Characteristics of youth slang in Modern English

The forms and functions of any language vary systematically, not only according to geography, but also in synchrony with social levels, cultural uses, and various communicative functions. Linguistic signs that encode social phenomena are seen as belonging to a specific register (a variety determined by degree of formality). If they are associated with an educated and high-class register, they are considered to be part of jargon. A slang form may be a new word coined for a specific reason, such as glitz (gaudiness) or hype (advertising that relies on gimmicks). Or it may be an old word with a new meaning, such as fly (stylish) or issues (problems). People use slang more often than they realize.

And it has a very high level of appeal (even if a secretive appeal). This is so because it is a type of poetry, bespeaking of friendliness, commonality, and inbuilt musicality; jargon, on the other hand, is not. And this poetic basis of slang might explain why many slang expressions become colloquialisms, passing into everyday conversation and blending perfectly with it.

In a brilliant new book, Slang: The people’s poetry, Michael Adams, an internationally- renowned expert on slang and linguistic variation, has provided a rationale for understanding the underlying reasons why slang is, in fact, a type of basic poetry and, hence, the reason for its appeal. Semiotically, Adams’ book is of great interest because it shows how slang originates in a form of poetic iconicity, that is, as a modeling device of the world, recreating it evaluatively through sound, sense, and reference. The inbuilt poeticism of slang was discussed by Connie Eble in several superb studies, starting in the late 1980s, on the forms and functions of youth slang (Eble 1989, 1996, 2004). Adams goes further by digging deeply into the originating forces of poeticism, revealing the presence of a creative impulse in humans in the ways they create and use language. The makers of slang (and that means anyone at any age) are essentially “poets,” who use the resources of a language to make inferences about the world, to give it a particular aesthetic shape, and to literally imbue it with “sense.”

The implications of Adams’ work thus go far beyond the usual analysis of linguistic variation. Slang presents us with a sample of how linguistic semiosis might originate and function in our species. Indeed, it seems to provide basic clues to unlocking the mystery of language phylogenesis. Poeticism in language is essentially a form of what may be called echoism, as the ancient Greeks claimed (Stam 1976; Danesi 2008). Echoism is supported by two undeniable facts: (1) imitation is a basic tendency in language ontogenesis (as developmental psychology has amply showed); (2) echoic words make up large portions of the world’s core vocabularies. Stross captures the idea behind echoism with the following words:

 

Humans and birds especially seem to have rather well developed abilities to imitate many environmental sounds, especially sounds made by other animals, and this ability could well have been very useful to protohominids for luring game. Could sounds used by protohominids to lure game or mimic sounds of nature come to represent the game or other objects in nature in the minds of these prelinguistic humans? (Stross 1976: 21)

 

Residues of echoism can be seen in languages throughout the world and, as we discover in Adams’ treatise, in the various slang forms that all languages generate on a daily basis. Loudness, for example, is used commonly to communicate anger. Similarly, increasing the rate of speech delivery seems universally to express urgency, while whispering seems to imply secrecy. The purpose here is to discuss the various aspects of “poetic competence” as Adams presents them through the template of slang, deriving broader implications not only for the study of language but also, more generally, for the study of verbal semiosis.

Adam’s opening chapter deals with theories and views of slang. Based partly on previous work (Adams 2003), he starts by shattering existing biased views of slang as informal and restricted language. He does so by illustrating the kind of aesthetic and cognitive effects typical slang words have on all us, whether we like it or not, and then arguing that the higher their hidden appeal the more likely they are to blend into mainstream language. In effect, Adams questions the typical standard-versus-nonstandard and formal-versus-informal dichotomies made by linguists, arguing correctly that it really is a matter of historical process, selectivity, evaluation, rather than intrinsic substance, especially since we are hardly ever aware of how many slang-based items we use regularly believing that they belong to the domain of so-called “standard” speech. The example I like to give is that of the word jazz (Danesi 1994). The term was originally coined as slang for “sexual intercourse.” When we use it today, however, it is unlikely that this meaning comes to mind. Rather, we tend to think of jazz as a “refined” genre of music that has a high cultural value. Its origin in brothels is now largely a lost memory.

Slang finds its way into the cultural mainstream in many ways, as Adams points out. In the past, its primary conduits were writers and people in positions of authority. Shakespeare, for instance, brought onto the stage, and thus subsequently into acceptable usage, such slang terms of his era as hubbub, to bump, and to dwindl e. But today with many channels of influence, from the traditional media to the Internet, anyone can really spread slang with or without writing credentials. The chances of a slang item spreading today are increasing at the speed of cybernetic information flow. Indeed, there is so much slang out there, that the primary criterion that filters out most of the items, letting through others, is that of need. If a slang term comes about at a time to fill a need, then it will crystallize and become part of general linguistic practice.

Another criterion is that of aesthetics. If people like a new word, they’ll start to use it and it will eventually become part of langue (as Saussure [1916] called linguistic competence). In effect, slang starts out as parole but, if it has a high aesthetic appeal, it tends eventually to become part of langue. Adams puts it aptly as follows:

 

I argue that slang is not merely a lexical phenomenon, a type of word, but a linguistic practice rooted in social needs and behaviors, mostly the complementary needs to fit in and to stand out. In addition, slang asserts our everyday poetic prowess as we manipulate the sounds, shapes, and effects of words; the pleasure we take in the slang we speak and hear is, at least sometimes, an aesthetic pleasure. And, though it plays only a bit part in the linguistic epic, slang may figure in our “linguistic competence,” that is, the innate human capacity to acquire and use language. We can’t tell the story of language unless we account for all its characters, slang included. (p. 6)

 

How does slang work? Instead of theorizing about it extensively, as is too often the case, Adams takes us on a fascinating trek through the mechanisms that undergird slang constructions, thus showing by illustration what slang is all about. As a case-in-point, consider the kind of slang used typically by adolescents. Slang words are coined by teens typically to gain control of the social world which they inhabit and, thus, to evaluate the world around them, on their own terms. As children, we are given the lexical and grammatical resources to encode information and concepts. We experiment with these creatively, but ultimately culture wins out and, quietly, we utilize the language forms we are exposed in order to understand the world. At adolescence, the poetic instinct resurfaces, as adolescents attempt to reorder the world linguistically, coming to grips with it in autonomous ways. So, when a 1950s teenager coined the word jock to refer to an adolescent personality type, he or she was providing an evaluative template through which one could view that type. A jock is someone who is in love with his physique and overall muscular and energetic appearance.

The word is a verbal portrait, packed with poetic connotations. It is a phallic metonym that reverberates with social meaning, both portraying and satirizing a particular type of young male.

As Adams cogently argues, we hardly ever realize that words like jock are born as slang creations, gradually becoming colloquialisms in the speech of all.

Words and expressions such as cool, chick, dude, sloshed, chill out, 24/7, among many others, have a similar slang origination, having become so much

a part of our everyday vocabulary that we no longer remember as slang concoctions. Adolescents have always spoken in distinct ways that they acquire unconsciously from their particular social environment. Predictably, such speech is highly variable, continually changing from one teen generation to the next, from one clique to another. But in all generations of teen slang, the underlying mechanism of poetic portraiture is the same.

Once could say that slang is a form of what anthropologists call “word magic,” a perception of the power of language that has always characterized social rituals in all kinds of cultures across time. The link between language and ritual was probably forged at the origin of human culture when certain words were felt to have awesome magical powers. That primeval feeling of awe is still evident in children’s eyes when they listen to poetic texts, to a magician’s abracadabra, or to an Open Sesame formula (used by Ali Baba in Arabian nights to open the door of the cave occupied by robbers). The word abracadabra derives from the letters positioned in the inverted pyramid design of an amulet worn around the neck in a previous era. In each line of the pyramid there was a letter that purportedly vanished magically until only the A remained to form the vertex of the triangle. As each of the letters disappeared, so too did the disease or problem of the amulet wearer. The feeling that particular words are magical has become largely unconscious in modern-day people, but the residues of word magic are everywhere. We take oaths to fulfill certain pledges; expressions such as “Oh, God” and “Thank Heaven” characterize common conversations, even though we scarcely think of them as sacred formulas; when someone sneezes, we utter “Bless you,” no longer realizing that the words are meant to ward off evil or sickness; and so on and so forth. Word magic also encompasses taboo, a word that comes from the tribal Polynesian language, Tongan, where it means “holy” or “untouchable.” Among the Zuñi people of New Mexico, the word takka (frogs) is prohibited during religious ceremonies because of its vulgar connotations; in our own world, so-called four-letter words are considered obscene, and taboo in sacred places; language that offends or provokes a public disturbance is held by many societies to be in violation of the law.

Slang is word magic in modern guise serving both the sacred and profane functions of human life. It covers the whole range of functions, from secrecy to colloquial dialogue. And like all word magic systems, it is exciting language.

Adams puts it as follows:

 

Somewhere on the line from the language of secrecy to the language of everyday being slang gathers a head of poetic steam and accelerates past colloquial speech. Slang is fast and exciting, and you can’t sustain the speed and the rush, so you’ll always slow into plain English again. But every word of the ride was worth it.(p.43)