Words: Isaac Quirke (he/him)
One of my favourite ways to waste my precious time on earth is to watch a woman with a slicked-back bun summarise blind items from a recent Hollywood awards show. Nothing sets my heart alight like hearing about some C-lister doing lines of “Coca-Cola” in the bathroom at the Oscars. Swipe and you might find a “corn” star detailing what they eat in a day, or the news that a celebrity has been tragically “unalived”. In the age of algorithms, the “For You” Page, and the watchful eye of automated keyword censorship, sensitive words have transformed in order to bypass suppression across social media platforms. Known as “Algospeak”, words have taken on a transient nature, morphing in ways that recognisably convey their meaning, but seemingly allow for undisturbed circulation to other people’s feeds. This seems essential for discourse under Big Brother, but following the “limiting” of hundreds of phrases under the new Trump administration, are these words transforming or eroding?
The more lighthearted examples of these word changes, like “Coca-Cola” and “corn”, allow for stories about taboo topics to be shared on prudish, advertiser-friendly platforms. Things become questionable when serious discourses and events are morphed to seem more digestible. These changes even serve as quasi-trigger warnings, with examples like “sewer slide” (suicide), “SA” (sexual assault), “ED” (eating disorder), and “grape” (rape) often used to discuss personal tragedies or societal dangers. These sensibilities can even be wordless, where information about the genocide in Gaza is punctuated with watermelon emojis, representing the colours of the Palestinian flag. Most bizarre is the TikTok hashtag “cute winter boots”, created as a space to discuss sensitive topics. In these videos users pretend to speak about cold-weather footwear, co-opting the algorithm’s obsession with pushing products, whilst holding up signs that warn viewers of TikTok’s political suppression. However, if you scroll through the tag, it is littered with countless videos explaining what “cute winter boots” is, and criticising people for not getting it. You’ll infrequently find protest information and alleged ICE hotspots.
While these efforts are obviously noble and resourceful, is this reconstruction of language really necessary? Given Algospeak’s popularity, surely the powers-at-be would have picked up on these linguistic shifts and swiftly added them to the blacklist. Though, if this is the case, there is always the potential for words to evade this by bending into a different shape. One could also argue that social media is where major discourses take place, and allows for the widest dissemination possible. However, it has glaring limitations. Heavily-moderated comment sections that only allow 140 word responses hardly lead to nuanced conversation. The internet Wild West has historically contributed to misinformation, and sparks an impulse for manic pile-ons stemming from very few, if any, facts. If netizens cannot be trusted with handling inconsequential celebrity gossip, should TikTok really be the site of the revolution?
This refashioning of words also represents an erosion of language over time. Words have distinct meanings and importance, and are contextualised by history. I’m hardly a language purist, but using the name of a fruit as a placeholder for sexual assault is strikingly trivialising. Many content creators have impure intentions. Following the “true crime” podcast boom, it’s sickening to see people create videos that combine mukbangs with the retelling of an unsolved murder, using Algospeak to ensure that they continue to make ad revenue from other people’s pain. Even in the earnest usage of these new phrases, if the words necessary to have certain conversations cannot be used, it begs the question: are you in the right place?
This phenomenon mirrors the censorship that is pouring straight out of the White House. Since Trump’s inauguration, certain words are disappearing from the US federal government. The New York Times found a non-exhaustive list of 294 words distributed to federal employees to ‘limit’ or ‘avoid’ in websites and other material, like school curriculums. Phrases like ‘climate crisis’, ‘discrimination’, ‘diversity’, ‘equality’, ‘feminism’, ‘immigrants’, ‘inclusion’, ‘racism’, and ‘sexuality’ are all being stomped out in the pursuit of an anti-woke society. In stark contrast to the Conservative party’s fixation on so-called “free speech”, the US government is minimising the validity of our language to make room for a modern day Newspeak.
While Algospeak’s intentions are the antithesis of Trump’s, both embody the transience of language due to the current state of world politics. Words are now a malleable commodity to be used in the interests of the speaker, selflessly or selfishly alike. Using the correct language required for nuanced political discourse has been removed from many online and offline spaces, and thus, it is time to find alternatives. Algospeak is one of these alternatives, but its shortcomings cannot be ignored. The instinct to speak out despite suppression should instead be diverted to other forums of discussion: your home, your community, university lecture halls, on the streets, on the steps of parliament, or even at your local boozer. These are all places where our voices can be heard, free speech is upheld, and linguistic integrity can be maintained. Words are an instrument of change. They are also one of the few sources of power we have left. Let’s use our words to demand a world where we don’t require an alternative language. The time is now: with each passing day, there are less words left for us to use.
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2025/03/07/us/trump-federal-agencies-websites-words-dei.html
