
What English do you use? British? American? [Your country's]?
AI is quietly flattening the way we write in English, and most of us haven't noticed. Knowing which variety to use, and why consistency matters, is the fix.
"What English do you use?"
It was a question I asked a potential client. I had pre-read their manual, and it was peppered with British and American English spelling. A "colour" here, an "optimization" there. So, to my question, their answer was, "Uh..."
As an editor, the type of English used is something I often have to consider. Is it British? Is it American?
Growing up in American schools, my writings are often in—you guessed it—American English. However, my parents grew up in British-influenced Malaysia. Words like "lift" were used instead of "elevator," or "biscuits" instead of "cookies." So, conversationally, it would be a tossed salad of British and American with me.
Now, here I was, waiting for which one this client would choose.
"In India," he basically said, "it's not something we think about." Meaning, it doesn't matter which one. Just as long as you get your message out there.
To say I was surprised is an understatement. My inner editor ego was aghast. "You're telling meee, you don't choose between the twooo?"
But then, logic (or maybe humanity) kicked in. Who made up these rules anyway?
British vs. American: The battle of the English
As we know, the good ol' GB went and colonized a great chunk of the world. And with it, implemented their manner of communication.
Research from Maltepe University points out that "the colonial and imperial heritage of the British Empire transferred the English language to all the continents alongside other social, economic, political, and military instruments."
That simply means that if you wanted an education, a government job, or any kind of upward mobility, you had to speak English. Language became the mechanism that allowed Britain to maintain control.
Like, if you speak my language, you think in my framework, you operate within my systems, and you depend on me to function in your own country. This is why so many countries ended up with British English.
Then, along comes this American dude, Noah Webster, a lawyer-turned-lexicographer who believed that a new country (America) needed a new language. So in 1828, he published a dictionary that the University of Washington describes as "the first serious articulation of American English as it was growing increasingly distinct from the British variety."
His intention was clear from the start: as he wrote in the preface, "language is the expression of ideas; and if the people of one country cannot preserve an identity of ideas, they cannot retain an identity of language." (Honestly, it's still English, man.)
According to Merriam-Webster, it wasn't purely patriotism driving the guy. Webster also had phonetic and linguistic reasoning behind his changes, and ultimately, it was the public who decided which spellings actually stuck.
Now, the spread of this "new" language accelerated after World War II, according to a PLOS ONE study, with the U.S. inserting itself around the world in the manner of military bases, consumer goods, music, Hollywood, and the internet.
So that's how we now have "color" and not just "colour," and "fries" as well as "chips." And while the British surely had a good run for centuries, the Americans have been dominating the ring for the past few generations.
But wait, it's not just two
If you're from a former British colony, you know that there's no such thing as British English or American English. There's:
The Queen's English, and
[Insert your Commonwealth country here] English.
Linguist Raymond Hickey even noted in The Cambridge Handbook of World Englishes that postcolonial nations have "indigenous varieties with profiles of their own." For instance (and, please, if you're from the first two countries and would like to correct me, send me a message)...
In Australia, you'll likely hear "arvo," "servo," "brekkie," "fair dinkum," and "she'll be right."
In Nigeria, "God don butta my bread," "chop," "ember months."
And my fellow Malaysians, there's Manglish (Malay English) with its add-ons of "lah," "meh," and "can or not?"
Sure, (American English-leaning) editors like me might argue with (British English-leaning) editors like my friend, Amy White, over which English to use. But truth be told, that potential client had the most honest answer to my question all along—it's neither, as long as people get what you mean.
Let's throw AI into the ring
In April 2025, The Atlantic published a story called "The Great Language Flattening," talking about how AI is, essentially, homogenizing English. What LLMs like ChatGPT and grammar checkers like Grammarly do is shove standardized, Americanized, and overly polished language down everyone's throat.
Okay, okay ... they do help, of course. But they're also the reason you see a lot of the same style and tone of writing everywhere now. (Let's be honest: how often did you use contrasting statements and em dashes in your writing before ChatGPT showed up?)
Even the non-native speakers and speakers of [insert your Commonwealth country here] English are using fewer unique expressions in their writing and opting for AI-favored Western idioms.
More recent research shows that AI chatbots are quietly making human culture more uniform and less diverse. Not to mention that they're doing it faster and more powerfully than any technology before them. One study published in the Federation of Associations in Behavioral & Brain Sciences indicates that if we don't act soon, AI could slowly flatten the variety of human cultures we have in the world into one dominant, narrow mold.
What English do you use?
So, seriously. What's your answer to this question? Do you think it matters?
As an editor, my take is this: it depends on what you're trying to do.
If you're writing to inform or persuade, consistency matters more than which variety you choose. Research shows your brain trusts what it can process easily. And inconsistent spelling or style, however minor, creates just enough friction to chip away at that trust.
Here's what being consistent can do:
Looks more professional. Mixing "colour" and "color" makes it look like you didn't do any proofreading. Sloppy, for sure.
Suits your audience better. British readers expect British spelling, American readers expect American. Getting it right makes your writing feel natural to them.
Builds brand trust. For businesses, using the same English throughout all your copy is part of having a coherent, recognizable voice.
Meets institutional standards. Academic journals, publishers, and style guides often specify which one to use. If you ignore that, your work can get sent back.
So ... maybe the Indian client was onto something. Which English you use may not matter. But if you want your writing to mean something to someone, pick one and stick with it.
—
This article was written with a little help from AI.
More Reads
Still here? Good. There's more.

What English do you use? British? American? [Your country's]?
AI is quietly flattening the way we write in English, and most of us haven't noticed. Knowing which variety to use, and why consistency matters, is the fix.
"What English do you use?"
It was a question I asked a potential client. I had pre-read their manual, and it was peppered with British and American English spelling. A "colour" here, an "optimization" there. So, to my question, their answer was, "Uh..."
As an editor, the type of English used is something I often have to consider. Is it British? Is it American?
Growing up in American schools, my writings are often in—you guessed it—American English. However, my parents grew up in British-influenced Malaysia. Words like "lift" were used instead of "elevator," or "biscuits" instead of "cookies." So, conversationally, it would be a tossed salad of British and American with me.
Now, here I was, waiting for which one this client would choose.
"In India," he basically said, "it's not something we think about." Meaning, it doesn't matter which one. Just as long as you get your message out there.
To say I was surprised is an understatement. My inner editor ego was aghast. "You're telling meee, you don't choose between the twooo?"
But then, logic (or maybe humanity) kicked in. Who made up these rules anyway?
British vs. American: The battle of the English
As we know, the good ol' GB went and colonized a great chunk of the world. And with it, implemented their manner of communication.
Research from Maltepe University points out that "the colonial and imperial heritage of the British Empire transferred the English language to all the continents alongside other social, economic, political, and military instruments."
That simply means that if you wanted an education, a government job, or any kind of upward mobility, you had to speak English. Language became the mechanism that allowed Britain to maintain control.
Like, if you speak my language, you think in my framework, you operate within my systems, and you depend on me to function in your own country. This is why so many countries ended up with British English.
Then, along comes this American dude, Noah Webster, a lawyer-turned-lexicographer who believed that a new country (America) needed a new language. So in 1828, he published a dictionary that the University of Washington describes as "the first serious articulation of American English as it was growing increasingly distinct from the British variety."
His intention was clear from the start: as he wrote in the preface, "language is the expression of ideas; and if the people of one country cannot preserve an identity of ideas, they cannot retain an identity of language." (Honestly, it's still English, man.)
According to Merriam-Webster, it wasn't purely patriotism driving the guy. Webster also had phonetic and linguistic reasoning behind his changes, and ultimately, it was the public who decided which spellings actually stuck.
Now, the spread of this "new" language accelerated after World War II, according to a PLOS ONE study, with the U.S. inserting itself around the world in the manner of military bases, consumer goods, music, Hollywood, and the internet.
So that's how we now have "color" and not just "colour," and "fries" as well as "chips." And while the British surely had a good run for centuries, the Americans have been dominating the ring for the past few generations.
But wait, it's not just two
If you're from a former British colony, you know that there's no such thing as British English or American English. There's:
The Queen's English, and
[Insert your Commonwealth country here] English.
Linguist Raymond Hickey even noted in The Cambridge Handbook of World Englishes that postcolonial nations have "indigenous varieties with profiles of their own." For instance (and, please, if you're from the first two countries and would like to correct me, send me a message)...
In Australia, you'll likely hear "arvo," "servo," "brekkie," "fair dinkum," and "she'll be right."
In Nigeria, "God don butta my bread," "chop," "ember months."
And my fellow Malaysians, there's Manglish (Malay English) with its add-ons of "lah," "meh," and "can or not?"
Sure, (American English-leaning) editors like me might argue with (British English-leaning) editors like my friend, Amy White, over which English to use. But truth be told, that potential client had the most honest answer to my question all along—it's neither, as long as people get what you mean.
Let's throw AI into the ring
In April 2025, The Atlantic published a story called "The Great Language Flattening," talking about how AI is, essentially, homogenizing English. What LLMs like ChatGPT and grammar checkers like Grammarly do is shove standardized, Americanized, and overly polished language down everyone's throat.
Okay, okay ... they do help, of course. But they're also the reason you see a lot of the same style and tone of writing everywhere now. (Let's be honest: how often did you use contrasting statements and em dashes in your writing before ChatGPT showed up?)
Even the non-native speakers and speakers of [insert your Commonwealth country here] English are using fewer unique expressions in their writing and opting for AI-favored Western idioms.
More recent research shows that AI chatbots are quietly making human culture more uniform and less diverse. Not to mention that they're doing it faster and more powerfully than any technology before them. One study published in the Federation of Associations in Behavioral & Brain Sciences indicates that if we don't act soon, AI could slowly flatten the variety of human cultures we have in the world into one dominant, narrow mold.
What English do you use?
So, seriously. What's your answer to this question? Do you think it matters?
As an editor, my take is this: it depends on what you're trying to do.
If you're writing to inform or persuade, consistency matters more than which variety you choose. Research shows your brain trusts what it can process easily. And inconsistent spelling or style, however minor, creates just enough friction to chip away at that trust.
Here's what being consistent can do:
Looks more professional. Mixing "colour" and "color" makes it look like you didn't do any proofreading. Sloppy, for sure.
Suits your audience better. British readers expect British spelling, American readers expect American. Getting it right makes your writing feel natural to them.
Builds brand trust. For businesses, using the same English throughout all your copy is part of having a coherent, recognizable voice.
Meets institutional standards. Academic journals, publishers, and style guides often specify which one to use. If you ignore that, your work can get sent back.
So ... maybe the Indian client was onto something. Which English you use may not matter. But if you want your writing to mean something to someone, pick one and stick with it.
—
This article was written with a little help from AI.
More Reads
Still here? Good. There's more.

What English do you use? British? American? [Your country's]?
AI is quietly flattening the way we write in English, and most of us haven't noticed. Knowing which variety to use, and why consistency matters, is the fix.
"What English do you use?"
It was a question I asked a potential client. I had pre-read their manual, and it was peppered with British and American English spelling. A "colour" here, an "optimization" there. So, to my question, their answer was, "Uh..."
As an editor, the type of English used is something I often have to consider. Is it British? Is it American?
Growing up in American schools, my writings are often in—you guessed it—American English. However, my parents grew up in British-influenced Malaysia. Words like "lift" were used instead of "elevator," or "biscuits" instead of "cookies." So, conversationally, it would be a tossed salad of British and American with me.
Now, here I was, waiting for which one this client would choose.
"In India," he basically said, "it's not something we think about." Meaning, it doesn't matter which one. Just as long as you get your message out there.
To say I was surprised is an understatement. My inner editor ego was aghast. "You're telling meee, you don't choose between the twooo?"
But then, logic (or maybe humanity) kicked in. Who made up these rules anyway?
British vs. American: The battle of the English
As we know, the good ol' GB went and colonized a great chunk of the world. And with it, implemented their manner of communication.
Research from Maltepe University points out that "the colonial and imperial heritage of the British Empire transferred the English language to all the continents alongside other social, economic, political, and military instruments."
That simply means that if you wanted an education, a government job, or any kind of upward mobility, you had to speak English. Language became the mechanism that allowed Britain to maintain control.
Like, if you speak my language, you think in my framework, you operate within my systems, and you depend on me to function in your own country. This is why so many countries ended up with British English.
Then, along comes this American dude, Noah Webster, a lawyer-turned-lexicographer who believed that a new country (America) needed a new language. So in 1828, he published a dictionary that the University of Washington describes as "the first serious articulation of American English as it was growing increasingly distinct from the British variety."
His intention was clear from the start: as he wrote in the preface, "language is the expression of ideas; and if the people of one country cannot preserve an identity of ideas, they cannot retain an identity of language." (Honestly, it's still English, man.)
According to Merriam-Webster, it wasn't purely patriotism driving the guy. Webster also had phonetic and linguistic reasoning behind his changes, and ultimately, it was the public who decided which spellings actually stuck.
Now, the spread of this "new" language accelerated after World War II, according to a PLOS ONE study, with the U.S. inserting itself around the world in the manner of military bases, consumer goods, music, Hollywood, and the internet.
So that's how we now have "color" and not just "colour," and "fries" as well as "chips." And while the British surely had a good run for centuries, the Americans have been dominating the ring for the past few generations.
But wait, it's not just two
If you're from a former British colony, you know that there's no such thing as British English or American English. There's:
The Queen's English, and
[Insert your Commonwealth country here] English.
Linguist Raymond Hickey even noted in The Cambridge Handbook of World Englishes that postcolonial nations have "indigenous varieties with profiles of their own." For instance (and, please, if you're from the first two countries and would like to correct me, send me a message)...
In Australia, you'll likely hear "arvo," "servo," "brekkie," "fair dinkum," and "she'll be right."
In Nigeria, "God don butta my bread," "chop," "ember months."
And my fellow Malaysians, there's Manglish (Malay English) with its add-ons of "lah," "meh," and "can or not?"
Sure, (American English-leaning) editors like me might argue with (British English-leaning) editors like my friend, Amy White, over which English to use. But truth be told, that potential client had the most honest answer to my question all along—it's neither, as long as people get what you mean.
Let's throw AI into the ring
In April 2025, The Atlantic published a story called "The Great Language Flattening," talking about how AI is, essentially, homogenizing English. What LLMs like ChatGPT and grammar checkers like Grammarly do is shove standardized, Americanized, and overly polished language down everyone's throat.
Okay, okay ... they do help, of course. But they're also the reason you see a lot of the same style and tone of writing everywhere now. (Let's be honest: how often did you use contrasting statements and em dashes in your writing before ChatGPT showed up?)
Even the non-native speakers and speakers of [insert your Commonwealth country here] English are using fewer unique expressions in their writing and opting for AI-favored Western idioms.
More recent research shows that AI chatbots are quietly making human culture more uniform and less diverse. Not to mention that they're doing it faster and more powerfully than any technology before them. One study published in the Federation of Associations in Behavioral & Brain Sciences indicates that if we don't act soon, AI could slowly flatten the variety of human cultures we have in the world into one dominant, narrow mold.
What English do you use?
So, seriously. What's your answer to this question? Do you think it matters?
As an editor, my take is this: it depends on what you're trying to do.
If you're writing to inform or persuade, consistency matters more than which variety you choose. Research shows your brain trusts what it can process easily. And inconsistent spelling or style, however minor, creates just enough friction to chip away at that trust.
Here's what being consistent can do:
Looks more professional. Mixing "colour" and "color" makes it look like you didn't do any proofreading. Sloppy, for sure.
Suits your audience better. British readers expect British spelling, American readers expect American. Getting it right makes your writing feel natural to them.
Builds brand trust. For businesses, using the same English throughout all your copy is part of having a coherent, recognizable voice.
Meets institutional standards. Academic journals, publishers, and style guides often specify which one to use. If you ignore that, your work can get sent back.
So ... maybe the Indian client was onto something. Which English you use may not matter. But if you want your writing to mean something to someone, pick one and stick with it.
—
This article was written with a little help from AI.
More Reads
Still here? Good. There's more.

