The theoretical Discrimination and Disambiguation Index (DDI) began as a desire for precision in language—particularly in the disciplined use of words that are too often treated as interchangeable. This reflection quickly turned to the deceptively simple notion of synonyms, as commonly presented in thesauri. Standard usage often assumes that synonyms are functionally equivalent. Yet closer analysis reveals that many so-called “synonyms” are not truly interchangeable: they differ in connotation, scope, agency, moral valence, and ontological precision.
More properly, these should be termed pseudo-synonyms—word pairs or groups that appear functionally similar but in practice convey distinct conceptual or ethical force.
Examples include:
Avenge vs Revenge
Freedom vs Liberty
Penitent vs Repentant vs Contrite
Such distinctions prompted a deeper line of inquiry: how do different languages enable—or suppress—our capacity to discriminate meaning with ontological fidelity?
One of the initial premises of this framework (see Semiotics) is that in the beginning, there was but one original language—divinely given—and that the confusion of tongues at Babel was an act of redemptive judgment. If a tool like the DDI were to be developed further, it would require a point of reference: one would need to ask which language (or system) best preserves conceptual clarity, moral coherence, and typological fidelity. That question remains open—but it is not trivial.
Thus, the DDI evolved as a proposal to evaluate languages themselves across multiple axes of semantic resolution.
The following provisional fourteen axes of analysis were postulated as a diagnostic framework of the original index:
Although originally designed as a qualitative matrix, the DDI may be extended using scalar values (e.g., –3 to +3) across each axis. In theory, one could add moral and modal weights, assigning not just what a word does, but what it permits, prohibits, or corrupts. This would effectively convert the DDI from a lexical discernment tool into a moral-ontological evaluator—but such an extension would require grounding in revealed typology and relational ontology, not cultural consensus.
The next natural open question, then, is this: can lexical neutrality exist in a morally ordered universe? Or is every word—like every act-a confession?
This appendix is left as a conceptual provocation for those linguists, theologians, and analytic eccentrics who suspect that language, like the soul, longs to be weighed.
Though the DDI began as a philosophical-linguistic tool, its potential relevance spans multiple domains:
In biblical hermeneutics, it can help distinguish between theological terms (e.g., grace vs. mercy, repentance vs. remorse) to preserve typological clarity and doctrinal precision.
In homiletics, it supports more faithful exposition by exposing rhetorical drift or theological flattening.
In artificial intelligence, it may aid models in synonym management and semantic proximity detection—especially in contexts where conceptual fidelity is ethically or spiritually significant.
In diplomacy and translation, it helps preserve nuance across linguistic and cultural boundaries, where terminological drift can alter the perception of intent, concession, or assertion.
In each domain, the DDI reminds us that words are not interchangeable tokens, but covenantal gestures—anchored in being, refracted through thought, and bearing the weight of meaning.