According to the Telegraph, Oxford University deems it “necessary” to bastardize the language that has been used for about 800 years in Oxford’s degree conferrals and therefore will manipulate its Latin speeches in degree ceremonies to be gender-neutral for the benefit of “non-binary” students. The revisions have been approved by the university’s public orator and classicist Jonathan Katz, who seemingly conceded that the linguistic modifications are unnecessary because the generic masculine is, you know, generic: “It’s true that in standard Latin the masculine plural is used to cover a mixed-gender group, but it was felt that the masculine appearance of many words was still unhelpfully dominant.” Perhaps accidentally, Katz acknowledged that the changes may be perceived as ridiculous while also revealing the reasoning for such modifications: “One of my colleagues wrote to me this morning to ask whether this was an early April Fool. It isn’t — just keeping up with modern trends.”

Those who have visited Oxford will have spotted Latin inscriptions throughout the city, appearing carved into ornate buildings and etched onto plaques. I haven’t studied Latin, but I am Catholic and have worked with plenty of Romance languages in my linguistics courses, so I can usually make good guesses about what the inscriptions say. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t care much about their literal meanings. To me, the inscriptions mean something far greater: Each one — regardless of what it says — is a humbling reminder that the institution’s hallowed classrooms have withstood prolonged dark periods of human history, and I’ll never contribute anything to civilization that lasts so long. Although the university has evolved in many ways, a good number of the nuanced traditions have survived, allowing current students to share something with the brilliant minds who studied here long before us. Perhaps the induction and graduation ceremonies are among the few things that color all student experiences at Oxford across centuries, and manipulating one feature — like specific Latin words — strains the intergenerational bonds. And to change the refined traditions in accordance with a depraved modern trend is an insult to the alumni (er, alumnx?) who preserved the university’s customs through perilous times. 

For Oxford to distort its ceremonial Latin orations is for the institution to slit its wrists, the cultured history seeping out as it bleeds slowly to death.