7 minute read

Crossed Words

One front of the culture wars is a debate over the need for new words and the definitions of old ones. Yet, even as conservatives maintain that language is untouchable, it continues to slip through their fingers.

Written by Ben Elhav, Graphics by Chris Bartoldus

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As is often the case, one Shabbat dinner conversation became the pretext for philosophical investigation. Swiveling what was likely an overfull glass of red wine, I told my staunchly conservative friend Tony that I had recently read “Slaughterhouse-Five.”

“How was it?” he asked.

"It was easier to digest as an audiobook," I replied.

“So ... you didn’t read it.”

I was stunned. Having failed to drag my eyes across physical words on a page, I had somehow fallen short of “reading.” Tony was adamant. No matter how much I protested, the word wouldn’t bend. “Reading” would remain reading, as it had been defined since the first clay tablet or papyrus scroll. What were the implications of this semantic scuffle? Had I lied in characterizing my actions as “reading?” Had I done something worse by changing its meaning?

***

What's Orwellian anyway? The term, typically used to describe a dystopian society with the characteristics of those in the writings of George Orwell, seems to mean different things to different people. Indeed, though the left and right increasingly agree that the novel "1984" is relevant to our times, they remain divided on why. Those of us on the left might see parallels in the quiet growth of a police and surveillance state. The right, however, seems uniquely concerned with the idea of "newspeak."

In the world of “1984,” “newspeak” is a tactic used by the authoritarian government of the novel to stifle dissent and speech by abbreviating existing words and altering the meanings of others. Some obvious examples see the word “war” substituted for “peace,” the word “injustice” for “justice” and “truth” with “falsehood.” To many of Orwell’s rightinclined readers, the idea that such crucial values can be expressed as their opposites is horrifying in concept alone, and seems to be occurring every day in reality.

“[Newspeak] finds expression today in the Pronoun Police, who demonize the use of ‘he’ and ‘she’ as potentially transphobic and invent Newspeak pronouns in their stead,” wrote Brendan O’ Neill, editor of Spiked, in his essay “Orwell’s ‘1984’ Describes the Authoritarian Left Better than it Does Trump.” “Some campuses now want everyone to use ‘ze’ as a default pronoun. ‘Ze’ might be the most Newspeak word ever: a strange small word you must use if you want to be considered morally good.”

In O’Neill’s understanding, the word “ze” is nonsensical at best, and at its worst a form of slander, having replaced fundamentally truthful words like “he” and “she.” O’Neill assumes that the word has been dreamt up by a nefarious cabal of liberal elites who enforce the word from on high with threats of social ostracization. Nevermind that their actual power seems limited, as O’Neill has so far evaded arrest and publishes with impunity. In time, it will somehow become a word we “must use.”

Yet even if the pronoun police were as real a menace as the omnipresent party of “1984,” one suspects that their evil efforts to change meaning itself would fail. After all, do we truly believe that North Koreans live in a “Democratic Republic?” Was the Nazi Party’s “National Socialism” really leftist in its economics? It only took Winston, the protagonist of “1984,” a couple of chapters to understand that he could refer to the idea of “freedom” by using the word “tyranny.” Language coined by authoritarians is subverted, its credibility eroded. Ultimately, a rose by any other name still smells as sweet.

To many of Orwell’s right-inclined readers, the idea that such crucial values can be expressed as their opposites is horrifying in concept alone, and seems to be occurring every day in reality.

Is it really the case, however, that nonbinary pronouns have become more accepted through some combination of coercive governments and liberal think tanks? It certainly seems like our corporate overlords have become more receptive to the “gay agenda.” Pride Parades across the country are now frequented by representatives from the largest cosmetic brands, department stores, and even banks. Yet, as people on both the right and left are quick to point out, this is often nothing more than vapid virtue signaling, an appeal to consumers who want capitalism with a conscience. Companies can see that the market for people who care about gay rights is expanding.

Perhaps then, the growing number of politicians and CEOs in the pocket of “big gay” has less to do with some inherent ideology, and more to do with recognizing what their constituents and customers want. Likewise, with Pew Research Polls indicating that a majority of Americans are comfortable with gender neutral pronouns, their use will inevitably permeate the public square. Words like “ze” are coined and used organically, a response to the confines of the gender binary. Their prevalence is hardly due to some shadowy authoritarian force, but is the consequence of their actual utility to society. Why then, conservatives ask, should we leave language to the mob?

Language has an inescapable social role. These societal implications become clear when we consider how language defines race. As could be inferred by the setting of the anecdote above, I am Jewish. Unlike the majority of Jewish people in North America, however, I trace my roots (and olive complexion) to the Middle East. None of this matters on a census, of course; in the United States, Middle Eastern and North African people are typically classified as “white” regardless of whether we are perceived this way. Similar language lumps Latinx people of all shades into one “Hispanic” group.

Our words set the boundaries of the categories we inhabit. It is not surprising then, that we are constantly seeking new words. In the span of a century, one segment of society was referred to as “Negro,” “Black” and “African American.” These rebrands, however, were not driven solely by some politically correct search for the least-offensive term. They are an example of renaming as an act of power. A new name allows a group to take agency over its presentation in public; to assert its identity to the world on its own terms. To quote the Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, “The limits of my language means the limits of my world.”

Crucially, language not only describes what we see, it tells us how to see it. Why should a banana duct-taped to the wall of a gallery be called “art?” To some, the term must be reserved for pieces that meet a particular aesthetic standard. The specific criteria, however, depends on who you ask. Who should make the determination? In the past, we sidestepped this challenge by leaving it to prestigious academies. For a time this worked, and the system churned out a few thousand paintings of Jesus and bowls of sumptuous fruit.

Expert arbiters conferred the title “art” on a piece, and suddenly it was fit to exhibit. This proved unsustainable, however, when their decisions kept Vincent van Gogh and Monet out of museums. In every preceding generation, the purist definition of the word has sidelined pioneers and visionaries. When the term was given to the people, it became flexible, capable of meeting our changing tastes and expectations. The all-encompassing freedom of contemporary “art” is well worth the occasional banana on the wall.

Few would debate the power of the Oxford English Dictionary to add new words to its lexicon every year. For 2020, entries included “freegan,” an eco-conscious dumpster diver, and “hellacious,” a term that was appropriately introduced in the same year as a global pandemic. For some, the addition of these sounds to the renowned OED is their canonization as words.

Yet, if you asked the average person why we endow the Oxford University Press with the unique power to alter and update the rules of English itself, you might come up short on answers. Most would simply point to the prestigious reputation of Oxford as an institution.

Why are we satisfied with the conclusion that a dozen eggheads on the OED staff make decisions about a language used by over two billion? Why isn’t it undemocratic that this group of unelected linguo-bureaucrats adds and alters words on a whim? Because their mandate is given by the public. Words “become” words when we use them. Ultimately, the speakers of a language are its best guardians.

***

My argument with Tony wound its way through the streets of Savannah. Politely booted from the Chabad house, we had continued our discussion outside the Rabbi's apartment. Though the matter of whether I had done any "reading" remained unresolved, by the end of our discussion, everyone within a five-mile radius could summarize the plot of our conversation.

As far as I saw it, I had fulfilled my fundamental obligation to Vonnegut. I had voluntarily absorbed his text. What more did I owe the long-dead satirist? What more did I owe Tony? That night when I got into bed, I put on my headphones, and read with my eyes closed.

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