Achieving closure.(English dictionary)

I USED TO FEEL COMFORTABLE with the pace of change and development of the English language. It reminded me of the good old horses I'd had: always ready; no problem to catch or to saddle; no vices, such as kicking or biting; changing gait (by that mysterious equine empathy through the seat of the pants) into walk, trot or canter just as one's mood moved, before hands or heels needed to come into play.

Over the years, successive editions of the great dictionaries--Oxford, say, or Webster--had shown sober judgment in their admission of new words and usages, but remained staunch in defence of those ramparts of established words which constitute our splendid language. But, in these opening years of the twenty-first century, has the pace of change become too hot?

Only a classical or a dead language is frozen and immutable. Even the French Academy failed to outlaw rosbif and biftek. Yet too much change, excessive invasion of neologisms, weakens our instinctive and traditional sense of universally understood meanings and nuances; it renders our communication less intimate and exact; it is subversive.

The most recent edition of Oxford's Compact English Dictionary (2005) has sold the pass on fortuitous. In addition to the word's proper meaning of "by chance", it now allows also "by lucky chance", thus proving that the barbarians will usually win if they keep at it long enough. I can remember when Oxford reference books actually lampooned fortuitous ("lucky") as the malapropism it is.

The Compact Oxford is a splendid desk companion--invaluable. But there wafts around it a faint air of frenzy; four editions in five years? Surely this has nothing to do with the fact that it is now printed in Italy?

It might be time to give their "new words" people an aspirin and a holiday. The last thing we need built now in Oxford is a new tower of Babel. Space here prevents the multiplication of examples but, take it from me, the rise and rise of Mark Latham's literary star suggests that arsehole and suckhole may soon attain the dignity of a dictionary, though they have not arrived yet.

All this springs from thinking recently about the word closure. As a substantive it has a long history indeed, and might accurately be used to describe anything from a five-barred gate to a zip-fastener. It denoted also a parliamentary procedure whereby debate ends and a vote is taken. ("Closure" was used by Gestalt psychologists early in the last century, but that blind alley is profitless now for us to follow.)