Opinion: Latin Is Not a Dead Language

At the end of every year, students at Deerfield Academy scroll through the course catalog with calculations running through their minds. For many, the central question is rarely “What would I like to learn next year?” but more like “Which course will serve me the best?” With this mindset, Latin and Ancient Greek are usually the first casualties. They are almost always disqualified because they are dead languages, as if this designation disqualifies them from being relevant.

The term “dead languages” is, in essence, a misnomer. Dead languages are defined as those without any remaining native speakers. Latin and Ancient Greek do fit that criterion, but that in no way implies that the languages are now irrelevant. The Latin language retains an active presence in English vocabulary, especially in academia and law. Perhaps even more importantly, Latin serves as the root language of an entire family of spoken languages, like French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and Romanian. This means that by studying Latin, a student has, in many ways, learned the basic building blocks of five living languages. The practical argument for studying Latin, while underappreciated, is not baseless.

But Ancient Greek offers a completely different, and in some ways, more convincing rationale for study. Whereas Latin has obvious practical uses, Greek has none. There is no family of related languages, nor does it significantly improve a person’s writing skills in English. If a student chooses to study Ancient Greek, there is little doubt that it is because they find the subject interesting. And I would argue that this quality, far from being a weakness, is actually one of Ancient Greek’s most crucial aspects.

We live in an age where the very concept of intrinsic motivation has been severely eroded. We have developed a tendency to demand explanation and justification for almost everything we do, asking questions like “What is this for?”, “What does this produce?”, and “Where does this lead?” These are important questions, but they become problematic when they are the only questions asked. The gradual loss of intrinsic motivation, the ability to recognize and appreciate things for themselves, is a significant intellectual loss, one that is reflected in the manner in which subjects like the Classics are approached. 

This begs the question: What exactly does the study of the Classics contribute? Ancient Greece gave rise to Western philosophy, political theory, dramatic theater, and medicine. Philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates grappled with questions of fundamental importance to human existence, posing questions like “What is justice?” and “How should a person live?” These are not abstract relics of an ancient curriculum. They are the same questions that Deerfield students encounter in History, in English, and in the ethical dimensions of nearly every discipline taught here. To engage with the Classics is not to step outside of a Deerfield education; it is to access its deepest roots.

Furthermore, there is simply no substitute for reading a work of literature in its original language. Every translation is an interpretation, in which the translator makes judgments about tone, emphasis, and ambiguity that color a reader’s experience in ways that may not align with the author’s intent. Studying the Iliad in Greek or Cicero’s work in Latin can be a linguistic exercise in a textbook, but it can be a journey of unparalleled intimacy with the great minds of the Western world.

I recognize that students’ time is limited and focusing on subjects like the Classics takes away from skills that are demonstrably useful in today’s world, such as coding, economics, or modern languages. This objection is valid, but it is also not the point of this piece. There is no need to mandate the study of Latin and Ancient Greek. Intellectual diversity is very valuable, and compulsory study is not helpful. But it is important to recognize the error of dismissing these subjects on the grounds of practicality, the assumption being that since they do not have any readily apparent value, they are not worth a student’s time.

That attitude reflects a fundamentally narrow perspective on education. A good secondary education is not just meant to train future workers but to create individuals with the ability to think independently, tackle difficult ideas, and maintain genuine intellectual curiosity. For centuries, the study of the Classics has served this purpose. To discard these subjects on the basis of practicality is to misunderstand what the Classics offer and the purpose of education itself.

Structural changes can help. Deerfield has already taken meaningful steps, allowing Ancient Greek to fulfill the language requirement and offering Latin up to Six Honors, and expanding access further would be a welcome development. But the more important shift is cultural. Faculty can play a role by openly affirming the value of humanistic inquiry alongside technical preparation, and advisors can encourage students to not only ask “Will this help my application?” but also “Does this genuinely interest me?” As a student body, we should resist the habit of measuring every intellectual pursuit by its immediate usefulness. Latin is not a dead language in any meaningful sense, and Ancient Greek, whatever its limitations as a practical credential, remains one of the most direct pathways into the intellectual heritage of Western civilization. Both deserve a place not merely in the course catalog, but in the genuine intellectual life of this school.