This article is based on a TED-Ed video by linguist Martin Hilpert, who takes one of the simplest-sounding questions in language and shows why it’s anything but. When does a way of speaking count as a language, and when is it just a dialect?
If your instinct is to say it depends on how different two forms of speech are—think grammar, pronunciation, or vocabulary—you’re in for a surprise. As the video reveals, that distinction has much less to do with linguistics than most people think… and a whole lot more to do with politics, power, and national identity.
In this article, we’ll break down the video’s core ideas, take a closer look at how languages are labeled, and explain why that label can have real-world consequences. Think less grammar textbook, more geopolitical landmine.
Why “Understanding Each Other” Doesn’t Cut It
Let’s start with something that sounds intuitive: if two people can understand each other, they must be speaking the same language, right?
Well… not really.
Take Germany and Switzerland. Both countries have regions that speak what’s officially classified as German. But drop a person from Bremen into the middle of Interlaken and they might struggle to catch more than a few words. The dialects are that different—pronunciation, rhythm, entire chunks of vocabulary.
On the flip side, you’ve got Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian. These are officially three separate languages, but speakers can often understand each other just fine without switching tongues. No subtitles required.
Now bring in China. Mandarin and Cantonese are frequently described as “dialects” of Chinese, especially outside of China. But linguistically, they’re as different as Spanish and Italian—maybe even more so. If you only speak Mandarin, you’re not going to follow a conversation in Cantonese.
The point? The line between dialect and language isn’t drawn by how well speakers understand each other. If it were, the whole system would collapse.
The Politics Behind Language Labels
If mutual intelligibility isn’t the deciding factor, what is?
The short answer: politics.
Starting around the 1500s, European nation-states began forming centralized governments. They needed a single, unified way to run schools, enforce laws, and control territory. The solution? Pick one form of speech—usually whatever people were speaking in the capital—and make it the “standard.”
This standard language was written into textbooks, broadcast on the radio, and used in official documents. Everything else—local ways of speaking, regional accents, alternative grammars—was swept into the category of “dialects.”
And those dialects weren’t just sidelined—they were often seen as inferior, uncultured, or even a little embarrassing. Over time, people began associating the standard variety with education, social status, and intelligence.
In other words, it was never about which version was “better.” It was about which version had backing—from governments, institutions, and eventually, the people themselves.
Italy: When a Dialect Becomes the Language
Let’s take a closer look at Italy. When the country unified in 1861, it wasn’t just stitching together regions—it was stitching together a mess of local dialects. We’re talking at least fifteen major ones, all wildly different.
So how did they decide what Italian was going to sound like?
They picked the Florentine variety. Not because it was easier to understand or more widely spoken, but because writers like Dante, Petrarch, and Machiavelli had used it in their famous works. The cultural prestige was already baked in.
This literary dialect got promoted to official language status, taught in schools, printed in newspapers, and adopted by the state.
Later on, Mussolini’s fascist government pushed the standard even harder. Other varieties were banned from public life, branded as outdated, peasant-like, or even unpatriotic. The goal was simple: one country, one language.
The result? A linguistic identity shaped more by politics and poetry than by how people actually spoke.
When Language Becomes a Gatekeeper
Choosing a “standard” language isn’t just about communication—it’s about control. Once a particular way of speaking becomes official, it starts to act like a bouncer at the door of society.
Think job interviews, courtrooms, housing applications. If you speak the “right” way, you’re more likely to be let in. If you don’t, doors start closing.
One study from 1999 shows this in action. Researchers called landlords to ask about apartment listings. When the caller used African-American Vernacular English (AAVE), landlords were significantly less likely to respond positively. But when the same script was read in Standard American English, the tone flipped. Suddenly, the caller was more welcome.
Both AAVE and Standard American English are varieties of English. Both follow grammatical rules. But only one of them is treated as “neutral,” “professional,” or “acceptable” in most public contexts.
So when we talk about standard languages, we’re not just talking about linguistics—we’re talking about power, bias, and access.
Why Linguists Prefer the Term “Variety”
Given how loaded the word “dialect” has become, many linguists are dropping it altogether. Instead, they talk about language varieties.
Why? Because the dialect vs. language distinction often implies a hierarchy—one is real, the other is a lesser imitation. “Variety” avoids that trap. It treats all forms of speech as equally valid ways of using language.
Take English. It’s not one monolithic thing—it’s a patchwork of varieties: Standard British English, American English, AAVE, Nigerian English, Singaporean English, Malaysian English, and many more. Each has its own grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation.
None of them is “wrong.” They’re just different. And often, the dividing lines between them are far from clear. Varieties blur into each other across regions, social groups, and time.
The real takeaway? Languages aren’t clean-cut categories. They’re messy, shifting, and deeply human.
The Beautiful Mess of Human Communication
If you came into this thinking a “language” is just a fancy, official version of a “dialect,” you’re not alone. But as we’ve seen, that distinction has less to do with grammar or pronunciation and a lot more to do with who holds the microphone.
Nation-building, colonization, education systems, and even literary fame are the forces that shape what is labeled a language. Once that label sticks, it can open doors for some while quietly shutting them for others.
From a linguist’s point of view, though, it’s all varieties. All equally rule-governed. All equally expressive. All worthy of respect.
And maybe that’s the real lesson here: human language doesn’t like tidy boxes. It shifts, blends, evolves, and resists definition. It’s not just a tool—it’s a living, tangled thing that refuses to sit still. And that’s exactly what makes
Hey fellow Linguaholics! It’s me, Marcel. I am the proud owner of linguaholic.com. Languages have always been my passion and I have studied Linguistics, Computational Linguistics and Sinology at the University of Zurich. It is my utmost pleasure to share with all of you guys what I know about languages and linguistics in general.