3 ideas
In Amatka, objects made from the world's mutable substance carry written labels and must be named aloud regularly, or they dissolve into formless goo. For these things, stability is not a default state but an act of collective upkeep. Materials brought from the old world are not bound by this rule.
Because words can reshape the malleable world, the committee restricts language and punishes dissent, presenting this as necessary for the colony's survival. Poetry itself is permitted, including public readings of Berols' Anna's poems. In the novel, the survival argument also serves the committee's authority over what people may say and do.
In Amatka, the colony's physical and social order depends on residents continuing to mark and name things. When some of them stop, the result is not a clean collapse of the committee's power but a dangerous, ambiguous transformation whose outcome the novel leaves uncertain.