In 1755, Samuel Johnson published his Dictionary of the English Language, a work that would help define what counted as proper English for generations. But Johnson himself understood something that many of his readers missed: he was documenting usage, not discovering some perfect form of the language hidden beneath the messiness of everyday speech. The varieties he codified weren't inherently superior—they were simply the varieties spoken by people with power.

This distinction matters enormously. When we talk about standard languages, we're not describing natural linguistic phenomena. We're describing social constructions—particular varieties that have been elevated through deliberate processes involving education, government, and economic power. The standard variety of any language is, in sociolinguistic terms, a dialect that won.

Understanding how linguistic hierarchies get built reveals something uncomfortable about how societies organize themselves. The same processes that standardize languages also marginalize speakers, gatekeep opportunities, and perpetuate inequalities across generations. The myth that some ways of speaking are inherently better than others serves real interests—and examining those interests illuminates the relationship between language and power.

Languages don't standardize themselves. Standardization requires infrastructure: printing presses that fix spelling, schools that enforce grammar rules, governments that designate official languages, and institutions that reward conformity. The varieties that become standards are typically those spoken in centers of political and economic power—capital cities, commercial hubs, royal courts.

Consider the emergence of Standard English. What we now recognize as the standard began as the dialect of London and the East Midlands—not because this variety was linguistically superior, but because London was the seat of government, commerce, and eventually the printing industry. William Caxton established England's first printing press there in 1476, and the decisions he made about spelling and usage helped fix particular forms in place.

The process accelerated through education. As literacy spread, schools became the primary mechanism for transmitting standard forms. Children who arrived speaking regional or social dialects learned that their home varieties were incorrect, improper, or even shameful. The standard became associated with intelligence, education, and moral virtue—associations that persist today.

State power formalized these hierarchies. Language academies in France, Spain, and elsewhere received official mandates to regulate and preserve the national language. Even in countries without formal academies, government documents, legal proceedings, and public education systems enforced standard forms. Speaking the standard became prerequisite for full participation in civic life.

This history reveals that standardization isn't neutral documentation of linguistic facts. It's an exercise of power that elevates certain speakers while subordinating others. The varieties that become standards reflect existing social hierarchies—and then work to reinforce them.

Takeaway

Standard languages aren't discovered; they're constructed through the deliberate exercise of institutional power—printing, education, and government—that elevates particular varieties while marginalizing others.

Here's what linguistics as a science tells us: no language variety is inherently more logical, more expressive, or more capable of complex thought than any other. This isn't political correctness—it's a foundational finding that has been confirmed repeatedly across more than a century of systematic research.

Every human language and dialect is a complete system capable of expressing anything its speakers need to express. The grammatical features of non-standard varieties aren't errors or simplifications—they're rule-governed systems with their own internal logic. African American Vernacular English, for instance, has grammatical distinctions that Standard American English lacks, including aspectual markers that precisely indicate whether an action is habitual or ongoing.

The perception that standard varieties are more logical comes from confusing familiarity with correctness. If you grew up speaking a standard variety, its structures feel natural and obvious while the structures of other varieties feel strange or wrong. But this is circular reasoning—we've already decided that standard equals correct, then use that assumption to judge other varieties.

Consider double negatives. Standard English says 'I don't have any money,' while many non-standard varieties say 'I don't have no money.' Standard speakers often claim the double negative is illogical because two negatives should make a positive. But this is arbitrary—French, Spanish, Russian, and many other prestigious languages require multiple negative elements in a sentence. The rule against double negatives in English is a social convention, not a logical necessity.

What linguists call 'standard language ideology' is the belief system that treats standard varieties as inherently superior. This ideology isn't supported by linguistic evidence—but it profoundly shapes how people are evaluated, rewarded, and excluded.

Takeaway

Linguistic science finds no evidence that any variety is inherently superior—standard language ideology is a social belief system, not a linguistic fact.

Standard language ideology has concrete consequences. Speakers of non-standard varieties face discrimination in education, employment, housing, and legal proceedings. Their language is marked as deficient, and by extension, so are they. This isn't abstract—it affects life outcomes.

In education, children who speak non-standard varieties at home often arrive at school to discover that their language is wrong. Research consistently shows that this creates a dilemma: students must either code-switch extensively—essentially becoming bilingual in their own language—or face negative evaluations of their intelligence and potential. Teachers' linguistic biases, often unconscious, translate into lower expectations and fewer opportunities.

Employment discrimination based on accent and dialect is pervasive and largely legal. Studies using matched résumés with different accents on voicemail callbacks demonstrate significant bias against non-standard speakers. Job interviews reward standard speech, regardless of actual qualifications. Entire career paths become effectively closed to speakers whose varieties mark them as outsiders.

The legal system presents particular dangers. Jurors make credibility judgments based on how witnesses speak. Non-native and non-standard speakers are more likely to be misunderstood, to have their words misinterpreted, and to be seen as deceptive or unintelligent. In high-stakes legal proceedings, linguistic prejudice can determine outcomes.

These effects compound across generations. Communities whose varieties are stigmatized may experience language shift—abandoning their traditional varieties in favor of the standard—which carries its own costs in cultural continuity and identity. The standard language myth doesn't just rank varieties; it actively harms speakers and communities.

Takeaway

Linguistic discrimination translates directly into material disadvantage—affecting educational outcomes, employment opportunities, and legal proceedings in ways that compound across generations.

Recognizing the standard language myth doesn't mean abandoning standards or pretending all communication contexts are identical. Teaching standard varieties remains valuable precisely because of the real advantages they confer in a society organized around linguistic hierarchies. But we can teach standard forms without denigrating others—as additions to linguistic repertoires rather than corrections of deficiency.

More fundamentally, understanding how linguistic hierarchies get constructed invites us to question them. Why should accent predict employment? Why should children feel ashamed of how their families speak? The answers aren't inevitable—they're choices embedded in institutions that could be organized differently.

The myth of the standard language serves power by making social hierarchies appear natural. Seeing through the myth doesn't automatically dismantle those hierarchies—but it's a necessary first step toward imagining alternatives.