English is a curious language. Though it is part of the Germanic family of languages, it turns out only a quarter of the total modern English words (as found in the Shorter Oxford Dictionary) flaunt Germanic roots. The rest are loaned from languages around the world (mostly Latin: either via French or directly).
This (over)sharing of vocabulary can be a blessing for English speakers trying to learn new languages as they encounter many cognates i.e., words having “the same origin, or that are related and in some way similar.” The French call these vrai amis (true friends) as they closely resemble each other in spelling and meaning, while usually differing in pronunciation, for instance: adorable, boutique, bureau, cinéma, docteur, and so on. But be careful before you start slinging your accented English words around a café, because there are also some similar-looking words that have completely divergent meanings. These are called false friends (faux amis). So, if you wish someone a bonne journée, it means good day (as opposed to journey). Similarly, if you ask out a jolie girl (expect her to be pretty, not jolly, or perhaps both - I hardly know the fille) and take her to a librairie, be ready to pay up because it means bookstore (not library). What’s a library called? Une bibliothèque. Go stand in a coin (French for ‘corner’) and think about these differences.
The convenience (and occasional confusion) provided by this proliferation of non-Germanic words is not appreciated by all. In fact, a fringe movement has emerged amongst passionate linguists, who wish to return English to its true roots. Depending on how many Wikipedia rabbit holes one has tumbled down, this purism can slide on a scale from the mild ‘might mention it as fun trivia in the group-chat’ (consisting of preferring Native words i.e. those of Anglo-Saxon or Germanic origin, instead of foreign-derived words) to the extreme ‘will lecture everyone too drunk to walk away at a party’ (consists of reviving native words that are no longer commonly used instead of accepting Latin’s invasion). The language emerging from these Germanic substitutes is called Anglish.
The term Anglish was coined by Paul Jennings in three 1966 articles called ‘1066 and All Saxon’, published in Punch, a British satirical magazine. These were written to mark the 900th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings, and sought to “rewrite history in the language we should have had if the Normans had been defeated at Hastings”. Jennings was not alone in this mission. 19th century authors such as Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy and William Barnes advocated for linguistic purism and attempted to introduce words like birdlore for ornithology or bendsome for flexible.
And the phenomenon was not new either. In 1557, Sir John Cheke (a Greek scholar and Edward VI’s tutor) cautioned:
I am of this opinion that our own tung should be written cleane and pure, unmixt and unmangeled with borowing of other tunges; wherein if we take not heed by tiim, ever borowing and never paying, she shall be fain to keep her house as bankrupt.
It started with England’s 11th century invasion by the French-speaking William the Conqueror (the Duke of Normandy), due to which English society’s crème de la crème (or the bee’s knees in pure Germanic English) was filled with people speaking Old Norman (an Old French dialect). This evolved into Anglo-Norman, the language of the state, and changed English forever. While some authors embraced the new onrush of loanwords, others resisted and tried to return to the glory days of English to connect with the common masses, most of whom did not have access to an education in Latin or other languages. The reasons for the resistance varied from linguistic pride and nationalism to practical matters like the fact that English already had words with identical meanings, words that everyone could easily grasp (e.g. fall versus autumn). So, Anglish is, in a way, the vision for an open-source language. The critics reply by calling this purism a form of etymological xenophobia.
The purists remain undeterred and are actually compiling a dictionary to provide Germanic equivalents of non-native words, and the output is amusing. An alcoholic aggressive angel watching anime (a regular occurrence) becomes a boozen fighty errand-ghost watching dawnlandish livedrawing. No, I’m not making this up. While this sounds like gibberish or godsmear (blasphemy), the proponents of Anglish argue that it just simplifies things. For instance, a CD-ROM can be called WR-ROB (withfasted-ring-read-only bemindings), and nanotechnology would become motish witcraft. So much clearer, isn’t it?
Of course, the irony is that this simplified non-elitist version of the English language has become more alienating over the decades than foreign words like etymology or xenophobia. The way languages and cultures work, this intermingling and lending of words is inescapable. As James Nicoll poetically observed:
The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and riffle their pockets for new vocabulary.
Soothly, the faith-heat of this wordlore umbewrithing can onlet grir in the hearts of Foppish men. Here’s the English translation for you peasants: certainly, the enthusiasm of this linguistics revolution can cause horror in the hearts of Homo Sapiens. There’s a lot to think about when it comes to the reasoning behind promoting Anglish. Whether we agree with the intentions or not, we can all occasionally enjoy using the ‘pure’ vocabulary. There are websites to help you out. Let the fellfall (avalanche) of englishing (anglicization) begin!