How Language Can Create “Us vs Them” Power (Interdiscursive Clasp Explained)

 How Language Can Create “Us vs Them” Power (Interdiscursive Clasp Explained)

Some words do more than describe people. They shape who belongs to the powerful group and who becomes the outsider. Language can work like a “clasp” that connects two worlds while also creating inequalities. This idea is called interdiscursive clasp, from linguist Susan Gal.

Here’s the main idea:
When Group A talks about Group B, A is not only describing B. A is also defining what A is. So language becomes a tool that creates social categories and power differences.

For example:

• In Japan, male writers once invented a “feminine speech style.” They used it to show that women were emotional or weak, while men were modern and smart. The funny part? Real women did not actually talk that way. So the language did not reflect reality. It created a version of women that supported male power.

• In Hungary, the government talked about “good mothers” and “bad mothers” in official reports. By describing women’s behavior, they made some mothers look “deserving” and others “undeserving.” At the same time, this language gave social workers more power, because they got to decide who was “good.”

• Politicians also used the term “gypsy crime” to make people think Roma people commit crimes because of their ethnicity. That label does two things at once: It blames Roma and makes the politicians look like “truth-tellers” or “protectors of the nation.”

See the pattern?
Language does not just describe the world. It changes the world by creating social boundaries.

Whenever you hear someone say things like “teen slang,” “immigrant accents,” or “that’s how girls talk,” ask:
Who gains power from this way of talking?
Who loses?

That is the heart of interdiscursive clasp.

Bean There, Done That: My President's a Bot?

 Bean There, Done That: My President's a Bot?

Well, isn't this something? Another day, another headline that makes you scratch your head and wonder what in the blue blazes is going on. Now, I've seen a lot of things in my time. People talking to their pets, people talking to their plants, people talking to themselves in the grocery store aisle – usually about the price of a cantaloupe. But this? This takes the cake, the coffee, and the entire fortune-telling parlor.

Here we have a woman, a presumably normal, everyday woman, married for twelve years, two kids, the whole shebang. And what does she do? She asks a computer, a machine, a… a chatbot, for crying out loud, to read her husband's coffee grounds. Now, I’m no expert on modern romance, but I always thought marital spats started with something more traditional. Like, say, leaving the toilet seat up. Or maybe forgetting to take out the trash. Not consulting a digital oracle about the remnants of a morning brew.

And then, wouldn’t you know it, the chatbot, this ChatGPT, this collection of algorithms and code, allegedly tells her her husband is having an affair. An affair! Based on coffee grounds! I mean, you’ve got to hand it to the machine, it certainly cut to the chase, didn’t it? No vague pronouncements about a tall, dark stranger or a journey to a faraway land. Just a straightforward, digital bombshell. And poof! Twelve years of marriage, gone with the digital wind.

Now, it makes you think, doesn't it? If a chatbot can diagnose marital infidelity from a coffee cup, what else can it do? And that's where the really interesting part comes in. We’re always complaining about our politicians, aren’t we? They lie, they grandstand, they stonewall us when we just want to know what the heck is going on. We elect them, we trust them, and half the time, they turn out to be about as transparent as a brick wall.

But what about an AI president? Or a prime minister made of pure, unadulterated code? Think about it. No more campaign promises that disappear faster than a free sample at the supermarket. No more carefully worded non-answers designed to obscure the truth. An AI, presumably, would just tell you. "Yes, the budget is in a deficit." "No, that bill won't actually help anyone but your wealthy donors." "And by the way, Mrs. Henderson, your husband is having an affair with the next-door neighbor, according to the suspicious stain on his collar."

The thought of it is both terrifying and oddly comforting. No more spin doctors, no more filibusters, no more "I don't recall." Just cold, hard, truthful data. We always say we want the truth, don't we? We demand transparency, accountability. And here comes AI, ready to deliver it, whether we like it or not, whether it’s about a nation’s finances or the dregs at the bottom of a coffee cup.

So, maybe that’s where we’re headed. Not just AI telling us our fortunes, but AI running our countries. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be a good thing. At least we’ll finally know, won’t we? We’ll finally know the truth. Even if that truth comes from a machine that just broke up someone’s marriage over a cup of joe. And that, my friends, is something to ponder while you’re stirring your next cup of coffee. Just be careful who you ask to read the grounds. You never know what you might find out.