Gen Z's Reign of Terror: English Language Latest Victim of Linguistic Anarchy

Is linguistic decay real or fake news? A prelude to my defense of the word "like."

I’m not the type of person who likes to have debates on the internet, especially in the dark, messy abysses that we call “comment sections.” Even outside of the internet, I kind of hate debating things in general. Sure, I have opinions (and strong ones at that), but when it comes to articulating them in a fast-paced and occasionally high-stakes environment, I often find myself panicking.

Debate makes me nervous when my subconscious primary goal for life is for everyone to be happy all the time.

But I recently engaged in a minor internet scuffle with some commenters who were: 1. scoffing at Gen Z’s overuse of the word “like,” and 2. lamenting the degradation of the English language at the hands of said young people. Here are some paraphrased versions of statements that were made in the comments:

• Today’s youth can’t speak proper English.

• The English language is slowly dying because words no longer mean anything.

• Sure, language change might be natural, but it doesn’t mean it’s improved.

• Excessive use of “like” is an improper use of the English language.

• “Like” and “literally” are malignant words to the English language.

This discussion was the catalyst that prompted my writing of this article, along with one of my personal (admittedly somewhat unimportant) missions: defending the modern use of the word “like.”

But before I do that in next week’s article, I believe it’s important to first address the root of “like”-directed disgust: the belief that English is being destroyed through “improper” use of the word (and particularly by members of Gen Z). In today’s article, I’ll be investigating the following questions:

1. Do languages degrade?

2. How do languages change?

3. Why do languages change?

Do Languages Degrade?

Ranulf Higden, an English monk and chronicler, couldn’t believe his ears.¹ Discouraged by the horrific state of the English language as spoken by the people around him, he penned this criticism of English speakers in the 14th century:

“By intermingling and mixing, first with Danes and afterwards with Normans, in many people the language of the land is harmed, and some use strange inarticulate utterance, chattering, snarling, and harsh teeth-gnashing.”

To paraphrase Higden’s observation (which, by the way, was written in Latin and translated by one of his contemporaries, John Trevisa) — English is actively being tainted through contact with the Danes and the Normans! Such atrocious, inarticulate sounds! We must return to the pure English of old!

Except, whoops, I must have put the wrong quote there. That one you just read was a modern English translation of Trevisa’s original translation, which read more like this:

“By commyxstion and mellyng furst wiþ danes and afterward wiþ Normans in menye þe contray longage ys apeyred, and som vseþ strange wlaffyng, chyteryng, harrying and garryng, grisbittyng.”

Clearly, Trevisa’s English is much, much different from the English that we’re familiar with today!

To be fair, though, Higden’s observation was kind of warranted. The English language was right on the cusp of undergoing a major shift: the Great Vowel Shift. From 1400-1700, some very funky vowel shifts took place in English — take a look at this diagram to observe the changes.

All of this talk of the English language’s evolution begs the question: would we consider this a degradation of the language? Should we as an English-speaking diaspora make a concerted effort to return to a more “pure” version English, perhaps, that of 100 or 200 years ago? Or Shakespearian English? Maybe Chaucer is the gold standard? Something pre-GVS or pre-Norman Conquest? I’m sure that almost every modern English speaker would believe such an effort to be absurd.

Characterizing English’s dramatic and long-lasting shifts as evidence of the language eroding or deteriorating is clearly a bit inaccurate. But for some reason (as linguist Rudi Keller puts it), people as far back as Cicero have been complaining about language decay, often at the hands of pesky young people. And yet almost 2,000 years later, no one can name a single example of a “decayed” language.

So do languages deteriorate, decay, or erode? Not really. But it is verifiably accurate to say that every natural language undergoes change — and sometimes massive change at that. So how do languages change, and what sparks that change?

How Languages Change

Languages can morph and shift in a plethora of exciting ways. Here’s just a snapshot of just a few of those ways, using English as an example:

• Phonological change (or, changes in the smallest units of sound). We can see this clearly in the Great Vowel Shift as mentioned before. Another more recent change is the merging of vowels before intervocalic /r/ for English speakers in North America. I grew up in the southwest US and pronounce “Mary,” “marry,” and “merry” with the /ɛr/ sound. (Others, specifically east coast dwellers, might make a distinction between the three — /eɪr/ for “Mary” and /ær/ for “marry.”)

• Morphological change (or, changes in the smallest meaningful units of language. “Dogs” has two morphemes: “dog” and “-s”). Back in the days of Old English, we attached different cases to words to denote their purpose in the sentence. Words with a nominative case marker were subjects, words with accusative case markers were direct objects, etc. This also made for a fairly flexible way of forming sentences. Sure, scoot the subject down in the sentence a few slots! We’ll know it’s a subject anyway because of the case marker! Modern English has since done away with cases, opting instead for a fairly fixed syntactic structure to denote the grammatical functions of words (an example of syntactic change as well).

• Semantic change (or, the meanings of words). While “awful” is typically used now to describe something that is, I suppose, just “really bad,” here are a few more ways that the word has been used over the centuries, according to the OED:

  • Frightened or apprehensive of doing something — “Careful to please God, and awe-ful to offend him.” (1681)

  • Arousing or inspiring reverential respect — “The sky was clear, and the immense vault of the heavens appeared in awful majesty and splendour.” (1773)

  • To emphasize the extent or amount of something — “To what an awful extent the Spanish peasant.. will consume garlic.” (1845)

This is just a brief picture of some of the many ways that languages change. But what exactly prompts this change? What shifts need to occur in society to compel an entire group of people to modify how they speak?

Anyone wanna talk like the guys in The Canterbury Tales? No takers?

Why Languages Change

Sometimes, languages change out of necessity. For example, think about all of the words that have been added to English and languages all around the world just because of the technological developments that have taken our word by storm. Laptop, smartphone, blog, cryptocurrency — these new words have been added just to reflect the state of our ever-changing world.

Another major way that languages change is through contact with other languages. A notable example is the Norman Conquest in 1066, which introduced thousands of French loanwords into the English language (many of which remain to this day). A lot of these words are connected to feudalism (like castle, liege, and baron) and the military (like corps, brigade, and colonel), reflecting the Norman role in Anglo-Saxon society at the time, but they also cover more ordinary areas such as food (like beef, pastry, and cuisine).

Languages can also undergo analogical change — or, when by process of “analogy,” forms are changed to make them more logically similar to others. For example, the Middle English “male/femelle” shifted to the modern “male/female” through this fairly logical process. We’ve also used analogy when pluralizing words endings in “-us” (like “cactus/cacti”). While the “-i” ending comes to us from Latin, we’ve started popping it onto words of non-Latin origin (like “octopus/octopi,” which actually comes from Ancient Greek. Why not octopus and octopodes?). These suffixes continue to befuddle speakers to this day, and in many cases, it’s still up in the air as to what forms will stick over time.

One Lexus, Many Lexi?

So what’s up with the word “like”? Stay tuned!

At the beginning of this article, I mentioned that this argument was centered around criticism towards evolving use of the word “like.” But before tackling that beast, I found it important to first address the heart of people’s distaste: that overuse of “like” is proof of English falling into decay or misuse. Hopefully, this week’s article was an insightful look into the exciting world of language change (even if said changes are personally repulsive to you. I can’t argue with that!).

As I’ve decided to break this topic up into two articles, please do stay tuned next week for a deep dive into the word “like.”

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts (especially as this topic seems to be quite controversial — but to be fair, it’s been controversial for literal centuries). Language fans and scholars, feel free to drop any more fun examples of language change in the comments below, whether from your studies or from your own life. I’m excited to hear them.

All the best and see you next Tuesday!

1. David Crystal (2004), The Stories of English