Python. Java. Swift.

As it turns out, the computer language we should have been learning is proper English.

By JordiSenior Writer

You may have seen an article in the last few months keenly deciphering the signs of AI grammar. A correct use of semicolon. Frequent application of Oxford comma. The rare sight of an em-dash. These opinion pieces have LinkedIn in a frenzy; comments ablaze with ‘I caught my colleague in’ this and ‘I saw my client use’ that.

But as the shine of these (at first rather entertaining) observations wears off — we’re left with one unfortunate fact: many business professionals don’t know basic grammar. And worse, it’s causing Eyes-Wide-Shut-level paranoia about the legitimacy of written work.

As important as philosophical musings are, this situation first became real for the studio a few weeks ago. When a client of ours — upon the delivery of a creative brief — asked if we had used Chat GPT to help write it. Why? Because they caught the use of ‘em-dashes’ throughout. It’s not questioning our work that had alarm bells ringing in our copy department, but the assumption that use of proper grammar (written by a professional copywriter) indicates AI interference. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

A blame we can attribute firmly to (trigger warning) Microsoft Word’s first sentient, paper-clip shaped Office tool ‘Clippy’, the existence of writing tech is no new innovation. A trend that has been slowly creeping into public consciousness for years, the increased sophistication of AI writing tools has created a literacy gap that is all too easy to plaster over. Just install the plugin, or ask the question, and the algorithm will articulate it for you. Bingo — you’ve got a headline.

Clippy Ai (Image: PC World)

Clippy Ai (Image: PC World)

But as Grammarly hits 40 million monthly users (including a self-proclaimed 96% of Fortune 500 companies) and OpenAI’s Chat GPT reports 400 million weekly users worldwide, we’re left with one question: is this new dialect — the language of prompt writing — the signpost of a decline in collective writing skills? And, as a result, the unofficial downfall of the em-dash?

A deeply misunderstood punctuation mark, the em-dash is mourned by the writing community, myself included. A smoking gun in the hands of Chat GPT (Sam Altman when I get my hands on you) has seen the mark be reduced to a signpost of insufficiency in professional services. But we at Forty Eight Point One will die on the hill of proper punctuation — brandish me with a Scarlet A M and hold me to trial in the court of public opinion. ‘It’s innocent’ I’ll cry from the docks, ‘the em-dash didn’t do anything!’

Now seems like a good time to lay out a formal defence for its use. The em-dash belongs in the hyphen family, where there are three characters in play:

1. The hyphen itself -
The shortest mark of the three, this is used to connect or ‘hyphenate’ two or more separate words to form a compound. 

2. The en-dash –
Longer than a hyphen but shorter than an em-dash, this is primarily used to indicate ranges between figures or spaces of time.

3. The em-dash —
The longest of the three punctuation points, the em-dash functions in a similar fashion to a comma or a colon, creating a break in a sentence or adding emphasis to a point. 

Many also don’t know that the en-dash is the approximate length of a capital N, and the em-dash is… maybe this is one grammar fact too far.

Back to the point. As rudimentary as these definitions are, their distinctions are essential. The hyphen is almost always used instead of an em-dash in writing — with the two (the bane of any editor’s existence) commonly confused or mixed up. And it’s this exact em-dash erasure that has caused such stigma for its use.

But in an era where the question is ‘why Google Gemini uses em-dashes’ and not ‘why don’t I use them’, it’s no wonder we’ve found ourselves in this grammatical stalemate. We’re left looking down the barrel of a reality where perception holds more power than correct punctuation — with the use of em-dashes surely on the decline for fear of accusation or ostracisation, leaving AI as the superior force on English writing.

It’s a devastating loss (and potential canary in the coal mine) for writers, securing our fate with every ‘enter’ pressed on an AI prompt. What users don’t realise, however, is that they're pulling a trigger that leaves us with, ultimately, more questions than answers when it comes to the future of the creative industry.

How far will it go? Just ask Chat GPT.