There are two related themes in this series of blogs: the origin of our words and the interpretation of ancient texts. The relation is rather apparent. One needs to understand its words to interpret a classical text, or indeed any text. Unfortunately, the understanding of individual terms depends on the interpretation of texts. It is a vicious circle: misunderstanding of the context leads to a wrong interpretation of words, and an erroneous interpretation of words leads to a worse misunderstanding of the story. We need a method to analyse the semantics of words independently of their context. The context should only serve to validate our hypotheses.
Figure 1. Diagram showing relationships between etymologically related words. Etymology is the study of the history of the form of words and, by extension, the origin and evolution of their semantic meaning across time. It is a sub-field of historical linguistics and draws upon comparative semantics, morphology, semiotics, and phonetics. From Wikipedia, accessed 17 January 2023. Artwork by Nimic86. Creative Commons license.
Scholars observe the evolution of words within and between languages; they examine the contexts in which various authors use them and derive a theory about their meaning or meanings. Taking account of the chronological order in which variants appear, we can reconstruct a word's evolution. We can record its current spellings in various languages, its previous spellings, its contemporary meanings, its prior meanings, and its relations with other words, both within and across languages. This sort of exercise is called etymology (Fig. 1). Once an etymology of a word gets established, we consider having understood all its meanings and facets. We can then interpret the phrases where it appears safely – provided, of course, that we know the other words as well – and we can use them confidently to express our thoughts, at least in theory.
The trouble is that only a handful of words from a handful of languages have established etymologies. Most etymologies are still uncertain, incomplete, anecdotal, or downright missing. Even those etymologies that trace a term down to its root in a proto-language – i.e., an ancient hypothetical common ancestor of languages, itself without written records – remain hypothetical and, worse, theoretically or practically untestable. They are untestable because a proto-language has, by definition, no written history. A proto-language is a theoretical construct. It is a prediction of an etymological theory.
There is a slight contradiction here which we must clarify. The proponents of etymology with roots in a proto-language cannot assume that the proto-language left no written records. If they did think so, their theory would be metaphysical (non-falsifiable in principle) rather than scientific
Consider the unlikely event that one discovers an ancient document containing a word root predicted from some etymological theory. Such a discovery could validate the argument about that root, but it would not automatically verify other hypothetical sources not found in the document. Other predictions would remain hypothetical and unfalsifiable even if the proto-language were proven to have existed. Here comes a practical issue. No one can expect to validate the proposed proto-language roots and the derived etymologies in one's lifetime. Therefore, although scientific may be under certain assumptions, the current etymological theory could be more practical. We need a different approach or a different method of analysis that could make testable and falsifiable predictions on existing written records here and now.
Another concern is about the usefulness and the use of current etymological theory. What is the use of knowing that the English word water[1] comes from the Proto-Germanic *watōr[2] (water) and ultimately from PIE *wódr̥ (water)? Does the knowledge of the hypothetical root *wódr̥ help us understand better the word water? Does it give us any indication about the PIE culture or about how the PIEs perceived the natural element called water? Does it explain the difference between a lake, a river, a stream source, the sea, hydrogen oxide, the Pontus, and the ocean? Or, why do those words not derive from *wódr̥? With increasing frequency, etymological research and linguistic theory have recently developed in parallel with genetic studies of populations. It seems as though the central concern of linguistics has shifted from the understanding of language as a human trait to the study of historical population migrations. Yet, paradoxically, words and genes are not transmitted similarly.
But who cares about etymology? If one explains the meaning of a word and its correct spelling, then we can all use that word in its conventional sense and understand it when we see it written. Besides, by reading a lot of texts and accumulating lexical experience, the human brain can do the etymological work unconsciously. Moreover, whenever we encounter an unknown word, we can check it out on the internet, where we can have all its textual and visual contexts. True! This book is not concerned about modern words that everybody, or at least every native speaker of a language, understands. Knowing the etymology of modern words may amuse the general public and induce scientific interest, but it has no impact on our mutual understanding. Although modern words are frequently used here to generate and validate hypotheses, the primary subject matter is ancient words, which we have misunderstood. Some keywords open the doors to vast human history and ancient cultural spaces. Unfortunately, we attribute religious and supernatural content to everything we do not understand. We also tend to take ancient texts literally. Misinterpretations and arbitrary views have propagated for millennia leading to a completely distorted perception of our past.
Take the word myth, for example. Do you believe a myth is fictitious, like a fairy tale or allegory? Is it a true story like the news we hear and cross-validate from official news agencies? Is it a false story that sounds true, like realist literature or cinema? Is it a true story that seems fictitious? In the latter case, an actual event inspires the author, who changes the names, places, and other elements so that it is impossible to recognise the fact of the story's origin. One's understanding of the word myth will determine their attitude vis-à-vis mythology and the culture of our ancestors.
References
Popper, Karl. 1985. Popper Selections. Edited by David W Miller. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
