GRAMMAR VIGILANTE -vs- THE DECIMATOR

THE DECIMATOR is a speaker / writer of the English Language (USA-Canadian-UK) who believes that the word DECIMATION means “complete and total utter destruction”. He or she will say / write:

“The Hulk really DECIMATED Loki in that first Avengers film…”

or

“Those 300 Spartan sons of bitches fought like hell, but hunchback dude ratted out Leonidas, and the Persians DECIMATED them…”

or

“Hiroshima and Nagasaki were both DECIMATED by atomic bombs…”

or

“My heart was DECIMATED when my boyfriend broke up with me.”

Stop right there, DECIMATOR!

The worst thing about you, villain, is that you have become sanctified by continuous use, and now seem to be accepted as a pillar of the community of the Word. I find you in the most unlikely places, DECIMATOR. I can understand your misuse by beginning writers, but now you’re appearing out of context in books written by professionals. You’d think best-selling authors would have paid copyeditors who are brave enough to say: “Sorry, Big Time Writer, but this isn’t a misspelling or glitch; you have chosen the wrong word in this context.” You’d think their PUBLISHERS would notice, and gently explain:

“Many people misuse the word DECIMATE now, but we’d rather our authors didn’t. Now about that 3-book deal…”

THE DECIMATING TRUTH:

“To decimate”, from the Latin, comes to us via the ancient Romans, who used DECIMATION to enforce discipline in their military. A group of Legionnaires who had shown cowardice or otherwise besmirched Roman honour would be rounded up at sword point and put at attention before their commander, who would bark:

“Decimate them!”

No, arrows didn’t rain down from the parapets, killing everyone with extra-gory eye and throat shots. Boiling oil was not poured all over them. They were not all beheaded or even crucified. For that day and time, they were shown what passed for great mercy…

Let’s say we’re decimating 100 soldiers, a Legion. They’re standing in ten rows, with ten men in each row. Our executioners pass among them, forcing one random man in each line to his knees, where a downward sword thrust instantly pierces his heart, causing (we can hope) almost immediate death.

First, 100 men are alive. Now 10 of them (a “decade”) are not. There are 90 soldiers left, all shaking and soiling their togas, promising to fight harder in the future for the glory of Rome.

They have been DECIMATED. They got off EASY…

The Lost Chord here, the missing word, the word that so many writers are unconsciously reaching for when they want to tell us that something or someone has been almost completely destroyed is:

***DEVASTATED***.

No one’s heart has ever been DECIMATED. How would you measure one-tenth of a broken heart? Could you even feel enough angst to write a poem about it? Next time, try DEVASTATED. (Actually, DON’T apply that to your heart in a poem, because it’s a shopworn cliché. Surprise us with something better.)

The Hulk DEVASTATED Loki. If he had only slammed the God of Mischief on the concrete hard enough to DECIMATE him, then Loki would still have had enough hit points left to beat the Avengers.

Xerxes didn’t DECIMATE the Spartans. If his forces had only killed 30 out of the 300 by the time the Battle of Thermopylae was done, Leonidas and his remaining 269 Spartans would probably have gone on to lay waste to all Persia instead of dying heroically on slo-cam.

As for Hiroshima and Nagasaki, their citizens would have been incredibly happy to have merely been DECIMATED. Instead, their centers of population were more than DEVASTATED; they were EXTINGUISHED by being VAPORISED.

So, next time you’re tempted to use DECIMATION in any of its forms, make sure you don’t mean DEVASTATION. Or else I’ll DEFENESTRATE you…

Look it up!

--The Grammar Vigilante