who “him” is, why he’s in a state, and that no further explanation is needed.

Elaborated code is explicit, detailed, and assumes no prior knowledge. It tends to be the language of education, professionals, and people who overthink their word choices at all times.

• Example: “I recently encountered an acquaintance who appeared to be experiencing significant personal difficulties.”
• Meaning: Same as before, but now it sounds like an excerpt from a university dissertation.

Bernstein argued that middle-class children are typically exposed to both restricted and elaborated code, whereas working-class children primarily use restricted code. The consequence? Schools and workplaces favour those who can use elaborated code fluently, leaving others at a disadvantage.

The Workplace and the Cult of Professional Language

Ever sat through a meeting where someone used far too many words to say something simple? Welcome to the corporate dialect of elaborated code, where unnecessarily complex language is a sign of intelligence, or at least a solid attempt at faking it.

• Restricted code: “Let’s fix it.”
• Elaborated code: “It is imperative that we address this issue through a collaborative, results-driven approach.”

Both sentences mean the same thing, but one sounds professional and the other doesn’t. This is why some people get taken more seriously in meetings than others, despite saying absolutely nothing of value. The ability to perform intelligence through language is often more important than actual expertise.

Bernstein’s theory explains why workplaces unconsciously favour middle-class communication styles, leaving people who speak in a more direct, no-nonsense way to feel less professional. However, Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of cultural capital adds another dimension to this argument. Bourdieu suggested that language is just one form of cultural capital—those who master the dominant linguistic style of a social space gain power and credibility within it. The ability to switch between codes, then, is not just an advantage; it is a form of social mobility.

Bourdieu also explored how accents impact social status. A strong regional or working-class accent can be an immediate marker of class background, affecting how people are perceived in professional settings. Even if someone speaks in elaborated code, a non-standard accent can still lead to subconscious bias, reinforcing class hierarchies.

The Struggle of Accidental Wikipedia Speak

Some people struggle with sounding not smart enough due to restricted code. Others, like me, have the opposite problem—sounding like we just swallowed a thesaurus when all we meant to say was, “Yeah, it was alright.”

The issue with being overexposed to elaborated code is that you sometimes forget how to switch it off. You go to make small talk at a party and instead of saying, “Weather’s nice today,” you catch yourself saying, “The unseasonably warm climate we’re experiencing is quite remarkable for this time of year.”

Result? You sound like an AI-generated email. Yes, I have been compared to AI writing before. One of my colleagues, who didn’t know about my neurodiversity, once ran one of my emails through an AI analyser as they were sure I was using ChatGPT or something. It said I was, so as an experiment, I got ChatGPT to re-write the email. They then scored that, and it was more human than I was. Thanks!

This is particularly common among neurodivergent people, who may struggle with informal communication cues. Some of us over-explain as a defence mechanism—if you say everything with absolute precision, you can’t be misunderstood. Unfortunately, this also means you occasionally sound like you’re delivering a guest lecture when all someone asked was whether you liked the film.

Code-Switching: The Linguistic Equivalent of a Costume Change

Code-switching is the linguistic equivalent of having a different outfit for every occasion. One minute you’re in a tracksuit cracking jokes with your mates, the next you’re in a blazer explaining ‘strategic synergy’ in a meeting where no one knows what anyone actually does. It’s a survival skill, a social chameleon’s trick, and, quite frankly, the only way to stay sane in a world that expects you to be both relatable and professional at the drop of a hat.

• Restricted code is perfect for keeping things simple. It’s how you tell a mate ‘Same as usual?’ and they know exactly which drink, snack, and regrettable life decision you’re referring to.
• Elaborated code is great for convincing people you have a PhD in common sense. You don’t just ’email a reminder’—you ‘disseminate key information in a timely manner to ensure alignment on strategic objectives.’
• Knowing when to use each one is how you avoid disaster—whether it’s ensuring your boss doesn’t think you’re too informal or making sure your nan doesn’t look at you funny when you accidentally say ‘utilise’ instead of ‘use.’

Deborah Cameron has pointed out that language expectations aren’t just about class but also about gender, workplace hierarchies, and social norms. Essentially, who you are and where you are determines whether people think you’re ‘articulate’ or just ‘a bit much.’ Women, for example, often get labelled as ‘too emotional’ if they speak assertively or ‘too passive’ if they don’t, proving that sometimes you can’t win no matter how well you phrase things.

Linguist Penelope Eckert takes this even further by showing that language is as much about identity as it is about class. People don’t just talk a certain way because of where they come from, but because of who they want to be. This explains why teenagers invent slang their parents don’t understand and why corporate jargon somehow manages to get more ridiculous every year. It’s not just about communication—it’s about marking yourself as part of a particular group. The way we speak isn’t just shaped by social class; it’s a constantly shifting reflection of who we are trying to be.

This ties into Bernstein’s theory by reinforcing how institutional power dictates what is considered ‘proper’ or ‘effective’ communication. Linguist Penelope Eckert provides another perspective on language variation and identity. Her work explores how language is not just about class but also about social identity and belonging. She argues that speech patterns are deeply tied to communities of practice, meaning that the way people speak reflects their cultural affiliations as much as their social class. This aligns with Bernstein’s ideas about linguistic codes while expanding on the ways that individuals use language to construct their identities beyond rigid class structures. People who code-switch are not simply shifting accents but navigating complex social expectations.

Rosina Lippi-Green argues that accents are one of the last socially acceptable ways to judge someone unfairly. You can dress the part, learn the lingo, and memorise all the right buzzwords, but if you walk into a boardroom with a thick regional accent, certain people will still assume you’re better suited to fixing the boiler than running the company. Her book ‘English with an Accent’ highlights how linguistic discrimination operates as a sneaky form of gatekeeping—determining who gets to be seen as professional, credible, or even intelligent. This ties right back to Bourdieu’s argument that linguistic capital—basically, the way you sound when you open your mouth—can be the difference between success and being quietly ignored in a meeting where someone repeats your point louder and gets all the credit.

Despite competence and intelligence, individuals with non-standard accents may still be perceived as less authoritative or less credible simply because they do not conform to the dominant linguistic norms. In other words, people are still making snap judgments about intelligence based on whether you say ‘bath’ or ‘baff.’

The Ongoing Bias Against Working-Class Speech

Despite all of this, there is still a deep-seated prejudice against certain speech patterns. If you have a regional accent, use slang, or speak in a way that doesn’t fit the middle-class mould, you might find people subconsciously assuming you’re less intelligent or competent.

Research has shown that job candidates with strong regional accents are judged more harshly than those with ‘neutral’ accents (which usually just means ‘middle-class Southern English’). Similarly, schools tend to favour children who use elaborated code naturally, reinforcing social class divides.

Not all sociologists agree with Bernstein’s deterministic view. Critics argue that he underestimated the adaptability of working-class speakers and overlooked how much restricted code can convey. Some researchers suggest that elaborated code is not inherently superior, but simply privileged by institutions that define intelligence in narrow terms.

Language as Social Currency

Bernstein’s theory of elaborated and restricted code reminds us that language is not just about communication—it’s about power, status, and inclusion.

Those who effortlessly speak in elaborated code are more likely to succeed in school, get better jobs, and be taken seriously. Those who mainly use restricted code may find themselves unfairly judged as less intelligent, even if they are just as capable.

And then there are people like me, who occasionally sound like an academic paper when ordering coffee. If you’ve ever accidentally explained something too thoroughly and realised halfway through that your listener’s eyes have glazed over, welcome to the club.

The key takeaway? There is no wrong way to speak—just different ways of being understood, depending on who’s listening.