Reading over some work-related documents, I’ve decided I hate it when people use the word impact as a verb when they really mean affect.
Usage Note: The use of impact as a verb meaning “to have an effect†often has a big impact on readers. Eighty-four percent of the Usage Panel disapproves of the construction to impact on, as in the phrase social pathologies, common to the inner city, that impact heavily on such a community; fully 95 percent disapproves of the use of impact as a transitive verb in the sentence Companies have used disposable techniques that have a potential for impacting our health. It is unclear why this usage provokes such a strong response, but it cannot be because of novelty. Impact has been used as a verb since 1601, when it meant “to fix or pack in,†and its modern, figurative use dates from 1935. It may be that its frequent appearance in the jargon-riddled remarks of politicians, military officials, and financial analysts continues to make people suspicious. Nevertheless, the verbal use of impact has become so common in the working language of corporations and institutions that many speakers have begun to regard it as standard. It seems likely, then, that the verb will eventually become as unobjectionable as contact is now, since it will no longer betray any particular pretentiousness on the part of those who use it. See Usage Note at contact.
I don’t care. I still hate it.
Next time: I rant again people who confuse effect and affect.
Boo. This is exactly what the English language was built to be able to do–coin new words and add new functions to existing ones (which is in many ways the same thing). People jumped on the “impact” bandwagon because they felt that it was a stronger word than “affect,” not because they didn’t know better.
I work for a large bureaucratic company, and my particular Jihad is against the passive voice in directive documents. It’s inevitably a losing battle since the engineers who (usually reluctantly) write the documents have been trained since college that passive voice is “objective” and “scientific.” They just can’t understand why it’s better to tell someone to do something rather than telling them that something is done. Every success I have inevitably gets washed away in a tide of reorganization. But even Sisyphus had a sense of purpose, and that’s what my ceaseless but futile battle gives me.
I’ve long suspected that “impact” has become as verb because it allowed people to avoid figuring out the proper use of “affect” and “effect.”
…err …make that “…has become popular as a verb…”
I hear you, but I’m torn. The half of me that is Nazi Grammar Police often finds itself at war with the part of me that thinks language should be allowed to grow and evolve and change.
If I just wasn’t so attached to being right all the time… *grin*
“Woe Is I: The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English” directs readers to NEVER use “impact” as a verb.
However, “impacts” connotes a sense of significance that “affects” just can’t match so I reluctantly accept the colloquialism, though I generally hate the improper use of a word eventually legitimizing it. Sometimes, we simply have to allow our language to evolve.
For example, it drives me nuts that my profs at U of Chicago REFUSE to accept that “data” can ever be singular. So instead, I must write things like “Recent data support…” and “Looking at the data, they are…”
I prefer not to use “impact” as a verb, but I can understand its use when people want more emphasis than “affect” implies. What really annoys me, though, is when people use “impactful.” Jodie Foster once described Contact as “a really impactful movie” while doing her promotion rounds on the talk shows way back in 1997. I still haven’t forgiven her.