OUR LANGUAGE IS EXCELLENT BUT, NO, IT’S NOT ICONIC

THE English language is a wonderful thing. It’s given us Shakespeare, Byron, Hemingway, Winton, the lyrics of Paul Simon and Jackson Browne, Churchill’s speeches, the Coen brothers’ scripts … you’ll have your own favourites. Sit down and make a list. You’ll be there for hours.

The Anglo-Saxon part of the language mix that includes, among others, French, Danish and the Celtic languages has also given us the most glorious swear words: expressive, percussive, passionate. Where would hiphop be without Anglo-Saxon? In all probability, f---ed.

And English is a glorious living thing, developing, seething, sprouting new forms that appal the stuffier purists but keep it thriving.

And yet, and yet … English is being degraded by ignorance, laziness and lack of imagination.

Reluctant, for instance, is not a synonym for reticent, even if some of the more vacuous online dictionaries say it is. Reluctant means to be unwilling; reticent means to be silent. They have entirely different roots in Latin. But they’ve become interchangeable because, well, they sound a bit similar. Lazy.

But that’s nothing to the scourge brought down on our language by the dead hands of advertising and marketing. It’s not the stupidity of ads and marketing campaigns … many are meant to be irritating so they’ll stick in your head.

No, what wears down those of us who feel protective of English – you’d probably refer to us as grumpy dinosaurs and you’re right – is the industry’s breathtaking laziness when it comes to choosing adjectives.

Gourmet was an excellent word that allowed us to describe food, or the act of preparing food, that adhered to the highest standards. But then advertising abducted it and forced it to couple up with, well, anything it wanted to sell.

Gourmet potato chips. Gourmet chewing gum. Gourmet milk. Now the word means nothing.

The same happened to luxury. Once we instinctively knew what luxury was (something we couldn’t afford) until advertising decided it was the perfect adjective to describe everything from toilet paper to pile ointment to ear plugs to undies. So how do we describe something that is truly outstanding? Something exceptional? Not with luxury or gourmet, that’s for sure.

But recently one word has suffered more than the rest, misused, abused, confused, it’s the fallback to describe everything that’s even slightly interesting or remarkable.

And it isn’t even the fault of advertising, although that corrosive industry has certainly played a part. No, this word has taken a kicking from all parts of society: politicians, media, teachers, marketing, advertising, celebrities, people in the street.

It’s ubiquitous and rarely, if ever, used correctly. It is, of course, icon (and it’s equally overworked sibling, iconic).

Iconic, iconic, iconic, from burgers to bathers, suburbs, people, buildings, vehicles, institutions, roads, beaches, whatever. You name it, it’s iconic. Except it’s not.

Icon originally meant a religious painting, usually done on wood panels and often representing Christ. It was very cleverly picked up by the computing industry and put to good use to describe an image that helps users find a file quickly. Brilliant. That’s how language should develop.

But somehow it’s come to mean someone or something most of us have heard of and that one or more of us thinks is cool. And we roll it out as an all-purpose adjective because we can’t be bothered to think of anything else.

But it ends here. The next time you use icon in a lazy, unthinking sense, we’ll find you and threaten you with an unabridged Oxford dictionary.

You have been warned.