Language, Purity, and Power

Ever winced when someone says “irregardless”? Or maybe you’re a staunch defender of the Oxford comma, ready to argue its merits at a moment’s notice. Most of us have our linguistic pet peeves. On an individual level, this is harmless fussiness. But what happens when this impulse to “correct” and “protect” a language scales up to the level of national policy? What happens when the gatekeepers of grammar become the gatekeepers of a nation?

This is the dangerous and fascinating intersection where language, purity, and power collide. The idea that a language must be kept “pure”—free from foreign influence, slang, or non-standard dialects—is known as linguistic purism. While it often masquerades as a simple love for language or a desire for clarity, it is frequently a powerful political tool used to construct a national identity, draw borders (both real and imagined), and marginalize those who don’t fit a prescribed mold.

What is Linguistic Purism, Really?

At its core, linguistic purism is the belief that one form of a language is more authentic or “correct” than others, and that this form must be protected from perceived corruption. This “corruption” is almost always framed as an invasion from the outside. The usual suspects include:

• Loanwords: Words borrowed from other languages (like the French complaining about English words such as le weekend or le brainstorming).
• “Incorrect” Grammar: Grammatical structures that deviate from the established standard.
• Regional Dialects and Accents: Variations in speech that are often deemed less prestigious or educated than the “standard” form.

Linguistic purists act as self-appointed guardians, attempting to freeze a language in an idealized, often historically inaccurate, state. They forget a fundamental linguistic truth: all languages are in a constant state of flux. They borrow, they evolve, they adapt. A living language is an impure language.

Building the Nation: Language as an Identity Blueprint

One of the most potent uses of linguistic purism is in nation-building. To create a cohesive national identity—an “imagined community” where millions of people who will never meet feel a sense of kinship—you need common symbols. A flag, an anthem, and, crucially, a standardized, “pure” language.

By promoting a single, official version of a language, governments can create a powerful sense of unity. Everyone who speaks this language is part of the “in-group.” This process often involves creating official bodies to regulate language.

A classic example is France’s L’Académie française, established in 1635. Its mission is to “fix the French language, give it rules and make it pure and comprehensible to all.” The Academy famously works to coin French alternatives to English tech and business terms, promoting courriel over “e-mail” and ordinateur over “computer.” While often seen as a quaint struggle against the tide of English, it stems from a deep-seated desire to preserve French cultural identity in a globalized world.

A more dramatic case is the language reform in Turkey under Mustafa Kemal Atatürk in the 1920s and 30s. To forge a new, secular, Turkish republic from the ashes of the multicultural Ottoman Empire, Atatürk launched a massive linguistic overhaul. The Turkish Language Association was tasked with purging the language of its vast number of Arabic and Persian loanwords, which were associated with the Ottoman and Islamic past. New words were created from Turkic roots to replace them. This was not just a linguistic exercise; it was a political act designed to sever ties with one identity and create a new, distinctly “Turkish” one.

Drawing Lines: The Othering Power of Purity

If creating an “in-group” is one side of the coin, creating an “out-group” is the other. Once a “pure” standard is established, anyone who deviates from it can be marked as an outsider, a subversive, or an inferior.

History provides chilling examples of this. In Nazi Germany, linguistic purism was a tool of antisemitic and xenophobic ideology. Efforts were made to purge the German language of words with French, English, and especially Hebrew or Yiddish origins. Language was seen as a reflection of racial purity; a “pure” German language was for the “pure” Aryan race. The speech of Jewish people was pathologized and mocked as a corrupt form of German, reinforcing their status as a foreign body within the nation.

A more recent example lies in the breakup of Yugoslavia. Before the conflicts of the 1990s, millions of people spoke what was known as Serbo-Croatian. As the country fractured along ethnic lines, so did the language. Political leaders in Serbia, Croatia, and Bosnia began to emphasize—and in some cases, invent—linguistic differences to solidify their new, separate national identities. Croatian purists rejected words seen as “Serbian” in favor of older or newly coined “Croatian” ones (e.g., insisting on kruh for bread instead of the shared word hljeb). What was once a single language with regional variations was deliberately torn apart into Serbian, Croatian, and Bosnian to serve nationalist political goals. Language became another frontline in the conflict.

It’s Not Just About Words: The Grammar of Control

The push for purity goes beyond just vocabulary. It extends to grammar, syntax, and even pronunciation. When a government or educational system declares one dialect—usually the dialect of the capital city or the ruling class—as the “standard,” it automatically devalues all others.

Someone who grows up speaking a regional dialect or the language of a minority community is immediately at a disadvantage. Their natural way of speaking is labeled “uneducated”, “improper”, or “unprofessional.” To succeed in education, government, or business, they are forced to adopt the prestige dialect, a process that can feel like a rejection of their own heritage and community.

This creates a social hierarchy enforced by language. Those who naturally speak the “correct” way hold an invisible power, while others must constantly monitor their speech to avoid judgment. It’s a subtle but pervasive form of social control and exclusion.

So, the next time you hear someone passionately arguing for the “purity” of a language, it’s worth asking: What is really being protected? Is it the language itself, or is it a specific vision of a nation, a culture, or a people? Languages are not delicate museum pieces. They are living, breathing, beautifully messy ecosystems. Their ability to borrow, change, and adapt is a sign of their vitality, not their decay. The drive to purify them often has less to do with linguistics and more to do with the politics of power and belonging.