Welcome to Part 6 of a Week-Long Series on the Evolution and Limits of Language!
This article is part of a seven-day exploration into the fascinating and often flawed history of language—from its primitive roots to its tangled web of abstraction, miscommunication, and modern chaos. Each day, we uncover new layers of how language shapes (and fails to shape) our understanding of the world.
If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out the other posts in this series for a full deep dive into why words are both our greatest tool and our biggest obstacle. Follow the journey from ‘flamey thing hot’ to the whirlwind of social media and beyond!
Specialised Languages: Academia’s Jargon Olympics
If you thought normal language was confusing, let’s take a moment to appreciate the true champions of linguistic obscurity: academics. Welcome to the world of specialised languages, where entire fields of study have developed their own language games that make even Wittgenstein’s head spin.
Here’s how it works: Every discipline—science, law, philosophy—creates its own jargon to describe the world. At first, it seems helpful. Instead of using vague terms, you get precise definitions for complex ideas. But what started as a way to improve communication within a field quickly turned into a linguistic arms race, where the more obscure and convoluted your terms are, the smarter you sound. You’re not just a lawyer anymore—you’re someone who’s ready to throw “res ipsa loquitur” into casual conversation to leave everyone else in the room wondering if they’ve missed a memo.
The problem? If you’re not part of the club, good luck understanding what anyone is talking about. Want to read a physics paper? Prepare to learn a whole new vocabulary. Need to get through a legal document? You’ll be knee-deep in Latin phrases before you even get to the point. And don’t even try to decipher a philosophical text unless you’re ready to battle abstract nouns that have been stretched and twisted beyond recognition.
It’s not just the words themselves that are the issue—it’s the sheer density of them. Take “justice” for example. In philosophy, you’ve got theories about distributive justice, retributive justice, restorative justice, and a hundred other variations, each with its own set of terms and conditions. And that’s before we even touch on how “justice” is defined in legal circles, where it becomes an even more tangled mess of case law and precedent. Every field is playing its own version of the “justice” game, with its own rules and definitions, and none of them are interested in comparing notes.
This is the academic world in a nutshell. Each discipline has built its own linguistic fortress, and unless you’ve spent years studying, you’re not getting in. But here’s the kicker: even within these fields, people are often misunderstanding each other. Just because two scientists are using the same words doesn’t mean they’re on the same page. Sometimes, it’s more like a game of intellectual one-upmanship—who can define the most obscure term or twist a familiar word into something completely unrecognisable?
And let’s not forget the philosophers. They’ve turned linguistic acrobatics into an art form. Good luck reading Foucault or Derrida without a dictionary (or five) on hand. You might walk away thinking you understand their points, but do you really? Or have you just memorised the jargon without actually grasping the deeper meaning? Even scholars within these fields often argue over what was really meant by a certain text—Barthes, after all, famously declared the “death of the author,” so it’s not like anyone really has the final say on meaning anyway.
So here we are, knee-deep in jargon, trying to communicate with people who, technically, speak the same language but are operating within entirely different rulesets. Every academic discipline has its own secret code, and if you don’t know it, you’re lost. Even when you do know the code, you’re still at risk of miscommunication, because the words that look familiar have been stretched and shaped to fit highly specific contexts. It’s like being fluent in one dialect of English and then suddenly being asked to write a thesis in legalese. Good luck.
In the end, academia’s specialised languages don’t just make things harder—they actively create barriers. What started as a way to improve precision has turned into an obstacle course of incomprehensible terms, where the real challenge is just figuring out what anyone’s actually saying. And let’s be honest, even if you do figure it out, there’s no guarantee it’s going to mean the same thing next time you see it.
Neurolinguistics: Even Our Brains Can’t Agree
So far, we’ve seen how language is a mess of miscommunication, cultural differences, and academic jargon. But surely, at least on a biological level, our brains are all on the same page, right? Well, not exactly. Welcome to the wonderful world of neurolinguistics, where it turns out that even the very organ responsible for language can’t get its act together.
Here’s the deal: Neurolinguistics is the study of how the brain processes language, and while it’s fascinating, it’s also a bit of a buzzkill for anyone hoping for consistency. See, your brain and my brain don’t process language in the same way. Sure, we’ve got similar hardware, but the software is wildly unpredictable. There are individual differences, cultural influences, and developmental quirks that all affect how we understand and produce language. What’s simple for one brain might be completely baffling to another.
Take, for example, something as basic as syntax. Chomsky might have told us we all have a universal grammar hard-wired into our brains, but neurolinguistics has shown that how we apply that grammar can vary significantly. Some people are wired to handle complex sentence structures with ease—think of that friend who can follow 10 different clauses in a single breath. Others? Not so much. For them, even a moderately tricky sentence feels like mental gymnastics. The brain is constantly juggling words, meanings, and structures, and some brains are better at it than others.
But the real kicker is how differently we interpret words. Remember those abstract nouns we’ve been wrestling with? Well, it turns out that your brain might be interpreting ‘freedom’ or ‘justice’ completely differently from mine – not just because of culture or upbringing, but because our brains physically process those words in different ways. Neurolinguistic studies have shown that certain regions of the brain are activated differently depending on the individual’s experience with language. In other words, your personal history with a concept can literally change how your brain lights up when you hear or say it.
And don’t even get me started on bilingual brains. If you speak more than one language, your brain is constantly toggling between two (or more) linguistic systems, which means it’s running twice the risk of misinterpretation. What a word means in one language might trigger a completely different association in another, leaving bilingual speakers in a constant state of linguistic flux. It’s like trying to run two operating systems on the same computer—things are bound to get glitchy.
But here’s the real kicker: Even within the same person, the brain can’t always process language the same way all the time. Stress, fatigue, emotional state—all of these factors can influence how well we handle language on any given day. Ever tried to have a coherent conversation when you’re tired or angry? Good luck. Your brain isn’t interested in nuance or deep philosophical ideas when it’s in survival mode. It’s just trying to get through the day without short-circuiting.
So, not only do we have to deal with the external chaos of language – miscommunication, different contexts, shifting meanings – but we also have to contend with the fact that our own brains are unreliable interpreters. You can use all the right words, follow all the right grammar rules, and still end up with a garbled mess of meaning because your brain decided to take a nap halfway through the sentence.
In the end, neurolinguistics reminds us that language isn’t just a social or cultural problem – it’’’s a biological one too. Our brains are doing their best to keep up, but they’re far from perfect. The very organ that makes language possible is also responsible for making it infinitely more complicated than it needs to be. And if we can’t rely on our own brains to process language consistently, what hope do we have of ever understanding anyone else?
Philosophics 