Why “Alongside”?
Our take
The sudden, collective noticing of a word—*alongside*—is, frankly, delightful. It’s the linguistic equivalent of realizing everyone’s been wearing the same obscure vintage band t-shirt for months without you. Ben Yagoda's post touches on it, spurred by Lynne Murphy’s observation, and it’s a perfect example of how language shifts happen: not with a bang, but a quiet, pervasive creep. It reminds us, too, of the cyclical nature of linguistic trends, something we explored a little bit in [1905: The Linguistic Renaissance], which examines how periods of upheaval often coincide with linguistic innovation and re-evaluation. We’re constantly building on, adapting, and re-appropriating the tools we use to communicate, and sometimes, a perfectly serviceable word just…ascends. The fact that an American friend of a spouse had to *ask* about it underscores the fascinating asymmetry of language adoption. It’s not necessarily about a word being "better" or "worse," but about its sudden, widespread visibility—a phenomenon often divorced from any real semantic shift. It’s a bit like noticing everyone suddenly obsessed with sourdough bread; it doesn’t change the fundamental nature of bread, but it alters its cultural weight.
The rise of *alongside* also feels very contemporary, doesn't it? It’s a word that lends itself to a certain kind of careful positioning, a subtle emphasis on co-existence or parallel development. It suggests a deliberate framing, a conscious effort to acknowledge multiple perspectives or trajectories. Consider how it's used in discussions of technology and social change – "the rise of AI alongside concerns about job displacement," for example. It’s a word perfectly suited to our age of nuanced debate and complex, interlocking systems. And it's worth noting the etymological roots here - "along" obviously speaks to proximity, but "side" carries a slightly more specific, almost architectural connotation. You're not just next to something, you're *beside* it, in a defined relationship. This, of course, makes me think of the equally fascinating phenomenon of linguistic borrowing, as highlighted in [Polish in Esperanto], which demonstrates how languages can fuse and adapt, creating entirely new layers of meaning. The word’s ascendance feels less like a spontaneous eruption and more like a slow, deliberate accumulation of cultural significance. It's not a radical change, but a subtle adjustment to the way we articulate our relationship to the world.
But what's *really* interesting, and what Yagoda’s piece only gestures at, is the meta-awareness that accompanies this kind of linguistic observation. We're not just noticing the word; we're noticing that we're noticing the word. It’s become a topic of conversation *about* language. And that self-reflexivity, that willingness to examine the mechanics of our own communication, is a hallmark of a culture that's increasingly attuned to the power of language. It’s a level of linguistic consciousness that feels relatively new. It’s not quite the same as the linguistic explorations of the Victorian era, documented in [Obstupefacting Excrescences], where language was often viewed through a lens of moral judgment and social propriety. Today, we're more likely to approach linguistic trends with a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and a slightly nerdy desire to understand the underlying mechanisms. We're dissecting the language itself, rather than just using it as a tool to dissect the world.
So, where does this leave us? The rise of *alongside* is a small thing, really. A linguistic quirk. But it’s also a window into the larger forces shaping how we communicate. It reveals our growing awareness of language as a dynamic, evolving system—one that’s constantly being reshaped by our collective consciousness. The question isn’t just *why* *alongside* is ascendant, but what other seemingly innocuous words are quietly accumulating cultural weight, waiting for their moment to be noticed? And what does this constant, subtle shifting of language tell us about the shifting landscape of our thoughts and ideas? Stay spooty – the next linguistic surprise might be just around the corner.
Ben Yagoda has a post about the recent rise in frequency of the word alongside:
The American-born University of Sussex linguist Lynne Murphy recently remarked on her blog (Separated by A Common Language): “A few months ago, an American friend of my spouse asked him to ask me: ‘Why is everyone suddenly saying alongside?’”
That put the word on my radar, and within days I was asking the same question as Lynne’s friend. It seemed like I couldn’t avoid “alongside”! And a little research demonstrated that the two of us weren’t imagining things. […]
I hasten to say that “alongside” is an old word. Here’s the first definition in the Oxford English Dictionary: “Nautical. Close to the side of another vessel; side by side with another vessel. Later also: secured to a quay, wharf, etc.” This first citation is from 1704 and in 1798, there’s this from Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”: “The naked Hulk alongside came.” By that time the word had started being used in the non-nautical contexts we see today: first, to mean literally next to, and then more figuratively to indicate “together with” or “compared to.”
To get a sense of the current uses, here are a few examples from the New York Times, all posted today or yesterday, a couple with two in one article […]
The million-dollar question is why has the word become so voguish? Unfortunately, “why” questions are difficult to answer (well). But I will say that it fits in with a trend I’ve been following for some time: saying things with more words or even letters than used to be considered sufficient. I started noticing this fifteen years or so when the college students I taught inexplicably began to write “amongst” instead of “among” and “amidst” instead of “amid”; some even favored “whilst.” They and lots of others started adding a “t” sound in the middle of the word “often,” and sometimes replaced it with “oftentimes.” And they universally preferred “based off of” to “based on.” […]
One more point. You’ll notice that the first two Times examples I gave are from sports coverage, which is very much given to the wordiness mentioned above. “Fans” have become “fan base” […] And beyond that, I believe that athletic “alongside” has a very particular history. It starts with a late ’90s Aaron Sorkin sitcom called Sports Night, which centered on a double-anchored, smart sports news show on the model of ESPN’s Sports Center. Anyway, when one of the anchors intro’d the show, he always said “alongside”—i.e., “This is Dan Rydell alongside Casey McCall.” As Dan said it, it had a slightly ironic feel, similar to the way David Letterman would refer to “a “comedy television program.” The intro was so much a feature of the show that it’s quoted verbatim in this AV club piece.
A few years later, NFL announcer Joe Buck, started opening his coverage a particular way: “This is Joe Buck, alongside the Hall of Famer Troy Aikman.” Again, just a touch ironic, especially as it became ritualized: Buck used the same language for baseball broadcasts, subbing in John Smoltz’s name; on WNBA coverage, it’s “Ryan Ruocco, alongside the Hall of Famer Rebecca Lobo”’; and in boxing, it’s “Bernardo Osuna alongside the Hall of Famer Timothy Bradley.” The line has even filtered down to local TV—see for yourself!
I’m dubious about linking it with things like “amongst” and “oftentimes,” but the Sports Night background is interesting and probably a genuine influence. (Click through for more examples and supporting video.)
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