Algospeak: How Algorithms Are Rewriting the Way We Speak

Algospeak: How Algorithms Are Rewriting the Way We Speak

In the cavernous digital underbelly of the internet, a strange new language is emerging. It's not Shakespearean, nor Orwellian, but something altogether weirder—a linguistic Frankenstein cobbled together from emojis, euphemisms, intentional typos, and absurdist slang. This is the world of algospeak, a bizarre, fascinating, and slightly dystopian dialect born in the shadows of social media moderation.

If you’ve been on TikTok, Instagram, or even YouTube recently, you’ve likely come across this linguistic phenomenon without even realizing it. People say "unalive" instead of "dead." They use 🍆 (the eggplant emoji) instead of the word "sex." They type "seggs" and "le dollar bean" instead of "sex" and "lesbian." Why? Because algorithms—those invisible, relentless, non-human gatekeepers of the digital town square—punish certain words. They shadowban posts, suppress visibility, and demonetize content with ruthless efficiency. And so, users adapt, pivoting away from clarity and toward clever camouflage.

Algospeak is the inevitable linguistic offspring of censorship and survival. It is a rebellion, a performance, and a form of cultural evolution all at once. But it also raises some unsettling questions: What happens when our public discourse is dictated by machines? Are we entering an era where speaking plainly is punished and opacity rewarded? And what are we losing in this algorithmically enforced game of charades?

A New Lexicon for the Moderated Masses

At first glance, algospeak might look like teen slang or internet gibberish. But peel back the layers, and you’ll find a rich, coded lexicon forged in the crucible of platform policy. This new dialect isn’t about creativity for creativity’s sake. It’s about survival—evading censorship, preserving reach, and ensuring visibility in a world where the wrong word can obliterate your post from public view.

On TikTok, creators talk about "unaliving" themselves rather than "committing suicide" to avoid triggering content suppression. Instead of "porn," they might say "spicy content." LGBTQ+ creators, weary from bans, began using fruit emojis and cutesy slang to identify their communities. Even words like "abuse" and "racism" have been tiptoed around, replaced by safer, sanitized synonyms.

This is not new. Language has always adapted to avoid scrutiny. Dissidents in repressive regimes developed euphemistic ways to speak truth to power. Teenagers in conservative households invented slang to talk about taboo topics. But what makes algospeak novel—and jarringly modern—is the adversary: not a government censor, not a nosy parent, but an algorithm. A dumb, pattern-matching machine that enforces order without nuance or context.

The Algorithm as Linguistic Dictator

Algorithms are not thoughtful or judicious. They do not understand irony, sarcasm, or satire. They lack empathy, cultural context, and nuance. They are blunt instruments, programmed to detect "harmful" content based on patterns, probabilities, and the whims of platform policy. And when they detect something deemed "problematic," they act swiftly and without appeal.

This creates a linguistic minefield. Words that were once neutral or clinical—"rape," "suicide," "abortion"—become radioactive. Creators, terrified of being silenced or deplatformed, contort their language into increasingly strange and oblique shapes. The result is a surreal, sometimes laughable, but often troubling shift in our collective vocabulary.

We are witnessing the rise of a kind of algorithmic Newspeak, where clarity is replaced by euphemism, and directness by distortion. George Orwell imagined a future where language was weaponized by governments to limit thought. He may not have anticipated that in our version, it would be wielded by neural nets and monetization formulas.

Creativity or Capitulation?

There is a case to be made for algospeak as a form of digital resistance. After all, isn’t human creativity at its most vibrant when faced with constraints? Isn't language, at its core, adaptive? Emojis-as-words, TikTok voiceovers replacing sensitive dialogue, phonetic code-switching—these are undeniably ingenious. They showcase our boundless capacity to reinvent language in the face of repression.

But there’s a darker side. The more we contort our speech to satisfy unseen algorithms, the more we internalize their logic. We begin to censor ourselves before the platforms even get a chance. We avoid certain topics not because they are unworthy, but because they are unmonetizable. The marketplace of ideas becomes a minefield of tripwires and invisible taboos.

In the long run, this doesn’t just impoverish our vocabulary. It impoverishes our thought.

A Fractured Public Sphere

Algospeak also fractures our shared language. It creates in-groups and out-groups: those who understand the code and those left behind. For younger generations, fluency in algospeak is second nature. For older users, it’s baffling. This deepens generational divides and further erodes the already fraying fabric of a shared reality.

Worse, the opacity of algospeak can be exploited. Hate groups and extremist communities have used coded language for years to evade detection. With algospeak normalized, it becomes even easier for malicious actors to spread harmful ideologies under the radar. The same tools used to discuss mental health without censorship can be weaponized to radicalize or mislead.

The Future of Language in a Moderated World

Where do we go from here? The answer is uncertain. Platforms are unlikely to abandon moderation entirely; the risks of unchecked speech are too great. But if moderation continues to be outsourced to algorithms, we may need to rethink our expectations for digital discourse.

Perhaps the solution lies in more transparent moderation policies, or in hybrid models where human oversight complements algorithmic filtering. Perhaps we need digital spaces governed less by ad revenue and more by civic responsibility. Or perhaps the rise of algospeak is simply the latest chapter in the never-ending story of language evolving to meet the needs of its speakers.

In any case, we should pay attention. Algospeak is more than internet slang. It is a mirror, reflecting our collective anxieties, our creative instincts, and our willingness to reshape reality to fit within the margins of acceptability. It is both a symptom and a strategy—a tool of resistance and a signal of submission.

And like all languages, it tells a story. One emoji, one euphemism, one algorithm-friendly phrase at a time.

Michael Shenher