Academic Essay: Historical Linguistics—Magic

Magic: From Arcane Arts to Fantasy

Introduction

The word magic has come to mean many different things to many different people, from 15^th-century alchemists to the wise men who figure into the Nativity story of the Christian New Testament, from the works of serious occultists like Aleister Crowley, who was called the wickedest man of his time, to a benign description of the works of Walt Disney. Magic has been as abstract and fictional enough to be used as a mechanic in fantasy role-playing games and as concrete and deadly serious enough to be used as the rationale for executing hundreds of people on the mere suspicion of being practitioners.

These practitioners have been called many different things over the course of English’s history, including magi, wizard, and necromancer and have been alternately considered great thinkers or wicked manipulators of evil spirits. I will examine the history of the word magic, discuss how these various words came to be associated with its users, explore the fascinating history behind the cycling semantic shift of magic and semantically linked words between connotations of evil and of good over the centuries, and finally discuss an emerging new morphological unit –mancy as a reinterpreted productive morpheme.

Old Persian Maguš

Magic, magician, mage, and magi all stem from the same ancient source, traceable to the Proto-Indo-European root magh-, which the American Heritage Dictionary defines as “to be able, have power” (Indo-European Roots Appendix “magh-”), and which is likewise the root of mighty and machine and even, it has been argued, the modern Chinese wu, “shaman,” via contact between Old Persian and Old Sinitic cultures in the early first millennium BCE—Victor Mair, a major  proponent of this idea, produced as his chief evidence that the earliest instances of the character for the Old Sinitic word of shaman, m^yag, was written as a cross with equidistant arms, that this character was the basis of the modern character for wu, and that that same symbol is found in ancient and medieval European magic circles and spells as a sign of magical invocation (Mair 1990).

There is only one word that emerges from magh- which has connotations with supernatural powers and abilities—might and machine, for example, are quite natural means of power and ability—and it is from this root that all modern senses of magic emerge, namely the Old Persian maguš (Mair 1990). Maguš became a term in ancient Persia designating a class whose position was lofty and quite powerful, holding court with kings, usually serving as priests of the Zoroastrian religion, analogous to the Levites of Israel. One of the first Greek uses of the term was in connection with Xerxes, who would not act without first consulting with his maguš (Encyclopædia Iranica, “Magi”). This priestly class’ reported powers or duties included stargazing, performing religious rituals and sacrifices, and interpreting dreams.

Greek Magos; Latin Magus

The word maguš would be adopted into Greek as magos and shortly thereafter into Latin as magus, and although the reference was identical to the Persian—that is, referring to the priestly class of Persian royal courts—the reference became pejorative. The religion of Zoroastrianism and its magi came to be viewed by the Greeks and Romans with ridicule and became associated with a sinister sort of magical rites, including conjuring the spirits of the dead (Encyclopædia Iranica, “Magi”).

Alternatively, Dio Chrysostom zealously speaks out in favor of the magi in the first century CE, noting that “the Greeks … ignorantly apply the term to magicians” (qtd. in Grant 1953)—ignorantly, he claims, because the Persian Magi were in fact worshippers of his own pantheon of gods, namely Zeus and Helios! He held this belief, false as it was, firmly enough, claiming boldly that “the Magi … rear for Zeus a team of Nisean horses … the most beautiful and the largest to be found in Asia” (qtd. in Grant 1953). Other Greek sources attempted to likewise establish Zoroaster as the founder of Mithraism, largely on the basis of the “self-definition” of Mithraism as an expression of “the mysteries of the Persians” which was linked to Helios worship (Encyclopædia Iranica, “Zoroaster v., as Viewed by the Greeks”).

Pliny the Elder, a contemporary of Dio Chrysostom, however, identified Zoroaster firmly and falsely as the founder of magic, though more particularly astrological magic (Encyclopædia Iranica, “Zoroaster v., as Viewed by the Greeks”). It is worth pointing out that there existed, to generalize, two sorts of magic to the pre-Christian Greeks, namely legitimate sacerdotal magic, or theurgy, and a necromantic rogue magic, or goety, and the sense of the term magi—from which was derived the noun form magikos to refer to the practice of magic, from magos and –ikos, denoting more or less “after the manner of a magos” (OED, “magic”)—encompassed both theurgy and goety in the pre-Christian era. There therefore existed multiple senses for the word magos and magus as the range of the term expanded to include the meanings of priests of “oriental mysteries” and astrology or as sinister magicians.

English: Magi

The pejoration of magos and magus took an interesting turn with the literature of the Christian era. Although no existing Christian texts can be definitively dated earlier than the 2^nd century CE, it is in them that the word was preserved into modern English: the plural magi. Generally, magi is most frequently used in English to refer to the “wise men” of the Gospel of Matthew. The story goes that these men, traditionally numbered three, were men of high station in a land somewhere east of Judea, who saw a star in the sky and took it as a sign that a messianic figure had been born. They made the trek to visit Joseph, Mary, and young Jesus in Bethlehem, bearing gifts for and revering Jesus. The Greek word for these men was μάγοι (Matt. 2:1, Codex Vaticanus), and the story includes details that suggest that the intended reference was indeed to Persian magi: (a) the men were stargazers, such that they were able to observe a new star in the sky and interpret its meaning; (b) the men were apparently of high status, for the story indicates they were granted an audience with, and were well treated by, Herod the Great, and their gifts were expensive; (c) they came from the east, which had at this point already become associated with orientalism and mystery; and (d) the men were in communion with God in some manner, such that they could be warned by divine communication not to alert Herod to Jesus’ location. The Zoroastrian connection to the Christian nativity has cause no small stir, but that is beyond the scope of this paper.

While the connection of the magi to the birth of Christ may have eventually lead to the amelioration of the meaning when used in that sense, the singular magus became more pejorative, perhaps because of the figure of Simon the sorcerer. He is described in the book of Acts as a convert to Christianity who attempts to purchase a privilege in the church (hence the sin of “simony”). He is not described as a magus but rather as μαγεύων, “practicing magic.” This Simon is a Samaritan, linking him to a different (but related) religious tradition from Judaism, which Christianity was a sect of at that point, but his magic is not addressed in the New Testament beyond a passing mention. The pseudepigraphical story in the Acts of Peter, however, go into far more detail, describing a rivalry between Simon Peter and Simon Magus, wherein a strong dichotomy emerges between the acts of God and the workings of magic, which are called the works of deceit and of the devil (Dalgaard, n.d.). This can be seen as a continuation of the theme of theurgy versus goety, as theurgy became more associated with sacramental mysteries in Catholicism and goety retained association with necromancy and conjuration (OED, “Theurgy”). The theme of this dichotomy played out over the centuries while Christianity spread throughout Europe and into Asia and Africa. Likely from these stories, the word magus gradually became associated with pagan practitioners of ritual magic who resisted the Christianization of Europe (OED, “Magus”). Magus began to be used primarily as a pejorative term disassociating the legitimate forms of occult or supernatural ritual invoking the spirit of the legitimate deity from rival forms of occult ritual invoking the spirits of rival deities.

On a very interesting side note, this occasionally resulted in deities invented precisely for the purpose of condemning political opponents on the suspicion of having worshipped them during Europe’s Inquisitions. The famous image of the devil on the modern Tarot card has its origin in such an invented deity, Baphomet, which was taken quite seriously by occultist Eliphas Levi, the alias of Alphonse Louis Constant (“Eliphas Levi” was his attempt to find a Hebrew equivalent for “Alphonse Louis”), from whose work came the Tarot tradition. In fact, Baphomet was the name of the idol the Knights Templar were ostensibly burnt at the stake for worshipping, which ultimately proved to be nothing but a less-faithfully transmitted form of the name “Muhammad”—they were really being accused in some way of having become disciples of Islam in the course of the Crusades, on the false notion that Muslims worshipped Muhammad as their god (compare the archaic English word mammet, false idol, which is also a reduction of the name “Maumet” or Muhammad) (OED, “Baphomet” and “mammet”). Notwithstanding the absence of any historical cult of worship of “Baphomet” beyond medieval misinterpretations of Muhammad’s role in Islam, the figure remains a powerful image in occultism and the primary inspiration of much modern satanic imagery, thanks to Eliphas Levi’s, and later Aliester Crowley’s, influence. As an aside, one might well conclude that, consequently, a remarkable amount of popular Western notions of Satanism and goety—a devil with goat-like features or a goat’s head, the goat’s head superimposed over a pentagram (another of Eliphas Levi’s works), and the pop-culture connection between the Illuminati and the Knights Templar—is ultimately derived from simple distrust of Islam.

English: Magic

The etymology of magic (from Middle English magik; various spellings) in English derives ultimately from the Greek magikos via Latin ars magica, abbreviated as magica, through French magique. Early attestations of this new English word appear in the late 14^th century CE. There appear to have been at least two senses of the term attested to in Middle English roughly matching the aforementioned dichotomy of theurgy and goety. Before this point, the English translation of magos was wicca according to the Three Kings Cologne (qtd. in OED, “Witch”), or witch in Modern English, used also to refer to Egyptian magicians and in reference to Simon Magus (OED, “Witch”). The sense was generally negative, frequently used in accusation, and included in a list of banishable crimes under the Laws of Aelfred in the 9^th century CE (OED, “witch”). With the introduction of the magic vocabulary, there came another, more positive sense, associated with medieval hermetic traditions with Platonic roots. This may be seen as theurgy, and was called natural magic or white magic, which related more specifically to “the manipulation of the supposed occult properties of the natural world” (OED, “Magic” 1b), seen as a legitimate, necessary, and even sacred field of study, pursued by Christian monks and mystics, likewise taking form among the Jewish Kabbalists. It is from this field that we inherited alchemy and eventually chemistry, integral to the development of modern science. Without any helpful adjectives, however, magic generally held the more negative connotation with goety, and developed semantic overlap with the corresponding English word it nearly displaced, wiccecræft or modern witchcraft, “regarded as falling outside the province of religion proper” (OED, “Magic” 1a).

The modern “Disney” sense of magic began cropping up around the 17^th century in largely literary contexts, attested to as early as 1616 in Shakespeare’s Winter’s Tale with the line “Oh, Royall Peece: There’s Magick in thy Maiestie” (qtd. in OED, “Magic” 2). This figurative sense of magic embodied the sense of something glamorous, grandiose, mystical, or impressive, and survives today perhaps most saliently in its use by the Walt Disney Company as a branding tool, tapping into the company’s roots in the business of creating animated films based on fairy tales. Some examples of the Walt Disney Company utilizing this word as branding can be seen in the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida, where one can be transported by “Disney’s Magical Express” to the “Magic Kingdom,” where theme park cast members will wish guests “a magical day.”

“White magic” or “folk magic” was practiced and taken quite seriously in parts of the English-speaking world into the 19^th century, when farmers would perform traditional folk magic in hopes of improving the chances of a good harvest—they did not see this as incongruent with their Christian beliefs, and even clergymen were known to participate (Bushman 2006). Even in the final years of the 19^th century, belief in magic was taken seriously enough that an Irishman burned his wife alive on the suspicion that she was a faery changeling (McGrath 1982). However, these instances were limited to quite rural areas, and although there was something of a pushback from occultists and self-styled magicians and wizards such as the famous British writer Aleister Crowley who, inspired by Eliphas Levi, attempted a sort of restoration of pagan ritual magic and to reclaim the prestige and relevance of magic in the 20^th century, magic began to be spoken of primarily as a fictional or superstitious phenomenon.

In this world where magic is perceived as fictional, there is little practical need to distinguish between its forms, its merits, good and bad sorts. Although the senses are retained to some degree—most English speakers today understand that white magic denotes something benign and black magic denotes something sinister—the lack of practical application of magic has led to a narrowing of the senses.

There is, however, at least one area where people remain concerned with the senses of magic, and this is largely within the specialized context of its fictional sense as used in fantasy literature and film. A prime example is J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels. The sense of magic, wizardry, and witchcraft is hardly innovative in her books, and indeed she relies on popular stereotypes to populate her magical world and to write its history—sage old wizards wear pointed hats, magic users wear flowing robes, flying broomsticks are a popular method of transportation, and spells and incantations are uttered in a pseudo-Latin. All of this is largely relegated to the setting; the actual plot and themes of the story focus much less on magic and more on elitism, nativism, and ethnic cleansing. But in tapping into stereotypes, made innocent through the whitewash of time and the fading of negative connotations, Rowling revealed the really quite active and current negative senses still current among some subcultures of English speakers. Not long after the publication of the first Harry Potter volume, accusations began to fly from certain religious groups insisting that the novel taught and promoted witchcraft, especially in the sense of goety and Satanism. A good example of this is the book Harry Potter and the Bible: The Menace behind the Magick by self-styled “cult expert” Richard Abanes, which attempts to interpret even the narrative use of stereotypes of magic and magic users, which are indeed inherited in some way from the colorful history of occultism and magic, as incompatible with Biblical teaching. Other more wild accusations insinuated that the actual magical incantations were authentic and of sinister origin (though this writer wonders how incantations such as “eat slugs” and “point me” fit this paradigm) (Paavola, “Handbook of Occultism”) and that Harry Potter encourages children to play with Ouija boards, tarot cards, and untold amounts of “occultic junk” (Chick “The Nervous Witch”). Absent from these accusations is any acknowledgment of the historical legitimacy within a religious paradigm of theurgical magic. As fascinating and newsworthy as these accusations are, they represent only a fringe culture and are not representative of religious adherents as a whole. Still, they do reveal that there yet exists the goetic associations with magic in at least some currently contemporary subcultures.

The Fantasy Role-Playing Game and the Semantic Shift of the Suffix –mancy

Over the years, many etymologically unrelated and semantically unrelated words have come to become inextricably linked with magic, notably wizard, derived from the stem wize or weis and the suffix –ard indicating a mocking sense, as in drunkard and bastard, originally referring to a foolish old man who is overly bookish (OED, “Wizard,” “-ard, suffix”) but presently can have no sense other than a practitioner of magical arts. A fascinating and recent example this phenomenon is the suffix –mancy.

During the 15^th century, the word necromancy entered the English lexicon, strongly semantically linked with the sense of magic marked illicit or forbidden (goety). From the Latin necromantia, via the Hellenistic Greek νεκρομαντεία. While the word in Latin and Greek dealt primarily with communication with the dead, its meaning broadened in English to compete with both magic and witchcraft as the word for illicit magical practices (OED, “Necromancy”). Words with the suffix –mancy denoted a means of divination, such as pyromancy and geomancy—that is, divination by means of looking into fire and by means of interpreting tossed stones, respectively.

While at first glance the suffix ­–mancy may appear to be related to magos, it actually derives from the Greek μανία, madness (OED, “Mantic”). In the 17^th century, necromancy retained is sense of divination via conjuring the spirits of the dead and fell under the category of goety, a key example recorded in the Early Modern English in the King James translation of the Bible, which relays the story of the Witch of En-dor whom Saul, the King of Israel, consulted when legitimate means of divination failed him; the Witch of En-dor summoned the spirit of Samuel, an Old Testament prophet, who warned Saul of his impending doom (I Samuel 28:3–25, KJV). The sense changed little into the 19^th century, evidenced by its use in Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the accusation levelled at Joseph Smith, Jr., of being a “practicing necromancer” for claiming to have communicated with angels—defined in this case, for the purpose of clarity, as the spirits and/or resurrected persons of dead saints (Bushman 2006).

By the 20^th century, writers of fantastical fiction began to reinterpret the suffix –mancy, rendering it more or less productive. Little research has been done on this subject, so far as I have been able to discover, perhaps owing to the low prestige and visibility of the social group most likely to utilize this particular innovation. One of the first recorded examples of this is in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit where Sauron, a character embodying evil and a former lieutenant of a being intended as an analogy to Satan, is referred to as “the Necromancer” who had once dwelt in the “hill of Sorcery” (Tolkien 1937). It is not explicitly stated why he is called this, although in the later Lord of the Rings trilogy, it is revealed that he has in his service undead men—that is, human beings who had been dead but through Sauron’s magic now served him beyond death. The sense of divination appears to be missing in this sense of the term, which appears to be concerned entirely with the magical ability to manipulate the dead. In subsequent fantasy literature, and especially in fantasy role-playing games, the term necromancy is used almost exclusively in this sense, as in Diablo II, Dark Souls, and Dungeons & Dragons. Conspicuously, a similar sense of pyromancy exists, meaning something like “pyrokinesis” or “the ability to manipulate fire by magical means.” Most dictionaries, if they include this sense at all (OED, American Heritage Dictionary, and Merriam–Webster do not), claim that it is a malapropism of pyrokinesis. While strictly true, I suspect that further study could bear out the hypothesis that this sense of pyrokinesis came about through four-part semantic analogy to necromancy in the traditional sense of divination and necromancy in the sense utilized by Tolkien, who inspired much of modern fantasy literature:

            necromancy (divination via the dead) : necromancy (magical power over the dead)

            pyromancy (divination via fire)           : X

necromancy (divination via the dead) : necromancy (magical power over the dead)

            pyromancy (divination via fire)           : pyromancy (magical power over fire)

In any event, this sense of the pyromancy is current in fantasy literature and role-playing games (n.a. “Pyromancer”). What encourages my hypothesis of this pattern of analogy is that in these contexts, the suffixes –mancy and –mancer are largely productive, assigning the meaning [+ magical power or influence over stem word]. Thus new combinations such as cybermancy, eromancy, aeromancy (with the new sense), and cyromancy are possible and in active use, as in the video game E.Y.E. Divine Cybermancy and the William Gibson cyberpunk novel Neuromancer. This innovation has even provoked a movement within the RPG community to stifle these new forms (n.a. “Whatevermancy”). Regardless, it is likely that even those who strive against this development would understand approximately the meaning of stiflemancer, grammarmancer, and even be able to derive some sense of portmanteaus utilizing the suffix, such as reprimancer or legitimancer.

            Regardless of the historical roots of the suffix, the suffixes –mancy and -mancer have been reinterpreted, at least in this context, into something synonymous with magical ability.

Conclusion

Magic is a massive subject with incredibly polysemy, far too large for this paper to handle in its entirety. Senses of magic have shifted between legitimacy and illegitimacy as it comes to encompass various magical practices and systems, or even the absence thereof, but consistent in all of these senses is that of something sublime, supernatural, and powerful. Its practitioners are portrayed as anything from foolish wizards and devil-worshipping witches to sage magi and wise priest-kings. But today, as the semantic economy of English finds little use for such diversity of meaning for a word that, for most speakers, is firmly rooted in superstition and fiction, most of these meanings become homogenized. It seems the future of the senses of magic, if there is one, rests in the hands of those few who take it seriously enough to think about it very much, whether they are modern-day practitioners after the fashion of Crowley and Levi, fearers of magic for the sake of their religion, or simply writers and lovers of fantasy.

References

“-ard suffix.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/10483

“Baphomet.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/15329

“Mage.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/112157

“magh-” The American Heritage Dictionary Indo-European Roots Appendix. Retrieved from https://www.ahdictionary.com/word/indoeurop.html#IR065600

“Magi.” Encyclopædia Iranica. Retrieved from http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/magi

“Magic (adj).” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/112187

“Magic.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/112186

“Magie.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/112197#eid38552708

“Magus.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/112378

“Mammet.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/115162

“Mantic.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/113696

“Necromancy.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/125700

“Wise Man.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/229506

“Wizard.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/229772

“-y suffix.” Oxford English Dictionary. Retrieved from http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/231080#eid14065406

“Zoroaster v. as perceived by the Greeks.” Encyclopædia Iranica. Retrieved from http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/zoroaster-iv-as-perceived-by-the-greeks

Bushman, R. L. 2006. Joseph Smith: Rough stone rolling. New York: Vintage.

Chick, J. T. 2002. “The Nervous Witch.” Chick Publications. Retrieved from https://www.chick.com/reading/tracts/5012/5012_01.asp

Codex Vaticanus: Matt. 2:1–2.

Dalgaard, K. n.d. “Peter and Simon in the Acts of Peter: A supernatural fight between magic and miracles.” Academia.edu. Retrieved from http://www.academia.edu/842952/Peter_and_Simon_in_the_Acts_of_Peter_A_Supernatural_Fight_between_Magic_and_Miracles

Grant, F. C. 1953. Hellenistic Religions: The age of syncretism. New York: The Liberal Arts Press. p. 114.

Mair, V. H. 1990. “Old Sinitic ‘M^yag,” Old Persian “Maguš,” and English “Magician.” Society for the Study of Early China, 15, pp. 27–47. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23351579

McGrath, T. 1998. “Fairy faith and changelings: The burning of Bridget Cleary in 1895.” Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review, 71, no 282, pp. 178–184. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/30090427

n.a. “Pyromancer.” Dark Souls Wiki. Retrieved from http://darksouls.wikidot.com/pyromancer

n.a. “Whatevermancy.” TV Tropes. Retrieved from http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Whatevermancy

Paavola, P. “Handbook of occultism.” Personal website. http://www.kotipetripaavola.com/HarryPotterbooks.html

Tolkien, J.R.R. 1937. The Hobbit.

Video: Eragon (Film) Review

I have long had it in for Eragon.

I combine my nascent video editing abilities with a literal “whenever-on-earth-I-have-a-few-seconds-to-record” filming schedule necessitated by university finals. The result: I finally get to rant about this ... film.

https://vimeo.com/97005202

Creative Prompt: Inverted Apocalyptic Fiction (Introduction)

The Nevada desert spread out around them unendingly, a brown so washed out by the sun that it approached grey. To make matters worse, it was August. Andrew couldn’t have been more out of his environment. The dry air blasted through the car loudly enough to make conversation all but impossible, which was a shame, because Anne might have been able to cheer him up. But to close the windows would convert their black Land Rover into a portable hell; the air conditioning had been broken for years. There had been no need to fix it in Sacramento. They lived adjacent to the university where Andrew worked and they only went to the store at night. Humid, warm California nights. At the beautiful Victorian home they might never see again. He scowled with renewed revulsion at the desert. They couldn’t drive through fast enough.

Pitch for Cracked Article: Six Lies (You Probably Believe) about English

Several falsehoods many people, especially English majors, believe about English. Some are taught by English teachers, some are inherited through cultural transmission, others yet are common assumptions that aren’t often challenged despite being easily challenge-able. The main point is that English isn’t degenerating and there’s no sense in being opposed to (systematic) nonstandard usage or change. 

British English is better or closer to historical English than American English (or any other variety)

What you think: British English is the original English, or closer to ancient English, or more correct, or more sophisticated, etc. than American English.

What’s true: Modern British English has descended from the same 17th century British dialect as Modern American English. That dialect, in turn, was drastically different from the English spoken in the 14th century, and so forth. In some ways, Modern American English is actually closer to Old and Middle English than Modern British English.

http://www.auburn.edu/chaucer/sound.htm

(Scholars recreating 15th century English, complete with rhotic “r” sounds often eschewed by many modern British English dialects)

http://www.nsf.gov/news/special_reports/linguistics/paths.jsp?#audioarea

(Demonstration of pronunciation shifts from Middle English to Modern English)

http://www.bartleby.com/185/
Book: The American Language
Author: H.L. Menken

Pickering, the first to attempt a list of Americanisms, rehearsed their origin under the following headings:
1. We have formed some new words.
2. To some old ones, that are still in use in England, we have affixed new significations.
3. Others, which have been long obsolete in England, are still retained in common use among us.

English is mundane or vulgar; Latin (or Hebrew or Greek) is magic

What you think: Latin (or Hebrew or Greek or Elvish or what have you) is a purer, better, holier, more powerful language than English. Any sort of supernatural/sacred thing is better or more potent in Latin.

What’s true: It’s really not. Ancient Romans used Latin exactly the way we use English today. It’s translations of ancient languages into high-falootin’ English that make these dead languages seem so reverent and powerful; they could just as easily and accurately be translated into colloquial English.

http://agp.wlu.edu/results?city=Pompeii&property=166&

Hic ego puellas multas futui. 
Phoebus unguentarius optume (:optime) futuit.

(Search results from a project cataloging Latin and Greek graffiti in Pompeii and Herculaneum; the text is, shall we say, not very noble or sacred.)

http://articles.latimes.com/1993-09-25/local/me-38878_1_king-james-bible

When God decides to unleash floods over the Earth, here's how he breaks it to Noah:
“I'm fed up, Noah, with what’s happenin’ round here. These folks ain’t what’s happenin’ anymore, so I’m gonna do what I gotta do, and end things once and for all. Man, I’m gonna blow the brothers clear outta the water.” [The translator] said the five Bible books she translated, Genesis through Deuteronomy, are true to the original.

Sexist language in English forces sexist thinking

What you think: words like “fireman” or “postman” determine our mindset as thinking of them as masculine. This idea is called Linguistic Determinism or the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis.

What’s true: Linguistic Determinism is, well, false. Linguistic Relativism is more generally accepted. What matters more is the cultural concept than the form of the word. Recent studies demonstrated that gender bias persists strongly even with gender-neutral words like “soldier” and “surgeon.” This doesn’t mean there is no benefit at all to trying to use more gender-neutral language, but when sexist culture changes, the linguistic contribution will probably be secondary at best.

http://linguistlist.org/ask-ling/sapir.cfm

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is the theory that an individual's thoughts and actions are determined by the language or languages that individual speaks. The strong version of the hypothesis states that all human thoughts and actions are bound by the restraints of language, and is generally less accepted than the weaker version, which says that language only somewhat shapes our thinking and behavior.

Phillips, C., Wagers, M., and Lau, E. (2010). “Grammatical illusions and selective fallibility in real-time language comprehension.” In J. Runner (ed.), Experiments at the Interface, Syntax & Semantics, vol. 37. Emerald Publications.

In an elegant eye-tracking study … Sturt (2003) showed that initial reading times for reflexive pronouns were affected by (mis)matches with the gender stereotype of the noun phrase in the local subject position …” (the nouns in question were gender-neutral “surgeon” and “soldier”)

Ghosts always speak English 

What you think: EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) is often used to support the existence of ghosts or spirits of some sort. The gist is: if you listen to recordings of white noise, you may begin to hear voices speaking even if there was nobody in the room. The voices invariably speak either in English (or the listener’s native language) or disorganized syllables.

What’s true: More likely than not, we’re looking at a phenomenon called apophenia or pareidolia: your brain is always looking for patterns, and it will sometimes find them where none exist. Try this: travel to somewhere where you don’t speak the language. If you’re really hearing ghosts of that place, why do you hear EVP in English?

http://www.csicop.org/specialarticles/show/electronic_voice_phenomena_voices_of_the_dead

[Apophenia] involves seeing or hearing patterns where in reality, none exist. …
We may be the best pattern detectors that exist, but not all the patterns we find have any objective meaning. However, once we think we have detected a pattern, it is hard to ignore it, and generally, we take it to be meaningful.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0OeFupXFI8
(The famous example of LittleKuribo’s English subtitles to Japanese lyrics making use of audio pareidolia as a joke)

People who speak “bad English” are uneducated or stupid

What you think: People who say things like “Lemme ax you a question” or “My mom be at home” are stupid or at best uneducated.

What’s true: They literally just speak a different dialect of English. English dialects with grammar that differs from the “standard” variety of the language are actually just as systematic, and occasionally even effect back-formations of Middle or Old English. Attitudes that hold speakers of nonstandard varieties of English to be stupid or uneducated are misguided at best.

http://www.hawaii.edu/satocenter/langne ... /aave.html 

Unfortunately, many public policy makers and sections of the public hold on to mistaken and prejudiced understandings of what AAVE is and what it says about the people who speak it. … Such ambivalent and multivalent attitudes towards nonstandard varieties of a language have been documented for a great many communities around the world and in the United States. (The summary proceeds to outline a general grammar of AAVE.)

http://www.biblestudytools.com/tyn/john/9.html

“Then agayne the pharises also axed him how he had receaved his sight” Tyndale’s translation of the Bible, 1500s.

English is decaying

What you think: English is in trouble! The reading level of Congressional and Presidential addresses is dropping because of the gradual loss of proper English; English is dumber today than in the past. We who know proper English must safeguard it against all these things like the 300 Spartan Warriors. In short, the Grammar Nazi Credo.

What’s true: Language always changes in such a way that the end effect is that we can still say basically all the same things. Because of the “standard” English taught in school systems and held as a requirement for participation in much of society, we have a love affair with the way it used to be spoken, but that way really wasn’t any better than the way we speak today. What are we English majors really supposed to safeguard against? The sad fact is, it’s used to keep out “undesirables.” “Proper” or “correct” English is all but a requirement if you want a job, any kind of position of authority. It’s ultimately not a safeguard against stupidity or lack of education, but against “undesirables”—unless they are divested of their nonstandard identities.

http://www.linguisticsociety.org/content/english-changing

Is English changing? Yes, and so is every other human language! … Language changes for several reasons. First, it changes because the needs of its speakers change. New technologies, new products, and new experiences require new words to refer to them clearly and efficiently. … Another reason for change is that no two people have had exactly the same language experience. … People tend to think that older forms of languages are more elegant, logical, or ‘correct’ than modern forms, but it's just not true. The fact that language is always changing doesn't mean it's getting worse; it's just becoming different.

http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10972-007-9040-0#/page-1

Teachers experience the gatekeeping nature of language and discourse for learning science and acquiring professional certification in science through writing. … African American and Hispanic teachers enter into the NBPTS candidacy pool in numbers proportional to their representation in the U.S. teaching force (17%), yet they earn certification at much lower rates (11%), with only 4% Black and 3% Hispanic making up the entire pool of NBPTS certified teachers.

http://www2.nau.edu/~jar/BOISE.html

Now, by educating the children of these tribes in the English language these differences would have disappeared, and civilization would have followed at once. … Schools should be established, which children should be required to attend; their barbarous dialect should be blotted out and the English language substituted. (US policy regarding Native American languages)

On Mass versus Worth

“The world is a pretty big place, but when you compare it to the rest of the universe you realise just how insignificant you are.” —a silly idea, via  http://blazepress.com/2014/11/23-pictures-will-make-realise-insignificant/

It seems every time I encounter this idea I feel a need to rant against it: yes, materially—in terms of mass, volume, and density—we are pretty much inconsequential in the scope of the unthinkably vast universe. But since when is the worth or value of something determined solely by its dimensions or mass? The notion that nothing really matters because we are so unimaginably small is just flat out wrong. Because as massive and awe-inspiring as VY Canis Majoris may be, as long as it can’t think or feel, it’s less important than you are. In that, you know, you can think and feel. The Crab Nebula wouldn’t mean a thing if there weren’t someone sentient to see it and find it beautiful and inspiring. I guess it’s an extension of the old question about a tree falling in the forest, but with a finer point on it: if a tree falls in the forest and nothing sentient is around to care, does it matter?

Sentience is what imbues significance. Until we find evidence for other sentient life in the universe (which, given the infinity that is the universe, I think is probably pretty likely), I don’t see any way to justify considering humanity anything short of the most important thing in the known universe. So to that clever YouTube video or pop Internet article or 9gag philosopher that compares increasingly massive objects with Earth and then concludes, “NO, YOU ARE NOT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE,” I answer, “YES, I AM.”

And you know what? VY Canis Majoris has never once tried to contradict me.  

Editorial: Moffat and the Doctor, a Love Letter to Humanity

This editorial, written prior to the release of Doctor Who Series 9, was originally published in UGeek Magazine, Issue #6. 

Maybe the only universal to Whovians is that there are no universals. Take any two fans of the show and ask them about Ten–Rose, Amy Pond, Clara Oswald, and Steven Moffat. At least one of those will become an impassioned, potentially friendship-destroying argument. Yet, whenever I let my big trap start flapping to other Whovians, I’m almost invariably on the defense.

You see, I adore Steven Moffat.

There. I said it.

I love Moffat, who succeeded Russell T. Davies as showrunner at the start of Series 5. And a very vocal, passionate segment of the fanbase will argue, with the conviction of Saint Ignatius punching the lions in the face, that Steven Moffat is the television equivalent of Satan. I’ll briefly summarize the three primary complaints against him I have heard:

1.      He is sexist.

2.      He can’t write female characters.

3.      His female characters are defined by their relationship to the Doctor.

4.      His plots are incredibly convoluted, and betray his smugness and arrogance. Worse, he recycles his own plot points.

5.      He’s ruining the show. Ever since he took over from Russell T. Davies, ratings have steadily dropped.

I’ll just briefly mention that points 1 and 2 can be leveled just as easily (and unfairly) against Russell T. Davies. And to allay fears about the supposed ratings drop: the BBC is quite confident in the popularity of the show—television ratings do not reveal the whole story. Combined with online streaming statistics and with its current 91% on Rotten Tomatoes, the show is going stronger than ever. But deeper than popularity, I insist that Moffat is not ruining the show.

He is saving it.

Don’t get me wrong; the Russell T. Davies era was fun. It was energetic and exciting. Eccleston and Tennant were dashing leading men. The electric charisma of the weird show about a rebel alien and his friends flying through time and space in a phone box recaptured the hearts of people around the world. It had farting aliens, space rhinos, and a cackling bleach-blond John Simms.

It was quirky, challenging, scary, funny, and put some of the first LGBT characters and storylines in mainstream television. But Davies’ philosophy went beyond tackling issues of gender and sexuality. The emotional core of his Doctor Who was something that, on investigation, felt surprisingly dark and bleak: humans are bad. Evil humans. Stupid apes. We find something beautiful and we destroy it. We tear each other apart for being different. Every one of his visions of humanity’s future shows it in a pretty bleak light—plague creatures, pettiness and idiocy stretched on a canvas of flesh, enslaved to its television in its demand to be entertained, an errant and arrogant species in constant need of discipline. Truthfully, in my opinion, the best parts of the Russell T. Davies era were the Steven Moffat episodes: “The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances,” “The Girl in the Fireplace,” “Blink,” and “Silence in the Library / The Forests of the Dead.”

Moffat’s Doctor Who is just the opposite. In Series 7, episode 4, the Doctor faces a Shakri, who considers itself a pest killer, freeing the universe of these dirty, stupid apes. The Doctor defends humanity in a speech that, though not written by Moffat himself, well represents his Doctor’s philosophy: “[Humans are] not pests or plague; creatures of hope. Forever building and reaching. Making mistakes, of course; every life form does. But they learn. And they strive for greater, and they achieve it. You want a tally? Put their achievements against their failings through the whole of time. I will back humanity against the Shakri every time.”

The Doctor still scolds humanity and saves the planet, but this time, he shows us what he sees in humanity that’s worth saving. Humanity is not a species of stupid apes who ruin everything; it’s a people of hope and vast potential. Future humanity, we see on the fields of Trenzalore, is strong and brave. With the Doctor’s help, it holds off every other force in the universe to protect something it holds sacred. It does questionable things—the curious theology of Papal Mainframe, the use of the Headless Monks, and the sect of the Silence. But ultimately, as the Doctor says, stacking the good against the bad, humanity’s goodness ultimately shines through, superior to its badness.

Throughout the era, we see the glory and the agony of the human experience play out in an intergalactic space opera that ultimately boils down to the story of a group of people who love each other, trying to work through life together. In short, a family. The core of the human experience.

Which turns out to be a nuclear family, as we learn that the Doctor is married to River, who is actually a time lady because she was conceived by Amy and Rory while the TARDIS was in the time vortex.

Yeah, okay, so maybe Moffat is a little convoluted. At least he doesn’t have farting aliens.

Far from destroying the series, I argue Steven Moffat is saving it from its former message of human depravity by replacing it with one of human potential. This isn’t to say that Moffat doesn’t face some major hurdles.

Davies did away with all the other time lords gallivanting around the universe, and avoided going too deeply into the Doctor’s own life, focusing instead on the lives of those around him, and keeping his stories grounded on Earth so as to avoid the convoluted mess that led to the demise of the original Doctor Who in 1989. Moffat, since becoming showrunner, has begun to pull things in the opposite direction, focusing on the Doctor’s own life, his past, and his future. Gallifrey may be back, and all the time lords with it. For all my complaints about Davies’ philosophy, his formula was sure successful, and Moffat is taking risks by messing with it. But then, isn’t that what the show has to do—reinvent itself, like the Doctor himself?

Its great strength is that it has regular opportunity to essentially become a new show. Moffat has reinvented the show twice, first with Matt Smith’s space opera and again with Peter Capaldi’s as-yet mysterious arc. I eagerly await Series 9, with its shocking changeup to everything the show has led us to expect thus far (spoilers, sweetie), to see what direction Capaldi’s “darker Doctor” will go. This autumn alone can tell what lies in store.

Editorial: The Force Awakens: Let's Speculate

This entertainingly inaccurate set of speculations was first published August 2015 in UGeek Magazine, at http://utahgeekmagazine.com/force-awakens-lets-speculate/ 

So there’s a new Star Wars trilogy coming out, and it will have nothing to do with the Expanded Universe continuity. Disney and JJ Abrams have been keeping the story behind The Force Awakens under tight, jealous wraps. Sure, Abrams has been teasing us lately with a few choice, juicy details. But it’s just spattering blood into shark-infested water. It doesn’t tell us what has been going on since Anakin Skywalker brought balance to the Force and the Ewoks sang “Yub Nub” (prior to the most un-wizard special edition release, that is).

Or rather, it wouldn’t be much to go on unless everything he has been saying had confirmed your months-long speculation and guesswork. As it has mine. At the risk of sounding vain, I want to go on record for having speculated these plot threads before they were confirmed and to put forth the rest of my guesses to see how well they fare against the actual film.

If you are spoiler-phobic, nothing I am about to say is a spoiler. Just speculation. I think, though, that it’s pretty decent speculation, seeing how a major aspect of my hypothesis—something that was quite a long shot—was confirmed by Abrams in a recent interview with Empire. Guesses I made that were confirmed by Abrams are noted in parentheses. Let’s see what you think:

So. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, the Second Death Star blew up. What happened after that? Well, as far as we know, Mara Jade never existed, there was no Sun Crusher, Jorus C’baoth probably never existed, there were no Emperor clones, the Yuuzhen Vong are just a silly name, and there may be no Solo twins or children of any sort. There may have never been a New Jedi Order. I’ll be writing another post about that, and I don’t think you’ll like it. But that’s another day’s battle.

I think one major way this new continuity will be different from the previous Expanded Universe continuity hinges around one point: the New Republic failed.

It makes sense. The Empire, as we learn in A New Hope, had done away with the Senate, replacing it with a regional hierarchy of command tracing back to the ultimate authority of the Emperor. The infrastructure and political system of power shifted into a thoroughly despotic system. Most policy- and decision-making power rested in the single person of the Emperor. The big draw for a system like this is things run smoothly. Brutally, but smoothly.

Sure, the Rebellion was formed around big names in the former Republic, but it was a ragtag group of former senators like Bail Organa and Mon Mothma, not really enough to restore the Senate and effectively change the system of government. You can’t count on citizens to happily adopt the new system because of its ideological superiority. Even if they want to, their support will quickly wane when they discover the new government can’t dispose of the trash or protect the streets like the old one did. When a system is designed to be run by a dictator, eliminating that dictator will create instability unless you have virtually unlimited manpower and means in addition to popular support. Which the Rebellion did not.

So my hypothesis is that the New Republic was founded after the destruction of the Second Death Star, but (a) the Empire was not completely destroyed, remaining a major force to be reckoned with, still controlling large swaths of the Galaxy, and (b) the New Republic’s administration was, frankly, poor. Driven by good intentions, of course, but incapable of effectively replacing the iron grip with democracy to keep order over half a galaxy’s worth of star systems. However, after striking so many grievous blows to the Empire, it showed that it stood a chance of winning, encouraging would-be allies to join, and nothing strengthens a rebellion better than a bandwagon.

Fast forward twenty years. The galaxy is torn and war-weary after more than three decades of the Galactic Civil War. With the fall of the Second Death Star, the Rebellion began to attract any group wanting to see the downfall of the Empire, not just idealists and former Republic sympathizers. And after their losses over Endor, they had little choice but to accept anyone who would stand with them. After selling their soul for more firepower and star systems, the Rebellion has become the blanket organization both for the New Republic and their many allies, including the unscrupulous crime families in the galaxy and the remnants of the CIS of the Clone Wars. After ceaseless war, both sides are wearing thin, deeply in debt, lacking public support, and on the verge of collapse.

The common people of the galaxy are no longer sure which cause is right. With the Sith extinct, the Empire looks less evil; after Luke’s disappearance and the arrival of assassins and gangsters, the Rebellion looks less good. And at long last, the day of reckoning has come: the Empire and the Rebellion find themselves forced to engage in what they both know will be their last battle. This is their Armageddon, the Battle over Jakku. The battle is terrible and devastating. Both sides limp away broken. They finally collapse, leaving the galaxy in chaos.

In the vacuum of power and order are many disgruntled, angry people. They look back at what happened and begin to ask some very dangerous questions: was the Empire so evil? Were the Sith really the villains of this struggle? Surrounded by chaos left behind by the Galactic Civil War, it looks to them an awful lot like things were golden under a strong rule of law and a powerful galactic civilization until the jealous former rulers of the galaxy, the Jedi, plotted the downfall of everything.

With Luke’s disappearance and Anakin’s death, there are no more Jedi or Sith. But they begin to wonder if perhaps they might not be able to resurrect the dead religion of The Force and in some way restore order and civilization to the galaxy. They band together and call themselves the Knights of Ren (confirmed and named in recent interview with Abrams; prior, I just guessed they would be some sort of quasi-religious paramilitary group).

A movement began, driven by memories of prosperity and order under the Empire, rather like ISIS or the Third Reich, which saw themselves as the restoration of a golden age that, in reality, never really existed (also confirmed in a recent interview with Abrams). This group could be made up of former Imperial leaders and soldiers as well as former Imperial citizens.

This movement believes that order and prosperity have always followed when the galaxy was in the control of the original, pure religion of The Force, the First Order of the Force, the original wielders of the Force—the Sith, from which the Jedi split off anciently (remember that only the post-Return of the Jedi Expanded Universe was declared non-canonical). Hence, the movement calls itself the First Order. It is something like a religion of fanboys of the Empire and the Sith. They have a temple dedicated to relics of the past, including Vader’s helmet, and are on a hunt for everything pertaining to the Sith or even the Jedi, and have been raiding Yavin’s Massassi temples and anywhere else they suspect might hold these relics.

Fast forward eight years. The planet Jakku has become a haven for pirates, scavengers, and traders, making a handsome living off of the scrap and tech deposited in the deserts: fleets of ships, weapons, and transport, both Rebel and Empire, that fell in the battle. But something is stirring on the planet’s surface that attracts the attention of the First Order.

Princess Leia’s movement is now only a shadow of its former self, having jettisoned or lost most of its former allies, and is called the Resistance, in conflict with the First Order. Both movements are smaller and growing, as opposed to the behemoths that were the Rebellion and the Empire.

And somewhere, hidden in the vast recesses of the galaxy, an old threat emerges: the last vestiges of the old Empire, which gladly aligns itself with this First Order. This was actually not part of my original speculation, but came from the Dark Side cover of Empire magazine’s Star Wars issue. If you look carefully, the stormtroopers to the right are Empire, not First Order. And Disney doesn’t make mistakes like that.

Kylo Ren, the best of the Knights of Ren, has constructed a functional lightsaber out of scrap. He has begun to discover the Force awakening in himself. He is a young idealist, not really evil but dedicated to his belief that the First Order is a force for good, which will bring about the prosperity of days past. He is the young, charismatic hero of the movement. He wears a mask (with voice modulation!) to invoke his hero, Darth Vader.

A young, hitherto unimportant First Order stormtrooper named Finn also begins to feel the stirrings of the Force within him. Only he has never been a Knight of Ren. His new powers amount to blasphemy and will threaten his life, so he must run away to save himself, suddenly feeling lost and betrayed by the First Order, which he had truly believed in and dedicated his life to.

And suddenly, rumor spreads that Darth Vader’s original lightsaber has been found. The First Order desperately wants it and dispatches their best and most loyal convert, former bounty hunter Captain Phasma, to retrieve it.

Beyond that, I have nothing. There are still a lot of mysteries. Who is Supreme Leader Snoke? That’s my number one loose end. Is he a Sith or just another fanboy? Is either Finn or Rey a descendent of someone in the original trilogy? Who is Captain Phasma and why have we never seen her face? Will she be this trilogy’s Boba Fett? Where has Luke been all this time? Is the Starkiller base on Hoth?

Wild guess: Captain Phasma or Kylo Ren is Luke’s daughter/son.

But all that aside, I suspect my plot outline here is something like what we will be seeing in the text crawl as we are blasted by the glorious strains of John Williams come December 18th. Or I could be totally wrong. So, any bets? What do you all think?

UPDATE (1 September 2015)

After an official news release by the Star Wars Battlefront website, I have learned that the Battle of Jakku takes place 29 years before the start of The Force Awakens. That means two things for my above theories: (1) my timeline is off (I had assumed that The Force Awakens would take place 28 years after Return of the Jedi since 28 years have elapsed in real time since the release of that film, and that the battle over Jakku would be many years after the fact), and (2) it suggests the Galactic Civil War will be settled very quickly indeed after the events of Return of the Jedi, since the Battle of Jakku is described as a pivotal battle that possibly spelled the end of the Empire and the Rebellion. Further suggestions of this are the fact that the same website declared that a new, never-before-seen planet would be featured in the new Battlefront game: Sullust. Now, Sullust was previously supposed to be the site of Obi-wan and Anakin Skywalker’s fateful duel, prior to the release of the prequel trilogy. It has been described as a volcanic planet, and is mentioned in the original trilogy as a place where the rebel fleet gathers. As far as I know, there have been no major battles in the Galactic Civil War on Sullust, suggesting this will be a new battle, before or after the battle of Jakku. In short, it looks like the Galactic Civil War will come to a head very quickly, leaving most of the 30 years intervening between the films for groups like the First Order to fester and for the names Han, Luke, and Leia to fall into myth rather than fact.