This will have a profound impact on your itch.

October 22, 2002

Donna discusses the use of a couple of words in split infinitives with a side of self-loathing. In her comments she references David Gagne’s Impact the Itch and this bit in the Atlantic Monthly. This has me thinking about language.

(If you do not want to think about language, you can go to this picture of a kid dressed up as a rabbit. Thank you.)

David says “impact” and “itch” are not verbs, and anyone who uses them as such “only displays to those of us with a respect for language and law that a person has a limited vocabulary.” Indeed, my vocabulary would be extremely limited. According to the American Heritage Dictionary, “Impact” has been used as a verb since 1601. Furthermore, its Latin root word “impactus” is a verb. “Itch” as a verb means “to feel a desire to scratch.” This, too, is not a case of a noun being turned into a verb. The original Old English word, giccan, means “to itch.”

Donna clarifies that “impact” is an intransitive verb — it cannot take a direct object. She gives two examples: “this will impact our revenue stream” vs. “the book had an impact on me.” She says the first is incorrect and the second is not. But the word means “affect” in both cases: apparently it’s just its use in a transitive or intransitive form that Donna finds questionable.

However,

American Heritage and Random House dictionaries both give intransitive and transitive definitions for “impact.” Webster’s only defines “impact” as a noun and a transitive verb, ignoring the intransitive — the opposite of Donna’s position.

American Heritage does point out that “impacts on” may cause some squawking: The use of impact as a verb meaning “to have an effect” often has a big impact on readers. Eighty-four percent of the Usage Panel disapproves of the construction to impact on, as in the phrase social pathologies, common to the inner city, that impact heavily on such a community; fully 95 percent disapproves of the use of impact as a transitive verb in the sentence Companies have used disposable techniques that have a potential for impacting our health. But then they go on to say they personally disagree with the Usage Panel: It is unclear why this usage provokes such a strong response, but it cannot be because of novelty. Impact has been used as a verb since 1601, when it meant “to fix or pack in,” and its modern, figurative use dates from 1935. It may be that its frequent appearance in the jargon-riddled remarks of politicians, military officials, and financial analysts continues to make people suspicious.

Using “Impact” or “Itch” to mean “affect” or “scratch” is also not as limiting of vocabulary as David suggests. “Impact”, because of its other meanings as a noun, carries a lot of metaphorical weight “affect” does not. “Affect” means change or modify. Impact, however, can also mean “collision” or the “force of collision.” If I say to you “this decision will affect our lives” I am speaking less strongly than if I say “this decision will impact our lives.” The first could mean change of just about any degree, but the latter suggests a great deal more violence. The American Heritage dictionary makes a nod in this direction when refers to “impact = affect” a “figurative use.” The word is not being used literally — it is being used as a figure of speech. If there’s a problem, it’s the overuse of the word “impact,” leading to an overall reduction of the word’s … um … impact.

I have already shown that David’s insistence that “itch” is not a verb flies in the face of reason and etymology. “The sweater itches,” for example, is a perfectly fine construction. Furthermore, in Appalachian dialect the use of “itch” in the phrase Quit itching your face has a clear and specific meaning that Quit scratching your face does not. (The first implies you are scratching because you are itchy, whereas the latter implies no stimulus whatsoever.)

As far as “respect for language and law” is concerned, there are few grammatical rules that qualify as much more than opinion and preference. And
I think people show disrespect for language when they refuse to acknowledge the complexity and consistency of regional dialects. People who study dialects love these kinds of differences and shades of meaning because they do expand people’s vocabulary. It may sound ignorant to people outside the region but only because the languages are similar, not the same. For many people “respecting language” means “respecting cultural differences in speech patterns.” When you complain about someone’s word misuse, are you complaining because they are “butchering the language?” Or are you complaining simply because they speak differently than you?

When you say “respect for languge,” do you really mean “respect for my language”?

See, that’s what really gets me about the whole argument. Who decides what is language and what isn’t? David Gagne’s response to my argument is “There are many words in ‘the dictionary’ that are not words.” Really? What other source is there? Dictionaries are the closest thing to the “last word” most people ever see. And when two of three major dictionaries agree, and all three of them disagree with you, to what resource are you refering that the rest of us do not have? Dictionaries come about as close to “law of language” as you can get — but David dismisses them as out-of-hand. Some “respect for law and language” that is.

Modern dictionaries respect language by recognizing that language is more cultural consensus than it is law, recording archaic and unusual usage along with “accepted” usage, and respecting the figurative end of speech. The American Heritage dictionary in particular does a fine job of this, and it even points out when language snobs don’t have a foot to stand on. I glad of that even when it’s my language snobbery that’s being butchered.

I don’t think it’s too much to ask that people understand that verbs need to agree with subjects in number or that people know their tenses. But when it comes to specific definitions of specific words, perhaps we should all cut people a little slack before we call them “ignorant.” One of the great beauties of language is its flexibility and expressiveness. Too much law, and we would lose that.

“Itch” is not a verb, indeed.

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