Abebe On Language.
Our take
Abebe On Language breathes new life into a cherished tradition. Originally penned by the illustrious William Safire, the "On Language" column captivated readers for 32 years, exploring the nuances and quirks of our ever-evolving lexicon until its conclusion in 2011. Now, in a world reshaped by social media, online communities, and the complexities of contemporary political discourse, the New York Times has revitalized this engaging series. The modern iteration promises to dissect how these new grammars and linguistic trends emerge, reflecting the shifting cultural landscape. Expect insights that not only illuminate the ways we communicate but also challenge our assumptions about language itself. Abebe On Language invites you to dive into a vibrant exploration of words and meanings, reminding us that language is as dynamic and multifaceted as the world we inhabit.
The New York Times has made a timely decision to reboot its renowned "On Language" column, a space once infused with the sharp wit and linguistic dexterity of William Safire. In its new incarnation, the column will be helmed by Nitsuh Abebe, who aims to address the rapidly evolving lexicon shaped by social media, online communities, and the tumultuous landscape of contemporary political discourse. This is not merely a nostalgic nod to the past; it's a recognition that language is in a constant state of flux, influenced by the very platforms that facilitate our communication today. As readers, we’ve already felt the shifts in our linguistic habits, but it’s the backdrop of larger societal changes that makes this reboot so crucial, especially now.
Language is not just a tool for communication; it’s a living organism that grows, mutates, and sometimes devolves in response to the environments we create. Take, for instance, the phenomenon of "cancel culture," which has introduced new vocabularies and grammatical structures that reflect our evolving ethical discussions. The emergence of phrases like “to cancel someone” or “call-out culture” exemplifies how language can encapsulate complex social dynamics in succinct terms. With Abebe at the helm, one might expect a deep dive into these transformations, perhaps drawing parallels to other linguistic shifts, similar to what we see in the Just curious, what tools do you actually use to read/listen to content in your target language before you're fluent? article, which highlights the intersection of language learning and digital tools.
Moreover, the rise of large language models, which are increasingly absorbing these new grammars and vocabularies, is a topic that begs for scrutiny. As these models become more dominant, they don’t just reflect our language; they shape it, raising questions about authenticity, creativity, and even the very nature of authorship. Abebe's columns could serve as a critical lens through which to examine these developments, asking not just how language is changing but why it matters — much like the evocative storytelling in the piece titled What Happened to Jesus’ Twelve Disciples After the Bible—It Wasn’t Pretty, which reveals layers of narrative and consequence that tie back to our collective understanding of history through language.
But what does this mean for us as readers and communicators? In an age where digital communication often prioritizes brevity and punchiness over nuance, the return of a column like "On Language" is a call to arms for those of us who believe in the power of words. It challenges us to not only embrace the new but also to appreciate the old, to sift through the noise and find meaning in the evolving tapestry of language. As we engage with Abebe’s explorations, we might find ourselves reflecting on our own linguistic habits and the stories they tell about who we are and who we’re becoming.
As we look forward, one question lingers: Can Abebe's insights help us navigate this linguistic landscape where meaning often feels slippery and context is king? The revival of "On Language" invites us to ponder our relationship with words — to embrace their fluidity while still recognizing the weight they carry. In a world where language is both a tool and a battleground, understanding its evolution is not just an academic exercise; it’s a vital part of being engaged citizens in a rapidly changing society. Let’s stay tuned as we embark on this exhilarating journey of words.
ktschwarz reminds me that the NY Times has rebooted On Language:
Written memorably by William Safire for most of its run, the original column was a mainstay of the magazine for 32 years until 2011. Now that social media, online communities and contemporary political discourse are transforming language profoundly — and these new grammars and vocabularies are flowing into large language models that, slowly but surely, are becoming a dominant force — we think it’s high time to bring the column back. The primary writer will be Nitsuh Abebe. His first column published earlier this week, on the word “lethality.” That follows a string of great columns Nitsuh has written in recent months about the em-dash, the neologism “cope,” the suffix “-maxxing” and the reluctance people have to use periods in texts.
I had actually planned to write about it last week, but that “lethality” essay (archived) annoyed me by being so focused on the news of the day. The new one (archived), on “agentic,” is more to my taste, paying greater attention to word history:
There are various reports and they all seem to agree: The tech world is currently awash in the concept of agency. It is, more specifically, extremely into the word “agentic,” which peppers the language of the tech-associated, the tech-adjacent, the tech-adjacent-adjacent.
That’s “agentic” as in, you know, having agency — possessing the capacity “to influence and control outcomes through assertive individual action,” as the Oxford English Dictionary has it. The word holds a lot of meaning in computing, but Silicon Valley aspirants seem just as eager to apply it to themselves. They talk about being agentic people; sometimes they dress up the idea in a little rhetorical suit and talk about the Highly Agentic Individual. They are describing the kind of person who simply acts, assertively, to shape the world, rather than seeking approval or meekly following the herd. Candidates for tech jobs get asked if they’re agentic (good) or mimetic (yuck). On X, people debate whether the platform’s owner, Elon Musk, is in fact “the most agentic person alive.” One poster laments the way a cold can ruin your workday: “You won’t make any deals, you won’t be an agentic person. You’re milquetoast.” Another just needs an adequately agentic aide to help schedule medical appointments.
This sense of agency is hundreds of years old: That O.E.D. entry — II.4, “Ability or capacity to exert power” — features citations from the year 1606 onward, concerning things like “the moral Agency of the Supreme Being” versus that of humanity, or the state’s role in preserving the “personal free agency” of its citizens. But you could be forgiven for thinking it feels new, given how much our understanding of it has been shaped by recent thinking in psychology. In that field, agency is the ability to act independently and, by doing so, to feel control over your own direction — steering your fate instead of watching helplessly as life happens to you. (Children, for instance, are said to gradually develop more “agency and autonomy” as they grow.) Readers of things like feminist criticism will have watched a related usage bubble up from academic thought (1988: Unlike depictions of “women as victims of forces beyond their control,” Emma stands as “Austen’s most agentic heroine”) and eventually cross into everyday speech. […]
Most Americans remain more connected with a different meaning of “agent.” We’re used to the agent as representative — someone who acts on behalf of. Talent agents negotiate deals for actors, writers, models. Travel agents book vacation packages for tour groups. Customer-service agents appear, if you’re lucky, after a minute or two of wearily declaiming the word “AGENT” into a speech-recognition phone system.
The word’s etymology contains both strains: the agent as actor, yes, but also as advocate, instrument, emissary. That double meaning is incredibly handy for the tech industry. It can sound as though agentic A.I. models are meant to assist us — even when the people using the word are boasting that their models are just fine acting without us.
I had actually been wondering what all those people meant by “agentic,” so I’m glad to have it explained, and of course I’m glad the NYT has revived the column.
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