The Politics of Dictionaries

When the Oxford University Press named “rizz” its 2023 Word of the Year, the announcement was met with a familiar mix of delight, confusion, and outright scorn. To some, it was a fun acknowledgment of internet culture’s linguistic creativity. To others, it was the final nail in the coffin of the English language, proof that lexicographers had surrendered to the fleeting whims of TikTok. But the truth is far more complex and fascinating. The decision to add “rizz,” “situationship,” or “doomscrolling” to the dictionary is not a surrender; it’s a reflection of a profound shift in how we understand language itself, turning the humble dictionary into a modern political and cultural battleground.

Far from being dusty, impartial records of our vocabulary, dictionaries are living documents curated by human beings. And those humans have to make choices—choices that inevitably reflect and shape our understanding of the world.

From Ink-Stained Scholars to Data-Driven Decisions

Historically, lexicography was often a prescriptive art. Figures like Samuel Johnson, in his monumental A Dictionary of the English Language (1755), saw their role as one of a gatekeeper. They aimed to fix the language, purify it of “improper” words, and instruct people on how to use it “correctly.” The dictionary was an authority, a standard to which one must aspire.

Today, virtually all major dictionaries operate on a principle of descriptivism. Their goal is not to dictate how language should be used, but to describe how it is being used by its speakers. The modern lexicographer is less of a stern schoolmaster and more of a linguistic detective, hunting for evidence of a word’s existence in the wild. Their primary tool? The corpus.

A language corpus is a massive, ever-growing, searchable database of text and speech, containing billions of words from books, newspapers, academic journals, websites, blogs, and even transcripts of spoken conversations. When lexicographers consider a new word, they turn to the corpus to answer three key questions:

• Is its use widespread? A word can’t just be an inside joke among friends. It needs to appear in a variety of sources and be used by a wide range of people. “Rizz” didn’t make the cut just because it was popular on TikTok; it made the cut because it started appearing in articles in The New York Times and The Guardian.
• Is its use sustained? Many new words are flashes in the pan. To earn a dictionary entry, a word needs to demonstrate staying power. It must be used consistently over a period of time, proving it’s not just a passing fad.
• Does it have a clear meaning? The word must fill a specific lexical gap or refer to a distinct concept. “Doomscrolling” (the act of endlessly scrolling through bad news) perfectly captured a shared experience of the 2020s for which no single word previously existed.

This data-driven approach seems objective, but the act of interpretation—of deciding when a word has met these criteria—remains a deeply human and often contentious process.

The Pronoun Revolution: ‘They’ Takes the Stage

Perhaps no single dictionary entry has ignited more debate in recent years than the singular “they.” For decades, style guides insisted that “they” could only be used as a plural pronoun. If you didn’t know the gender of a person, you were taught to write the clunky “he or she.”

But language users often defied this rule. In fact, the singular “they” has a long and storied history, appearing in the works of Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Jane Austen. It only fell out of favor in the 18th and 19th centuries when prescriptive grammarians tried to force English to conform to the rules of Latin, which has no equivalent structure.

In the 21st century, the push for the singular “they” returned with new social and political urgency. As society’s understanding of gender evolved, the need for a widely accepted, respectful pronoun for non-binary individuals became critical. “They” was the natural, existing candidate.

Lexicographers, following their descriptive mission, watched its usage soar. In 2019, Merriam-Webster took a landmark step. They not only updated their entry for “they” to fully include its use as a singular, non-binary pronoun but also named it their Word of the Year. This wasn’t just a grammatical update; it was an act of social recognition. It signaled that the identity of non-binary people was being acknowledged by a major cultural institution. The backlash was immediate and fierce, proving that a simple dictionary definition could become a proxy for the broader culture wars over gender identity. The dictionary wasn’t just recording change; it was validating it.

More Than Words: Defining Our World

The politics of dictionaries extends beyond simply adding new words or pronouns. It’s also about how existing words are defined and contextualized. Definitions are not set in stone; they evolve as society does.

Consider the word “marriage.” For decades, dictionary definitions specified it as a union “between a man and a woman.” As legal and social norms shifted to recognize same-sex marriage, dictionaries updated their definitions to be more inclusive, often to “a union between two people.” This revision reflects a profound change in law and social attitudes.

Furthermore, dictionaries have taken on a more active role in guiding users toward respectful language. Many now include usage labels like “offensive,” “dated,” or “derogatory.” When a dictionary labels a word a slur, it is making a conscious ethical choice. It is using its platform not just to define a word, but to inform the reader of its social and emotional impact. This is a far cry from the detached, purely academic approach of the past.

The Living Document of Who We Are

So, who decides when “rizz” becomes a real word? In a way, we all do. We, the speakers of the language, innovate, adapt, and vote with our voices and keyboards. The lexicographer’s job is to listen, to analyze the evidence, and to make an informed judgment about when a change in the language has become permanent.

The dictionary is not a sacred text, but a human one. It is a messy, evolving, and indispensable map of our culture. Every new entry, every revised definition, and every usage note tells a story about our changing values, our ongoing debates, and our collective identity. The next time you see a “Word of the Year” announcement, look past the headlines and consider the powerful statement being made. You’re not just looking at a new word; you’re looking at a snapshot of who we are becoming.