Blog – Why Saying ‘Demented’ Isn’t Just Wrong, It’s Harmful

If you take away just one thing from this post, let it be this: we’re not using the word ‘demented’ anymore. It’s time we let go of that outdated, harmful term. It strips people of their dignity and reinforces damaging stereotypes. And frankly, we can do better.

In this post, I’ll unpack why the language we use is so important, how terms like these fuel stigma, and why it’s time to shift the conversation to something more respectful and person-centred.

Why ‘demented’ does more harm than good

Language isn’t static – it evolves with us, not only reflecting our beliefs but actively shaping how we see the world and each other, and ultimately, how we treat people. The term “demented” isn’t just a clinical label; the baggage it carries is heavy. It evokes loaded imagery of chaos, confusion and a loss of self that paint an incomplete and often frightening picture of dementia.

When we use terms like “demented”, we’re not being neutral – we are reinforcing stigma, alienating people with lived experience, and reducing multi-faceted lives down to a singular label, a stereotype defined by decline and incapacity. In turn, this alienates individuals and also reinforces social stigma, making it harder for people to feel understood or accepted. If you’re someone living with dementia, or close to someone who is, I doubt you need me to tell you this, you’ve seen the weight that words can carry.

This kind of language doesn’t just offend, it has consequences. It can discourage the seeking of a diagnosis or support, contribute to feelings of isolation, and has been shown to affect the quality of care that people living with dementia receive. If we cling to this sort of outdated language, we only perpetuate these cycles.

Research supports this too. A recent paper, “Dementia stigma: representation and language use” (Putland & Brookes, 2024) highlights the pervasive nature of this issue. They found that even well-intentioned language could have significant negative impact on the narratives around dementia, but also that language has the power to reclaim, reframe, and challenge this stigma. Choosing the words we use carefully isn’t just about political correctness, it is about people’s dignity, and helping to reshape how society views dementia. 

How language shapes stigma, and what we can do about it

It is easy to think of language considerations like this as just something to soften the blow or avoid offence. But that really undersells the point. I’m not just writing this blog post to convince you not to be rude, I’m doing it to try and convince you of the role that language has in creating space for dignity, agency, and personhood. When we shift away from reductive terms and start using more person-centred language, like “person living with dementia”, we acknowledge that they are far more than just their diagnosis.

This sort of person-centred language gives room for more – for nuance, identity, complexity, individuality. For the acceptance of an individual as more than just what the stereotype of a diagnosis says they are. Additionally, it opens the door for more compassionate care, more inclusive research, and a more accurate public understanding of dementia.

One thing I see far too often (always unintentional, but still grating) is wording like “exclude demented participants” in ethics applications. It usually slips in without much thought, but that’s the problem. A small change, like reframing it to “exclude individuals with a clinical diagnosis of dementia where participation may pose a risk,” shifts the focus from stigma to safety. It’s a subtle tweak, but it signals something big – that we see the person behind the diagnosis and we respect them. 

What about research? Why ‘demented vs. non-demented’ doesn’t work

Now, you might be thinking, “Jodi, surely there are situations where ‘demented’ can be a useful label – like distinguishing participants from those who are ‘non-demented’ in a study?”. Well, you wouldn’t be the first (or last) person to say that to me. But convenience doesn’t justify harm.

The term isn’t neutral, and it never really was. It’s steeped in stigma and conjures up images of chaos, madness, and a loss of self. When we use it, even in supposedly objective contexts, we are reinforcing these associations, whether we mean to or not. The idea that we can tuck this kind of language away – like there is a space where it’s ok, in the data labels and in ways to cut word count on a paper, for example – just doesn’t hold up. If anything, it actually gives the term a false legitimacy, making it easier for the language to hang around long after it has been retired. Instead, we should seek language that respects participants as whole people and find alternative ways to describe groups that don’t rely on outdated and offensive language. For example, instead of “demented vs non-demented”, you could try “participants with a diagnosis of dementia vs cognitively unimpaired participants.”

What can I do? How can I help the field change?

People living with dementia are still exactly that – living. Their diagnosis is only part of who they are now, and far from their whole identity. They are people with stories, humour, relationships, opinions, and rights.

Reducing all that depth and richness in their lives to one bleak label isn’t just lazy (and medically vague) – it’s wrong.

I know that changing ingrained habits takes time, but every small step counts, and by changing our own day-to-day behaviour and encouraging those around us to do the same, we start to create a bigger and more meaningful change.

For those of you who like practical suggestions, here’s what I would do:

• Review my own language and speech, being generally more cognisant of the word choices that I make.
• Make sure the language I use is consistently person-centred/person-first, and if I identified that it wasn’t, work towards changing this.
• Gently challenge colleagues who may be unknowingly using stigmatising language, and feel free to circulate this blog post (and the brief guide I made with Prof Terry Quinn for the British Geriatrics Society).
• Promote awareness of language issues in meetings and publications.
• Ask yourself – would I feel ok if this language was used about someone I care about?

Help us get this right

Prof Terry Quinn and I are now working on a much larger dementia language guide — something we hope will be a practical, thoughtful resource grounded in real-world experience. We’d love input from anyone connected to dementia in any way: through lived experience, healthcare, research, policy, charities, or in ways we haven’t even thought of yet. If you’ve got thoughts on language that needs rethinking, phrases you’ve seen used well (or badly!), or just want to share your perspective, drop a comment below or send me an email at jodi.watt@glasgow.ac.uk – I’d really love to hear from you.

A note on language: This post includes examples of outdated and potentially offensive terms – not because I endorse them, but because challenging them means naming them. Everyone deserves to be described with respect and dignity, and that’s the spirit in which this was written.

Jodi Watt

Author

Dr Jodi Watt is a Postdoctoral Researcher at University of Glasgow. Jodi’s academic interests are in both healthy ageing and neurodegenerative diseases of older age, and they are currently working on drug repurposing for dementia. Previously they worked on understanding structural, metabolic and physiological brain changes with age, as measured using magnetic resonance imaging. As a queer and neurodiverse person, Jodi is also incredibly interested in improving diversity and inclusion practices both within and outside of the academic context.

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