Language is a formidable tool. Consider this: English, with its staggering vocabulary of approximately 600,000 words, exemplifies this richness. In contrast, French offers about 200,000 words, Latin contributed around 55,000, Ancient Greek had roughly 18,000, and Biblical Hebrew, with its profound historical significance, comprised fewer than 10,000 words. We try to dazzle one another with what we know through a contract of words we share in common.

We English-speakers bubble along in 2025, each with five times the original vocabulary of the entire Hebrew language 2000 years ago. We dominate the thought structures of the day now and articulate what we think they meant, for it seems obvious "we have out-thought the ancients."

Think of what the French language, locked into a third of our vocabulary, yields. I cannot find many, if any, great French sources for my science and mathematics posts; there is no equivilent to LinkedIn, Facebook, and X.com. There is no approachable A(a)cademia or ResearchGate. And all French-speakers are poorer without access to basic mental clarities we can summon, at will,in English.

No other language is more universal than English. As a closet-linguist, I've studied French and Russian for most of my life. Chinese was befriended while I worked in China. I have been skimming through the other Romance languages, including Latin, for decades, using it to tear across the internet like a semi-polymath. Half the internet is in English, I wanted to see what others got to see in their native tongues.

Other languages, when stacking up to English's mammoth girth, are a version of "The Telephone Game," wherein what was said is not always the interpretation. Other languages, in a sliding scale, can't mount an identical idea if those thought-structures use different methods in their thought-hierarchy. Arabic-speakers say the only way to fully appreciate the Qur'an is in Arabic. Suffice to say, there are no words for some of the ideas presented.

In French, you find a language resistant to change. The population voted to get rid of the French accents because everyone "just knew" how to pronounce the nation's words. But the government wouldn't allow it. Computers are computers all over the world, except French people still call "computers," ordinateurs, or calculating machines. Trains are still chemins de fer, Ways of Fire...

Russian, also with a 200,000 word vocabulary, is opaque to many platforms that host the welcoming embrace of, say, LinkedIn. The vast wealth of Russian programmers know that any hope of getting their product to go viral must have, at the very least, an English version.

Descriptions, instructions, cues, game tells, verbal-imagery are all currency to English speakers. We delight and bathe in this most inviting of languages. Think of how often we exchange words at 7-11, at school, at the notary public. Watch the words flow with ease from your lips. Watch The Simpsons, read Shakespeare, study law, write code.

The Bible stands as a profound source of knowledge, transcending belief systems, and its influence is undeniably strong, even for atheists. The economy of language within its texts is striking; the Old Testament emerges from a surprisingly limited vocabulary of 10,000 words, while the New Testament, written in Koine Greek, utilizes fewer than 20,000 words. This highlights the power of concise language—every word carries significant weight. People who preach solely in English often tread on dogmatic ground, not weary of the depth and richness found in each word of the original texts. You can debate ideas at length in English, because there are so many words to mount an attack, so many vernaculars and colloqualisms we can trade, to electrify or cripple any idea. Ancient words should be investigated for the weight they carry and the gravity they command.

True understanding demands authentic discourse. Attempting to communicate complex ideas using tools like Google Translate can lead to disappointment, as the gaps in expression can render the conversation dull. Try to carry on a conversation in Latin by translating and you'll see many of your words removed and another meaning left waiting. It's unnerving. The dead language of Jesus, Aramaic, with its 700 words used 7,000 times in the Bible, would be a fascinating exploration of meaning and nuance.

In everyday interactions, we often engage with a fraction of our linguistic wealth—typically around 10,000 to 20,000 words are average for a native English-speaker. No wonder this diverse vocabulary can lead to crazy misunderstandings, wrong pizza orders, and international conflicts. And look at people who are learning, climbing into our language, grapple with new ideas and contexts, vernacular and colloquialistic banter. How often do we use our words without fully acknowledging their potential impact? How often are we careless with them? Words are our currency as a human.

Occasionally, someone revives an old term, breathing new life into old concepts like "neo-marxism," reminding us of the dynamic nature of language. Those resurrected words bring back resurrected ideas. So we clash, often when we are saying the same thing.

With such a vast array of words at our disposal, there is no justification for resorting to hate speech or skirting the edge of language in ways that can cause harm. Such behavior is a significant red flag in a person. Effective communication does not require tiptoeing around sensitive topics; it demands clear and respectful engagement.

Language is a bridge that connects us, an interface with other sentient beings, a means to share ideas, emotions, and experiences. The words we choose can inspire change, foster understanding, and solve problems, no matter how big, so long as we all maintain decorum with the free exchange of ideas. The worst anger anyone in the world should suffer is traffic. It's a litmus test of who we really are as a person. We should each keep our words within the confines of a matrix we support, a past we can defend, and a future we can predict.

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