Etymological Games: When One Letter Changes Everything

The problem mainly stems from the fact that most books were originally written in Greek, and during translation, the sounds of Greek letters were used differently — something I already wrote about in my study “The Difficulties of Translation.”

Variability of Transliteration

Let me remind you: in Erasmian / Reuchlinian reading, the sounds of Greek letters are rendered as follows:

• β — beta / vita
• η — eta / ita
• θ — theta / fita
• υ — upsilon / ipsilon

Accordingly, in Erasmian / Reuchlinian reading, the same words look completely different:

• Bolgars / Volgars
• Theodor / Fedor
• Thessaloniki / Fessaloniki
• Kalita / Khalif (Caliph)
• Servs / Serbs
• Babilon / Vavilon
• Bizanthum / Byzantium
• Basileus / Vasileus

In general, the same Greek θ is not just “T” or “F,” but sometimes even “D.”

Medieval Confusion

But that’s not all. In medieval Latin, there was confusion between other letters as well. Very often, ancient writers saw no fundamental difference between:

• U / V
• M / N
• E / A
• C / K

For example, we can observe the confusion between U / V on Johann Baptist Homann’s map. The cartouche indicates the name “VKRANIA,” while on the map itself we see “Ukraina.” This is neither an error nor confusion — in the author’s understanding, they were equivalent, since he essentially saw no difference between the letters.

A similar situation existed with the letters E / A and M / N.

Game One: Adam and Eden

This observation led me to one curious thought — and I must emphasize immediately: this is not an assertion, but precisely a thought, an exercise in alternative reading.

The idea came to me while visiting the German city of Cologne, whose name translates from Latin as Colony. It was there that I learned that the familiar name “Eau de Cologne” translates terrifyingly mundanely: “Water from Cologne”!

So, let’s apply the same logic to biblical names.

According to biblical legend, the first man Adam lived in paradise, which is written as Eden, and his wife was Eva, whom God created from Adam’s rib.

And now — a purely speculative exercise, without the slightest claim to truth. What if:

• Adam → Edam (considering the interchangeability of A/E) — this is Earth itself
• Eva → Aqua (water) — this is Water, which as if with a rib cuts through the Earth, emerges from the Earth, and gives life to all things

Earth and Water — the progenitors of humanity. Beautiful? Yes. Provable? No. Interesting as an intellectual exercise? Absolutely.

I repeat: this is just a game of the mind, a demonstration of how easily one can reinterpret the familiar if you change the angle of view. Nothing more.

Game Two: Slavs and Slaves

For many of us, it’s offensive that the name of the group of peoples to which we belong — Slavs (in English Slave) — translates literally as “slave.” That is, Slavic culture is supposedly slave culture.

Let’s figure out how fair this is.

In the etymological dictionary, the English word slave comes from Old French sclave, which comes from Latin sclavus, which in turn comes from Medieval Greek σκλάβος.

According to another, more comforting point of view, the word σκλάβος is derived from the Greek verb skyleúo, meaning “to obtain military trophies.”

It’s clear that the second version is comforting. In reality, most likely, everything was different.

The Slavs, indeed, due to their massive presence in the slave market, due to their value as labor, industriousness, and consequently attractiveness, became the most marketable commodity. And therefore the name of the people became a common noun for designating slaves in general.

This version is also confirmed by the name of another Slavic people — Serbs, whose name comes from the Latin serve — to serve, to wait upon.

I note that Serbia on old maps is called Servia — which in literal translation means “Servia” or “Service-land.”

So, what do we have? The Slavs became a common noun for slaves, and this word entered modern Western languages precisely for this reason. And the Serbs, conversely, borrowed (or received) the Latin word for the name of their people.

Unpleasant? Yes. Probable? Unfortunately, also yes.

Game Three: Slabians?

But this is only the first part of the Marlborough ballet. Thinking about the name of the Slavs from the perspective of the Serbs, I came to another — I emphasize, speculative — idea.

According to the established stereotype, the name of our group of peoples comes from the verb “to glorify” or the noun “word.” But is this really the case?

Let’s conduct a thought experiment. Let’s look at the term “Slav” through the prism of Erasmian/Reuchlinian reading. Let’s write not SlaV, but SlaB!

And then let’s remember that one of the Slavic tribes was the Polabian Slavs — Polabians, who lived along the banks of the Laba (Elbe) River!

From this point of view: could the “Slavs” have been Slabians — people from the shores of the Laba? Could their self-designation be based not on the verb “to glorify,” but on a simple toponym?

This is just a hypothesis. One of many possible ones. I’m not asserting its truth — I’m demonstrating the method of critical thinking.

Methodological Digression

Why all this? Not to convince you of the correctness of any one version. But to show that: many “obvious” truths turn out to be the result of random choice of transliteration, habit, tradition.

One letter — B or V, E or A — can completely change our understanding of history. And before unconditionally accepting established interpretations, it’s worth at least admitting the possibility of alternative readings.

To think critically does not mean to believe everything. To think critically means to take nothing on faith.

Not even what is written in this text.

Oleh Cheslavskyi — independent historian and analyst specializing in deconstructing imperial narratives.

Originally published at spilno.org