My Word: A time, a place, and a word for it

It’s that time of year again. As 2023 draws to a close, dictionaries, newspapers, and other outlets are publishing their “Word of the Year.” And yet again, I am lost for words.

In Israel, this year splits into a “before” and “after,” neither of them good. There was before October 7 and after October 7. After that dark Saturday, which was also Simchat Torah, nothing will ever be quite the same. 

The massive Hamas terrorist atrocity – the invasion of the southern communities, the murder of some 1,200, the wounding of some 5,000, and the kidnapping of some 220 – each left a scar that will remain even when the open wound heals. The nature of the surprise attack with its unfathomable cruelty – the torture, rape, beheadings, and burning to death of victims of all ages – can’t be forgotten. And shouldn’t be.

Similarly, the war on multiple fronts, with tragic losses of soldiers of all ages and all walks of life, will leave its mark forever etched on Israeli public psyche. “October 7” has become its own phrase – Israel’s “9/11,” multiplied in scope, scale, and barbarity. It is such a dreadful date that it is now instantly recognizable without the necessity of noting the year, October 7, 2023.

While the initial shock might have worn off, at least for those not directly affected, and the IDF is literally fighting back, there is no doubt that October 7 has become a defining experience for us here in Israel. Hence, it was hard to relate to the word games going on elsewhere in the world. It was also hard to translate them.

Oxford English Dictionary last year gave us “Goblin mode” as its word of the year – “a type of behaviour which is unapologetically self-indulgent, lazy, slovenly, or greedy, typically in a way that rejects social norms or expectations.”

Once considered an elite arbiter of words, the Oxford team this year again opted for a slang phrase I’d never heard of: “Rizz.” I fear that might mean I lack what it takes; or maybe I’m just showing my age.

 According to Oxford’s website: “2023 marked the era of personal – and professional – PR. And what does it take to command attention? A whole lot of charisma, or the shortened form, ‘rizz.’

“Pertaining to someone’s ability to attract another person through style, charm, or attractiveness, this term is from the middle part of the word ‘charisma.’”

It can apparently also be used as a verb “often in the phrase ‘rizz up,’ which means ‘to attract, seduce, or chat up (a person).’” Handle with care.

Rizz’s main contenders for the top slot included “Swiftie” (“a fan of Taylor Swift”); “beige flag” (“a character trait that indicates that a partner or potential partner is boring or lacks originality”); and “situationship” (“a romantic or sexual relationship that’s not established or formal”).

I don’t seem to have lived my year on the same page as the Oxford wordsmiths, and perhaps we live in a parallel universe.

Other words making a buzz this year relate to an artificial world. Merriam-Webster opted for “authentic,” Collins chose “AI” (artificial intelligence), and the good folks at Cambridge elected “hallucinate,” which, I discovered, no longer means what I thought it did.

Maybe I am delusional, but for me “hallucinate” still has the classic connotation of “to see, hear, feel, or smell something that does not exist.” I am apparently so 2022. The Cambridge Dictionary’s updated definition explains: “When an artificial intelligence hallucinates, it produces false information.”

AI, ChatGPT, and other LLMs (large language models) that are playing such an influential role in our lives are not, after all, foolproof. In the words of a meme circulating on social media: “The biggest threat to humanity is not Artificial Intelligence but the lack of human intelligence.”

My choice for this year

IN RECENT years, The Hebrew Language Academy has also held a public campaign to help select a word of the year. Last year’s word was “bol’an” (sinkhole), but it fittingly seems to have disappeared during the tumultuous events of 2023. This year, we’ve all been preoccupied and if the Hebrew Language Academy offered a shortlist of words of the year, I missed it.

My choice – I assume like that of most Israelis – would depend on the time element. Pre-October 7, there is no question that the entire country was sucked into the battle over the government’s proposed judicial reform and the response to it. “Reforma” was definitely a word in the news, along with the rhythmic chanting of “Busha!” (shame), and “haficha” (overhaul/coup).

But that was then. Post-October 7, we have been struggling for words. This is the result not only of the Hamas mega-attack but also of the tremendous increase in antisemitism around the world. It defies definition. At some point, we might need to come up with a new word for the events we’re living through.

It took United Nations Women (the body for gender empowerment and equality) and UNICEF (the children’s fund) more than 50 days to get around to expressing something like sympathy for the appalling attack on Israeli women and children, and even then they couldn’t bring themselves to condemn Hamas. 

The utter hypocrisy led the Israeli Eretz Nehederet satirical show to coin a new phrase: “Rapesistance.” This is “a legitimate act of resistance that applies only against Jewish women,” the show quipped, but not in jest.

UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres also inadvertently created a buzzword when he declared that the Hamas attack “did not happen in a vacuum.” Guterres got sucked into his own black hole. Or maybe his words reflect the way the UN was long ago hijacked by the Palestinian agenda.

“Humanitarian aid” has also taken on its own meaning. It refers only to aid to the Palestinians in Gaza. Only Palestinians displaced in the war count. The hundreds of thousands of Israelis from the North and South evacuated because of Hamas and Hezbollah rocket fire have no say.

The more than 100 captives held by Hamas do not apparently qualify for “humanitarian aid.” I wonder if Kfir Bibas, a baby less than a year old, is receiving any aid at all. I worry whether he, his four-year-old brother Ariel, and his parents – all abducted from their home two months ago – are still alive.

In a poignant tribute to the hostages, the Hebrew Language Academy a few weeks ago published the roots, meanings, and significance of the first name of each captive. It was a reminder of the Zelda poem “Every Person Has a Name.” 

THE WORD “context” became a war casualty last week. It fell in the battle for political correctness.

In a now infamous hearing, the heads of three top universities in the United States – Harvard, MIT, and the University of Pennsylvania – acknowledged that Jewish and Israeli students feel unsafe on campus, but they could not, or would not, define what kinds of antisemitic and anti-Israel speech could be formally disciplined.

When the persistent New York Republican Rep. Elise Stefanik asked point-blank if “calling for the genocide of Jews” is against the universities’ codes of conduct, all three presidents said the answer is context-dependent. University of Pennsylvania President Liz Magill, a legal scholar, resigned following the uproar, but “sorry” still seems to be the hardest word. No wonder Israelis and Jews are joking about a “new form of poisonous Ivy” – Ivy League universities.

I wasn’t entirely shocked or surprised by the linguistic contortions of the university heads. Here’s a bit of context from the end of 2022 when Dictionary.com declared its word of the year was “woman.” It was defined as “an adult female person,” in case you’re wondering. The word was chosen due to the whopping 1,400% spike in online searches during the year, apparently driven by the need to find politically correct language amid transgender agendas. 

If you can’t define “woman” for fear of how your answer will be interpreted, then clearly there is a problem that goes beyond the narrow confines of list-making lexicographers. But to give the Hebrew language the last word, ultimately my choice for this year, post-October 7, would be the slogan “Yachad nenatzeach” or “Beyachad nenatzeach.” Either form is acceptable, according to the Hebrew Language Academy. “Together we will win” – it’s a winning way with words, however you say it.