Names and Naming: Multicultural Aspects 3030731855, 9783030731854

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Names and Naming Multicultural Aspects Edited by Oliviu Felecan · Alina Bugheșiu

Names and Naming “The editors are well-known onomastic scholars, who have achieved a lot during their relatively short scientific career. The contributors come from 17 countries all over the world, and are the best-known specialists in the field, with worldrenowned achievements. Their studies offer an interdisciplinary and multicultural perspective on the research of name and naming in various geographical spaces and cultural and historical contexts.” —Milan Harvalík, Ľ. Štúr Institute of Linguistics of the Slovak Academy of Sciences, Slovakia “The book projects the comprehensive concept of multiculturalism onto various name categories and exemplifies this relation by most impressive case studies. A group of outstanding onomasticians succeeds in demonstrating that in multicultural situations the general role of names as markers of personal and group identity becomes even more significant. The book considerably augments not only onomastics, but cultural studies in general.” —Peter Jordan, Austrian Academy of Sciences, Co-chair, Joint ICA/IGU Commission on Toponymy

Oliviu Felecan  •  Alina Bugheșiu Editors

Names and Naming Multicultural Aspects

Editors Oliviu Felecan Faculty of Letters, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca North University Centre of Baia Mare Baia Mare, Romania

Alina Bugheșiu Faculty of Letters, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca North University Centre of Baia Mare Baia Mare, Romania

ISBN 978-3-030-73185-4    ISBN 978-3-030-73186-1 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and ­transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration: Maram_shutterstock.com This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Contents

1 I ntroduction  1 Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheșiu Part I Naming Policies, Trends and Practices in the Context of Multiculturalism   7 2 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in the United States  9 Frank Nuessel 1 Introduction   9 2 Post-Columbian Immigration to North America  12 3 Myths About Name Changes at Ellis Island  13 4 Surnames and Forenames  13 5 U.S. Census Data on Surnames  14 6 US Social Security Data on Forenames  20 7 Concluding Remarks  21 References 22

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3 Hamburguesas  and Enchiritos: How Multicultural Are American Fast-Food Names? 27 Laurel Sutton 1 Introduction  27 2 “Melting Pot” Cuisines  28 3 Two Major Chains: McDonald’s and Taco Bell  33 4 An American “Innovation”: The Wrap  35 References 38 4 Policy  of Name and Naming: Multicultural Aspects 41 Justyna B. Walkowiak 1 General Remarks  41 2 Anthroponyms—Diachronic Policies  43 3 Anthroponyms—Synchronic Policies  45 4 Toponyms—Diachronic Policies  47 5 Toponyms—Synchronic Policies  47 6 Chrematonyms  53 References 54 5 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church: The Thematic Group “the Names of New Saints” 57 Halyna Matsyuk 1 Introduction  57 2 Extralinguistic Factors Leading to the Emergence of the Thematic Group “Names of New Saints”  60 3 Names of Saints as Carriers of Encyclopaedic Knowledge About the Conversion to Orthodoxy of the Ukrainian Territories 61 4 Names of Saints as Markers of Resistance to the Forceful Conversion to Orthodoxy  65 5 The Development of Nominal Productivity of Names of Saints as a Way to Foster the Culture of Memory in Contemporary Ukrainian Society  67 6 Concluding Remarks  68 References 70

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6 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in Russian Post-Soviet Streetscapes 73 Marina Golomidova 1 Introduction  73 2 Problem Statement  74 3 Discussion  76 4 Conclusion  85 References 87 7 Multicultural  and National Anthroponymicon: Orthodox Name Versus Neo-pagan Pseudonym 91 Sergey Goryaev and Olga Olshvang 1 Preliminary Observations  91 2 Anthroponymic Canon of the Russian Society  93 3 Observations on Neo-pagan Names  94 4 Conclusion 102 References104 8 Multicultural  Influences on Russian Nicknaming Practices107 Anna Tsepkova 1 Introduction 107 2 Research Methodology and Principles of Selecting the Material109 3 Multilingual Influences on Russian Nicknames 111 4 Multicultural Influences on Russian Nicknames 116 5 Multilingual and Multicultural Influences on Russian Nicknames121 6 Conclusion 125 References129 9 Multicultural  Patronymic Landscapes of Naming in Russia, France, Germany, Great Britain and Romania133 Eugen Schochenmaier 1 Introduction 133 2 Romania 134 3 France 139

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4 Russia 141 5 Germany 143 6 Great Britain 145 7 Conclusion 147 Referenzces147 10 T  ransylvania—An Anthroponymic Perspective149 Oliviu Felecan 1 Introduction 149 2 Anthroponyms 152 3 Concluding Remarks 160 References160 11 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in Hungarian Anthroponymy165 Mariann Slíz 1 Possible Interpretations of Multiculturalism in Hungary 165 2 Multiculturalism in the Given Name Stock and Naming Habits in Hungary 166 3 Multiculturalism in the Surname Stock in Hungary 172 4 Conclusion 176 References177 12 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in Preconquest Times and Catholic and Protestant Churches from Hungary: A Comparative Perspective181 Andrea Bölcskei 1 Introduction 181 2 The Shift from Ancient to Christian Practices of Personal Name-Giving in the Hungarian Language 182 3 Religious Affiliation as an Influential Factor in Naming Practices in Early Modern Hungary 186 4 Religious Affiliation as a Fading Factor in the Naming Practices of Modern Hungary 190 5 Conclusions 193 References193

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13 Multicultural  Features in Scandinavian Toponymy197 Staffan Nyström 1 Introduction 197 2 Multicultural Place Names in Urban Settings 198 3 Borrowed Place Names from Near and Far 201 4 Sami Languages and Sami Place Names 203 5 Finnish Place Names in Sweden and Norway 207 6 Concluding Remarks 209 References210 14 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in Contemporary Italian Anthroponymy213 Davide Astori 1 Introduction 213 2 Foreigners in Italy 214 3 Foreign(ers’) Names in Italy: Some Brief Reflections on the Contemporary Situation 219 4 Conclusions 221 References225 15 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in a Postcolonial World227 Marie A. Rieger 1 Introduction 227 2 Personal Names 229 3 Street Names in Dar es Salaam 235 4 Conclusion 238 References239 16 Onomastic  Multiculturalism: Anthroponymy and Toponymy in South Africa243 Bertie Neethling 1 Introduction: Language and Culture 243 2 Onomastics 244 3 Anthroponymy 245

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4 Toponymy 252 5 Commemorative Name Changes 253 References259 17 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in the Arab World261 Wafa Abu Hatab 1 Introduction 261 2 Multicultural Aspects of Anthroponymy 262 3 Multicultural Aspects of Toponymy 271 References274 18 The  Formation of a Multicultural Society in Japan: An Observation of the Names of Shops and Signboards277 Kazuko Tanabe and Yuan Jiang 1 Introduction 277 2 Writing System of the Japanese Language 278 3 Recent Trends in Foreigners Residing in Japan 280 4 Formation of the City and Shop Names 281 5 Current Status of the Adoption of Multilingual Information on Signboards in the City 286 6 Conclusions 291 References292 Part II Naming as a Form of Identity Construction in Multicultural Societies

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19 Names  and Naming in the Iberian Peninsula. Joan Coromines’ Intercultural Approach in Onomastics295 Joan Tort-Donada 1 Introduction 295 2 Joan Coromines: General Background 296 3 The Significance of Coromines’ Three Great Dictionaries 298 4 On the Language-Territory Interaction: The Relevance of the Geographical Dimension in the Onomastic Works of Coromines302

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5 Final Summary 312 References313 20 Between  Cultural Heritage and Marketing: German Place Names in Post-Communist Czechia315 Jaroslav David and Tereza Klemensová 1 Introduction 315 2 Revitalisation of Historical German Toponyms 319 3 Preservation of Historical German Toponyms 322 4 Thematisation of German Place Names in Poetry and Fiction as Opposed to Opinion Journalism 325 5 Conclusions 326 References327 21 M  ulticulturalism in Polish Toponymy331 Barbara Czopek-Kopciuch 1 Introduction 331 2 Names of German Origin 332 3 Names in the North-Eastern Borderlands 334 4 Names in the Eastern Borderlands 335 5 Names in the Southern Borderlands 337 6 Names Connected with Other National Groups 338 7 Legal Regulations Following World War II 339 8 Conclusion 342 References342 22 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming Reflected in German Brands345 Angelika Bergien 1 Introduction 345 2 Cultural Meanings of Brands 346 3 Multilingual Brand Names as a Reflection of Cultural Diversity?348 4 Ethnic Marketing and Multicultural Brands in Germany 353 5 Concluding Remarks 357 References357

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23 Italian  Brand Names as Mirrors of Multicultural Aspects361 Paola Cotticelli-Kurras 1 Introduction 361 2 Linguistic Analysis 362 3 Conclusions: Language as Mirror of Culture 374 References375 24 Names  of Street Food Vendors in Romania: Between Locality and Globality377 Alina Bugheșiu 1 Introduction 377 2 Global Versus Local Trends in Contemporary Romanian 378 3 Names of Street Food Vendors in Romanian Space as Markers of Liminality 380 4 Conclusion 384 References385 25 The  Contribution of the Greek Catholic Church to the Multicultural Diversification of Transylvanian Anthroponymy387 Daiana Felecan and Nicolae Felecan 1 Introduction. Brief History of the Greek Catholic Church 387 2 Modernisation of the Greek Catholic Church 391 3 Multiculturalism in Anthroponymy 394 4 Concluding Remarks 399 References401 26 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in Russian Toponymy405 Vladislav Alpatov 1 Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages 405 2 Middle Ages and Early Modern 410 3 Modern and Contemporary Periods 415 References419

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27 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in African Cultures: The Case of Kenya and Zimbabwe421 Tendai Mangena and Solomon Waliaula 1 Introduction: Focus and Methodology 421 2 Hybridised Names-Cum-Identities: Fluid Linguistic, Cultural and Ethnic Boundaries 422 3 Sabaot Names in Bukusu Geography: History and Ethnography428 4 Brief History of the Names 430 5 Images and Narratives Behind the Names 432 6 Conclusion 434 References435 28 Multicultural  Aspects of Name and Naming in Nigeria: A Sociolinguistic Study437 Idowu Odebode 1 Introduction 437 2 Multilingualism and Naming 438 3 Theoretical Frameworks 438 4 Literature Review 439 5 Naming Systems in Nigeria 441 6 Discussion and Findings 444 7 Conclusion 449 Appendix 1  450 Appendix 2: Nigerian Rulers Since Independence  451 References452 29 Multicultural  Aspects of Names and Naming in American Literature455 Alleen Pace Nilsen and Don L. F. Nilsen 1 Sherman Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven: 20th Anniversary Issue456 2 Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street458 3 Cynthia Kadohata’s Weedflower460

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4 Toni Morrison’s Beloved462 5 Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club464 References466 30 Multiculturalism  in Shakespeare’s Names467 Grant W. Smith 1 Introduction 467 2 The Settings and Their Sources 468 3 Diversity and Justice as Elements of Multiculturalism 468 4 The Plays Based on English History 469 5 Other Plays with Other Settings 475 References481 A  uthor Index483 S  ubject Index487

Notes on Contributors

Vladislav Alpatov  is Lecturer in Linguistics at Moscow City Pedagogical University in Moscow, Russia. He specialises in onomastics and cognitive semantics. His doctoral thesis was devoted to conceptual bases of English place names with Christian associations, and his onomastic research usually involves an Indo-European typological perspective. His other research and teaching areas include Indo-European etymology, theoretical onomasiology, language and religion, philosophy of language, English and Russian lexicology, stylistics, and text interpretation. Davide  Astori is Associate Professor of General Linguistics at the Università degli Studi di Parma, Italy, where he has also taught Hebrew language and culture, Arabic, and Sanskrit. He has a BS in ancient languages and a PhD in Romance Philology from the LMU in Munich (Germany). His chief scientific interests include languages and cultures in contact, traductology, languages and Weltanschauungen, social and language minorities, sociolinguistic aspects of national identities, sign languages, and interlinguistics. He has also published many studies related to onomastics. Angelika Bergien  is PhD Habil and Professor of English Linguistics at Otto von Guericke University of Magdeburg, Germany, which she joined in 2002. Her linguistic training began at Leipzig University, and later she xv

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taught at the Universities of Leipzig, Dresden, and Leeds. Her research interests are pragmatics, socio-onomastics, cognitive linguistics, and interdisciplinary approaches to all manner of texts. She has published mainly in the fields of pragmatics and (socio-)onomastics, including “Names as frames in current day media discourse” (in Names and Naming, edited by Oliviu Felecan, 2013) and “Name and shame strategies in a socio-onomastic perspective” (in Onomastica Uralica 10/2018, edited by Terhi Ainiala et al.). Andrea  Bölcskei is PhD Habil at Károli Gáspár University of the Reformed Church in Hungary, Budapest. Her research interests include Hungarian and English place names, onomastic theory, literary onomastics, Hungarian historical linguistics, terminology, technical writing, applied linguistics and linguistic aspects of standardisation. She is a member of the editorial board of the Hungarian onomastic journal Névtani Értesítő. She is the Secretary of the Council of Hungarian Terminology, works in the ICOS Terminology Group and in the UNGEGN Working Groups on Exonyms and Toponymic Terminology. She is a member of several Hungarian and international linguistic societies and professional associations. Alina  Bugheșiu  is Lecturer in the Faculty of Letters at the Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, Romania. She has written studies on onomastics in various contexts (names in commerce, music, jokes, virtual communication) in journals and collective volumes published in Romania and abroad. Her PhD thesis has been published in the UK: Trade Names in Contemporary Romanian Public Space (Cambridge Scholars Publishing—CSP, 2015). Dr Bugheșiu has been the Secretary of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences (ICOS) since 2015 and the Editorial Secretary of Onoma, the journal of ICOS, since January 2019. Her research interests consist of onomastics, referential semantics, semiotics, sociolinguistics, psycholinguistics, applied linguistics, pragmatics and discourse analysis. Paola Cotticelli-Kurras  is Full Professor of Historical and Comparative Linguistics at the University of Verona. Since 2007, she has been Director

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of the Department Research Centre for Studies in Metalanguage and History of Ideas. She has been a member and manager of many research programmes concerning the history of ideas, linguistic concepts, and grammar. Other research fields in which she has published/edited several studies are Hittitology, historical linguistics and ancient languages, IndoEuropean syntax, graphematics and Italian brand names. In 2014–2016, she was PI of a Grant funded by the Foundation von Thyssen for a joint project on Indo-European syntax (Winter Verlag, Heidelberg). Barbara  Czopek-Kopciuch (1952–2020) was Full Professor at the Institute of the Polish Language (Polish Academy of Sciences, Kraków), where she was the head of the Department of Onomastics and Editor-in-­ Chief of the journal Onomastica. For many years, she was the chair of the Polish Commission on Names of Localities and Physiographic Objects, the Onomastic Group of the Polish Academy of Sciences Committee on Linguistics, a member of the Commission on Slavic Onomastics and the International Council of Onomastic Sciences. She has authored numerous valuable monographs in the field of onomastics and edited the toponomastic dictionary Place Names of Poland. Jaroslav David  is Associate Professor of Czech language at the University of Ostrava, Czech Republic. His main research areas include onomastics, sociolinguistics, etymology, and historical lexicology. In the field of naming, he has investigated folk etymology of proper names, commemorative naming, urbanonymy, linguistic landscape, semantics, and collocations of proper names, and mutual relationships between standardised and non-standardised forms of place names. Together with Jana Davidová Glogarová, he has explored place-name appearance in texts of different genres, for example radio speeches, travel writings, and memoires. Nowadays, his research focuses on the corpus-based analysis of place and personal names. Daiana Felecan  is PhD Habil and Professor of Faculty of Letters at the Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, where she is a doctoral supervisor in the field of philology. She has published seven books, co-edited three volumes and written more than 110 studies in specialised journals, pro-

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ceedings, and books in Romania and abroad. She has participated in national and international conferences and congresses in Europe, America, and Africa. She has been the manager of a CNCS research project called Unconventional Romanian Anthroponyms in European Context: Formation Patterns and Discursive Function, and a member of the research teams of two other onomastic projects. Nicolae Felecan  (1941–2020) was Full Professor at North University of Baia Mare. His scientific activity was very complex, and his research interests aiming at several compartments of linguistics: Latin language, etymology, lexicology, morphology, syntax, stylistics, history of the Romanian language, semantics, lexicography, Romance philology, anthroponymy, toponymy, dialectology, journalistic, and religious discourse. He published 6 academic courses, 18 books and dictionaries (as sole author and co-author), and more than 140 studies in scientific journals, collective books and proceedings from Austria, Canada, Denmark, Germany, the Republic of Moldova, Romania, Spain, Sweden, the UK, and the USA. Oliviu Felecan  is PhD Habil and Professor of Faculty of Letters at the Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, Romania. He has written widely in the field of onomastics including six books as (co-)author, thirteen volumes as (co-)editor, and over a hundred and thirty studies (in journals, proceedings, and books from sixteen countries). As of January 2019, he is Editor-in-Chief of Onoma, the journal of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences. At the same time, he is a member of the Editorial Boards of other journals: Onomastica, Linguistique Balcanique, Revista Onomástica desde América Latina, Onomàstica. Anuari de la Societat d’Onomàstica, RIOn, SCOL. Marina Golomidova  is a PhD Habil and a professor in the Department of Branding and Integrated Marketing Communications, at Ural Federal University, Russia. For many years, she has been engaged in theoretical and applied issues of onomastics. She has authored more than 150 publications, and has been the head of two research projects: Urban Toponyms as Part of the Linguistic Landscape of the City: Traditions and Prospects for

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Rational Development, Cognitive and Pragmatic Potential of Proper Names in Polysemiotic Texts of Political Advertising and PR Discourse. She is Deputy Editor-in-Chief of the international academic journal Problems of Onomastics, and a member of the Municipal Toponymic Commission of Ekaterinburg city. Sergey Goryaev  is an associate professor at the Ural Federal University, Russia, in the Department of Russian General Linguistic and Speech Communication. He is also an associate professor at two theological colleges of the Russian Orthodox Church, the Missionary Institute and Ekaterinburg Theological Seminary. He has a PhD in Philology. His research interests include oikonymy, urbanonymy, commercial names, ergonymy, religious terminology and discourse, Latin language, and stylistics. Wafa Abu Hatab  is Professor of Linguistics and Translation Studies at the English Department at Zarqa University, Jordan. Her academic interests include onomastics, sociolinguistics, pragmatics, critical discourse analysis, and translation studies. She is an assistant to the editor of International Journal of Arabic-English Studies, a member of the editorial board of Jordan Journal of Modern Languages & Literature, the editor of Translation Across Time and Space (Cambridge Scholars, 2017), and the co-author of Advanced English-Arabic Translation (Edinburgh University Press, 2014). Previous onomastic research explored divine names in the Qur’an and postcolonial names in Jordan. Yuan  Jiang received his PhD in Applied Linguistics from Meikai University (Japan) and is working as a strategic planner for Hakuhodo, a Japanese advertising and public relations company. His professional interests focus on linguistic landscape and multilingualism in Japanese society. Together with Professor Kazuko Tanabe, he has published several papers on onomastics in various collective volumes (e.g. “A Quantitative Study of Linguistic Landscape in Some Asian Urban Neighbourhoods”, in Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, edited by Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheșiu, CSP, 2013).

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Tereza  Klemensová is Assistant Professor of Czech language at the University of Ostrava, Czech Republic. Her research interests cover onomastics, history of Czech linguistics and historical grammar. In her PhD thesis, she focused on Czech and German geographical names in the Czech borderlands. In addition to this topic, she concentrates on linguistic landscape, urbanonymy, proper names in texts, or corpus-based onomastic research. Tendai Mangena  is Associate Professor of African Literary and Cultural studies at the Great Zimbabwe University, Zimbabwe, and Research Fellow in the Department of English at the University of the Free State, South Africa. She was a Fulbright Research Scholar in the Department of Comparative Literature and Languages at the University of California, Riverside, USA, in 2020 and an Alexander von Humboldt Postdoctoral Fellow in the Department of Postcolonial Literary and Cultural studies at Bremen University, in Germany, from 2016 to 2018. Her research interests include questions of gender, politics, power, and justice in African literature and onomastics. Halyna Matsyuk  is a professor in the Department of General Linguistics at Ivan Franko National University of Lviv, Ukraine. She has published studies on onomastics, sociolinguistics, history of linguistics, and terminology, such as Prescriptive Linguistics (2001), To the Sources of Sociolinguistics: Sociological Trends in Linguistics (2008), and Language in Society: Semantics, Syntactics, Pragmatics (2019, as editor). She has also written textbooks: Ukrainian terminology (1994) and Applied Sociolinguistics: Question of Language Policy (2009). She is the editor of the journal Language and Society and the collection Sociolinguistic knowledge as a means of forming a new culture of security: Ukraine and the world (2018). Bertie  Neethling  has been Senior Professor at the University of the Western Cape, Cape Town, South Africa, and is currently affiliated with Durban University of Technology (DUT), South Africa. His research interests mainly refer to various issues related to onomastics, particularly to anthroponymy, toponymy, names in commerce, songs, sports, and animal names. He has published numerous studies in proceedings and

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collective volumes (e.g. “Street Names: A Changing Urban Landscape”, in The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, edited by Carole Hough, 2016), as well as in journals (e.g. in Nomina Africana, Names). Don L. F. Nilsen  is Assistant Dean of ASU Emeritus College’s Division of the Humanities. With his wife, Alleen Pace, he is the co-founder of the International Society for Humor Studies, and winner of the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Association of Applied and Therapeutic Humor Association. Their most recent books include Encyclopedia of 20th Century American Humor (2000), Names and Naming in Young Adult Literature (2007), Literature for Today’s Young Adults (2013), and The Language of Humor (Cambridge University Press, 2019). Since their retirement from ASU’s English Department in 2011, they have taught courses for the ASU Honors College, Osher, New Adventures, New Frontiers, Sagewood, Stonegate, Sun City, and the Arizona Humanities Council. Frank Nuessel  is a Professor and University Scholar (2008–2018) at the University of Louisville in Kentucky (USA). He served as President of the Semiotic Society of America (2011) and President of the American Association of Teachers of Italian (2012–2014). He also served as Chief Reader of the AP Italian language and culture exam (2006–2009, 2011–2012) and the Editor-in-Chief of Names: A Journal of Onomastics (2007–2011). He has published numerous books and articles on linguistics, semiotics, Italian pedagogy and culture, and onomastics, and he has presented papers on these topics at various international conferences. Staffan Nyström  is Professor Emeritus in Scandinavian Onomastics at Uppsala University, Sweden (chair 2008–2019). He chairs the Place Name Society of Uppsala, and used to be active in the Place Names Advisory Board of Sweden (member), the Name Drafting Committee of Stockholm (chair), the International Council of Onomastic Sciences (treasurer), and United Nations Group of Experts on Geographical Names. His research interests include field names, microtoponymy, urban names, national and international name standardisation, and name theory.

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Idowu  Odebode is Professor of English at Redeemer’s University, Nigeria. He has received his first degree from the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, and both MA cum PhD from the University of Ibadan, respectively. His scientific interests include onomastics, sociolinguistics, and discourse stylistics. He is also a Commonwealth Scholar who has been privileged to carry out research at the University of Glasgow among others. He is the founding president of the Society for the Study of Names in Nigeria and the first recipient of the American Name Society’s Emerging Scholar Award. Olga Olshvang  is Head of the Department of Foreign Languages at the Ural State Medical University, Russia, and Associate Professor in the Department of Foreign Languages and Translations at Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, Russia. She has a PhD in Philology. Her research interests include anthroponymy, commercial names, sociolinguistics, foreign language teaching, and language for specific purposes. Marie  A.  Rieger is Associate Professor of German linguistics at the University of Bologna, Italy. She has studied German as a foreign language, Romance and Slavonic Studies at the Ludwig-Maximilians-­ University Munich. For many years she taught German as a foreign language at the Goethe-Institut in Genoa (Italy), where she also conducted teacher training seminars. Since 2002, she has been teaching at the Faculty of Modern Languages of the University of Bologna. Her research interests range from valency grammar to intercultural communication, with a particular focus on onomastics and (post-)colonial linguistics. Eugen Schochenmaier  is based in Germany and acts as the Web Officer of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences and its journal, Onoma. He is the former Web Officer of the American Name Society. He has obtained his PhD from Paris X University, France, and has taught linguistics and modern languages in Russia, China, and Germany. His main research interest is onomastics, and he has published studies related to this field in French, English, and Russian. He has been managing his networking blog e-Onomastics (https://e-­onomastics.blogspot.com/) since 2012, which has totalled more than one million views since its creation.

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Mariann Slíz  is an associate professor in the Department of Hungarian Historical Linguistics, Sociolinguistics and Dialectology at ELTE Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest, Hungary. She received her PhD in 2010, and completed her habilitation in 2016. She is the Secretary of the Onomastic Section of the Society of Hungarian Linguistics and the editor of the Hungarian onomastic journal Névtani Értesítő. Her main field of interest is onomastics, especially anthroponymy, name theory, applied onomastics, and literary onomastics. Grant W. Smith  is Professor Emeritus of English at Eastern Washington University, USA.  He is a former president of ANS, vice-president of ICOS, regional secretary for the ADS, 32 years on the Washington Board on Geographic Names, and has hosted many international scholars. His work emphasises literary onomastics and philosophy of language, but previous publications include American Indian languages and the emotive effects of language sounds. His last book, Names as Metaphors in Shakespeare’s Comedies, is published at Vernon Press. Laurel Sutton  is co-founder of Catchword, an American naming firm that develops product and company names. She earned a BA in Linguistics from Rutgers University and master’s degree from UC Berkeley. She is an expert witness on naming and branding issues, and President of the American Name Society. She has given conference presentations on brand naming to groups such as BayCHI (San Francisco chapter of the ACM Special Interest Group on Computer-Human Interaction) and the State Bar of California Intellectual Property Institute. She edited the 2017 collection of papers by Robin Tolmach Lakoff, Context Counts: Papers on Language, Gender, and Power. Kazuko  Tanabe  is teaching Japanese language and Japanese teaching methods at Japan Women’s University. Her professional interests focus on historical sociolinguistics and corpus linguistics. Her projects include the research into the simplification of the Japanese honorific language. She has published many studies on onomastics: for example “A Quantitative Study of Linguistic Landscape in Some Asian Urban Neighbourhoods” (with Yuan Jiang, in Onomastics in Contemporary

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Public Space, edited by Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheșiu, CSP, 2013), “Recent Child Naming Practices in Japan” (with Hitomi Mitsunobu, in Unconventional Anthroponyms: Formation Patterns and Discursive Function, edited by Oliviu Felecan and Daiana Felecan, CSP, 2014). Joan Tort-Donada  is a geographer and Professor of Geography at the University of Barcelona. His research interests encompass regional studies, landscape, toponymy, epistemology of geography, urban and rural planning, and geographical research in literature. He has a particular interest in the study of place names, and the relationship between names and the human experience of world. He has led various research projects on the analysis of regions and landscapes in Spain as cultural constructions, and the study of what he calls “the memory of the territory” (including place names as “memory marks”). He is Editor-in-Chief of the journal Onomàstica. Anuari de la Societat d’Onomàstica. Anna  Tsepkova is an associate professor in the English Language Department, at the Novosibirsk State Pedagogical University, Novosibirsk, Russian Federation. She is a member of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences (ICOS) and the ICOS Bibliography group, as well as vice-chair of the Siberian Association of Foreign Language Teachers. Her research interests include onomastics (unconventional onomastics, literary onomastics, onomastic landscape, lexicography), literature and literary criticism, cross-cultural communication, teaching English as a foreign language, information communication technologies in teaching foreign languages. Solomon Waliaula  is Senior Lecturer in Literature and Cultural Studies in the Department of Languages, Linguistics and Culture at Maasai Mara University, Kenya, and also a research associate at the University of the Witwatersrand, in the Department of African Literature. He is a DAAD scholar (2010–2011, Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz, Germany), Alexander Von Humboldt Fellow (2015–2017, Johannes Gutenberg University of Mainz, Germany), and has also been a beneficiary of the Africa-Oxford Initiative travel grant at Oxford University (2019). He has published in the areas of media ethnography, popular culture, and onomastics.

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Justyna B. Walkowiak  is a PhD Habil and an associate professor in the Department of Language Policy and Minority Studies, at Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, Poland. Her scholarly interests include cultural onomastics, especially onyms in language policy, alongside anthroponymy and hodonymy. She is section editor of Onomastica, as well as author of two monographs (Personal Name Policy: From Theory to Practice, 2016; Litewskie nazwiska Polaków [Dictionary of Polish surnames of Lithuanian origin], 2019), two coursebooks, and about 40 articles and book chapters. She has co-edited thematic issues of journals (Silva Iaponicarum 2017, Onomastica Uralica 10/2018) and two collective monographs.

List of Figures

Fig. 9.1 Fig. 9.2 Fig. 9.3 Fig. 9.4 Fig. 9.5 Fig. 13.1

Fig. 14.1 Fig. 14.2 Fig. 14.3 Fig. 14.4 Fig. 14.5 Fig. 14.6 Fig 14.7 Fig. 18.1 Fig. 18.2

Romanian surnames 135 French surnames 139 Russian surnames 141 German surnames 144 British surnames 146 Map of the Nordic countries showing broadly where the many varieties of Sami and Finnish are spoken (see text below). Off the map, in the easternmost part of the Kola Peninsula, Ter Sami is spoken (10). The shaded areas in central Sweden are areas of centuries-old Finnish settlement where the largest numbers of Finnish place names survive. (© The author.) 204 Italian population over the last 15 years 214 The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2018 215 The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2017 215 The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2016 215 The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2015 215 Use of Alexandru in the last two decades (trend) 223 Use of Alexandru in the last two decades (specific percentages) 224 (a) Map of Japan; (b) map of the Kanto region; (c) map of Tokyo280 Map of the Yamanote Line in Tokyo 281

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List of Figures

Fig. 18.3 Signboard on a restaurant/bar in Nishikasai. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.) 283 Fig. 18.4 Sign in the inner courtyard of the Shibazono Housing Estate. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.) 284 Fig. 18.5 Signboard seen at a station in Nishikawaguchi. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.) 286 Fig. 18.6 Signboard of a Nepalese restaurant. (Photos taken by Kazuko Tanabe.)288 Fig. 18.7 Chinese restaurant signboard. (Photo taken by Kazuko Tanabe.)290 Fig. 18.8 Vietnamese restaurant card. (Photo taken by Kazuko Tanabe.) 291 Fig. 19.1 Pre-Roman names 307 Fig. 19.2 Roman names 309 Fig. 19.3 Germanic names 310 Fig. 19.4 Arabic names 311 Fig. 23.1 Distribution of languages in the twentieth century (Cotticelli Kurras 2012a: 326) 365 Fig. 23.2 Distribution of languages at the beginning the twenty-first century in the product class 25 (Compostella 2016) 367

List of Tables

Table 2.1 Table 2.2 Table 2.3 Table 3.1 Table 8.1 Table 8.2 Table 8.3 Table 8.4 Table 8.5 Table 8.6 Table 8.7

The ten most frequent surnames for Whites, Blacks, Asians and Hispanic origin in the United States based on the 2010 U.S. Census Bureau Data 17 Fastest growing surnames among the top 1000 from the 2000 U.S. census to the 2010 U.S. census (based on Comenetz 2016: 6) 19 Ten most frequent Boys and Girls Names for 2017 (Social Security 2018) 21 Top 21 fast-food companies for 2017, ranked by total sales (QSR Magazine 2018) 31 Sample distribution by institution 110 Nickname distribution by the type of motivation (whole sample—1, interculturally motivated nicknames—2) 110 Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (lexical level) 112 Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (phonetic and lexical level) 113 Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (morphological level) 114 Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames (lexicosemantic level) 117 Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames (semantic level)122 xxix

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List of Tables

Table 8.8 Table 8.9 Table 8.10 Table 9.1

Table 14.1 Table 14.2 Table 14.3 Table 14.4 Table 17.1 Table 18.1 Table 23.1 Table 23.2 Table 27.1 Table 27.2 Table 28.1

Multilingual and multicultural influences on Russian nicknames123 Influences of a non-native language/culture on Russian nicknames of different motivational types 127 Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames 129 Categorisation of the 100 most frequent patronym-based surnames with corresponding ranks (due to space constraints represented in abbreviated form for Romanian, French and Russian; by contrast, the German data exceed the TOP 100 as a result of the disproportionate nature of naming patterns) 136 Foreigners residing in Italy 214 Foreign population in Italy in the last four years (the ten largest minorities divided according to sex) 216 Use of Alexandru in the last two decades (absolute value) 223 Use of Hao in the last two decades 224 Old and modern toponyms in Jordan 272 Japanese orthography 279 Examples of French lexemes in Italian brand names until 1930363 Examples of German and English lexemes in Italian brand names until 1930 364 Names with similar semantic values across linguistics groups 423 Bukusu-Sabaot name adaptations 428 Namsria 450

1 Introduction Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheșiu

Multiculturalism is a more and more prominent topic in contemporary international public space, whether one considers it in relation to politics, religion, ethnicity, culture or language. Research1 has so far ranged from defining multiculturalism in general (Rethinking Multiculturalism, Bhikhu Parekh, 2000; Multiculturalism. A Critical Introduction, Michael Murphy, 2011) to portraying its influence on different spheres of human life in various spaces and in different eras (Multiculturalism in Latin America, edited by R.  Sieder, 2002; The Public Life of Australian Multiculturalism, A.  Moran, 2017; Multiculturalism in Canada, H.D.  Forbes, 2019), and depicting its intersection with politics (The Limits of Liberal Multiculturalism, A. Vitikainen, 2015; Governance and Multiculturalism, C.  Koerner, S.  Pillay, 2020), religion (Muslims, Trust and Multiculturalism, edited by A. Yaqin, P. Morey, A. Soliman, 2018),  The titles listed in this paragraph are organised chronologically, whereas the journals and articles mentioned in the following paragraph appear in alphabetical order. 1

O. Felecan (*) • A. Bugheșiu Faculty of Letters, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Centre of Baia Mare, Baia Mare, Romania © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_1

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social problems (Group Integration and Multiculturalism, D.  Pfeffer, 2015; Multiculturalism, Identity and Difference, E. Murdock, 2016), gender/women’s studies (Women’s Rights as Multicultural Claims: Reconfiguring Gender and Diversity in Political Philosophy, Monica Mookherjee, 2009; Gender and Multiculturalism: North-South Perspectives, edited by Amanda Gouws and Daiva Stasiulis, 2014; Gender Parity and Multicultural Feminism: Towards a New Synthesis, edited by Ruth Rubio-Marín and Will Kymlicka, 2018), education (Multiculturalism, Higher Education and Intercultural Communication, D.  Spiteri, 2017), literature and art (Contemporary Fictions of Multiculturalism, M.  Perfect, 2014; Multiculturalism in Art Museums Today, edited by Joni Boyd Acuff and Laura Evans, 2014), language contact, policies and trends (The Routledge Handbook of Multilingualism, edited by Marilyn Martin-Jones, Adrian Blackledge and Angela Creese, 2012; The Handbook of Bilingualism and Multilingualism, edited by Tej K. Bhatia and William C. Ritchie, 2013; The Handbook of Language Contact, edited by Raymond Hickey, 2013). Interdisciplinary concerns have also been vastly covered: Multiculturalism, Religion and Women (M.  Macey, 2009); Religious Education in a Multicultural Europe (edited by E. Smyth, M. Lyons and M. Darmody, 2013); Churches, Blackness, and Contested Multiculturalism (edited by R.  Smith, W.  Ackah and A.  Reddie, 2014); Animal, Race, and Multiculturalism (edited by L.  Cordeiro-Rodrigues and L.  Mitchell, 2017). More comprehensive approaches have been recorded as well: Handbook of Multilingualism and Multiculturalism (edited by Geneviève Zarate, Danielle Lévy and Claire Kramsch, 2010); Handbook of Multicultural Measures (Glenn C. Gamst, Christopher T.H. Liang, Aghop Der-Karabetian, 2011); The Oxford Handbook of Multicultural Identity (edited by Verónica Benet-Martínez and Ying-yi Hong, 2014); Routledge Handbook of Multicultural Education Research in Asia Pacific (edited by Yun-Kyung Cha, Seung-Hwan Ham and Moosung Lee, 2020). In addition to the aforementioned books or chapters in prestigious collective volumes, we cannot overlook the numerous academic journals in different fields (anthropology, social sciences, cultural studies, demography, development studies, environmental studies, ethnic studies, gender studies, humanities—multidisciplinary, religion, geography,

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international relations, political sciences, sociology, urban studies, women’s studies), to which researchers all over the world submit articles on subjects related to multiculturalism. These journals include Environment and Planning D-Society & Space, Ethnic and Racial Studies, Ethnicities, European Journal of Cultural Studies, Gender Place and Culture, International Journal of Cultural Policy, International Journal of Multicultural Education, International Journal of Intercultural Relations, Journal of International Migration and Integration, Journal of Multicultural Counseling and Development, Multicultural Education Review, Multicultural Learning and Teaching, Multicultural Perspectives, Political Geography, Social Identities, The International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding, The Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development. Of the thousands of articles, some of the noteworthy studies with respect to the multiple facets of the topic in question are: “Multiculturalism and Interculturalism: Redefining Nationhood and Solidarity” (Riva Kastoryano, Comparative Migration Studies, 6/2018), “Multiculturalism and Nationalism: Models of Belonging to Diverse Political Community” (Clayton Chin, Nations and Nationalism 2020: 1–18), “Multiculturalism as a Conservative Ideology: Impacts on Workforce Diversity” (Santina Bertone and Mary Leahy, Asia Pacific Journals of Human Resources, 41 (1), 2013: 101–115), “Multiculturalism as a New Form of Nationalism?” (Tariq Modood, Nations and Nationalism, 26 (2), 2020: 308–313), “The Retreat of Multiculturalism in the Liberal State: Theory and Policy” (Christian Joppke, The British Journal of Sociology, 55 (2), 2004: 237–257). In onomastic studies, one can easily come across multicultural aspects discussed with respect to all categories of names. For instance, in multiethnic areas there are toponyms with etymologies from different languages; when analysed in diachrony, these names testify to the history and geography of the places in question. Toponymic investigations also look at the relationship between endonyms and exonyms. In anthroponymy, the multicultural element converges with religion, ethnic belonging, social classes and the onomastic fashion of a certain age, as can be seen in family names and particularly in first names and nicknames. In ergonymy, multiculturalism mirrors the configuration of the present-day world, in which globalisation determines the existence of an increasingly

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diverse landscape, as regards names of companies, brands and products. In religious context, there are similarities between various Christian faiths (Catholicism, Orthodoxy, Protestantism, the Greek Catholic Church), as well as differences which turn out to be more significant when one compares Christianity to other religions, such as Islam. More often than not, the choice of a first name is determined by parents’ religious affiliation, by certain beliefs or superstitions that the name bearer’s existence could be influenced in a favourable way. Literature provides the perfect framework for the manifestation of onomastic multiculturalism (for instance, this may occur as a result of the writers’ diverse origins and the variety of their characters). Names and Naming: Multicultural Aspects brings together, for the first time in specialised literature, multiple aspects of multiculturalism and the way in which they are manifested in onomastics. The book is the result of the collaboration between thirty-five specialists in seventeen countries across the world. They explore theoretical and practical matters regarding the intersection of multiculturalism with toponymy and anthroponymy, commercial names, names in religion and literature. The complex, interdisciplinary analyses are not only conducted from the viewpoint of linguistic subfields, but also from the perspective of ethnology, sociology, psychology, philosophy, anthropology, economy, politics, geography, history, religion, government policy and culture in general. The spaces investigated include states defined by multiculturalism and contact or monocultural areas in Europe, America, Africa and Asia, with majority/minority populations. The main theme of the book is developed in two sections which refer to onomastic theory and socio-onomastics, toponymy, anthroponymy, commercial onomastics, names in religious context and names in literature. In each section, the chapters were grouped according to the geographical areas they explore and/or based on the topic. The studies were not written to observe a rigid template, as they were meant to emphasise the diverse viewpoints from which multiculturalism in onomastics can be surveyed. Thus, the chapters demonstrate the multiculturality of the contributors’ personalities and the methodological plurality of their perspectives.

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The first part of the book discusses aspects regarding Naming Policies, Trends and Practices in the Context of Multiculturalism in America, Europe, Africa and Asia. The approaches proposed by the authors of the chapters are both theoretical and practical in nature. On the one hand, the contributors describe the legal frameworks of naming people and places in various areas of the world. On the other, they account for the onomastic patterns and tendencies identified in the case of anthroponyms (first names, family names, nicknames), toponyms (oikonyms/settlement names, hodonyms/street names, chrematonyms/commercial names— brand names included). In the second part of the book, Naming as a Form of Identity Construction in Multicultural Societies, the reader’s attention is drawn to the numerous ways in which names mirror and contribute to the construction of bearers’ identity in areas defined by the interaction of multiple cultures, ethnicities and beliefs. The authors show how different categories of names (toponyms, trade names, anthroponyms, characters’ names) are connotatively meaningful from the above-mentioned viewpoint. Overall, the studies in this book offer for consideration in-depth synchronic and diachronic analyses of multiculturalism and its implications for names and naming in various (monolingual, bilingual and multilingual) countries of the world and in cross-border contact areas. The chapters are simultaneously unitary and diverse in their approach to multiculturalism. The basic concept, as genus proximum, is universally acknowledged by all the authors. Nevertheless, the differentiae specificae examined by the contributors show that multiculturalism in onomastics (and beyond) is defined by significant granularity, as it varies at least according to the following criteria: • spatial: contrasts occur on two levels, macro-spatial (from the USA to Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Germany, France, UK, Romania, Hungary, Sweden, Italy, Tanzania, South Africa, Jordan, Japan, Spain, Czech Republic, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Nigeria, as well as in their administrative or geographical subdivisions) and micro-spatial (with respect to urban/ rural toponymy, commercial names and linguistic landscape); • temporal: ancient, medieval, modern and contemporary naming policies and practices;

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• socio-economic: local versus immigrant, coloniser versus colonised, social class membership, social discrimination/integration; • ethnolinguistic: majority versus minority population/language, literary language versus dialect versus idiolect, ethnic/linguistic discrimination/integration, language contact; • religious: sacred versus secular, dominant faith versus minority faith, religious segregation/acceptance; • gender: male versus female, gender-based discrimination versus gender equality and so on. Thus, onomastic research in the context of multiculturalism proves to be a highly complex endeavour, as it involves the correlation of findings in several fields to ensure the apt definition and description of onymic categories/variants and the processes of giving and using names. The contributors to Names and Naming: Multicultural Aspects provide well-­ grounded insights into these matters, and illustrate the continuous diversification of onomastics, from ancient times until today’s globalised world.

Part I Naming Policies, Trends and Practices in the Context of Multiculturalism

2 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in the United States Frank Nuessel

1 Introduction The term multiculturalism in the title of this article requires definition. The Oxford English Dictionary (2018) defines this notion as “[t]he presence of, or support for the presence of several distinct cultural or ethnic groups with a society”. The International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions (2018) defines multiculturalism as “[…] the coexistence of diverse cultures, where culture includes racial, religious, or cultural groups and is manifested in customary behaviours, cultural assumptions and values, patterns of thinking and communicative styles”. The Cambridge English Dictionary (2018) defines it as “the belief that different cultures within a society should all be given importance”. Cordeiro Rodrigues (2018) captures the overall phenomenon of multiculturalism in the following way:

F. Nuessel (*) University of Louisville, Louisville, KY, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_2

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Cultural diversity has been present in societies for a very long time. In Ancient Greece, there were various small regions with different costumes, traditions, dialects and identities, for example, those from Anatolia, Locris, Doris and Epirus. In the Ottoman Empire Muslims were the majority, but there were also Christians Jews, pagan Arabs, and other religious groups. In the twenty-first century, societies remain culturally diverse, with most countries having a mixture of individuals from different races, linguistic backgrounds, religious affiliations, and so forth. Contemporary political theories have labelled this phenomenon of the coexistence of different cultures in the same geographical space multiculturalism. That is, one of the meanings of multiculturalism is the coexistence of different cultures.

Cordeiro Rodrigues (2018) further notes that multiculturalism has two referents. The first is a description of a situation, while the second alludes to a policy intended to defend and maintain diversity in a society. These standard dictionary definitions offer generalisations about the concept of multiculturalism. Crowder (2013: 7), however, offers a three-­ part definition: 1. Multiculturalism starts with the observation that most contemporary societies are “multicultural”—that is they do in fact contain multiple cultures. 2. More distinctively, multiculturalists respond to that fact as something to approve of rather than oppose or merely tolerate. 3. More distinctively still, multiculturalists argue that the multiplicity of cultures within a single society should be not only generally approved of but also given positive recognition in the public policy and public institutions of the society. Thus, for Crowder (2013: 7–13), multiculturalism requires at least three components: (1) pre-existence within a particular society, (2) toleration of different groups and (3) positive legal recognition. Crowder (2013) also points out that the notion of multiculturalism has both proponents and opponents. The conservative viewpoint opposes these three tenets while the liberal stance holds that these principles are essential to a fair and just society. Crowder, it should be noted, holds a conservative viewpoint with regard to multiculturalism. Nevertheless, Crowder (2013)

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does present the multiplicity of viewpoints on both sides of the question. A further point of contention lies in the extension of these standards to new groups not previously considered. This essay will not address these issues further even though the advocates and antagonists of multiculturalism continue to remain at odds on the essential issues. A second aspect of this study is to address personal onomastics, or the study of surnames and forenames and multiculturalism. It is, therefore, necessary to consider the stratal nature of the groups that currently inhabit the United States. The population layers of the United States correspond to historical occurrences in other parts of the world at different points in time. The original inhabitants of North and South America, known variously as Native Americans, American Indians and Indigenous Americans, most likely arrived on this continent via the Bering Strait around 15,000  years ago or even earlier. Academic research about the time and the place of the migration of Native Americans to North America remains unresolved until more evidence is unearthed by scientists (see Fladmark 1979; see Mann 2006: 471–531 for a comprehensive bibliography that details studies on these questions as well as the advanced civilisations that existed in the Americas prior to their colonisation by the Europeans). Evidence exists that Norse sailors may have landed in Newfoundland as early as 980 CE. When the Europeans arrived on this continent in 1492, they encountered well-established and highly sophisticated indigenous populations. Christopher Columbus arrived on October 12, 1492, which opened up the new territory to widespread European exploitation. This study will consider two aspects of multiculturalism in names and naming in the United States. The first is personal names (surnames and forenames) of different ethnic and racial groups. The second is to show how surnames, in particular, can provide evidence of race and ethnicity in the U.S. multicultural society. Surnames pass from one generation to another and they constitute a stable element in a cultural group. It is thus possible to determine one’s racial and ethnic background based on the use of surnames. The use of forenames may also provide clues to an individual’s racial and ethnic heritage. However, the Social Security database on forenames does not offer this information.

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2 Post-Columbian Immigration to North America With respect to immigration to the United States, Gerber (2011: 1) makes some important observations: America’s diverse peoples have come from every corner of the globe. They have been brought together by a number of historical processes—conquest, colonialism, a slave trade, territorial acquisition, and voluntary international migrations—that involve profound differences of volition and hardly amount to common experience. Of these processes, none looms larger in the American imagination than voluntary immigration.

With the exception of Native Americans, who were immigrants from other parts of the globe, prior to the arrival of the first Europeans in 1492, the focus of this essay is on selected European and Asian surnames and forenames after Columbus. Because of length restrictions on this essay, its focus will be on what Daniels (2002: 121–284) has labelled “the century of immigration”, that is, the period of 1820–1924 when there was a huge migration of people (Irish, Germans, Scandinavians, Italians, Greeks, Arabs, Armenians, Poles, Jews, Hungarians, Chinese, Japanese and French Canadians, among others) to the United States. It must be noted that anti-Asian bias existed in U.S. public policy. The Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 was the first law to legislate major restrictions on immigration from a specific country (Office of the Historian 2019; see also Hing 1993; Stephenson 1926). This act and its subsequent renewals remained in effect until 1943. Likewise, the Japanese were subjected to immigration exclusion. The 1924 Immigration Act (Johnson-­ Reid Act), which applied to all immigrants, resulted in the exclusion of all Japanese immigrants. It would not be until the passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952 that the immigration law would be changed. Since the port of entry for most Asians was California, that state enacted many “Nativist” laws to prevent Chinese and Japanese immigration.

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3 Myths About Name Changes at Ellis Island There are several popular misconceptions about name changes of people who passed through Ellis Island, the port of entry to the United States for many Europeans in New York. When immigrants passed through Ellis Island (in operation from 1892 to 1954), their names could be changed in several ways. First, the new arrival might seek to have an “Americanised” name in order to obtain a job, especially during an era when discrimination against some foreigners was not uncommon. Second, some immigrants were not literate and misspelled their own names. Third, some sought to simplify their names because they were long or used unusual combinations of consonants not found in American English. In addition to these reasons for incorrect ancestral names, some who passed through Ellis Island used fictitious names, the name of another person, the surname of the stepfather instead of the natural father, the surname of a putative father in the case of illegitimacy, a nickname, the maiden name rather than the married name or the maiden name of the mother rather than the father’s surname (Przecha 2019; see also Genealogists.com 2019; U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services 2013). As a result, the forenames and surnames of new arrivals via Ellis Island, New York might vary for many reasons with the result that genealogists and those seeking information about their forebears sometimes encounter major challenges because of these onomastic modifications.

4 Surnames and Forenames This chapter on multicultural aspects of names and naming will focus on anthroponyms, that is, surnames with brief commentary on forenames, or given names. A surname is defined as “[a] person’s family name as distinguished from his given name” (Morris 1979: 1295). Surnames are determined by parental surnames. In general, when a couple marries, the wife assumes the parental surname of the husband, although this custom

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is undergoing major change (Nuessel 1999: 163). Some women retain their birth name while others employ two surnames joined by a hyphen. The order of these names may vary, that is, woman’s surname followed by husband’s surname, or vice-versa. Moreover, the number of possibilities for post-marital surnames is expanding. In the case of Hispanic culture, children have two surnames. The first is patrilineal (the father’s surname) while the second is matrilineal (the mother’s first surname). In Spain, since 1999, the order of the surnames may be transposed (Wikipedia, Spanish Naming Customs 2019). It is often the case that people of Hispanic origin use only one surname (sometimes called the first last name, or the paternal surname) to avoid dealing with the challenges posed by a dual surname. The United States Census Bureau (2018) reports that as of July 1, 2017, 58.9 million people, or 18.1% of the population in the United States is of Hispanic origin. In 2060, the number of Hispanics is expected to reach 119,044.2 million, or 28.6% of the total population (Colby and Ortman 2015: 9). The effect of this increase in one component of the population will have an enormous effect on the surname frequency of people of Hispanic origin (United States Census Bureau 2019a, b, c, d).

5 U.S. Census Data on Surnames Article one, section 2, 1789 of the U.S.  Constitution mandates that a census of the population be taken every ten years. That process began in 1790 and the decennial gathering of information takes place in years that end in “0”. The U.S. Census Bureau has provided data on frequency of surnames for the two most recent decennial censuses (2000 and 2010; see Nuessel 2017a, c). In both cases, there is a list of the 1000 most frequent surnames (United States Census Bureau 2019c, d). Likewise, both provide information for the most frequent surnames with at least 100 occurrences (United States Census Bureau 2019a, b). For 2000, the total number of surnames is 151,671 (Word et  al. 2007: 16), while for 2010 the total number of surnames is 162,254 (Comenetz 2016: 6). The increase in total number of surnames from 2000 to 2010 is 10,582. This number

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will increase again once the U.S. Census Bureau compiles and interprets the data from the forthcoming 2020 census. The surname databases for 2000 and 2010 provide onomastic information that can reveal details about the person bearing the given name and surname. Word and his associates (2007: 1; cf. Comenetz 2016) point out: A person’s name is one of the most basic pieces of information that describes them. More so than a person’s race, sex or age, we most often recognize people by their name. But names are not divorced from other aspects of an individual. Often, by knowing, we can infer many other things about the person. Names also have a historical context, ebbing and increasing over time in popular culture.

In their report on the surnames in the 2000 census, Word and his associates (2007: 16; cf. Comenetz 2016: 3) use racial categorisation based on designations set forth by the United States Office of Management and Budget (1997): (1) White only, (2) Black only, (3) American Indian or Alaska Native only, (4) Asian Pacific Islander only and (5) “Two or More Races”. Because of their small number, Native Hawaiians and Other Pacific Islanders were combined into the category “Asians”. Hispanics, however, and those of Latino origin were considered under the category of “race/Hispanic group”. In an initial exploratory study on surname frequency, Nuessel (2017c: 180) examined the top 25 surnames in the 2000 U.S.  Census Bureau surname list. The top 25 most frequent surnames in the United States include 17 surnames that derive from the UK (Smith, Johnson, Williams, Brown, Jones, Miller, Davis, Wilson, Anderson, Taylor, Thomas, Moore, Martin, Jackson, Thompson, White, Harris, Clark in descending order). Another two surnames (Thomas, Martin in descending order) have a wider European domain beyond the UK.  The surname Lee may be of English origin. However, it is also the Anglicised alphabetic spelling of the Chinese surname Li and the Korean surname Yi. Finally, six of the surnames are of Hispanic derivation (García, Rodríguez, Martínez, Hernández, López, González in descending order).

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Given the expected increase in the number of Hispanics in the United States based on U.S. Census Bureau numerical data from 2010, the number and the frequency of Hispanic surnames have increased. In their overview of race and Hispanic origin for 2010, Humes et al. (2011: 4) point out that in the 2000 U.S. census, there were 35,305,818 people of Hispanic or Latino origin (= 12.5% of the total population). By 2010, this number had changed to 50,477,594 (= 16.3% of the total population). Colby and Ortman (2015: 9) state that in 2015 17.4% of the U.S. population was of Hispanic descent. They also project that the total Hispanic population will constitute 28.6% of the total population by 2060. In a second investigative study on the 25 most frequent surnames in the United States, Nuessel (2017a) found a predictable shift in the frequency of occurrence of the surnames of this small sample based on factors such as fertility rate and immigration. When the U.S. Census Bureau surname data for 2010 were released, several observations became pertinent. First, the number of people with the 25 most frequently occurring surnames has increased, which is a reflection of the increasing number of people in the United States. Additional observations based on this study are in order. Six names (Smith, Johnson, Williams, Brown, Jones and Rodríguez) remain in the same position as in 2000. Twelve names became less frequent (Miller, Davis, Wilson, Anderson, Taylor, Thomas, Moore, Martin, Jackson, Thompson, White and Harris). Seven names have increased in frequency (García, Martínez, Hernández, López, Lee and González). One name moved out of the top 25 surnames (Clark from # 25 to # 30). One name has moved into the top 25 surnames (Pérez # 22 from # 31). As noted previously, Colby and Ortman (2015: 9) project that the Hispanic population in the United States will reach 28.6% of the total population (= 114.8 million people). This trend is reflected in the increase in six of the Hispanic surnames and the addition of a 7th in the 25 most frequent surnames in the United States. Table 2.1 shows the ten most frequent surnames for Whites, Blacks, Asians and Hispanics in the United States based on the 2010 U.S. Census Bureau Data (2019a, b and Mongabay.com 2019a, b, c, d). This table requires some explanation. The first column (White) refers to Whites of European descent primarily from the United Kingdom.

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Table 2.1  The ten most frequent surnames for Whites, Blacks, Asians and Hispanic origin in the United States based on the 2010 U.S. Census Bureau Data Ten most frequent surnames for Whites, Blacks, Asians and Hispanic origin White

Black

Asian

Hispanic origin

1. Smith 2. Johnson 3. Miller 4. Brown 5. Jones 6. Williams 7. Davis 8. Anderson 9. Wilson 10. Martin

1. Williams 2. Johnson 3. Smith 4. Jones 5. Brown 6. Jackson 7. Davis 8. Thomas 9. Harris 10. Robinson

1. Nguyen (Vietnam) 2. Lee (South Korea) 3. Kim (South Korea) 4. Patel (India) 5. Tran (Vietnam) 6. Chen (China) 7. Li (South Korea, Vietnam) 8. Le (South Korea) 9. Wang (China) 10. Yang (China)

1. García 2. Rodríguez 3. Hernández 4. Martínez 5. López 6. González 7. Pérez 8. Sánchez 9. Ramírez 10. Torres

The second column (Black) uses a designation (Black) that is the official United States Office of Management and Budget (1997) term. The explanation for this is that on U.S. census forms, a person selfidentifies his or her race. The designation Black is an official racial designation used by the Office of Management and Budget (1997), even though the preferred term now is African-American (Nuessel 1992: 4). The second column contains several surnames that are found in the first column (White), namely, Williams, Johnson, Smith, Jones, Brown and Davis. Four of the names in the second column (Black) do not appear in the first column, namely, Jackson, Thomas, Harris and Robinson even though they are frequent surnames for Whites. The historical reason for this similarity in White and Black surnames derives from the sordid past of the United States and its participation in slavery. Often, slaves were given the surnames of their white owners as a means to assign “ownership rights” to a plantation owner (Bowean 2017; Laversuch 2011). The third column (Asians) is problematic because it lumps all people of Asian Heritage into one collective pigeonhole (Word et al. 2007: 16; Nuessel 1984). In fact, the U.S. Census Bureau (Word et al. 2000: 16; cf. Comenetz 2016) includes the group labelled Native Hawaiians and Other Pacific Islanders under the rubric Asians. It should be noted that

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the generic term Asian includes people from a vast geographic territory that ranges from Central Asia, East Asian, North Asia, South Asian and Southeast Asia. This covers a large area of ethnically, culturally and linguistically diverse groups with many different religions (Nuessel 1984: 66). Thus, when the U.S. Census Bureau categorises a person as being of Asian heritage, the precise reference is unclear. For this reason, Table 2.1 includes a parenthetical note about the country represented by the name. The fourth column (Hispanics) contains the most frequent surnames for people of Hispanic origin. It must be remembered that persons of Latino descent come from the countries where Spanish is (or was) an official language including Europe (Spain), Africa (Equatorial Guinea), the Caribbean (Cuba, Dominican Republic) and Puerto Rico whose 4 million inhabitants are U.S. citizens, South America, Central America, the Philippines and Mexico, which accounts for 65.5% (Azevedo 2009: 348) of the U.S. population since that nation ceded more than half of its territory after losing the Mexican-American War (1846–1848) to the United States—the present-day states of California, Nevada, Utah, most of New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado, and parts of Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Wyoming. Comenetz (2016: 6) provides a glimpse into the future of surname frequency with data based on the “fastest growing surnames among the top 1000: 2000 to 2010” for the top 15 names. Table 2.2 is based on data provided in his essay. It should be noted that Comenetz (2016: 6) includes “Asian and Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander” together. In order to simplify the format of Table 2.2, the term Asian in parentheses should be taken to include “Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander”. The first column in Table 2.2 contains the following information: (1) surname, (2) indication of race or Hispanic origin and (3) country of origin of the surname. The percentage increase in the surnames from the 2000 census to the 2010 census was from 56.5% (Wu) to 111.2% (Zhang) based on Comenetz’s (2016: 6) data. Additional projections for future increases in population will be from the areas of Asia, which, as noted earlier, is a geographically amorphous term. The surnames in Table 2.2

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Table 2.2   Fastest growing surnames among the top 1000 from the 2000 U.S. census to the 2010 U.S. census (based on Comenetz 2016: 6) Name (race or Hispanic origin)

2000 frequency

2010 frequency

% of increase in frequency

1. Zhang (Asian), [China] 2. Li (Asian), [China] 3. Ali (Asian), [Arabic] 4. Liu (Asian), [China] 5. Khan (Asian), [India, Pakistan, Bangladesh] 6. Vásquez (Hispanic Origin) 7. Wang (Asian), [China] 8. Huang (Asian), [China] 9. Lin (Asian), [China] 10. Singh (Asian), [India] 11. Chen (Asian), [China] 12. Bautista (Hispanic Origin) 13. Velázquez (Hispanic Origin) 14. Patel (Asian), [India] 15. Wu (Asian), [China]

33,302

70,125

98.1

57,786

111,786

96.8

36,079

60,002

42.9

47,665

76,370

95.6

46,713

76,171

81.3

84,926

138,222

95.8

67,570

109,883

95.2

44,715

72,328

97.1

49,360

79,508

95.9

72,642

116,749

82.8

105,544

169,580

96.1

37,847

60,264

76.8

40,030

63,736

96.0

145,066

229,973

94.8

45,815

71,721

96.4

point to an increase in the number of people with Chinese, Asian Indian and Latino surnames. One of the names Ali is ambiguous because the census data from 2000 and 2010 indicate that 17.3% of people with that surname are White, while 30.7% are Black, and Asians account for 42.9% of the total. As a result, this specific surname does not provide a clear racial identity.

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6 US Social Security Data on Forenames A given name is defined simply as “[a] name given to a person at birth or at baptism” (Morris 1979: 558). Forenames, or given names, are subject to popularity of prominent individuals (famous performers, politicians, altruistic people) from a specific period of time, namely, from the parents’ generation. These forenames often influence the names that parents give to their children. As a result, given names are variable and reflect the tastes and customs of the times. To a certain extent, some parents believe that the act of bestowing a given name to a baby, especially a baby named for a powerful, influential, or successful person through a sort of “name magic” that will bestow those same qualities on their own child. The Social Security website (2018) for most popular (= frequent) baby names provides a wealth of information on forenames (Nuessel 2017b). Specifically, this site offers the following information from 1880 to the current year: (1) the top 20, 50, 100, 500 and 1000 most popular given names for babies; (2) the popularity of a particular name over time; (3) sex associated with a name; (4) popular names by decade; (5) popular names by state; (6) popular names in the U.S. territories; (7) number of births based on Social Security card applications and (8) beyond the top 1000 names. Unlike the U.S. census (2019a, b, c, d) database for surnames, it does not offer the nuanced data on race and Hispanic origin (See Office of Management and Budget 1997 for these categories). Table 2.3 provides the ten most frequent forenames for male and female babies born in 2017 (Social Security 2018). It should be noted that the Social Security (2018) website for baby names does not provide information about racial or ethnic origins of forenames, or given names (Evans 2006, 2019). Nevertheless, many names chosen by parents may reflect such information in terms of the following categories: White, Black, Asian and Hispanic. The Social Security list of most frequent baby names for boys and girls does not provide information about race and ethnicity. Nevertheless, it is possible to consult on line forename frequency lists of given names for African-American, Asian and Hispanic boys and girls. These lists, however, are often unclear, ambiguous or dubious.

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Table 2.3   Ten most frequent Boys and Girls Names for 2017 (Social Security 2018) Most frequent boys and girls forenames for 2017 (Social Security 2018) Boys names

Girls names

1. Liam 2. Noah 3. William 4. James 5. Logan 6. Benjamin 7. Mason 8. Elijah 9. Oliver 10. Jacob

1. Emma 2. Olivia 3. Ava 4. Isabella 5. Mia 6. Sophia 7. Mia 8. Amelia 9. Evelyn 10. Abigail

7 Concluding Remarks More research on surnames and forenames will be necessary to determine multicultural shifts in the U.S. population, especially after the aggregate data from the forthcoming 2020 census becomes available. It will then be possible to use surname information to determine numerical shifts in the populations identified by the U.S.  Census Bureau for the categories White, Black, Asian and Hispanic origin used in the 2000 and 2010 census databases. It is likely that surnames of Hispanic origin will increase and that their quantitative and numerical rankings will rise. Likewise, there should be an increase in the number of Blacks and Asians as well. Based on the present study of multiculturalism and names, the following research questions require further investigation: 1. What racial and ethnic groups have increased in number based on surname data from the 2020 U.S. census data? 2. What is the best way to determine the relationship of forenames to race and ethnicity based on annual Social Security data? 3. How can toponyms provide information about the stratal nature of diverse cultural settlements in the U.S.? Given the current U.S. administration’s curtailment on immigration, it remains to be seen what effect this will have on the 2020 decennial

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surname frequency list given that immigration from seven countries (Venezuela, Libya, Syria, Iran, Yemen, Somalia, North Korea) is now restricted. More recently, the administration has sought to reduce “illegal” immigration to the United States via its Southern border (Mexico-­ United States) by seeking to build a fence to prevent such entry. All of these questionable policies could have an impact on the surname frequency list for the 2020 census. Another aspect of multicultural names and naming not covered in this essay involves state toponyms, or place names. I asked Edward Callary (2018), former Editor of Names (1993–2002) and author of two books on state place names (Callary 2010, 2016), if there were a list of books published on this topic. He sent me a list with complete bibliographic citations on this topic. It did not have monographic studies for the following states: Connecticut, Delaware, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and South Dakota. The official place names for those states that have a book dedicated to the topic would evidence for Native American designations for a toponym or the names given to an area by European colonialists and settlers in the various states. These designations would provide further evidence for multicultural toponymic effects as different groups settled into different states or colonial territories. Likewise, it would often contain the dates and rationale for the naming of these locations.

References Azevedo, M.M. 2009. Introducción a la lingüística española. 3rd ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Bowean, L. 2017. The Unspoken History Hidden Behind a Surname. https:// www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/commentary/ct-­perspec-­surname-­ names-­history-­heritage-­1227-­20171221-­story.html. Accessed 20 January 2019. Callary, E. 2010. Place Names of Illinois. Urbana and Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press. ———. 2016. Place Names of Wisconsin. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press.

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———. 2018. State Wide Onomastic Studies in the United States. Personal communication. 16 October 2018. Cambridge English Dictionary. 2018. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/multiculturalism. Accessed 24 December 2018. Colby, S.L., and J.M. Ortman. 2015. Projections on the Size and Composition of the U.S. Population: 2014 to 2060. https://www.census.gov/library/publications/2015/demo/p25-­1143.html. Accessed 19 January 2019. Comenetz, J. 2016. Frequently Occurring Surnames in the 2010 Census. https://www2.census.gov/topics/genealogy/2010surnames/surnames.pdf. Accessed 28 December 2018. Cordeiro Rodrigues, L. 2018. Multiculturalism. Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. https://www.iep.utm.edu/multicul/. Accessed 25 December 2018. Crowder, G. 2013. Theories of Multiculturalism: An Introduction. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Daniels, R. 2002. Coming to America: A History of Immigration and Ethnicity in American Life. 2nd ed. New York: Harper Perennial. Evans, C. 2006. The Great Big Book of Baby Names (A Complete Guide from A to Z). Morton Grove, IL: Publications International Ltd. ———. 2019. Personal email correspondence. 21 January 2019. Fladmark, K.R. 1979. Routes: Alternate Migration Corridors for Early Man in North America. American Antiquity 44 (1): 55–69. Genealogists.com. 2019. Ellis Island Name Change Myths Debunked. https:// genealogists.com/2015/03/3-­ellis-­island-­name-­change-­myths/. Accessed 1 January 2019. Gerber, D.A. 2011. American Immigration: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: OUP. Hing, B.O. 1993. Making and Remaking Asian America Through Immigration Policy, 1850–1990. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Humes, K.R., N.A.  Jones, and R.R.  Ramírez. 2011. Overview of Race and Hispanic Origin: 2010. https://www.census.gov/prod/cen2010/briefs/ c2010br-­02.pdf. Accessed 26 January 2019. International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions. 2018. Migration Policy Institute. Defining “Multiculturalism”. https://www.ifla.org/publications/defining-­multiculturalism. Accessed 20 December 2018. Laversuch, I.M. 2011. “May Change Name and Pretend to Be Free”: A Corpus Linguistic Investigation of Surnames Adopted by Fugitive Slaves as Advertised in Colonial American Newspapers Between 1729 and 1818. Names: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (4): 191–203.

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Mann, C.C. 2006. 1491, New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus. New York: Vintage Books. Mongabay.com. 2019a. Most Common Last names for Asians and Pacific Islanders in the U.S. https://names.mongabay.com/race/2010/population-­ asian.html. Accessed 20 January 2019. ———. 2019b. Most Common Last Names for Blacks in the U.S. https:// names.mongabay.com/data/black.html. Accessed 20 January 2019. ———. 2019c. Most Common Last Names for Latinos in the U.S. https:// names.mongabay.com/race/2010/population-­hispanic.html. Accessed 20 January 2019. ———. 2019d. Most Common Last Names for Whites in the U.S. https:// names.mongabay.com/data/white.hml. Accessed 20 January 2019. Morris, W., ed. 1979. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. Nuessel, F. 1984. Linguistic Distortions and Stereotypes of Asians. Thinker 8 (2): 66–77. ———. 1992. The Study of Names: A Guide to the Principles and Topics. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. ———. 1999. Women’s Contemporary Surnaming Patters. International Journal of Applied Semiotics 1 (1): 159–175. ———. 2017a. Addendum to A Note on the 25 Most Frequent Surnames from the 2000 United States Census Bureau List. Names: A Journal of Onomastics 65 (4): 245–247. ———. 2017b. A Note on Popular Baby Names on the Social Security Website: An Important Onomastic Website. Names: A Journal of Onomastics 65 (1): 45–50. ———. 2017c. A Note on the 25 Most Frequent Surnames from the 2000 United States Census Bureau List. Names: A Journal of Onomastics 65 (3): 178–182. Office of the Historian. 2019. Chinese Immigration and the Chinese Exclusion Acts. https://history.state.gov/milestones/1866-­1898/chinese-­immigration. Accessed 21 January 2019. Oxford English Dictionary. 2018. https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/ multiculturalism. Accessed 24 December 2018. Przecha, D. 2019. They Changed Our Name at Ellis Island: Immigrant Names and Name Changes at Ellis Island. https://www.genealogy.com/articles/ research/88_donna.html. Accessed 1 January 2019.

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Social Security. 2018. Popular Baby Names. https://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/. Accessed 28 December 2018. Stephenson, G.M. 1926. A History of American Immigration, 1820–1924. Boston: Ginn and Company. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=md p.39015005063527;view=1up;seq=14. Accessed 8 January 2019. U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. 2013. Immigrant Name Changes. https://www.uscis.gov/history-­a nd-­g enealogy/genealogy/genealogy-­ notebook/immigrant-­name-­changes. Accessed 8 January 2019. United States Census Bureau. 2018. Hispanic Population to Reach 111 Million by 2060. https://www.census.gov/library/visualizations/2018/comm/ hispanic-­projected-­pop.html. Accessed 29 January 2019. ———. 2019a. Frequently Occurring Surnames in the 2000 Census. https:// www.census.gov/topics/population/genealogy/data/2000_surnames.html. Accessed 29 January 2019. ———. 2019b. Frequently Occurring Surnames in the 2010 Census: Surnames Occurring at Least 100 Times Nationally. https://www.census.gov/topics/ population/genealogy/data/2010_surnames.html. Accessed 29 January 2019. ———. 2019c. Frequently Occurring Surnames in the 2010 Census: Top 1000 Surnames. https://www.census.gov/topics/population/genealogy/data/2010_ surnames.html. Accessed 29 January 2019. ———. 2019d. Top 1000 Names. https://www.census.gov/topics/population/ genealogy/data/2000_surnames.html. Accessed 29 January 2019. United States Office of Management and Budget. 1997. Revisions to the Standards for the Classification of Federal Data on Race and Ethnicity. Notice 62 (210), October 30. Wikipedia. 2019. Spanish Naming Customs. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Spanish_naming_customs. Accessed 29 January 2019. Word, D.L., C.D. Coleman, R. Nunziata, and R. Kominski. 2007. Demographic Aspects of Surnames from Census 2000. https://www2.census.gov/topics/ genealogy/2000surnames/surnames.pdf#. Accessed 28 December 2018.

3 Hamburguesas and Enchiritos: How Multicultural Are American Fast-Food Names? Laurel Sutton

1 Introduction The “melting pot” has long been a metaphor for American society—that is, a heterogeneous society becoming more homogeneous through the influx of the cultures of immigrants, largely non-white and non-­European. More recently, proponents of multiculturalism have proposed a different metaphor, the “salad bowl”: a society in which cultures mix, but remain distinct in some aspects. Which is more accurate? One avenue to exploration of these food-based metaphors is, quite literally, through food: how and why it is named in the U.S. According to the National Restaurant Association’s “Global Palates, Ethnic Cuisines and Flavors in America” report, Mexican, Chinese and Italian cuisines are at the top of the list in terms of “familiarity, trial and frequency of eating” for Americans (National Restaurant Association 2015)—an observation that implies these “ethnic cuisines” are not, in fact, American. The word American, in this context, is shorthand for “white middle-class mid-Western culture”. L. Sutton (*) Catchword & Sutton Strategy, Oakland, CA, USA © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_3

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By looking at American food names, specifically in national fast-food chains (e.g. McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Panda Express), we can examine food names that are very closely tied to the culture from which they came, and how they are either maintained or changed to fit into the mostly monolingual English society.

2 “Melting Pot” Cuisines What is American food? Although the dominant culinary style in the original 13 colonies was English, Americans adapted to the new environmental conditions by creating a cuisine entirely their own. American cookery has undergone numerous adoptions and adaptations of the food of immigrants from a multitude of nations, cultures, and religions. There are few native Native American foods present in current American cuisine that predate colonisation; these reflect the availability of ingredients found only in North America, such as turkey, pumpkin, maize, cranberries, and squash. Sadly, European colonisation wiped out the much of the Native American population in the Americas, and with them the culinary traditions and recipes of their cultures. Waves of immigration into the U.S. brought European populations (English, German, French, Italian), Asian groups (China especially) and South American immigrants (particularly Mexican), each with their own way of cooking and names for their dishes. By necessity, ethnic immigrant cuisines become Americanised through the cost and availability of ingredients: typically, the ingredients from “back home” were either more expensive or harder to find than the comparable items in the U.S. As well, immigrant populations came in contact with each other, and learned to adapt their foods to appeal to people outside their own culture. American food is the product of synthesis on many levels. We might say that American food is foreign food, until it isn’t. How does this happen? The first way is through the classic melting pot analogy, by which immigrants adapt their traditions, techniques, and food names to their adopted homeland to create a new version of an old cuisine: Italian American with its pepperoni pizza and spaghetti and meatballs,

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Chinese American with its chop suey and orange chicken, Tex-Mex with its queso and fajitas: An amazing thing happened as Mexican food migrated northward. It was so liked by Americans living on or near the border with Mexico that they created a version of Mexican cuisine that fit in neatly with the kinds of ingredients that were available to them. So this meant no hoja santa, huitlacoche, or epazote; it meant instead a ton of tortillas and Monterey Jack, an ocean of hot sauce. Tex-Mex was born. (Rosengarten 2003: 291)

Also think of Seattle-style teriyaki, Cuban sandwiches, or Irish American corned beef and cabbage—each a homegrown specialty derived through immigrant ingenuity from a foreign staple. The other way represents an integration more than an assimilation: the multicultural “salad bowl” metaphor. Consider the American Southwest, with its interweaving of Hispanic, Native American, and Anglo foods, or the Creole cooking of Louisiana that combines French, Spanish, African, and Native American elements. Or the African-American cuisine called soul food; according to Adrian Miller, a food historian, “it’s an immigrant cuisine that fuses together the culinary traditions of West Africa, Western Europe, and the Americas” (Miller 2016). Once it begins to be cooked in America, it becomes American food. “The simple fact is you cannot serve ‘authentic’ foreign food in the United States. Any diaspora will produce hybrids, and America, having been on the receiving end of numerous populations from every possible part of the world for generations, has more hybrids than most” (Rosengarten 2003: 18). In the twenty-first century, some foods are regarded as definitively American, having completely shed their immigrant origins and names: pot roast, Cobb salad, cornbread, apple pie, macaroni and cheese, to name but a few. But perhaps the most American of American food is the hamburger, sometimes shortened to burger or modified as cheeseburger. The hamburger and the U.S. have had a continuing love affair with each other for over a century. Forms of chopped meat and minced steak have been enjoyed around the world for centuries, but it was in the U.S. that the hamburger sandwich on a soft bun came into its own, spawning a food culture that is still growing. The origin of the name hamburger is

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disputed, but is clearly derived from Hamburg, Germany’s second-largest city. There are many stories and legends involving the origin of the hamburger, but the dish first reached true fame at the 1904 World’s Fair in St Louis, Missouri. The advent of the chain hamburger stand, beginning with the White Castle company in 1921, pushed the hamburger deeply into the national food culture. Other chains followed in White Castle’s footsteps, but none had the effect of Ray Kroc’s McDonald’s Corporation, which started in the mid-1950s. Today the top three restaurants in the U.S.—McDonald’s, Burger King and Wendy’s—are all fast-food hamburger operators, and there are thousands more. Fast food commonly consists of freshly prepared and wrapped food items sold across counters or through automobile drive-up windows. The hamburgers served in major fast-food establishments are usually mass-­ produced in factories and frozen for delivery to the site; these hamburgers are thin and of uniform thickness. They are commonly served with French fries (deep-fried potato slices) as a complement. The hamburger/ French fry combination is perfectly suited to the fast-food model: the food can be cooked quickly, using prepared ingredients in an assembly line, served to customers within minutes of ordering, and offered at a relatively inexpensive price point. (In the U.S., a cheeseburger can be purchased at McDonald’s for as little as U.S. $1.00.) As can be seen in Table 3.1, five of the top 21 fast-food companies in the U.S. are primarily known for hamburgers, with two representing Mexican food (Taco Bell and Chipotle), four representing Italian food (Domino’s, Pizza Hut, Little Caesar’s, and Papa John’s) and one selling Chinese food (Panda Express). This tracks with the National Restaurant Association’s data showing that Mexican, Chinese and Italian food are most preferred ethnic cuisines by Americans (National Restaurant Association 2015). Note that with the exception of Chipotle—the name is taken from the Nahuatl word for a smoked hot chili pepper—all the restaurant names are simple English words; Chick-fil-A has resorted to spelling the word filet phonetically, while the word taco in Taco Bell is so ubiquitous in the U.S. that it barely registers as a Spanish word (Bell is the founder’s surname). The name Panda Express uses a symbol of China familiar to Westerners, the panda bear, instead of any Chinese words or phrases.

3  Hamburguesas and Enchiritos: How Multicultural Are American…  Table 3.1  Top 21 fast-food companies for 2017, ranked by total sales (QSR Magazine 2018)

31

Rank

Name of restaurant

Type

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

McDonald’s Starbucks Subway Burger King Taco Bell Wendy’s Dunkin’ Donuts Chick-fil-A Domino’s Pizza Hut Panera Chipotle KFC Sonic Drive-In Dairy Queen Arby’s Little Caesar’s Jack in the Box Popeyes Papa John’s Panda Express

Burger Snack Sandwich Burger Ethnic Burger Snack Chicken Pizza Pizza Sandwich Ethnic Chicken Burger Snack Sandwich Pizza Burger Chicken Pizza Ethnic

As we saw, hamburgers, the quintessential American food, have been the foundation for popular fast-food restaurants for nearly a century. While ethnic foods like pizza and burritos were popular and available at local eateries throughout the U.S., it took longer for them to hit the fast-­ food mainstream. The three pizza-based restaurants were all founded around the early 1960s (Pizza Hut 1958, Little Caesar’s 1959, and Domino’s 1960), with Taco Bell coming into existence in 1962. Panda Express, the sole Chinese fast-food player, was not founded until 1983. The success of the non-hamburger-based chains reflects the changing tastes of typical American consumers and acceptance of a limited number of ethnic foods that have been modified for American consumption. As Chen points out in her discussion of names of American Chinese restaurants, “During the early twentieth century, Chinese food in America (‘American Chinese food’) had undergone several cycles of changes and localization, including the chop suey craze […]. Much of the food was

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Americanized though, altered to satisfy American tastes or to make the best use of the local ingredients” (Chen 2018: 4). The names of food items, too, have been modified for Americans. Most national pizza restaurants, such as Pizza Hut and Domino’s, serve a limited menu of pizza and side dishes such as salad or breadsticks. While pizza is an Italian word meaning “pie”, named pizza types on a typical menu use English words to indicate the type of topping: Hawaiian pizza (pineapple on top), veggie pizza (no meat toppings), bbq chicken pizza (topped with chicken in a sweet barbecue sauce). Occasionally pasta items are offered, such as chicken alfredo pasta, made with a creamy rich sauce, familiar to Americans but quite different to the sauce of the same name served in Italy. Panda Express serves American Chinese food, that is, Chinese food modified to suit the tastes of Americans. Stir frying, pan frying, and deep frying tend to be the most common Chinese cooking techniques used in American Chinese cuisine, along with the use of thick, sweet sauces. The menu of Panda Express uses mostly English words to identify the ingredients in a dish: Honey Walnut Shrimp, Black Pepper Chicken, Broccoli Beef. This is the same strategy employed for types of pizza, as mentioned earlier. Place names are sometimes used, such as Beijing Beef and Shanghai Angus Steak, although neither dish is prepared in a style that is associated with those cities; the names were likely chosen simply to enhance the “Chinese-ness” of the dishes. Panda Express also sells Grilled Teriyaki Chicken, a dish common to American Japanese restaurants; the word teriyaki is Japanese, from teri “gloss, lustre” + yaki “to fry, grill, sear”. Among American fast-food restaurants, McDonald’s and Taco Bell are the most popular and most well-known in their food categories, and deserve closer examination.

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3 Two Major Chains: McDonald’s and Taco Bell From its inception in 1940, McDonald’s focused on a limited menu of items, mostly consisting of hamburgers and variations thereof. Over time, new menu items were introduced, including chicken sandwiches and “nuggets” (small pieces of breaded deep-fried chicken), breakfast foods such as pancakes and scrambled eggs, salads, and ice cream. To strengthen its brand, McDonald’s often comes up with trademarkable names for its food items, combining the “Mc” prefix from the company name with real English words: Big Mac, McChicken, Egg McMuffin, McDouble, McRib, McFlurry, and so on. New menu items are constantly developed and tested, with clear success criteria: new products must taste good, be inexpensive, and be easy to prepare (Christensen 2007). Naming conventions at McDonald’s must also meet certain criteria, as I discovered when my company, Catchword, was engaged by them to name a number of food and beverage items. Besides names with the Mc prefix, McDonald’s specified that names should be easy to understand at the drive through window (both by the customer and the order taker), and should stand out from other products already offered (to avoid confusion). We also needed to consider how the names would be pronounced, and possibly shortened, by customers placing their orders. And all names had to appeal to core McDonald’s customers (white Americans) but had to be acceptable to fastest-growing population in the U.S., Hispanic/ Latino people. Throughout the 1980s, McDonald’s made a commitment to penetrating the Hispanic market, resulting in the introduction of the breakfast Sausage Burrito (Michman and Greco 1995: 182). Breakfast burritos were added to the national McDonald’s menu in 1991, and were created by McDonald’s franchisees in the Houston area restaurants to infuse a Tex-Mex flavour into the menu. The breakfast burrito itself is an American innovation. In Santa Fe, New Mexico, the family that owns Tía Sophia’s restaurant makes a claim to Tía’s being the first café to call eggs and bacon in a flour tortilla a breakfast burrito, putting it on their menu in the 1970s

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(Boyle 2016). The Sausage Burrito is currently the only McDonald’s nationally sold food item that uses a non-English word in the name. McDonald’s menu in Mexico retains all of its branded names, and translates only the common nouns, such as hamburger/hamburguesa, chicken/pollo, cheeseburger/hamburguesa con queso. Interestingly, McDonald’s sells breakfast burritos in Mexico—but they’re called McBurritos, presumably to strengthen the branding of a generic food item, in the same way that a McDouble is simply McDonald’s brand of a double hamburger. Taco Bell is named for its founder, Glenn Bell, a white man who saw a future in selling Tex-Mex food to other white Americans. Its menu reflects the Mexican origins of the food by using the Spanish words taco, burrito, nacho, quesadilla, chalupa, tostada, and so on, although the food itself is radically different from Mexican versions of the same items. Like American Chinese food, Tex-Mex food as served at Taco Bell has been modified to suit American tastes by featuring many deep-fried items, large quantities of cheese and sour cream, and far less spice. Like McDonald’s, Taco Bell has gained a reputation for cheap food: there is a Value Menu featuring over a dozen items that cost U.S. $1.00. Taco Bell has also, like McDonald’s, endeavoured to strengthen its ownership of certain innovative food items by creating unique, trademarkable names. I reviewed Taco Bell naming conventions in 2012: Over the years, Taco Bell has experimented with the way it names new products. Here are just a few: • Ranchero Chicken Soft Taco; • Taco BellGrande; • Grilled Stuft Burrito; • Mucho Grande Nachos. Most of these names have some basis in the Spanish language. But to express variation, or new combination, the naming convention seems to limit itself to the same words: beefy, cheesy, crunchy, melty and stuft, which is Taco Bell’s punchier version of stuffed (which is both what the burritos are, and what you’ll be at least temporarily after eating them). It reminds me of ordering drinks at Starbucks, a kind of algebraic formula with all the little pieces in the right place: (Meat Type) + (Fun Word) + (Crunchy or Not) + (Item Name). (Sutton 2012)

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Three menu items are worth examining for their onomastic ingenuity. The first is the Enchirito, a burrito/enchilada hybrid (a tortilla filled with ground beef, onions, and pinto beans) topped with tangy red sauce and a row of exactly three black olives. The name is a portmanteau of the words enchilada and burrito, and is a trademark of Taco Bell. Next is the Quesarito, which is a quesadilla wrapped around a burrito; this name is a combination of quesadilla and burrito. Finally, there is the Cheesarito: melted cheese, scallions, and taco sauce, all rolled up in a soft tortilla. This name is an unusual combination of an English word, cheese, and a Spanish word, burrito. (Both Quesarito and Cheesarito were trademarks of Taco Bell, but are no longer active.) While Quesarito and Cheesarito might be interpreted as synonyms, given that queso is the Spanish word for “cheese”, the two food items are quite different. It is possible that Cheesarito might have been an attempt to more clearly indicate to English-­ speaking Americans the contents of the food item. Taco Bell, like McDonald’s, continually tests new menu items, most of which are variations of its basic food types. The names, as noted above, are usually English adjectives concatenated with Spanish nouns, for example, Loaded Nacho Taco and Spicy Loaded Nacho Taco; Shredded Chicken Mini Quesadilla; Beefy 5-Layer Burrito; Spicy Tostada. But there is one item which takes linguistic redundancy to a new level: the Crunchwrap, which marries the content of a burrito with a crunchy tortilla that has been folded into a hexagon. Why is it called a wrap?

4 An American “Innovation”: The Wrap A wrap is defined as a sort of sandwich consisting of a soft flatbread wrapped around a filling. Wraps are common in cuisines globally, as most cultures have a form of flatbread (generally unleavened, though some may be slightly leavened). For example, in Greece, the gyro is a dish made from meat cooked on a vertical rotisserie and usually wrapped or stuffed in a type of flatbread called pita. In India, a popular street food is a kati roll, meaning any wrap containing a filling in an Indian flatbread called roti. Only in the U.S. are they referred to as wraps, the name clearly deriving from the action of wrapping the filling with a piece of flatbread.

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Technically, a wrap is not a sandwich, although it has been called a wrap sandwich or sandwich wrap; a sandwich has two distinct layers, which are the top and bottom buns or pieces of bread, while a wrap is one piece that completely surrounds the filling. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the noun wrap as “an item of food consisting of an edible outer layer wrapped around a filling; esp. a tortilla or other flatbread wrapped around a sandwich-style filling”, and gives the place of origin as the U.S. in 1969. A restaurant with the name Gyro Wrap began operating in the state of Georgia in 1974, and still exists today, with four locations (https://www.gyrowrap.com/). Wraps became popularised in California in the mid-1990s, with restaurants such as San Francisco’s World Wrapps (established 1994), The Daily Wrap (established 1995) and Wrap Works (established 1996). The wrap in its California incarnation is likely a generalisation of the Tex-Mex burrito (Mercuri 2007: 637); in fact, the owner of Wrapp Factory, a New York sandwich shop, claimed that “the wrap is another name for burrito. These are gourmet burritos” (Lin 1996). A burrito is defined as a large flour tortilla wrapped around a filling of beans, rice, meat, and cheese, along with vegetables and salsa (Smith 2007). The word burrito, as an American food item, was first seen in print in the U.S. in 1934, in a book of recipes from New Mexico (Smith 2007). The word “burrito” is largely an Americanisation and is not typically used in Mexican cuisine. David Thomsen and Derek Wilson, authors of ¡Burritos!, believe that the American burrito originated “in the dusty borderlands between Tucson and Los Angeles” (Thomsen and Wilson 1998: 10). Burritos entered Mexican American cuisine in other parts of the Southwest around the 1950s and went nationwide about a decade later, with the explosion of Taco Bell franchise restaurants; by 1967, there were 100 Taco Bell locations operating in the U.S. Interestingly, when Taco Bell opened its first restaurant in Mexico in 1992, “most customers had no idea what burritos were, and some called them large tacos” (Smith 2012: 72). The debate over whether a wrap is a burrito (or indeed vice versa) continues into the present, as shown in an article in the online publication Vice in 2012, titled “What’s the Difference Between a Wrap and a Burrito?”. The authors asked ten people in New York City’s Union Square

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Park the titular question and received a variety of answers, ranging from “Burritos have standard ingredients. Wraps are generally more vegetable oriented” to “A burrito is Mexican, and a wrap is all-American” (Vice 2012). All respondents agreed that the format of tortilla-wrapped filling was the same for both wraps and burritos. Why then would restaurateurs rename burritos as wraps? The obvious answer is as a means to distance their menu items from Mexican/Tex-­ Mex food of the same name. To white Americans, burrito = “tortilla+beans+rice+cheese”, with an added helping of “low cost/low quality”. This perception is reinforced by the experience of eating at Taco Bell, which may be the only exposure some Americans have to Mexican food. Substituting wrap for burrito may also allow them to charge a higher price; Mission Foods, a manufacturer of Mexican food products, sells both tortillas and wraps in supermarkets, in identical packaging, with the only difference being that wraps are slightly more expensive than tortillas. McDonald’s took a chance on the Sausage Burrito, perhaps feeling that the context (breakfast) and the contents (eggs) was enough to recontextualise the term burrito from a Mexican food item to a McDonald’s food item. The longevity of the Sausage Burrito, still sold nationwide, speaks to McDonald’s clever strategy. Despite this success, however, McDonald’s has never attempted to add a typical burrito item to its menu—unlike its competitor, Burger King, which in 2016 introduced the Whopperito, its very own take on a burrito, and just as quickly pulled it off the menu. What McDonald’s does offer, along most other fast-food restaurants (Burger King, Wendy’s, KFC, Dairy Queen, Subway), is a wrap. McWraps, which were developed in Austria and Poland in 2004, were brought to the U.S. in 2013 after being altered to cater to American tastes. What do you add to a wrap to make it more palatable for Americans? “Ranch dressing”, Dan Coudreaut, McDonald’s executive chef, has said. “And bacon” (Bomkamp 2016). Although McWraps continue to be sold under that name in Canada and other countries, McDonald’s in the U.S. now sells only Snack Wraps, which are the chicken ranch version of McWraps (chicken, cheese, lettuce, and sauce wrapped in a flour tortilla). It’s worth noting that the Sausage Burrito is called a Breakfast Wrap in Australia, likely due to Australians’ unfamiliarity with Mexican food items and names.

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The synthesis of American cuisine has produced the wrap: culturally derived from immigrant cooking, changed to suit American tastes and availability of ingredients, and renamed with an English word that’s easy to spell and pronounce, memorable and non-culturally identified. Wrap, because it is both a noun and a verb, sounds energetic and somewhat unusual as the name of a food item. For fast-food companies, it meets the requirements of innovation, fast preparation, portability, inexpensiveness and aural distinctiveness (there aren’t any other items on the menu that sound like wrap). For Taco Bell, a company founded on the idea of selling Mexican food to Americans, the Crunchwrap allows them to repackage the same ingredients under a new American name. Is the name wrap multicultural? Its existence alongside burritos on the menus of fast-food restaurant exemplifies both the “melting pot” and the “salad bowl”. Fast food, sometimes called the lowest common denominator of American cuisine, picks and chooses from the cuisine of immigrants; sometimes retaining the ingredients and the names, sometimes renaming in favour of a moniker that erases a dish’s cultural heritage. But the rise in national chains that bring the food of other cultures—Indian, Middle Eastern, even Hawaiian—to white Americans is a sign that the multicultural salad bowl is becoming more accepted and more inclusive.

References Bomkamp, Samantha. 2016. How McDonald’s Menu Is Made – And How It’s Changing. Chicago Tribune, January 25. https://www.chicagotribune.com/ business/ct-­mcdonalds-­menu-­testing-­0124-­biz-­htmlstory.html. Accessed 19 March 2019. Boyle, Moll. 2016. Burritoville: Breakfast-burrito Highlights. The Santa Fe New Mexican, April 29. https://www.santafenewmexican.com/pasatiempo/restaurants/reviews/burritoville-­breakfast-­burrito-­highlights/article_dae21185-­ ce19-­526d-­a84f-­1eca6e3e656a.html. Accessed 15 March 2019. Chen, Lindsey N.H. 2018. Of Authenticity and Assimilation: Names of American Chinese Restaurants. Names 66 (1): 3–13. Christensen, Clayton. 2007. Innovation: A Happy Meal for McDonald’s. Forbes, October 26. https://www.forbes.com/2007/08/31/christensen-­innovation-­

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mcdonalds-­p f-­g uru_in_cc_0904christensen_inl.html#494cdb6b7422. Accessed 15 March 2019. Lin, Wendy. 1996. The Sandwich Revolution: Wraps, Twisters, Rollers. The Washington Post, December 24. https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/ lifestyle/wellness/1996/12/24/the-­sandwich-­revolution-­wraps-­twisters-­roller s/7585ab2d-­7f3c-­467c-­907c-­4ea6ea8578d6/. Accessed 19 March 2019. Mercuri, Becky. 2007. Wraps. In The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink, ed. A.F. Smith, 637. New York: Oxford University Press. Michman, Ronald D., and A.J. Greco. 1995. Retailing Triumphs and Blunders: Victims of Competition in the New Age of Marketing Management. Westport, CT: Quorum Books. Miller, Adrian. 2016. Things You Need to Know About Soul Food. Allrecipes, June 17. http://dish.allrecipes.com/9-­things-­you-­need-­to-­know-­about-­soul-­ food/. Accessed 15 March 2019. National Restaurant Association. 2015. Global Palates: Ethnic Cuisines and Flavors in America. http://imis.restaurant.org/store/detail. aspx?id=ETHCUIS15. Accessed 10 September 2016. Oxford English Dictionary Online. Wrap. http://www.oed.com/view/Entr y/230531?rskey=Yt48E5&result=1#eid. Accessed 19 March 2019. QSR Magazine. 2018. The QSR 50. August 6. https://www.qsrmagazine.com/ content/qsr50-­2018-­top-­50-­chart?sort=rank&dir=asc. Accessed 19 March 2019. Rosengarten, David. 2003. It’s All American Food. New  York: Little, Brown and Company. Smith, Andrew F. 2007. Burrito. In The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink, ed. A.F. Smith, 75. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. 2012. Burritos. In Fast Food and Junk Food: An Encyclopedia of What We Love to Eat, vol. 1, 72–73. Santa Barbara, CA: Greenwood. Sutton, Laurel. 2012. Taco Bell’s Genius Product-Naming Formula. Fast Company, April 12. https://www.fastcompany.com/1834778/taco-­bells-­ genius-­product-­naming-­formula. Accessed 15 March 2019. Thomsen, David, and Derek Wilson. 1998. ¡Burritos! Salt Lake City, UT: Gibbs-Smith. What’s the Difference Between a Wrap and a Burrito? 2012. Vice, October 23. https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/bny39v/whats-­the-­difference-­between-­ a-­wrap-­and-­a-­burrito. Accessed 15 March 2019.

4 Policy of Name and Naming: Multicultural Aspects Justyna B. Walkowiak

1 General Remarks Policies of name and naming operate on various planes and with various motivation. However, their considerable part is necessitated by onomasticons from various naming cultures coming into contact with one another. Since this contact typically takes place within the framework of one political entity and within the limits of its jurisdiction, the tools of such policies are by definition mostly official ones, codified by law. This does not mean that there are no de facto, uncodified regulations, similar to those described by A. Verschik (2008: 193): The transliteration of Estonian-language items into Russian can be treated as selective copying in terms of code-copying framework […]. [T]he choice between global and selective copying depends on an unwritten convention;

J. B. Walkowiak (*) Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznań, Poland e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_4

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for instance, personal names always tend to be transliterated. Street names, however, are subject to both global […] and selective copying; examples of both can be found in the same issue of a newspaper. […] When street names are subject to selective copying, Estonian common nouns that are components of the names like tee ‘road’, maantee ‘highway’, or puiestee ‘boulevard’, and their respective abbreviations t, mnt, and pst are transliterated as well, despite the fact that these items and their abbreviations are unknown in monolingual Russian.

The salience of de facto policies is also underscored by E. Shohamy, who in the year 2000 analysed the linguistic landscape (LL) of Israel and East Jerusalem, noting that different patterns [of the LL representation] were found in the Jewish and Arab communities. Specifically, the pattern of Hebrew/English was found in the Jewish communities, Arabic/Hebrew in the Arab communities, while Arabic/English was the dominant pattern in East Jerusalem. In specific terms, with regard to each of the languages, Hebrew emerges as the language with highest visibility in both Jewish and Arab communities. While this is expected for the Jewish areas, it is surprising for the Arab area […]. (Shohamy 2006: 115)

Onyms are routinely divided into three major categories: anthroponyms (personal names), toponyms (place names) and chrematonyms (product or company names, but also those of politico-economic or cultural institutions). Despite certain common denominators of anthroponymy and toponymy (such as the role of diacritics), these two types differ fundamentally as potential objects of ethnically based name policies. Personal names are individually owned; place names are common property. The former migrate with their bearers, while the latter remain within a particular territory. A slight bending of the rules in order to be granted exemption from laws appears feasible in the case of anthroponyms; not so with toponyms, where changes usually necessitate high(est)-level decisions (in the case of authoritarian government), or, as the best-case scenario, complicated negotiating procedures targeted at reaching consensus (in participatory democracies).

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Two radically different policies may be implemented with regard to both personal names and place names: 1. Diachronic, typically violent policies, which are in force during major upheavals in history and which usually involve massive renamings of the claimed area and of its inhabitants, symbolic of their relative status, corresponding to power relations; 2. synchronic (though not necessarily non-violent) policies, aiming to establish some degree of equilibrium between the ethnoses coexisting in the same area; in democratic systems this may be achieved, for example, through bilingual signage or bilingual entries in documents; in more authoritarian ones—through prohibitions, through delimiting the sphere of use of particular onyms, or through monopolisation of public space by one (dominant) naming culture only. It might seem that the first category is only historical. In fact, massive renamings, in the belief that “naming is claiming”, have intensified rather than diminished with the spread over Europe of Herderian cultural nationalism, embodied by his idea of “one nation with one national character”. The vestiges of Herderian thinking are still alive today (cf. Eller et  al. 2008), and the Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities (FCNM) offers an insight into this. Moreover, the boundary between “violent” and “peaceful” is rather fuzzy. In fact, some scholars are inclined to perceive “civilised” actions of EU nation states as hardly more civilised than those of authoritarian regimes. A case in point is the opinion of Fernand de Varennes, claiming that Latvia “adopted a language law which follows the same type of measures popular in oppressive regimes like Franco’s” (1995/96: 127).

2 Anthroponyms—Diachronic Policies As outlined above, two basic types of policies targeted at personal names in cross-cultural contact can be distinguished. The “violent”, infrequent ones involve diachronic, radical name change, have high visibility and

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far-reaching consequences. A classic example is the massive renaming of the Turkish minority population in Bulgaria in the 1980s, which affected nearly a million people (Dimitrov 2000). Less known is the surnamechanging campaign undertaken by Lithuania in 1938, whereby surnames with Slavic suffixes or otherwise “distorted by a foreign influence”, as well as those “translated from foreign languages” were forcibly Lithuanised (Górski 1995: 339). Fascist rule also fostered renamings in many countries, one of the cases being the Italianisation of Slavic personal names in the Adriatic provinces in Italy in the 1920s–1930s (Hametz 2012: 109–117), with consequences that went far beyond mere anthroponymy: Although Italian officials did not make specific mention of it (nor perhaps completely recognize it), renaming those bearing Slavic surnames actually had the effect of restructuring the South Slav family to conform to western European and Italian traditions. In many areas of the eastern Adriatic territories, surnames were associated with the vestiges or the memory of specific clans. […] The restoration of Slavic surnames to an Italian form dissociated individuals from a family or clan’s past and erased markers of unique local and family ties, kinship networks, and hierarchies. (Hametz 2012: 110)

Akin to the policies described above are the various processes of (morphophonetic and/or graphic) assimilation of names: name Albanisation, Bulgarisation, Germanisation, Hellenisation, Italianisation, Lithuanisation, Magyarisation and so on. To give an example, name Ukrainisation was still reported in the 3rd cycle of FCNM monitoring of Ukraine (2012). Similarly, the Lettonisation of personal names (cf. Druviete 1999: 271), which consists among others in adding obligatory Latvian case ending -s for masculine names and -a for feminine ones, occasioned complaints and even lawsuits in international tribunals (e.g. Mentzen alias Mencena v. Latvia).

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3 Anthroponyms—Synchronic Policies Synchronic policies, by contrast, determine the coexistence of diverse anthroponomasticons and simultaneously define the nature of the relationships between them. As already mentioned above, this can pertain to solutions employed in democracies. Of these, particularly worthy of attention are the provisions of the FCNM, notably Article 11(1): The Parties undertake to recognise that every person belonging to a national minority has the right to use his or her surname (patronym) and first names in the minority language and the right to official recognition of them, according to modalities provided for in their legal system.

The Council of Europe (CoE) member states are regularly monitored for the implementation of the Convention, which reveals that in some countries there are still problems with the official recording of minority names, or with their consistent transliteration or phonetic transcription. For instance, Russian names in Moldova tend to be distorted. Similarly, the issuance of identity documents in minority languages in Slovakia is not always feasible (Opinion on Slovakia, 4th cycle of FCNM monitoring, 2014, p. 20). In Macedonia, it is only since 2005 that Cyrillic-script minority name entries have been possible. As regards the issuance of bilingual identity documents in Croatia, it would appear that Italian-­ Croatian IDs, in which the same (Latin) script is used, far outnumber the Serbian-Croatian ones, with two different scripts (Cyrillic and Latin). Feminine surnames are a special concern, and problems may arise with their recognition if languages that feature them (Slavic and Baltic ones, generally speaking, but also, in a sense, the Hungarian language) are in a minority situation. A case in point may be Sorbian feminine surnames in Germany, which in official documents are deprived of their traditional ending -owa. A rather complex situation exists in Poland: although a considerable number of Polish surnames do have a feminine form in parallel to the masculine one, the feminine forms of Lithuanian minority surnames, obligatory in Lithuanian for all women, are typically not recorded in official documents in Poland. In 2009, problems were also reported in

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FCNM monitoring with Macedonian, Slovak, Bulgarian and Ruthenian feminine surname suffixes in Serbia. Conversely, with Slavic or Baltic languages in a majority configuration, there may be a tendency for them to pressurise minority surnames into the suffixation mould. For example, in the Czech Republic it is only since the 2000 Registries Act (including later amendments of 2004 and 2013) that the Czech feminine suffix -ová has not been  obligatory in family names in minority languages (e.g. Hungarian or German). Another contentious issue is patronyms, an integral component of the full name, for example, in the Russian naming pattern. The absence of patronyms in the majority naming pattern, combined with a minority language that features them, may lead to conflict, as in the case of the Russian minority names in Estonia, the Serbo-Montenegrin names in Albania, or in Moldova the Russian and Ukrainian names, as well as those of Roma, “who have, over decades of residing in Russian-speaking regions, adopted the tradition of carrying their fathers’ names as an integral element of their personal names” (Opinion on Moldova, 4th cycle of FCNM monitoring, 2016). Yet another problem is that of diacritics and special letters characteristic of a particular minority language (cf. Kappenberg 2015). Thus until 2009, Kven and Finnish minority names used to pose technical problems in official documents in Norway, and it was difficult for minority members to revert to traditional names of their ancestors, which had been forcibly Norwegianised. According to the 2015 monitoring, Sami personal names in Finland, for technical reasons, still lack their typical diacritics. A similar situation pertains to Sorbian anthroponyms in Germany, to Gagauz names in Moldova and partly also to Slovenian names in Italy. The letter w in personal names of the Polish minority in Lithuania, denied in official documents and routinely rendered as Lithuanian v, became symbolic of the long-standing controversy between the two countries (Walkowiak 2016: 301–376), rather similarly to the haček in Slovene place names in Austrian Carinthia (Busch 2013: 206–208; Gully 2011). In the case of a minority language using a different script than the majority one, phonetic transcription or transliteration is admissible. The technicalities of this process may pose problems, though, as in the case of Bosnian and Turkish names in official documents in Kosovo. Occasionally

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the conflict finds its resolution in supranational courts (Case C-168/91 Christos Konstantinidis v Stadt Altensteig, the European Court of Justice, 1993; Written Question E-0558/02 by Alexandros Alavanos (GUE/ NGL) to the European Commission, 27 February 2002).

4 Toponyms—Diachronic Policies Border shifts are usually accompanied by large-scale changes of place names. In most cases the contested territories are multicultural; therefore, changes consist of choosing the name variant from one language over that from another. However, sometimes a new language with its naming pattern enters a hitherto unchartered territory. This was the case with the renamings in the Kaliningrad Oblast, or those in so-called Recovered Territories of post-war Poland: Incorporating the German territories into Poland entailed a large-scale renaming operation. More than 30,000 place names, tens of thousands of natural features such as rivers, streams, lakes, forests, meadows, and mountains, as well as hundreds of thousands of streets and squares were to be given Polish names. (Thum 2011: 244)

5 Toponyms—Synchronic Policies These policies are often expressed via bilingual (multilingual, minority-­ language) signage with its legal framework, of which FCNM monitoring is an apt indicator, since “the inclusion of minority place and street names constitutes an act of name change and creation of new socio-spatial realities” (Raos 2015: 4). Particular policies may also be connected, for example, with street naming (cf. Päll 2009) or with the use or avoidance of exonyms (cf. Jordan et al. 2007), for which some languages show more proclivity than others. The introduction of bilingual signs, featuring minority place names, might have as its prerequisite a stipulated percentage of minority population in the area (for details, see Raos 2015: 18–19), or—alternatively—“a

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historic connection between a territory and a language” (Raos 2015: 7), thus excluding the new immigrants (e.g. Turks or Poles in Germany, as opposed to Sorbs or Frisians). Scandinavian countries appear to occasion relatively few comments in FCNM monitoring, though outstanding issues appear. A case in point is Finland: all street signs in Helsinki, for instance, are bilingual (­Finnish/ Swedish), with the order determined by who has majority locally. There is still a problem, however, with Saami-language diacritics, which appears to prevent their use in signposts. In Sweden, despite the overall high level of minority protection, street names are not displayed in any minority language (as opposed to place names). In Denmark, the reluctance of the authorities to introduce bilingual Danish-German topographical indications in South Jutland (especially the hills of Knivsbjerg/Knivsberg, a symbolic meeting place for the German minority) seems the most important issue. Topographic indications in Norway have to be bi- or even trilingual (Norwegian, Sami and Kven), with the name order according to the population composition in a given area. The same applies to street signs, but in their case the presence of multiple languages is left to the discretion of local authorities. A 2009 decree made it possible in Germany to display bilingual (German-Danish) road signs in Schleswig-Holstein, while a 2014 decree had a similar effect on German-Lower Sorbian road signs in Brandenburg. Bilingual signposts have also marked entries to and exits from villages in Sater Frisian-speaking area in Lower Saxony for a considerable time, although other bilingual German-Sater Frisian signage is virtually non-­ existent. The fourth recognised minority in Germany is the Sinti and Roma, with practically no bilingual topographical signs. Despite some bilingual signs, the presence of Frisian in signage in the Netherlands seems low. This language is connected predominantly with oral rather than written communication (Cenoz and Gorter 2006: 78). In post-war Austria, especially since the early 1970s, when government-­ installed bilingual (German-Slovenian) signs in Carinthia were symbolically torn down, the so-called Ortstafelstreit (‘conflict over topographic signs’) has dominated the minority debate (Gully 2011). In 2011 the impasse was resolved, and an official list of 164 localities where bilingual signage is allowed acquired the status of a constitutional provision, with

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the minority population percentage threshold of 17.5%. However, the list included place names only, to the exclusion of, for example, street names. Later the Austrian Constitutional Court lowered that threshold to 10% (Raos 2015: 11). Earlier (2000) legislation also allowed bilingual signage in Burgenland: German-Hungarian signs in four Hungarian settlements (Pokoly 2007: 150), as well as 47 German-Croatian ones. In the UK, all road signs in Wales are bilingual, while bilingual street names depend on local authorities. However, only 16% of signage in Cornwall is in Cornish alongside English. The most tension may be observed in Northern Ireland, where all signs in Irish need approval from local authorities. Interestingly, in a part of the London borough of Tower Hamlets, bilingual signs are in English and Bengali, although immigrant minorities are usually not offered as much protection as autochthonous ones. In Ireland, bilingual English-Irish signage is obligatory, with the Irish version first and in lettering no smaller than that of the English-language version; the Irish-language text should communicate the same information as the English text, have the same prominence and contain abbreviations only if the English version does so as well (Carson 2016). France never signed or ratified the FCNM. The first bilingual street signs in Occitan alongside French appeared in Toulouse only in 2001, and they have become ubiquitous in that city since. The peculiarity of the situation is that Occitan used to be a nearly moribund language, suppressed since the French Revolution (similarly to other minority languages of France, e.g. Breton), and even considering much activist effort at its revitalisation, its position today is still fragile. Yet, as Amos (2015) points out, we might be witnessing a paradoxical reversal of hierarchies in Toulouse, since “Occitan overshadows French in the meaning associations of street names, and their translation and adaptation on the lower plaques”, thus positioning itself as a de facto dominant code. In Italy the minority languages in which bilingual signs are written are mostly French in Valle d’Aosta (Vallée d’Aoste) and German in Alto Adige (Südtirol), and to a lesser degree Slovene, Albanian, Catalan, Croatian, Ladino, Franco-Provençal and Occitan. Nonetheless, in some areas (e.g. South Tirol) the installation of topographical signs is a power struggle.

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In the light of FCNM monitoring some countries appears to occasion no negative comments. Thus, in Switzerland bilingual signage has existed for a long time, with the minority population threshold of 30%. In Slovenia, bilingual signage in ethnically mixed (Slovene/Italian) areas is mandatory, “with the participation of self-governing national communities in the process of bilingual naming” (Malloy et al. 2015: 102). The same applies to the Hungarian minority (Pokoly 2007: 150). In the case of both minorities (which are the most numerous in Slovenia) the minority names on plaques are in letters of the same size as the majority name in Slovene, separated by a slash. In Spain, as Cenoz and Gorter (2006) indicate, the visibility of minority languages (e.g. Basque) on bilingual signage is rather high. In most post-Communist countries bilingual signage generally has a shorter history than in Western Europe. Thus, in Albania a decision about bilingual signage upon request in areas with Montenegrin, Roma and Aromanian/Vlach, Greek and Macedonian population, with the same letter size as in Albanian, was adopted only in 2008. However, both an outlined procedure and a legally binding threshold for the percentage of minority population are still lacking. In Bosnia and Herzegovina the presence of topographical indications in both Cyrillic and Latin scripts is due to the fact that there are three de facto official, mutually intelligible languages: Bosnian (Latin/Cyrillic script), Serbian (Latin/Cyrillic) and Croatian (Latin). Of note is the linguistic situation in the Prnjavor region, with a considerable number of minorities (including the Italian one, cf. Midlarz 2007), a carryover from the nineteenth-century population movements within the Habsburg Empire. In Croatia, there are bi- and even trilingual signposts (with the threshold of 30% minority population). However, the opposition against Cyrillic signage, especially in Vukovar, is considerable, including a continual demolition of bilingual plaques by the veteran association “Headquarters for the Defence of Croatian Vukovar”, claiming that “Cyrillic was a symbol of the aggression against Croatia” (Pavlaković 2016: 43–44; BBC 2013). In December 2013 the organisation presented to the parliament over 650 thousand signatures in support of a referendum whose positive outcome would raise to 50% the threshold of

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minority population percentage that entitles it to bilingual signage. However, in August 2014 Croatia’s Constitutional Court rejected the initiative. In Serbia and Montenegro, since 2003, by force of an act of the province of Vojvodina, bilingual signage has been allowed, with the 20% minority population threshold (Pokoly 2007: 150). In Serbia, in the years 2008–2013 “the Albanian, Bosniac and Croatian national minority councils have established lists of toponyms in these minority languages and the Hungarian, Romanian and Slovak national minority councils have supplemented the already existing lists of toponyms in these languages” (FCNM monitoring, 3rd cycle). In Montenegro, it would appear, only areas with minorities constituting over half or at least a sizeable proportion of the population (e.g. Plav, Tuzi, Ulcinj) benefit from bilingual signage. In Macedonia, two or three languages may be used in topographical signs if the minority in question constitutes at least 20% of the population; thus, trilingual signs are displayed in Gostivar. Nevertheless, de facto policies, for example in Skopje, prevent the Albanian minority from exercising its right, although Albanians account for about 20.5% of the population locally. In Bulgaria at the time of its accession to the EU in 2004 bilingual signage was something unheard of. Decree No. 1315 of 1975, still in force at the time, effectively excluded the Turkish language from the linguistic landscape, since public signage was to reflect the “wealth and beauty of the Bulgarian language”, with hardly any change ten years later, according to the 2014 FCNM opinion. In Romania, the population threshold for minority signage is 20%, and since 2001 such signage has been introduced in over 20 counties. However, the most numerous Hungarian community in Romania in Târgu-Mureș/Marosvásárhely complains about the content of street signs, with only generic terms translated, producing such hybrids as “strada Libertăţii utca” instead of the expected “strada Libertăţii/Szabadság utca” (Civic Engagement Movement 2014–2017). In Moldova, the state language (i.e. Romanian) dominates the linguistic landscape, and minority (Russian, Ukrainian) signage, though permitted, is infrequent. A major issue appears to be the (forcible) assimilation

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of minority (Ukrainian, Gagauz, Bulgarian, Russian) names to the naming conventions of Romanian. In the Russian Federation, topographical indications are displayed, alongside Russian, also in official languages of the republics. The use of other languages varies depending on the locality. Ukraine features some minority (Hungarian, Bulgarian, Gagauz, Russian) signage in addition to the Ukrainian one, with the minority population threshold of 10%. The Baltic states are rather similar in their strict policies. In Lithuania the attempts to set up bilingual signage in areas with predominant minority population (mostly the Polish minority in the Vilnius District around Vilnius and in the town of Šalčininkai/Soleczniki), even if displayed on private property, are usually fined. The only exception consists of signs with the names of organisations of national minority communities. Even decorative bilingual street name plaques in Vilnius, celebrating the city’s multicultural history, were immediately challenged in court by government representatives (Dwujęzyczne … 2019). In Latvia, despite the existence of a sizeable Russian minority (nearly 30%) and of small Polish, Ukrainian and Belarusian minorities (jointly about 10%), the almost extinct Livonian is the only minority language found on topographic signs. There are no bilingual signs in minority languages on public buildings, though such signage is not forbidden for private companies, provided the rule “at least in Latvian” is followed (Marten 2010: 117–118). According to Estonian law, the minimum 50% of minority population required to legally introduce bilingual signposts is counted with regard to the population composition as of 27 September 1939 (with the non-­ Estonian names established “for historically and culturally justified reasons”). However, although the Russian minority does legally qualify for Russian-language signs, there are hardly any, with this absence the most conspicuous in the nearly completely ethnically Russian city of Narva. At the same time, two islands off Estonia’s coast historically inhabited by Swedes, Vormsi and Ruhnu, bear Swedish-language topographical indications in several settlements. A similar situation is found on the Noarootsi (Swedish Nuckö) Peninsula. The number of Estonian Swedes, however, does not exceed 300, so Swedish signage serves as commemoration rather than as fulfilment of a communicative need.

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It would appear that Central European countries implement somewhat more minority-friendly street sign policies. In Czechia, the threshold for bilingual minority signage is 10%. Consequently, as of November 2015, there were Polish minority signposts in 30 municipalities, Slovak ones in 8 municipalities and German ones in 3 municipalities. In Slovakia, by a 1994 law, bilingual signage (in Slovak and either Hungarian or Polish) is present on public administration buildings, though bilingual Romani/Slovak signs are not as frequent. However, the names present in the years 1867–1918 (intensive Magyarisation) and 1938–45 (Germanisation) must not be used. The threshold for minority signage in Slovakia is 20% (Pokoly 2007: 150). The population threshold for bilingual minority signage in Hungary is 10%, which is difficult to achieve for the relatively scattered Romanian, Slovak or German minorities. However, no Roma signposts have been installed. In Poland there are 425 official minority- (German, Lemko, Lithuanian, Belarusian) and 821 regional-­ language (Kashubian) names, with the 20% minority population threshold for bilingual signage. In other areas it may be introduced if more than half of the inhabitants taking part in consultation support this. In some places street name plaques are also bilingual. In short, only four EU member states completely prohibit bilingual signage: Greece, Bulgaria, Lithuania and Latvia. Neither of them signed another CoE treaty, the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages (cf. Raos 2015: 19). France and Turkey never signed the FCNM, while Iceland, Greece and Belgium signed it without ratification; therefore, these countries are not monitored. Moreover, Belarus is not a CoE member.

6 Chrematonyms Of the three types of onyms, chrematonyms appear to occasion the least controversy and the fewest formal restrictions, although some European states do attempt to regulate their form. For instance, in Bulgaria, by force of a 2009 law, “all texts in public outdoor advertising, on noticeboards and in public notices should be written in Bulgarian, and should only use foreign trademarks or brands if they are associated with

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companies that trade internationally” (Carson 2016). In Lithuania, company names are treated more liberally than personal names: foreign registered trademarks may be used—hence names like Maxima, Swedbank, containing non-Lithuanian letters x, w (Walkowiak 2016: 357–359)—as well as names derived from Ancient Greek or Latin, hence the bookshop name Littera, containing geminates, non-existent in Lithuanian (VLKK 2003–2019). Of special salience is the use, in languages other than English, of English product names (and to a lesser degree also Italian, French and occasionally German ones). The ubiquitous English indexes prestige, prosperity, globalisation, keeping abreast of the times. Italian and French names evoke associations with luxury and are often used for hedonistic merchandise. The use of German, much more limited, may imply dependability, quality and technological superiority (cf. the Chinese, German-sounding brand name Haier, Walkowiak 2013). That kind of name policy is usually bottom-to-top, informal and left to the discretion of companies as name givers. In inflected languages, moreover, a tendency (or even bottom-to-top pressure) for foreign brand names to shun declination usually defies successfully the norms of the recipient language.

References Amos, W.H. 2015. Regional Language Vitality in the Linguistic Landscape: Hidden Hierarchies on Street Signs in Toulouse. International Journal of Multilingualism 14 (2): 1–15. BBC. 2013. Croatians Tear Down Serbian Signs in Vukovar. http://www.bbc. com/news/world-­europe-­23934098. Accessed September 2019. Busch, B. 2013. The Career of a Diacritical Sign: Language in Spatial Representations and Representational Spaces. In Multilingualism and the Periphery, ed. S. Pietikainen and H. Kelly-Holmes, 199–221. Oxford: OUP. Carson, L. 2016. The Sights and Sounds of the Multilingual City. In The Multilingual City: Vitality, Conflict and Change, ed. L. King and L. Carson, 49–86. Bristol: Multilingual Matters. Cenoz, J., and D. Gorter. 2006. Linguistic Landscape and Minority Languages. International Journal of Multilingualism 3 (1): 67–80.

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Civic Engagement Movement. 2014–2017. Lack of bilingual street names in Tîrgu-Mureș Marosvásárhely. https://cemo.ro/en/lack-­of-­bilingual-­street-­ names-­in-­in-­tirgu-­mures-­marosvasarhely/. Accessed September 2019. Dimitrov, V. 2000. In Search of a Homogeneous Nation: The Assimilation of Bulgaria’s Turkish Minority, 1984–1985. Journal on Ethnopolitics and Minority Issues in Europe, December. https://www.ecmi.de/fileadmin/downloads/publications/JEMIE/JEMIE01Dimitrov10-­07-­01.pdf. Accessed September 2019. Druviete, I. 1999. Language Policy in a Changing Society: Problematic Issues in the Implementation of International Linguistic Human Rights Standards. In Language: A Right and a Resource. Approaching Linguistic Human Rights, ed. M.  Kontra, R.  Phillipson, T.  Skutnabb-Kangas, and T.  Várady, 263–278. Budapest: Central European University Press. Dwujęzyczne tabliczki są zgodne z prawem. Co dalej? [Bilingual Signs Are Legal. What’s Next?] 2019. January 24. http://zw.lt/opinie/dwujezyczne-­tabliczki-­ sa-­zgodne-­z-­prawem-­co-­dalej/. Accessed September 2019. Eller, N., S. Hackl, and M. Ľupták, eds. 2008. Namen und ihr Konfliktpotential im europäischen Kontext [Names and Their Potential for Conflict in European Context]. Regensburg: Edition Vulpes. Górski, K. 1995. Divide et impera. Białystok: Towarzystwo Literackie im. A. Mickiewicza. Gully, J.M. 2011. Bilingual Signs in Carinthia: International Treaties, the Ortstafelstreit, and the Spaces of German. TRANSIT 7 (1), https://escholarship.org/uc/item/9vv4c23p. Accessed September 2019. Hametz, M.E. 2012. In the Name of Italy: Nation, Family, and Patriotism in a Fascist Court. New York: Fordham University Press. Jordan, P., M.  Orožen Adamič, and P.  Woodman. 2007. Exonyms and the International Standardisation of Geographical Names: Approaches Towards the Resolution of an Apparent Contradiction. Münster: LIT Verlag. Kappenberg, B. 2015. Setting Signs for Europe: Why Diacritics Matter for European Integration. Stuttgart: Ibidem. Malloy, T.H., A. Osipov, and V. Balázs. 2015. Managing Diversity Through Non-­ Territorial Autonomy: Assessing Advantages, Deficiencies, and Risks. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Marten, H.F. 2010. Linguistic Landscape under Strict State Language Policy: Reversing the Soviet Legacy in a Regional Centre in Latvia. In Linguistic Landscape in the City, ed. E. Shohamy, E. Ben-Rafael, and M. Barni, 115–132. Bristol: Multilingual Matters.

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Midlarz, A.G. 2007. Bosnia, the Ethnic Group You Don’t Expect. East 17. https://eastwest.eu/it/east-­17/bosnia-­l-­etnia-­che-­non-­ti-­aspetti. Accessed September 2019. Päll, P. 2009. Historical Multilingualism of Street Names in Estonia. In Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences. Toronto: York University. http://hdl.handle.net/10315/4018. Accessed September 2019. Pavlaković, V. 2016. Fulfilling the Thousand-Year-Old Dream. In Strategies of Symbolic Nation-building in South Eastern Europe, ed. P.  Kolstø, 19–50. London/New York: Routledge. Pokoly, B. 2007. Further Thoughts on Exonyms of the Hungarian Language. A Historical Review. In Jordan et al. 2007: 147–152. Raos, V. 2015. Linguistic Landscapes in EU Member States: Politics of Visibility and Presence. Paper Prepared for Presentation at the Being a Citizen in Europe Conference, June 29–30. https://beucitizen.eu/publications/linguistic-­ landscapes-­i n-­e u-­m ember-­s tates-­p olitics-­o f-­v isibility-­a nd-­p resence/. Accessed September 2019. Shohamy, E. 2006. Language Policy: Hidden Agendas and New Approaches. London/New York: Routledge. Thum, G. 2011. Uprooted: How Breslau Became Wrocław During the Century of Expulsions. Princeton: Princeton University Press. de Varennes, F. 1995/96. The Protection of Linguistic Minorities in Europe and Human Rights: Possible Solutions to Ethnic Conflicts. Columbia Journal of European Law 2 (1): 107–143. Verschik, A. 2008. Emerging Bilingual Speech: From Monolingualism to Code-­ Copying. London/New York: Continuum. VLKK 2003–2019. Praktiniai įmonių pavadinimų vartojimo klausimai [Practical Issues in the Use of Company Names]. http://www.vlkk.lt/ aktualiausios-­t emos/juridiniu-­a smenu-­p avadinimai/praktiniai-­i moniu-­ pavadinimu-­vartojimo-­klausimai#neliet_zodziai. Accessed September 2019. Walkowiak, J.B. 2013. Foreign Branding in Poland: Chrematonyms and Anthroponyms. In Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, ed. O. Felecan, 218–227. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. http://onomasticafelecan.ro/iconn2/proceedings/2_11_Walkowiak_Justyna_ICONN_2. pdf. Accessed September 2019. ———. 2016. Personal Name Policy: From Theory to Practice. Poznań: Wydział Neofilologii UAM w Poznaniu. https://doi.org/10.14746/9788394601720.

5 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church: The Thematic Group “the Names of New Saints” Halyna Matsyuk

1 Introduction Ukrainian linguists have already produced a range of research papers on nomina propria in the religious sphere of Ukraine at the end of the twentieth century—the beginning of the twenty-first century. The scope of these units illustrates their quantitative growth and testifies to the fact that this type of names is readily observable in the vocabulary of the modern Ukrainian language. However, the names of new Ukrainian saints make up a burgeoning field, and their broad-based discussion within sociolinguistics is largely lacking. Following on from these considerations, the author offers a nuanced understanding of the thematic group “the names of new saints” to get an insight into the phenomenon of the conversion to Orthodoxy as a new category of sociolinguistics. This notion stands for the process of

H. Matsyuk (*) Ivan Franko National University of Lviv, Lviv, Ukraine © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_5

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transition of Ukrainian Greek Catholics to Orthodoxy under the influence of various powers of the Russian Empire and the USSR in the late eighteenth–nineteenth centuries, as well as in the twentieth century. In other words, the relevance of the topic stems from the need to develop the theory of sociolinguistics regarding an understudied issue, namely the interaction of language, church and power in different periods of the development of language policy and language situation in the Ukrainian territories, for which a more systematic approach is needed. The purpose of this chapter is to analyse the reasons behind the emergence of units within this thematic group and to reveal the functions of the names of saints in both religious and secular discourses. In order to fulfil this aim, the author will analyse those extralinguistic factors that led to the formation of the thematic group under investigation, as well as the functions of its units as the media of encyclopaedic knowledge about the forceful conversion to Orthodoxy and the markers of resistance as indicators of the culture of memory about these events in the modern society. The above-listed tasks relate to a number of other new research questions: Which political actors took part in the conversion of Ukrainian Greek Catholics to Orthodoxy? Why did the resistance to these processes arise? How many victims of martyrdom died during this period of moral and physical violence committed by different authorities? How does contemporary society perpetuate the memory of those who perished for the sake of their faith and their people? The answers to these and other questions will deepen and complement the characteristics of sociolinguistic correlations, such as language-identity, language-ideology and language-state as the elements of language policy and language situation in different periods of statelessness of the Ukrainian people. Recent developments in sociolinguistics and related fields have undoubtedly generated significant new foci of study and analysis of names as interdisciplinary units. Having analysed the general stock of theoretical concepts and ongoing reflection related to names and naming, this chapter aims to advance the understanding of how names of saints function in society. Thus, it seems pertinent to consider the ideas and provisions of onomastic theory on the semiotic nature of proper names and their function in accumulating, preserving and fostering culture (Zymovets 2010; Lukash 2014), sociolinguistics research on the interaction of language and ideology (Matsyuk 2008), works in religious studies

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(Horan 2017; Kyiyak 2006; Stokolos and Sheretiuk 2012), the history of the church (Botsiurkiv 2005; Mattei 2014; Sapozhnikova and Andrusiv 2016 etc.), the history of totalitarianism in the USSR (Baran and Tokarskyi 2014; Bilas 1994 etc.). The analysis methods used in this study (particularly case study, discourse analysis, correlation analysis, comparative and biographical method) allowed for the use of the sociocultural linguistic approach (Bucholtz and Hall 2005) to study names of saints as units that function today in miscellaneous texts of religious and secular discourse. In this chapter, the author adheres to the idea that the name of a saint is a proper name, the object of which is the denotatum of the divine, mysterious and mystic sphere (Beley 2016: 88), which implements its sacred function within the spiritual doctrine of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (hereafter UGCC). Each of these proper names has a semiotic nature as a linguistic sign (Zymovets 2010), and therefore illustrates not only the correlation of referents with a certain class of objects, but also the epistemic component, that is, the knowledge of the life of the UGCC and the activity of the state power of the Russian Empire and the USSR regarding the Church and its followers. Hence, names of saints appear to be carriers of encyclopaedic information about the events not only in different genres of religious style, but also in secular discourse, in which these names function as intertexts (Kristeva 2013). Simultaneously, in different genres of religious and secular discourse, names of saints develop their nominal productivity and become a formation basis for new nominations, derivative phrases, particularly names of prayers, church buildings, streets, films and others. Thus, names of saints become the means of marking the culture of memory of modern society.

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2 Extralinguistic Factors Leading to the Emergence of the Thematic Group “Names of New Saints” There are holy martyrs among the saints of the Eastern Church, namely those who gave their lives or suffered severely for Christ’s faith (Sabat 2015). They were beatified as the saints of the UGCC according to the principles of the Catholic Church. The names of saints do not emphasise asceticism; they display a local, not universal (as is the case after canonisation) character of the veneration of martyrs (Sapozhnikova and Andrusiv 2016: 6). Given the fact that the process of beatification took place twice, the thematic group “names of new saints” forms two subgroups. The first consists of “the names of Pratulyn Martyrs” beatified in 1996. The names of saints began to appear in religious discourse after the completion of the 1996 beatification process (Rome, Italy). On the 400th anniversary of the proclamation of the Brest Union, at St Peter’s Basilica, Pope John Paul II beatified Pratulyn Martyrs during the divine service. These were thirteen peasants, parishioners of the Holy Trinity Greek Catholic Church in the village of Pratulyn (the territory of the Cholm diocese), who were killed by the Russian army on January 26, 1874, for protesting innocently against the attempts of the Russian authorities to convert them to Orthodoxy: Danylo Karmash, Pylyp Heryliuk, Konstiantin Boyko, Ihnatiy Franchuk, Konstiantin Lukashuk, Vortolomiy Osipyuk and Maksym Havrylyuk, Vikentiy Levonyuk and Ivan (Andreyuk), as well as the very young Mykyta Hrytsyuk, Luka Boyko, Onufriy Vasylyuk and Mykhailo Vavryshchuk (Syvitskyi 1999). The second subgroup comprises “the names of priests, monks, nuns and laity, beatified on June 27, 2001”. The names of saints began to be used in the theological-liturgical system of units and in secular discourse after the pastoral visit to Ukraine in June 2001 by Pope John Paul II. Then, for the first time in the context of the Eastern Liturgy, he raised the dignity of the blessed of twenty-eight martyrs of the UGCC by applying a special form of beatification (Sabat 2015). Twenty-six people gave their lives for their faith in Christ and loyalty to the Apostolic Church during the elimination of the UGCC by the Communist authorities of

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the USSR.  Eight bishops faced a martyr’s death: bishop Hryhoriy (Khomyshyn), bishop Yoshafat (Kotsylovsky), bishop Mykyta Budka, bishop Hryhoriy (Lakota), bishop Mykola (Charnetskyi), bishop Simeon (Lukach), bishop Ivan (Slezyuk), bishop Vasyl (Velichkovsky), alongside fourteen priests: Father Klymentiy (Sheptytskyi), Father Mykola (Konrad), Father Omelyan (Kovch), Father Andriy (Ishchak), Father Severian (Baranyk), Father Peter (Verhun), Father Yakym (Senkovskyi), Father Mykola (Tsehelskyi), Father Ivan (Zyatyk), Father Zynoviy (Kovalyk), Father Vitaliy (Bayrak), Father Oleksiy (Zarytskyi), Father Roman (Lysco), Father Leonid (Fyodorov); three nuns: Sister Olympia (Olha Bida), Sister Lavrentiya (Levkadia Herasymiv), Sister Tarsykiya (Olha Matskiv); and a layperson, psalm reader Volodymyr (Pryima). All the above-mentioned names symbolise the resistance of the parishioners and the Greek Catholic clergy to forcible Orthodoxy in the context of the opposition the Ukrainian Catholic Church—the Russian Orthodox Church. In different genres of religious and secular discourse, names of saints shape the knowledge about these events. What information do these units carry?

3 Names of Saints as Carriers of Encyclopaedic Knowledge About the Conversion to Orthodoxy of the Ukrainian Territories 3.1 The Names of the Pratulyn Martyrs Beatified in 1996 Although these names of saints are related to the events of 1874, the roots of conversion to Orthodoxy should be sought more deeply. The state power of the Russian Empire after the divisions of Poland (1772, 1773 and 1775) until the end of the reign of Catherine II (1776) forcibly converted about 2 million Greek Catholics to Orthodoxy (Stokolos and Sheretiuk 2012: 64). Only 200 out of 5000 parishes remained following the liquidation of the Lutsk, Brest and Pinsk dioceses in 1795. In 1839,

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the Council of Polotsk signed the “Reunification Act” with a list of the names of the Greek-Uniate priests (as they were then called), who agreed to convert to the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC) (Kukharskyi 2008: 283). In March 1839, the act was approved by Nikolai I, a supporter of the policy “one law, one language, one faith”. Another 240,000 Greek Catholics remained in the Cholm diocese, pertaining to the Autonomous Kingdom of Poland (which ceased to exist in 1863 after the suppression of the anti-Russian uprising). In this area, Ukrainian Catholics were first subjected to the Polish impact by the Polish pro-government environment, and following the transfer of the diocese to the Government Commission on Church Affairs, it was largely influenced by Orthodoxy, leading to fierce clashes. Peasants used to defend their churches in an attempt to prevent Russian Orthodox priests to enter them. The memories of Yanchuk (1859–1921), a well-known Ukrainian folklorist, ethnographer and writer about the events in his native village Kornytsi, show how the village headed by the starosta (Yanchuk’s father) refused to sign the act of renunciation from the union. As a result, the soldiers “began to whip everyone; some of them were whipped to death, others were brought to senses with water and whipped again until they were forced to convert; still others, including my father, were sent to prison in hundreds” (Stokolos and Sheretiuk 2012: 139). It is possible to trace certain interesting features related to the linguistic markers of the Greek Catholics: while in 1796, following the divisions of Poland, the Russian authorities banned the names that were not in the Greek-Russian books, including the name Josaphat (since 1871), Popel, the administrator of the Cholm diocese, forbade celebrating the feasts of the Greek Catholics, including Saint Josaphat’s Day on account of its connection with the initiator of the union Josaphat Kuntsevych. In 1875, the Russian Emperor Alexander II and the Holy Synod affiliated the Greek Catholic Church on the territory of the Cholm Land and Pidlachia to the Russian Orthodox Church (Botsiurkiv 2005: 2–9). It is worth emphasising that a year later, in the city of Emsk, Alexander II signed another anti-Ukrainian circular regarding the Ukrainian language, which continued to discriminate the rights of the Ukrainians after the prohibition of the Ukrainian language as a result of the 1863 Valuyev Order. In this manner, the authorities of the Russian Empire unified the

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question of the language and churches of the Ukrainians in view of the unification of their national and religious identity. The authorities severely punished the protesters: seven priests were sentenced to death, seventy-four were arrested, sixty-six fled to Halychyna, one hundred and eight parishioners were killed, six hundred were deported to Siberia, and sixty families were deprived of property. In addition to Pratulyn, the village of Dreliv suffered greatly: the soldiers shot five villagers, injured dozens of residents and arrested sixty peasants who seized their church (Hlynka 1975: 258). The incorporation of Greek Catholics into Russian Orthodoxy affected the culture of the Ukrainians: the authorities stopped the publication of theological, catechetical and religious-moralistic works in Ukrainian, Polish and Latin languages, as well as secular books used by the population of the Ukrainian territories. Therefore, under the forced actions of the state power of the Russian Empire in the late eighteenth–nineteenth centuries, The Ukrainian ethno-confessional component disappeared from the religious life of the Ukrainian population.

3.2 Names of Priests, Monks, Nuns and Laity Beatified on June 27, 2001 These names of saints are related to the geopolitical redistribution of territories in the years 1918–1919, to the events of 1939 and the destruction of the UGCC in 1946. In 1918, Halychyna was included in the Second Rzeczpospolita, while Transcarpathia became a part of Czechoslovakia. The Halychyna Metropolitanate, which continued the tradition of the 1596 Brest Union, consisted of two dioceses—Przemysl and Stanislav. In the Transcarpathian region, there were the Mukachevo and Presov dioceses that kept the traditions of the Uzhhorod Union in 1646. All the Greek Catholic churches in these territories, in unity with the Apostolic See, continued the traditions of Kyivan Christianity. Prior to World War II, The Ukrainian Catholic Church had 3040 parishes, 4400 chapels and churches, 195 monasteries, 110 nuns and over 500 monks, 9900 schools in which the priests taught God’s law, 80

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secondary schools, 56 higher schools, 41 Catholic organisations, 38 Catholic newspapers and magazines, and 35 Catholic publishing houses (Nahayevskyi 1972: 4). Immediately after the September 1939 annexation of Western Ukraine to the USSR, in October, the Communist newspaper published an article against the UGCC.  The Soviet Security Service initiated cases entitled “Plague” against twenty Greek Catholic priests of the Stanislaw region (now Ivano-Frankivsk) and “The Walking Ones” against fifty people, including the hierarchs of the Church, whom the authorities suspected of anti-Soviet activities and hostile attitude towards the annexation of Western Ukraine to the USSR (only after the arrest of the Metropolitan and the bishops on April 11, 1945 was the case closed). Prior to the German-Soviet war of 1941, thirty-four priests were killed and forty deported to the Eastern part of the country. Security Service documents testify to the attempts to demoralise and disorganise the church from the inside (Likvidatsiia UHKTs 2006: 8, 12, 59). At one of the meetings on September 4, 1943, the authorities determined a new course for cooperation with the Russian Orthodox Church and therefore created a special body that had to communicate with the leadership of the church and control the activities and policies of the Russian Orthodox Church. The decisions of the state authorities were immediately announced to the Russian hierarchs who were still alive. In order to convene the Council of the Russian Orthodox Church on September 8, 1943, the Soviet government brought the representatives of the Russian Orthodox Church from exile and prisons. This way, on September 8, 1943, the Bishops’ Council of the Russian Orthodox Church adopted a decision that the Church would be in the service of the Soviet state (Bilas 1994: 302). In 1944, the Soviet authorities returned to Western Ukraine and in early March 1945 discussed the liquidation of the church. They immediately issued a special instruction “The measures to separate the Greek Catholic (Uniate) Church in the USSR from the Vatican and its further accession to the Russian Orthodox Church” (Bilas 1994: 315) in order to “counteract the claims of the Vatican for the leading universal importance”. The liquidation of the church was announced by the Lviv pseudo-­ Council on March 8–10, 1946, which was held by the bodies of state

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power and Soviet security in cooperation with the initiative group of priests (Bilas 1994: 323; Peresliduvani za pravdu… 2016: 43) formed on May 28, 1945. The council voted for the transition to Orthodoxy: the authorities not only intended to destroy the Ukrainian ethnic and confessional identity of the Ukrainians of the Western Ukraine, but also developed a new geopolitical project about Moscow as the “third Rome”. In Transcarpathia, the Soviet authorities completed the official extermination of the Church later, in 1949. The Mukachevo diocese, which was previously part of the Czech Republic, was annexed to the USSR. There were 433 priests, headed by the newly ordained (September 24, 1944) priest Theodore Romzha, whose death on November 1, 1947 was planned by the Soviet government. As of January 1, 1949, there were 270 priests in the Mukachevo diocese, 92 of them were arrested, 49 were deprived of the privilege of clergy, 128 were converted to Orthodoxy and 1 died. Repressions by the Soviet authorities in 1945–1950 lasted until 1949; as a result, 32 priests were arrested, and after 1949, 92 others were in custody, and 28 died (5  in Uzhhorod and Lviv prisons, 16  in the GULAG camps, 4 were shot, 1 person died in unknown circumstances) (Bendas and Bendas 1999: 396). The actions of Soviet authorities in Western Ukraine, where the Greek Catholics lived, caused the transition of the Church to the underground in 1946, from which it emerged only in 1989. After World War II, the Ukrainians in the Ukrainian SSR (not only Greek Catholics) faced the Sovietisation and Russification of all spheres of public life. This lasted for decades until the proclamation of independent Ukraine in 1991.

4 Names of Saints as Markers of Resistance to the Forceful Conversion to Orthodoxy The resistance to the conversion to Orthodoxy on behalf of the clergy and the population was due to the geopolitical and cultural phenomenon of Ukraine. It is on the verge between East and West, and it is here that the synthesis of Eastern and Western Christianity takes place as a combination of two Christian worlds, as the unity of the Apostolic See with the

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tradition of Kyivan Christianity (Ortynskyi 2014: 747; Peresliduvani za pravdu… 2016: 9). Orthodoxy, forcibly introduced by the new authorities, in particular the Russian Empire and the USSR, played the role of “the other”. Another manifestation of the resistance to the conversion to Orthodoxy is the Ukrainian Christian tradition itself, which is not a copy of the Catholic or Byzantine rites. These rites illustrate the valuable features of Western and Eastern theology, associated with the national spirit of the Ukrainians, their language, worldview, artistic tastes and needs. Historically, this rite, as an embodiment of religiosity and cultural achievement, secured the Church from Latinisation and Polonisation, as well as from its conversion to Orthodoxy and Russification (Kyiyak 2006: 323). It is true that there was an interruption in the development of the Byzantine-Ukrainian rite of the UGCC in Ukraine, since under the rule of the USSR, the authorities liquidated the Church in 1946 and it existed underground until 1989. However, even under such conditions, the continuity of the rite was preserved, as it developed not only in the catacomb Church, but also outside Ukraine. For example, the issue of the rite was discussed by the Second Vatican Council in 1962–1963. It approved changes in terminology, in particular the use of the terms the Ukrainian church, the Byzantine-Ukrainian rite (instead of the Rus Church or the Greek Catholic rite), identifying the church terminology with the name of the people (Sapeliak 1995: 71). (These are important details; in the Russian and Soviet state discourses, as evidenced by the documents of the Soviet security service, propagandistic equivalences with negative connotations were preserved: the union, the Uniate Church, the Uniate). The Second Vatican Council’s decisions also motivated the discussion about the Ukrainian language in the liturgy. The Inter-Diocesan Liturgical Commission received the task of making a translation of the Service of God and the Breviary into Ukrainian, to help spread the language to all divine services (Sapeliak 1995: 115–116). A high cultural level of the representatives of the Greek Catholic clergy contributed to the resistance to forceful conversion to Orthodox Christianity. While the first victims of the conversion to Orthodoxy, namely the peasants of Pratulyn, were the bearers of traditional folk and religious culture, the martyrs of the twentieth century were connected

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with the secular and spiritual institutions of Halychyna, Transcarpathia and European universities. These were people with thorough knowledge of foreign languages and doctoral degrees. Many were authors of academic papers that contributed to the development of the rite and set new tasks to the parishioners of the Church. The Soviet authorities knew about the cultural level of the Greek Catholic clergy as opposed to the Orthodox ones. For example, in a memorandum of an Orthodox bishop on the state of affairs in one of the dioceses in 1947, there is information about the low level of education of the Orthodox clergy. The author noted that there were only about two persons with higher education in contrast to the Greek Catholic clergy, who had higher theological and secular education (Bilas 1994: 669–673; Peresliduvani za pravdu… 2016: 9). The biographies of the new saints illustrate the synthesis of Western and Ukrainian culture in shaping the views of the Greek Catholic clergy. Consequently, the opposition to the conversion to Orthodox Christianity is connected with the victims. For the first time, their honouring was officially celebrated not in secular life, but in the fold of the Church in 1996 and 2001. Since then, their names have been functioning in different kinds of discourse: in liturgy and liturgical literature, studies on the history of the church, religious studies and studies on terror, academic publications, public periodicals and even in the communication between priest and the people during worship.

5 The Development of Nominal Productivity of Names of Saints as a Way to Foster the Culture of Memory in Contemporary Ukrainian Society The modern discourse of the culture of memory of the martyrs of the UGCC is connected primarily with one of the symbols of the Byzantine-­ Ukrainian rite of the Catholic Church, namely the commemoration in the special liturgical masses of numerous Ukrainian saints, including the new ones, during the church year. Not only do the names of saints

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function in different texts, but they have also become a basis for derivative nominations. The UGCC commemorates Pratulyn Martyrs on January 23, which is shown in the names: Commemoration of the Heroic Deed of Pratulyn Martyrs, Prayer to Pratulyn Martyrs, Icon of Pratulyn Martyrs and so on. The UGCC commemorates the victims of the Soviet regime on June 27, which is shown in the names: Sacred Service of Servants of God, blessed martyrs of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church; the fresco The Blessed expelled for the truth, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven and so on. In addition, on November 1, the Church commemorates the memory of the Holy Martyr Teodor Romzhi. Based on my observation, I have reached the conclusion that there are names deriving from the names of each of the sacred martyrs. These new nominative units illustrate the development of the two groups “names of prayers and Akathists” and “names of temples and chapels”. Interestingly, the examples illustrate the development of the nominal productivity of the names of saints beyond the confessional style (Monument to the Holy Martyr Omelyan Kovch, the Reward of the Blessed Omelyan Kovch or Exhibition “Following the Blessed Father Omelyan” etc.). The derivatives from the names of saints serve as means of intercultural communication of the UGCC: Parish of the Blessed Mykolai Charnetskyi (Warsaw, Poland); Ukrainian Greek Catholic Pastorate of the Blessed Petro Verhun (Augsburg, Germany); Chapel of Blessed Father Oleksa Zarytskyi (Karaganda, Kazakhstan) and so on. In other words, the memory of the modern society regarding the UGCC martyrs today contributes to the development of the nominal productivity of the names of saints in miscellaneous genres of religious discourse and beyond.

6 Concluding Remarks It seems obvious that the thematic group “names of the new saints” should be used as a new illustrative material to explain the connection between language, church and authorities based on the example of the UGCC, the state power of the Russian Empire and the USSR from the

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end of the eighteenth century, throughout the nineteenth century and the greater part of the twentieth century. The analysis of extralinguistic factors of the emergence of this new thematic group of units and their role as encyclopaedic knowledge about the conversion to Orthodox Christianity and resistance to it, as well as the nominal productivity in different texts of religious discourse and beyond help to single out the forced conversion to Orthodoxy of the Ukrainian territories as a category of sociolinguistics. In the context of the history of language policy and language situation on the Ukrainian lands in conditions of statelessness, this concept should be studied along with the concepts of “identity”, “Russification” and “Sovietisation”. It is particularly important to emphasise that the names of this thematic group reveal • the intercultural communication according to the model integration with assimilation, whose realisation was based on the geopolitical factor, violence and terror, the destruction of the national and religious identity of Ukrainians in the context of statelessness; • the opposition of the Ukrainian Catholic Church as the Church of the people and the Russian Orthodox Church as the church of the state and the authorities; • the opposition of the religious culture and the culture of atheism, which came with the ideology of communism (brought by the Soviet government); • the culture of memory of the modern Ukrainian society; in different discourses, the names of the saints develop their nominal meaning and create new names of religious holidays and dates of the church calendar, names of prayers and Akathists, names of structures for prayers, names of new icons; • the philosophical and theological idea of the victory of the culture of life over the culture of death; the UGCC suffered in different ages, but in 1989 the church surfaced from the underground with millions of followers, demonstrating the power of the Faith and the people, and continued its development since 1991 in an independent state.

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References Baran, V., and V. Tokarskyi. 2014. «Zachystka»: politychni represii v zakhidnykh oblastiakh Ukrainy v 1939–1941 rr. [“Cleansing”: Political Repressions in the Western Regions of Ukraine in 1939–1941]. Lviv: In-t ukrainoznavstva im. I. Krypiakevycha NANU. Beley, O. 2016. Mistse ukrainskykh sakronimiv u natsionalnii onimnii systemi [The Place of Ukrainian Sacred Names in the National Onymic System]. Slavica Wratislaviensia 162: 81–90. Bendas, S., and D. Bendas. 1999. Sviashchenyky-muchenyky, spovidnyky virnosti [Priests, Martyrs, Confessors of the Faith]. Uzhhorod: Zakarpattia. Bilas, I. 1994. Represyvno-karalna systema v Ukraini (1917–1953). Suspilno-­ politychnyi ta istoryko-pravovyi analiz [Repressive and Punitive System in UKRAINE (1917–1953): Socio-Political and Historical-Legal Analysis]. Kyiv: Lybid. Botsiurkiv, B. 2005. Ukrainska Hreko-Katolytska Tserkva i Radianska derzhava (1939–1950) [Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and the Soviet State (1939–1950)]. Lviv: Vydavnytstvo Katolytskoho universytetu. Bucholtz, M., and K.  Hall. 2005. Identity and Interaction: Sociocultural Linguistic Approach. Discourse Studies 7 (4–5): 585–614. Hlynka, A.o. 1975. Ukrainska Katolytska Kholmska Yeparkhiia. (Likvidatsiia i pryluchennia do Tserkvy Pravoslavnoi) [Ukrainian Catholic Cholm Diocese (Liquidation and Accession to the Orthodox Church)] 34, proceedings, section I, 256–260. Rome: Analecta OSBM. Horan, T. 2017. Peremyshlska yeparkhiia Hreko-katolytskoi tserkvy v ukrainskoi natsionalnomu rusi Halychyny (1919–1939 rr.) [Przemysl Eparchy of the Greek Catholic Church in the Ukrainian National Movement of Halychyna (1919–1939)]. PhD diss., Ivano-Frankivsk. Kristeva, J. 2013. Semiotika: Issledovaniia po semanalizu [Semiotics: Segmental Studies]. Trans. Ye. Orlova. Moscow: Akademicheskii proekt. Kukharskyi, M. 2008. Stan Hreko-katolytskoi tserkvy pid chas podiliv Polshchi XVIII st. [The State of the Greek Catholic Church During the 18th-Century Polish Divisions]. In Ukraine and the Vatican 1. Ukrainian-Vatican Relations in the Context of Public and Inter-Confessional Problems, 279–284. Ivano-­ Frankivsk-­Kyiv: Nova zoria. Kyiyak, S. 2006. Identychnist ukrainskoho katolytsyzmu: henezys, problemy, perspektyvy [Identity of Ukrainian Catholicism: Genesis, Problems, Perspectives]. Ivano-Frankivsk: Nova zoria.

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Likvidatsiia UHKTs (1939–1946). Dokumenty radianskykh orhaniv derzhavnoi bezpeky [Liquidation of the UGCC (1939–1946). Documents of the Soviet Bodies of State Security], vol. 1. 2006. Kyiv: PE Serhiychuk M.I. Lukash, H. 2014. Semiotyka konotonimiv: znak i symvol [Semiotics of the Canotonyms: Sign and Symbol]. Linguistics: A Collection of Academic Papers 2 (29): 186–193. Matsyuk, H. 2008. Do vytokiv sotsiolinhvistyky: sotsiolohichnyi napriam u movoznavstvi [Origins of Sociolinguistics: A Sociological Trend in Linguistics]. Lviv: LNU imeni Ivana Franka. Mattei, G. 2014. Ukraina  – zemlia muchenykiv. Heroichne svidchennia muchenykiv, proholoshenykh Papoiu Ivanom Pavlom II u Lvovi, pid chas yoho istorychnoho palomnytstva [Ukraine Is the Land of Martyrs. Heroic Testimony of the Martyrs Proclaimed by Pope John Paul II in Lviv During His Historic Pilgrimage]. Trans. O. Lisovskyi. Zhovkva: Misioner. Nahayevskyi, I. 1972. Ukrainska katolytska tserkva 1945–1970 rr. [Ukrainian Catholic Church 1945–1970]. Report on the Convention in November 1971. New York/Chicago: St Andrew’s Society of Ukrainian Catholic Priests. Ortynskyi, I. 2014. Khrystyianstvo v yoho vyiavakh i sohochasnykh problemakh [Christianity in Its Manifestations and Current Problems. Selected Works]. Kyiv: UAR. Peresliduvani za pravdu. Ukrainski hreko-katolyky v umovakh totalitarnykh rezhymiv XX st. [Persecuted for the Truth. Ukrainian Greek Catholics in the Conditions of the Totalitarian Regimes of the Twentieth Century]. 2016. Lviv: Vyd-vo UKU. Sabat, P. 2015. Vshanuvannia muchenykiv UHKTs, proholoshenykh blazhennymy papoiu Ivanom Pavlom II v Ukraini v 2001 r. [Honouring the Martyrs of the UGCC, Proclaimed by the Blessed Pope John Paul II in Ukraine 2001]. Journal on Ecclesiology and Church Law 12: 114–116. Sapeliak, A. 1995. Ukrainska tserkva na II Vatykanskomu Sobori [Ukrainian Churches in the Second Vatican Council]. Lviv: VP «Strim». Sapozhnikova, H., and Y. Andrusiv. 2016. Sviati zemli ukrainskoi [The Saints of the Ukrainian Land]. Lviv: Svichado. Stokolos, N., and R.  Sheretiuk. 2012. Drama Tserkvy (Do istorii skasuvannia Hreko-Uniatskoi Tserkvy v Rosiiskii imperii ta vykorinennia yii dukhovno-­ kulturnykh nadban) [Drama of the church (On the History of the Abolition of the Greco-Uniate Church in the Russian Empire and the Eradication of Its Spiritual and Cultural Achievements)]. Rivne: PP DM.

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6 Multicultural Aspects of Name and Naming in Russian Post-Soviet Streetscapes Marina Golomidova

1 Introduction The phenomenon of multiculturalism implies many possibilities of interpretation in modern scientific discourse. According to Jürgen Habermas, “the equal existence of different forms of cultural life” is “the main feature of multiculturalism” (Habermas 2001: 417). In a multiethnic state, multiculturalism means, first of all, the preservation of the cultural identity of the peoples and ethnic groups living in it. In the second half of the twentieth—beginning of the twenty-first century, the obvious reasons for the growth of scientific attention to the phenomenon of multiculturalism were the renewal of the political landscape on the map of different continents, the liberalisation of legislation in a number of countries, the processes of globalisation and the opposite tendencies to preserve ethnic identity, as well as a significant interest in territorial, national and ethnic identity.

M. Golomidova (*) Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, Russia © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_6

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The linguistic development of the problems of multiculturalism has been investigated, first of all, in sociolinguistics in the extension of such issues as • language policy and language planning (de Cillia and Busch 2006; Grenoble and Whaley 1999; Kalinina 2006; Perkova 2013; Pogorelaya 2003; Spolsky and Lambert 2006); • linguistic landscape phenomenon (Aristova 2016; Landry and Bourhis 1997; Moore 2015; Protasova 2015; Puzey 2016; Shohamy 2015); • ethnolinguistic identity and the rights of the population to a comfortable language environment (Felecan 2015; Jordan 2016; Joseph 2006; Piller 2001; Revina 2009; Shaklein 2000); • tasks of intercultural communication and language skills training in business and everyday communication of speakers of different languages (Extra and Yağmur 2011; Templin et al. 2016). The expansion of sociolinguistic, linguo-cultural, linguo-­psychological, linguo-didactic aspects to encompass the development of the main theme of multiculturalism is indicative of the growing attention to humanist values in the present-day dynamic and rapidly renewable world. As Irina Moore notes, On the one hand, the moral organization of each society is reflected in its individual spatial organization, in the language and images that create it. On the other hand, the social identity of people is reflected in their environment, their place of residence is like a map reflecting their position in the society. (Moore 2015: 112)

2 Problem Statement The proper names of urban topographic sites—streets, squares, parks, alleys and so on—provide rich material for observing the participation of national languages in the semiotic organisation of the living space of multiethnic settlements. Urban toponyms are part of the language environment of a person. Being symbols that convey cultural content, they

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contribute to such phenomena as psychological comfort in the perception of the place and self-identification of a person with the location. In this case, tolerant interethnic interaction invariably involves the recognition of the value of ethnic and regional culture, including through its representation in the urban toponymicon and street landscape. Undoubtedly, urban toponymic policy as a function of administration is closely related to the language policy carried out by the authorities and local government bodies. However, in the new information environment, it cannot remain the exclusive prerogative of authorities and requires a balanced approach in the management of the perception of the territory. This circumstance increases the role of non-governmental organisations and local toponymic commissions (or committees) in creating guidelines for the development of a comfortable ‘toponymic environment’ that meets the needs of sociocultural communication. To what extent is the topic of multiculturalism and, consequently, linguo-ethnic tolerance reflected in the toponymic policy of modern Russia? To answer this question, it is first necessary to describe the general social and sociopolitical conditions for this activity. Russia has historically been a multinational country. Its territory is inhabited by more than 190 nations, including large and small ethnic groups. The country has a federal structure. Many of its administrative and territorial entities have been ethnically based and rely on ‘titular nations’. Among the national republics that are part of the Russian Federation there are: Adygea, Altai Republic, Bashkiria, Buryatia, Dagestan, Kalmykia, Karelia, Mordovia, Republic of Yakutia (Sakha), Tatarstan, Udmurtia and others. In total, 22 entities have the status of national republics. According to the legislation, national republics may have their own constitutions that do not contradict the Russian one, as well as establish their own state languages in addition to Russian. Thus, “the peculiarity of the implementation of language policy in the Russian Federation is multilevel. This circumstance is represented by the functioning of the common Federal language—Russian—and state languages of the republics in the territory of the main residence of the titular nations” (Perkova 2013: 11). The regional or municipal authorities are fully responsible for urban toponymic policies in relation to the nomination of topographic sites and

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the rules of their designation in visual forms. In turn, they rely on the recommendations of local toponymic commissions or toponymic committees. Since the format of the chapter does not allow us to consider equally the peculiarities of regional toponymic policy in all the national republics of the Russian Federation, we focus our attention on the description of the situations in three cities, the capitals of three national republics: Kazan (the capital of Tatarstan), Ufa (the capital of Bashkortostan) and Yakutsk (the capital of the Republic of Sakha/Yakutia). The purpose of our analysis is to assess the street landscape and toponymicon of these cities in terms of the use of state languages, as well as the use of ethnic languages for the formation of new toponyms. The analysis of toponymic material will be carried out by taking into account the sociolinguistic approach, which implies the mandatory attention to the social context and social factors that affect the nominative activity.

3 Discussion 3.1 The Case of Kazan Kazan is the largest city and administrative centre of the Republic of Tatarstan. The population of the city is more than 1,200,000 people. The two largest nationalities in Kazan are Russians (48.6%) and Tatars (47.6%); the representatives of other ethnic groups—the Chuvash people, Ukrainians, the Mari people, Bashkirs, Udmurts and others—constitute less than 4%. An important circumstance for the toponymic policy of Kazan is the active participation of the city in the marketing of the territory and the promotion of its uniqueness. In 2009, Kazan registered brand names for its territory, for example, The third capital of Russia. Since that time, the regional authorities have been working to build and promote the image of the territory and position Kazan as an open city that joins different cultures and religions and

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combines a rich historical heritage with the objectives of modern development. It should be noted that image building is combined with the general cultural policy of the regional authorities. The special document “Resolution of the government of Tatarstan on the concept of the image (brand) ‘Historical and cultural heritage of the Republic of Tatarstan’” declares the cultural balance and parity of Tatar and Russian cultures, as well as the idea of tolerance. It is argued that the heritage of Tatarstan is the result of the interpenetration and synthesis of traditions of different cultures, ethnic groups and religions. With regard to the modern brand of Kazan, the Document contains a declaration on a single supranational regional identity based on attachment to a common land. The idea of diversity and cooperation of cultures is also explicated in toponymic policy in relation to topographical sites of the city. First of all, this is manifested in the consistent fixation of street names in the state languages of the Republic, in Tatar and in Russian: Үзәк урамы—улица Центральная ‘Central street’. The rules regarding name order require to provide first the name in Tatar, then in Russian. Thus, the respect for the Tatar language culture is made obvious in the semiotics of visual forms. A similar rule applies to the names of public transport stops and underground stations. It should be added that the names of institutions, companies, theatres, museums, churches, mosques, as well as hotels, clubs, restaurants and other social facilities are mandatorily indicated in Tatar and Russian. While the topographic term is translated, the individual symbol is transliterated. There are special legislative provisions that provide for the mandatory implementation of the rules of language policy in the official names displayed in public space, and the owners of institutions can be penalised for the lack of signs in the two state languages. In addition, the signs of sites that attract the attention of foreign tourists are complemented with inscriptions in English. The signs on mosques also contain the Arabic translation of the names. In general, it can be stated that the work of the Toponymic Commission of Kazan is based on a set of regulatory, methodological and reference materials that are consistent with the language policy law and the rules of its implementation in visual attributes and information materials.

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In Kazan, a significant public interest in the issues of street names and the use of the Tatar language in the linguistic landscape of the city attracts attention. The non-governmental organisation ‘World Forum of Tatar Youth’ monitors and watches the disregard of the law on bilingualism. Forum activists record cases of absence of signs, street names or sites in the Tatar language, grammar mistakes in name spelling, and write letters to the city authorities with a request to correct these shortcomings. The toponymic landscape of Kazan harmoniously correlates with other formats of information visualisation. Numerous visual forms (sculptures, panels, ornaments, graffiti, commercial signs, advertising), transmitting symbols of Tatar culture, fill urban space. They are smoothly connected with the Russian visual signs and form a polyphonic semiotic portrait of the location. To what extent is the cultural heritage of the territory reflected in the lexical foundations of the new urban toponyms? It can be noted that the specificity of the nominal strategy is currently represented in the predominant orientation on the principle of commemoration. The names of the new streets often reflect the memory of and respect for the heroes of the war of 1941–1945, figures of science, culture, art, famous athletes, people who have made a great contribution to the economic welfare of the Republic (due to space constraints, only a few representative examples will be mentioned henceforth): • улица Джамала Валиди ‘Dzhamal Validi street’ (a specialist in Turkic philology, literary critic and historian); • улица Зифы Басыровой ‘Zifa Basyrova street’ (a dramatic actress and singer); • улица Ахмет-Хан Султана ‘Akhmed-Khan Sultan street’ (hero of the Great Patriotic war; in total, about 70 streets in Kazan were named after the participants of the war of 1941–1945). The active application of the commemorative nomination principle slightly shifts the equilibrium in the functioning of semantic models of signification. But, obviously, at the present time it is the commemoration that allows to show most the specifics of the region in terms of achievements and historical heritage.

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Another direction for the representation of cultural background is the reflection of folk festivals, folk characters, poetic images from folk speech in names (street names): • улица Сабантуй ‘Sabantuy street’ (Sabantuy is a Tatar holiday); • улица Зилантовая ‘Zilant street’ (Zilant is a mythical creature, a winged serpent; it is the symbol of Kazan and is depicted on the emblem of the city); • улица Экият ‘Ekiyat street’ (from Tatar ekiyat ‘fairy tale’). If we look at the centre of Kazan, we find that the mix of names that establish the connection with the symbols of Russian and Tatar cultures is presented here very expressively. For example, there are streets named after great Tatar and Russian writers: улица Габдуллы Тукая (‘Gabdulla Tukai street’—Gabdulla Tukai is a famous Tatar publicist and poet) and улица Пушкина (‘Pushkin street’—A.S.  Pushkin is a famous Russian poet, novelist, one of the founders of the Russian literary language). In the centre, there are streets that are semantically and symbolically connected to important places: • Улица Кремлевская ‘Kremlin street’. The street leads to the historical museum complex of the Kazan Kremlin. The Kremlin is the only surviving Tatar fortress. Now the Ottoman-style mosque Kul Sharif and the Orthodox Blagoveshchensk cathedral are neighbouring sites within its territory. • Улица Московская ‘Moscow street’. The name reflects the connection with the capital of the Russian Federation. • Улица Петербургская ‘Petersburg street’. The pedestrian part of the street was built in 2005 and is a gift from the city of Saint Petersburg on the 1000th anniversary of Kazan. According to the architectural design, the street was designed as a stylised image of the Neva river, with bridges over it with patterned forged grills. If we add to this list the names of public transport stops, which are reminiscent of the ancient names of former settlements—for example, Суконная Слобода (‘Cloth settlement’)—but are situated in the space of

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modern urban design, we discover that the verbal and visual landscape develop additional facets by combining antiquity and innovations. Summing up, it can be concluded that the overall strategy of cultural and toponymic policy in Kazan is built quite consistently. This is evidenced by the coordination of the tasks of branding the territory in its key meanings and symbolic forms, and toponymic naming, which supports the ideas of cultural parity and diversity.

3.2 The Case of Ufa Ufa is the capital of the Republic of Bashkortostan. The population is more than 1,120,500 people. The most numerous ethnic groups are Russians—48.9%, Tatars—28.3%, Bashkirs—17.1%, Ukrainians—1.2%, other nationalities—4.5%. The sociocultural and economic environments in Ufa are quite prosperous. According to the Constitution of the Republic, two state languages— Russian and Bashkir—are used in business communication. In accordance with the legislative documents of the local authorities, the names of streets and other topographic sites are written in two languages— Bashkir and Russian. Writing the signs of enterprises, institutions and organisations is also made in Bashkir and Russian. All texts of visual information are arranged as follows: at the left or at the top there is a text in Bashkir, at the right or at the bottom there is a text in Russian. Inscriptions are made in letters of the same size, which emphasises the equality of the official languages: Балашов урамы—улица Балашовская ‘Balashov street’. The street signs are supplemented with inscriptions in English on sites in the city centre and on tourist routes. If necessary, the former, old name is indicated. As in most Russian cities, the main array of urban toponyms was formed in Ufa in Soviet times. An interesting detail of the local toponymicon consists of a large number of names that reflect the ideas of international friendship and respect for other cultures of the peoples of the USSR.  The streets named after other nations include улица Армянская (‘Armenian street’), улица Грузинская (‘Georgian street’),

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улица Туркменская (‘Turkmen street’), улица Украинская (‘Ukrainian street’), улица Эстонская (‘Estonian street’). The new naming practice actualises, first of all, the values of regional relations and regional cultural context. The names of streets reflect the proper names of natural attractions of Bashkiria: • улица Уралтауская ‘Uraltau street’ (Uraltau is an extended mountain range in Bashkiria which serves as the border between Europe and Asia); • улица Туратауская ‘Turatau street’ (Turatau is a mountain in Bashkiria, a monument of nature and unique geological site included in the list of geological heritage of world significance. Tratau is mentioned in Bashkir folk art, its image is included in Bashkir fairy tales and legends; according to legends, the mountain was the place where the ancient Turks worshipped the celestial deity and celebrated religious ceremonies.); • улица Ирендек ‘Irendek street’ (Irendek is a mountain range in the East and South-East of the Republic of Bashkortostan. It is one of the most Eastern mountain ranges in the territory.). The Turkic theme is developed in the names of streets symbolically created in honour of the clans and tribes of Bashkirs and ancient Turks: • улица Булгарская ‘Bulgar street’ (the Bulgars were Turkic tribes that inhabited the steppes of the Northern Black Sea region); • улица Булярская ‘Bulyar street’ (The Bulyar is an old-Bashkir tribe of Bulgarian origin); • улица Кипчакская ‘Kipchak street’ (Kipchaks are an extinct Turkic people); • улица Тунгаурская ‘Tungaur street’ (Tungaur is an ancient Bashkir tribe). Bashkir folklore and images of traditional folk culture also serve as a semantic basis for motivating new names of urban places:

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• улица Батырская ‘Batyr street’ (batyr for the Turkic people means ‘dashing rider, brave hero’); • улица Улан Батора ‘Ural Batyr street’ (Ural Batyr is a Bashkir epic about the hero of the same name, a monument of Bashkir literature, which incorporates the ancient mythology of the Bashkirs). The list of new streets that observe the principle of commemoration and were named after famous or not very well-known Bashkirs is extensive. The reasons for commemoration are traditional: a tribute to the figures of science, education, art, technical creativity and the leaders of the Bashkir autonomy: • улица Тагира Баишева ‘Tagir Baishev street’ (a linguist); • улица Галимьяна Тагана ‘Galimyan Tagan street’ (an ethnographer); • улица Рудольфа Нуриева ‘Rudolf Nuriev street’ (a ballet dancer and choreographer); • улица Кадыра Тимергазина ‘Kadir Timergazin street’ (a petroleum geologist, the first Bashkir doctor and professor of geological and mineralogical sciences). Among the new toponyms there are names whose motivation refers to Russian culture, whereas others reflect the respect for foreign realia. However, they are often in one way or another connected with the theme of Bashkir science, culture, folklore and so on. In the general toponymicon of Ufa the dominating linguistic material comprises names associated with Russian and Soviet history. This is not an accident. The development of the city and its economic and cultural achievements are largely related to the activities of the Russian and Soviet periods. The vast majority of the population consists of ethnic Russians. The names that reflect the ‘Bashkir ethnic code’ appeared relatively recently and are quantitatively inferior to the others. However, in recent years, the theme is vividly manifested in urban toponyms. Perhaps this is the way in which the Bashkir code takes revenge on the level of semantic motivation behind naming, by marking a new space and compensating for the previous years of undeserved oblivion.

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3.3 The Case of Yakutsk Yakutsk is the capital of the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia) in the North of Siberia, the world’s largest city built on permafrost. Because of the harsh climate Yakutsk is considered one of the ‘coldest’ cities on the planet. The population is about 311,760 people. The ethnic majority consists of Yakuts (Sakha)—more than 45.2% and Russians—more than 36.2%. In addition, Buryats, Ukrainians, Belarusians, Kyrgyz, as well as representatives of small indigenous peoples of the North—Evenks, Evens, Yukaghirs, Dolgans and Chukchi—live there. In Yakutia, the Yakut-Russian language contacts were formed in the seventeenth century, and Russian explorers, industrial people, Cossacks and translators from the local population played an important role in it, thanks to which there was a functional bilingualism and multilingualism that could meet the communicative needs of the language community (Argunova 1992: 2). Currently, the Language Policy Council operates in Yakutia under the head of the Republic. The state programme of development of national cultures “Harmonisation of interethnic relations in the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia) for 2012–2019” was adopted. However, the language situation can be deemed ambiguous. Experts speak about the transformation of ethnolinguistic identity and speech behaviour of the speakers of the Yakut language. Based on the results of sociolinguistic research, N. I. Ivanova concludes: The dynamics of national-cultural, socio-demographic factors brought up-­ to-­date a moderate increase in the communicative functions of the Yakut language, a moderate reduction in the use of the Russian language, the replacement of monolingualism (Russian or Yakut) with functional bilingualism. Nevertheless, the speech behaviour of the city residents is characterised by a significant share of the Russian language in the main communicative spheres. The choice is associated with high functionality of the Russian language, the lack of conditions for the development of the Yakut language in regulated communicative areas—education of the younger generation, the sphere of official business communication, in the service sector. The role of the Yakut language in the reproduction of ethnic

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culture in the Yakut youth is weak. Young people represent their native language as “difficult”. (Ivanova 2017: 96–97, orig. Russian)

The language situation is naturally manifested in toponymic policy. There are 436 streets in the city. An interdepartmental commission on the names of territorial units operates under the city council. Primary regulatory documents and regulations for naming have been created. However, despite the legislative consolidation of bilingualism and recognition of the status of state languages for Yakut and Russian, street names are written only in Russian. At the same time, the names of public transport stops are in Yakut and Russian. It is very difficult to explain such inconsistency. The main part of the toponymicon was created in Soviet times and is therefore semiotically connected with the context of the previous era. New streets receive names mainly on the basis of the Russian language. However, signs of transformation of the urban toponymicon can be noticed lately. The growth of attention for the Yakut language as a material for new toponyms derived from toponyms for natural sites is shown below: • улица Чочур-Муран ‘Chochur-Muran street’ (Chochur-Muran is a conical hill on the left bank of the Lena river); • переулок Турмада ‘Tuymaada street’ (Tuymaada is a valley on the left bank of the Lena river; Yakutsk city is located in this valley); • переулок Учур ‘Uchur street’ (Uchur is a river in Yakutia). The urban toponyms produced on the basis of the lexemes of the Yakut language convey the expressive possibilities and imagery of ethnic speech: • переулок Алгыз ‘Yalgys street’ (Yakut yalgys ‘a blessing’); • переулок Уйгу ‘Uygu street’ (Yakut uygu ‘abundance, wealth’); • улица Кустук ‘Kustuk street’ (Yakut kustuk ‘rainbow’). New urban toponyms of a commemorative nature support the memory of the figures of science, culture, art of the peoples of the North, the people’s heroes, whose names are included in folklore and literature:

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• переулок Ивана Арбита ‘Ivan Arbita street’ (a Yakut poet, musician, died in 1942 in Stalin’s camp for people who were the object of his repressive regime); • улица Новгородова ‘Novgorodov street’ (a figure of Yakut culture and education of the second half of the nineteenth—early twentieth century, the creator of the Yakut alphabet and the Yakut primer); • улица Теки Одулок ‘Teki Odulok street’ (a Yukagir writer, the founder of Yukagir literature, ethnographer and public figure of the early twentieth century). The toponymic landscape of Yakutsk is supported by ethnically connoted ergonyms (names of companies in the leisure and entertainment sector, names of tourist and ethnographic complexes, hotels, cafés and restaurants). Visual semiotic forms as monuments, sculptures and small architectural plastic structures also bring features of uniqueness and local colour to the portrait of the city. Thus, the orientation towards the Russian language as more codified and authoritative one for business and everyday communication does not deprive the city of the opportunity to use the symbolic capital of ethnic culture in toponyms and names of other spatial objects. However, the overall language situation remains complex, which is generally characteristic of the languages of small nations.

4 Conclusion The ideas of multiculturalism consist in the recognition of the right to coexistence of different cultures within states and in the social environment of large cities, respectively. Cities become regulators of multicultural relations, as they determine the degree of freedom in expressing the identity of representatives of different cultures. Within cities, this is reflected in symbolism, the use of languages and the support of the cultural capital of the territory. These are big cities that control the toponymic policy aimed at maintaining ethnic diversity and cultural dialogue.

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Consideration of toponymicons in the three republican centres of Russia showed that the toponymic portrait of a large polyethnic city depends on the historical conditions of its formation, on the historical specifics of the joint living of peoples and on national contacts and interaction in the common economic life and cultural development. Modern urban culture in the capitals of the first two republics (Kazan and Ufa) equally demonstrates the revival of ethnic identity and ethnic culture. Both nations have preserved their cultural memory and the values of ethnic history. Modern dynamics and transformation of toponymicons largely depend on how regional and municipal authorities set the reference points in interethnic relations and cultural politics. Moderate and balanced political manoeuvring of Tatarstan is not manifested in the Declaration of the national identity but of the regional one, where the common values for the polyethnic region are emphasised. At the same time, toponymic policy in Kazan and Ufa is carried out in accordance with the laws on state languages and supports their parity in public space. Significant differences relate to the work on the image of the territory in terms of its branding. The municipal authorities of Kazan consistently work on the promotion of the city as a unique multicultural space and do it in accordance with the new technologies of public perception management through various semiotic forms. Urban toponyms are included in these tools. The city council of Ufa does not yet have a clear concept of image building. Current naming practice in relation to urban topographical sites shows an obvious trend towards regionalisation. The historical and cultural heritage of the region is also represented through the toponymic narrative. But the portrait of the city as revealed by its toponymicon is formed spontaneously, rather than in line with a clear strategy that would make it possible to focus on key characteristics that are important for the prospects of further development. The language situation in Yakutsk is complex. The city toponymicon is partly filled with names that reflect symbols, images, and names that are important for the Yakut culture. If the concept of the city image is further built taking into account the regional identity, the urban toponyms

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associated with both Russian culture and the culture of the Northern peoples will be able to serve as a semiotic tool for its translation. Acknowledgement  This study was funded by the Russian Foundation for Basic Research, according to the research project no. 18-012-00586.

References Argunova, T.V. 1992. Yakutsko-russkoe dvuyazychie (sociolingvisticheskij aspekt) [Yakut-Russian Bilingualism (Sociolinguistic Aspect)]. Yakutsk: Yakutskij nauchnyj Centr Rossijskoj Akademii nauk. Aristova, N. 2016. English Translations in the Urban Linguistic Landscape as a Marker of an Emerging Global City: The Case of Kazan, Russia. Procedia— Social and Behavioral Sciences 231: 216–222. de Cillia, R., and B. Busch. 2006. Language Policies: Policies on Language in Europe. In Encyclopedia of Language & Linguistics, ed. K. Brown, 2nd ed., 575–583. Oxford: Elsevier. Extra, G., and K. Yağmur. 2011. Urban Multilingualism in Europe: Mapping Linguistic Diversity in Multicultural Cities. Journal of Pragmatics 43 (5): 1173–1184. Felecan, O. 2015. Borders and Ethnic Identities Reflected in Street Names from Transylvanian Localities. Transylvanian Review 24 (1): 229–244. Grenoble, L.A., and L.J.  Whaley. 1999. Language Policy and the Loss of Tungusic Languages. Language & Communication 19 (4): 373–386. Habermas, J. 2001. Vovlechenie drugogo. Ocherki politicheskoj teorii [Engaging the Other. Essays on Political Theory]. Trans. Yu S.  Medvedeva. Moscow: Nauka. Ivanova, N.I. 2017. Sociolingvisticheskie aspekty funkcionirovaniya yakutskogo yazyka v g. Yakutske: cifry i fakty [Sociolinguistic Aspects of the Yakut Language Functioning in Yakutsk: Facts and Figures]. Moscow: Institut gumanitarnyh issledovanij i problem malochislennyh narodov Severa Sibirskoe otdelenie Rossijskoj Akademii nauk. Jordan, P. 2016. Geographical Names as an Expression of Human Relations to Space. In Names and Their Environment. Proceedings of the 25th International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Glasgow, August 25–29, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, 209–223. Glasgow: University of Glasgow.

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Joseph, J.E. 2006. Identity and Language. In Encyclopedia of Language & Linguistics, ed. K. Brown, 2nd ed., 486–492. Oxford: Elsevier. Kalinina, E.N. 2006. Gosudarstvennaya yazykovaya politika Rossijskoj Federacii: tekhnologii realizacii v usloviyah etnokul'turnogo raznoobraziya [State Language Policy of the Russian Federation: Technologies of Realisation in the Conditions of Ethno-Cultural Diversity]. PhD diss., Nizhny Novgorod State University, Nizhny Novgorod. https://www.dissercat.com/content/ gosudarstvennaya-­yazykovaya-­politika-­rossiiskoi-­federatsii-­tekhnologii-­ realizatsii-­v-­usloviy. Accessed January 2019. Landry, R., and R.Y. Bourhis. 1997. Linguistic Landscape and Ethnolinguistic Vitality: An Empirical Study. Journal of Language and Social Psychology 16 (1): 23–49. Moore, I. 2015. Linguistic Landscape as a Tool for the Analysis of Linguistic Situation and Language Policies in Post-Soviet Space. In Russkij yazyk i literatura v prostranstve mirovoj kul'tury Materialy XIII kongressa MAPRYAL Granada 13–20 sentyabrya 2015, ed. A.  Verbicka et  al., vol. 1, 109–115. Saint Petersburg: MAPRYAL. Perkova, D.V. 2013. Yazykovaya politika kak faktor etnopoliticheskoj stabil'nosti v regionah Rossijskoj Federacii [Language Policy as a Factor of Ethnopolitical Stability in the Regions of the Russian Federation]. PhD diss., Russian Presidential Academy of National Economy and Public Administration, Moscow. http://www.dslib.net/polit-­instituty/jazykovaja-­politika-­kak-­ faktor-­jetnopoliticheskoj-­stabilnosti-­v-­regionah-­rossijskoj.html. Accessed February 2019. Piller, I. 2001. Identity Constructions in the Multilingual Advertising. Language in Society 30 (2): 153–186. Pogorelaya, E.K. 2003. Yazykovaya situaciya i yazykovaya politika [Language Situation and Language Policy]. PhD diss., Moscow State University named after M.V.  Lomonosov, Moscow. http://cheloveknauka.com/yazykovaya-­ situatsiya-­i-­yazykovaya-­politika. Accessed February 2019. Protasova, E. 2015. Variativnost' lingvisticheskogo landshafta Rossii [Variability of the Linguistic Landscape of Russia]. Ekologiya yazyka i kommunikativnaya praktika 21: 91–102. Puzey, G. 2016. Linguistic Landscapes. In The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, ed. C.  Hough with D.  Izdebska, 395–411. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Revina, E.V. 2009. Mul'tikul'turnyj gorod kak prostranstvo nacional'noj identichnosti [Multicultural City as a Space of National Identity]. PhD diss., Stavropol

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State University, Stavropol. http://cheloveknauka.com/multikulturnyy-­ gorod-­kak-­prostranstvo-­natsionalnoy-­identichnosti. Accessed January 2019. Shaklein, V.M. 2000. Etnoyazykovoe videnie mira kak sostavlyayushchaya lingvokul'turnoj situacii [Ethno-Linguistic Vision of the World as a Component of the Linguo-Cultural Situation]. Vestnik Moskovskogo universiteta 9 (1): 73–88. Shohamy, E. 2015. LL research as expanding language and language policy. Linguistic Landscape 1 (1–2): 152–171. Spolsky, B., and R.D. Lambert. 2006. Language Planning and Policy: Models. In Encyclopedia of Language & Linguistics, ed. K. Brown, 2nd ed., 561–575. Oxford: Elsevier. Templin, T., A.  Seidl, B.-A.  Wickström, and G.  Feichtinger. 2016. Optimal Language Policy for the Preservation of a Minority Language. Mathematical Social Sciences 81: 8–21.

7 Multicultural and National Anthroponymicon: Orthodox Name Versus Neo-pagan Pseudonym Sergey Goryaev and Olga Olshvang

1 Preliminary Observations The change of the social system in Russia in 1991 and the rejection of atheistic ideology led to the revival of traditional religions. In Russian conditions, this is primarily Orthodoxy, as well as other Christian denominations, Catholicism and Protestantism, Islam and Buddhism. However, new religious movements of various directions appeared in the public space along with them. Filling their niche among the religiously interested members of the society, they often create their teaching based on the opposition to ‘old religions’. In the context of this book, we shall note

S. Goryaev (*) Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, Russia Missionary Institute, Ekaterinburg, Russia O. Olshvang Ural Federal University, Ekaterinburg, Russia Ural State Medical University, Ekaterinburg, Russia © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_7

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that although at the time the spread of the above-mentioned traditional religions was sure to be a globalisation process, the emergence of new ones is not a specific Russian phenomenon, rather, it is a sign of globalisation and even westernisation. As noted in textbooks on religious studies, non-traditional religions arise “in the West in the 60s–70s of the twentieth century and two decades later in the USSR and, after its collapse, in Russia” (Kanterov 2006: 13, orig. Russian). So-called neoyazychestvo—neo-paganism—takes its place among these new religious trends. Note that paganism as a religion is fundamentally ethnic, it may be no accident that in the Greek text of the Scripture pagans are designated by the word ἔθνος (ethnos). Certainly, the followers and conceptual developers of neo-pagan religious movements pretend to be the successors of pre-Christian religious practice, allegedly forcibly interrupted with the advent of Orthodoxy in Russia (the traditional date of the Christianisation of Russia is 988). But since little information about the pre-Christian paganism of the Slavs remained, neo-paganism is an attempt at the reconstruction, but not continuation of tradition. Neo-paganism, as a social and religious phenomenon, has long been the subject of scientific discussion; we point out, in particular, Shnirelman (2001) and even Beskov (2015) in terms of separate sections of onomastics. However, neo-pagan anthroponymy has not yet caught the great interest of onomatologists. Without claiming the completeness of the material, in this chapter we will consider only one more or less particular issue: the manifestation of national and international aspects in the texts of modern neo-pagan movements. We have chosen to consider the most studied Slavic (in modern Russia— Russian) non-pagan direction: rodnoveriye, literally ‘native faith’ (see, e.g., Shnirelman 2012). We consider how the followers of rodnoveriye try to go beyond the traditional framework of the Russian anthroponymicon in their speech practice. However, to assess their innovative attempts in this area, we first focus our attention to the status of Russian anthroponymy in general.

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2 Anthroponymic Canon of the Russian Society In Russia the official name is known to consist of three parts: a given name, a patronym and a family name. The family name is usually preceded by the given name and the patronym, and only in formal contexts (on payrolls, list of students etc.) the family name is written before the given name and the patronym. Polite forms of address contain one’s given name and patronym, without one’s family name. The use of the given name without the patronym is allowed only among friends (between peers) and family members (close relatives of all generations). At the same time, the system of anthroponyms is not officially closed; there are no legislative prohibitions or requirements for choosing an anthroponym. However, there is a set of traditional names, considered by the society as ‘normal Russian names’, which includes some traditional foreign names that, in principle, are seen as ‘acceptable for a Russian bearer’. The core of this set is quite narrow, a couple of dozen items, a set of frequency names, slightly changing over time,1 although in the last two decades it tends to expand. From the viewpoint of semantics of proper names, as proposed by M. Golomidova (1988), it can be argued that these ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’ given names have a common seme ‘ethnically Russian bearer’. They constitute the Russian anthroponymic canon. The basis of this canon consists of the so-called calendar names. Calendar names—that is, the names of saints distributed throughout the calendar—appeared in Russia as a result of Christianisation. These international names, mainly of Jewish, Greek and Roman origin, adopted a Russified form. Over time, the list of calendar names expanded in various ways, and Eastern Slavs received Church names that are absent in other Slavic and Greek Orthodox churches.2 At the same time, the phenomenon of dual names appears in Russia: calendar names were the source for choosing baptismal names, but in addition to baptismal name,  This state in Russian onomastics and, more broadly, in Russian language culture is obvious, so we limit ourselves to a brief statement without detailed references. 2  In this paragraph we briefly rephrase Alabugina (1989: 22–29). 1

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a person in medieval Russian had another name, often of pre-Christian, that is, pagan origin, and that name was widely used in everyday life.3 Since the late fourteenth century “it was prohibited to have Old-Russian non-calendar names, which had developed in the era preceding the introduction of Christianity (after the seventeenth century, they gradually become nicknames” (Alabugina 1989: 23, orig. Russian). It would be logical to assume that in the onomastic practice of neo-­ pagans we will see the rejection of traditional Russian names, as they are associated with Christianity and an attempt to return to pre-Christian names. Let us see how this theory lines up with reality.

3 Observations on Neo-pagan Names 3.1 Proportional Correlation Between ‘Ordinary’ and Neo-pagan Names As the source of the investigated material, we took into consideration the section ‘News’ on a neo-pagan website4 for a period of about five years, extracting names from informative texts. In terms of genre and style, they meet the standards of the journalistic style of contemporary Russian language, sometimes with elements of the official style, when documents formally adopted by the management of the organisation are cited. There are virtually no attempts to use/create special language means that would distinguish the neo-pagan text from the text in standard Russian, except for one. In certain documents to convey the meaning of the conjunction and, instead of the standard Russian ‘и’ [i] the authors try to use the conjunction ‘да’ [da] which, apart from some subtle differences in meaning, is more typical for spoken and artistic speech, but not for the language of official communication. We hypothesise that the neo-pagan circles would like to have their own form of language, stylistically different from the standard one. Moreover, the main object of their religious criticism—one can say that Orthodoxy is the target—is the Church Slavonic language  The modern researcher F. Uspenskij (2017) states that the dual name could also be Christian.  https://www.rodnovery.ru/novosti?layout=blog (accessed March 15, 2019).

3 4

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used in church services and the stylistically particular Russian language of the so-called Synodical translation of the Scripture, the translation which is widely employed not only by Orthodoxy but also by other Christian denominations as well as a wide range of people, as its quotes have become the basis of biblical expressions in the Russian language. Nevertheless, the stability of the rules of the Russian language leads to the fact that any deviation from it5 is automatically perceived as an error, and the creation of a new language requires either brilliant authors on a national scale or creative efforts of the broad circles of the society. Neo-pagan circles do not possess any of those.6 Thus, a big part of ‘neo-paganism’ in terms of expression is concentrated in their names. The following fragment is indicative: On July 23, 2011, at the celebration of Perun Day7 in Kaluga, Vadim Stanislavovich Kazakov announced his voluntary resignation and refused to be re-elected for the next two-year term. Before summarising the results of voting in the Veche, the duties of the head of SSO SRV8 have been handed over to the Deputy head of SSO SRV Beloyar. (http://www.rodnovery.ru/ novosti/68-­vadim-­stanislavovich-­kazakov-­ushjol-­v-­otstavku, accessed April 1, 2019, orig. Russian, emphasis ours)

In terms of genre, it is an informative message; in terms of the nature of the language, the message conveys official information. The retiring head of the organisation is named using a full official tripartite anthroponymic Russian formula: a given name, a patronym and a family name. However, the new acting head of the organisation, who later became the head, is named in this text only by means of the anthroponym Белояр [Beloyar], not included in the Russian anthroponymic canon and,  Except an author’s language in fiction books, of course.  However, we note a curious direction in neo-paganism, largely based on a particular language: the well-known writer Pavel Bazhov (1878–1950) wrote his works in a language close to the language of folk poetics. Most of his works, in terms of genre, consists of the so-called skaz—imitation of the form of oral folklore and, more broadly, spoken language in general. These works became the basis of the neo-pagan Bazhov movement, “based on the skaz by P.  P. Bazhov, read as religious texts” (Pyotr Mangilev 2002). 7  The Thunderer of the Slavic Pantheon. 8  The abbreviation of the Russian name of the organisation ‘Union of Slavic communities of Slavonic native faith’. 5 6

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apparently, perceived by its bearer as a pagan one. Thus, in official documents the new head appears only under the neo-pagan name, and we can see here an example of the increase in the ‘neo-pagan’ component in the development of the community. Another interesting text is about a joint event of three neo-pagan communities, which lists their “priest-wisemen composition”.9 In total, 61 anthroponyms are mentioned, 4 of them have a full tripartite formula, 3 others are just a given name and a family name, without a patronym (and in one case there is reason to believe that this is a pseudonym), 7 are only given names included in the traditional Russian onomastic canon, 2 of which are perceived as ‘non-Russian’ and borrowed from other Slavic languages. Thus, 23% of anthroponyms are, with some degree of conditionality, names of the actual modern onomasticon, and 77% are neo-pagan names. We do not consider the legal status of these neo-pagan names, but we assume that they are not reflected in the official documents of their bearers. Official Russian documents record the family name and the given name, as well as the patronym with the reservation ‘if any’. The latter is possible, for example, for ethnic Russians—citizens of other countries, such as the former Soviet republics of Central Asia, where the patronym is not specified in official documents. Legally, neo-pagan names are assumed to be pseudonyms, and their bearers have not recorded them on official identity cards, driving licences and so on.10 But since they appear in the official texts of neo-pagan websites, we will henceforth refer to them as ‘names’ or ‘pagan anthroponyms’ and consider them in more detail in the next section. The very rejection of the tripartite formula of Russian anthroponyms, and the transition to self-nomination with one given name is interesting from a religious perspective. Perhaps intuitively, the top leaders of the  https://www.rodnovery.ru/novosti/349-vstrecha-v-kolomenskom (accessed April 1, 2019), but the list it is also provided on some other neo-pagan websites. 10  For comparison: one of the sections on the website, talking about the publication of a book on neo-paganism, provides data with the following format: “Responsible editors—Baykova Eugenia (Osoka), Shestopalova Julia (Milada)” (https://www.rodnovery.ru/novosti/231-novaya-kniga-­ slavyanskie-predaniya-skazki-i-bylichki, accessed April 1, 2019). The official names are given as primary ones, and the pagan names are given in parentheses. Thus, four of the pagan anthroponyms of our material are sure to be pseudonyms. 9

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neo-pagan communities follow the practice of the Orthodox and other Christian churches, where priests and especially bishops, the highest religious leaders, are called only by their given names, without the use of a patronym and family name.11 In what follows, given names that are not accompanied by a family name are considered.

3.2 Composition of Pagan Anthroponyms and Observations on Their Etymology Our research in the news section on the website resulted in 68 ‘pagan anthroponyms’. This number also includes some ‘canonical names’, used without a family name and a patronym, Within the framework of this website, such anthroponyms are ‘pagan’. We considered in detail their composition and possible etymology. First of all, we note that a little bit more than half of them, 36, are two-­ component names and are formed by a combination of two Slavic roots, similar to the above-mentioned example, Beloyar. This technique allows to create a name with a more or less clear inner form. The popularity of this technique is supposed to be due to the fact that pagan names are in contrast to most traditional Russian names which do not have clear pre-­ onomastic meanings in the Russian language. The most popular component in dual names is -slav-, which can be seen in ten names in our list: Yaroslav, Miroslav, Vedoslav, Veleslav, Dobroslav, Drevleslav, Zoreslav, Kreslav, Ratoslav, Slaven. The first name in the list is a common Russian given name, the second one is less common in Russian, but more or less popular with all Slavic peoples. Others were probably already formed in neo-pagan circles. One of the possible etymologies of the component slav is ‘glory’, which provides positive connotations and possibilities for the formation of neologisms (in this list, e.g., Vedoslav ‘knowing glory’, Veleslav ‘great glory’, Dobroslav ‘good

 Cf: “when Peter I, having abolished the Patriarchate (1721), began to call himself simply Peter, and not Peter Alekseevich—without a patronymic—it was taken as evidence that the tsar declared himself an ecclesiastic” (Uspenskij and Uspenskij 2017: 147; see also Uspenskij 1996: 77).

11

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glory’12 etc.). In the calendar names of the Slavic Orthodox churches there are a number of anthroponyms with the second component -slav; this is a fairly common model. Therefore, in the set of neologisms only one, Slaven, consists of a root and a suffix, and the other pagan names adopt the word-formation principle for canonical names. Note also that the Old Russian phonetic version of this root is -solov-, and the version -slavappeared in Russia along with Church Slavonic language. We also analysed several names that contain the svet ‘light’ and that are thematically close to them in meaning zar, zor ‘illuminate’: Velizar, Volhozar, Ozar, Peresvet, Rodosvet, Svetozar, Temnozor’. The popularity of the idea of light leads to the fact that in our list four people have chosen the same name, Svetozar ‘illuminating light’. One person has chosen for himself an antonymic name, Temnozor’ ‘dark dawn’. Nevertheless, the list also presents the original Old Russian name Peresvet, recorded, in particular, even in the twentieth century.13 In Russian history, for example, there is a monk Alexander Peresvet, held in reverence by the Orthodox Church as a Saint. The names with the component мир (in popular etymology ‘world’, in scientific etymology ‘famous’) are slightly less common: Vladimir, Yaromir, Miroslav, Mirolub, Ostromir, Velemir, Mezhemir, Ognemir. In this group of names, it is interesting that only the last two can be attributed to neo-pagan neologisms. The first one, Vladimir, of Church Slavonic origin, is one of the frequent Russian anthroponyms, for example, it is the name of the Prince who Christianised Russia, of Lenin, the Founder of the Soviet State, and of the current President Putin. Yaromir, Miroslav and Mirolub are known in Russian via the onomasticons of other Slavic peoples.14 Ostromir is the name of the posadnik of Veliky Novgorod which became known due to the fact that by his order a handwritten Gospel was created which is the oldest dated Old-Russian book (1057). Velemir (and Velimir, in a slightly different graphic form) is known as the pseudonym of a major Russian futurist poet of the early  Here and further on the translations of names are given to show the main semantic orientation, although other interpretations similar in subject matter are possible. 13  Prefixes pere-, meaning ‘very’, and svet ‘light’ (Petrovskij 1980: 178). 14  Miroslav and Mirolub, as rare names, are noted in Petrovskij (1980: 159). 12

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twentieth century. Thus, in this group of names it is worth pointing out that only the last two ones can be attributed to neo-pagan neologisms: Mezhemir ‘between worlds’ and Ognemir ‘fire world’. Interestingly, the famous researcher V. Toporov (2006) considers this onomastic component to be a sign of Slavic-Iranian ties and a manifestation not of pagan, but of mithraistic religious world view. Three names with the final segment -yar shall be noted in the variety of other bipartite names; these are the above-mentioned names Beloyar, Dobroyar and Ogneyar. If we consider these names as bipartite, we identify the final component -yar- ‘furious’ or ‘indomitable’, and the first component ‘white’, ‘good’ and ‘fire’, respectively. Some neo-pagan authors speak about one of the triads of the Slavic pagan Pantheon composed of the gods Yar—Kudeyar—Beloyar.15 In real Russian-language history there is the name of a folkloric brigand character, Kudeyar, whose etymology is possibly Turkic.16 In what follows, we will focus our attention on one-component neo-­ pagan names. First of all, it shall be noted that in several cases it is possible to say with some degree of conditionality that modern neo-pagans ‘guessed’ the old-Russian non-calendar name.17 In particular, six pagan names in our corpus coincide with the data in Tupikov (2004). However, the exact match occurs only in two cases—the name Buday (obscure Slavic etymology, it is assumed to be a possible derivative of verbs with the meaning of ‘butt’ or ‘wake’, noted in Tupikov (2004: 67), and the name Voron ‘raven’ (Tupikov 2004: 94). In other cases, the divergent aspects are interesting. In our material, the names Osoka ‘Sedge’ and Rakita ‘Salley’ refer to women, because in the modern Russian language the final -a is typical of the feminine grammatical gender, whereas in Tupikov (2004: 292 and 333, respectively), these anthroponyms are marked as masculine. The typical nature of such a transition shall be pointed out by referring to another name from our corpus. In  See, for example, the advertisement about the courses of the Institute of Theology of the Academy of Russian North Traditions of the Slavic World (http://www.traditciya.ru/content/1880/, accessed April 1, 2019). This doctrine cannot be confirmed by means of historical data. 16  Through Persian, from χudāi ‘God’ and yār ‘friend, beloved’ (Vasmer 1996: 400). 17  Strictly speaking, a non-calendar name can be both pre-Christian and a name which was already established in the Christian era, for example from nicknames. 15

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modern-day consciousness Lada (derived from the root lad ‘harmony’) is perceived as a feminine name of Slavic origin,18 whereas in the old Russian language this word means ‘spouse’ (Sreznevskij 1989: 4). There are two more names for which bearers change the final sound to indicate gender: non-pagan Клёна [klyona] is a feminised version of klyon ‘maple’ (it is recorded as a given name in older vocalisation [klen] in Tupikov 2004: 181) and neo-pagan Колод [kolod], a masculine form obtained from koloda ‘chunk’ (it is mentioned  as a personal name in Tupikov 2004: 189), with the loss of the final -a. The same interpretation of the final sound of names may also be provided for nonce neo-pagan names. We consider as such some formations having a Slavic root and/or affix, but which are not recorded as Russian proper names in scientific onomastic dictionaries (we do not take into account popular websites). The masculine nonce names Borich, Ramen, Ruyan, Svarun, Divlyan and Voydan have zero inflection. Feminine names have the final -a: Dara, Dervana, Milada, Milena, Rodyana.19 Despite the Slavic phonetic and word-formative appearance of these names, they have no direct connection with pre-Christian paganism. Moreover, it should be noted that Milada, contrary to folk etymology milaya + lada (lada see above, the root -mil- means ‘darling’), can be interpreted as a feminine version of the name Milad of Persian origin,20 and the name Милёна [Milyona] is recorded as a rare non-calendar name of Slavic origin (Petrovskij 1980: 157), Милена [Milena]. The phonetic transition from [e] to [yo] takes place on Russian territory only in the seventeenth century, so it is not an ancient Slavic pre-Christian change, but a late Russian colloquial vocalisation. Further on, it should be pointed out that, as in the case of two-­ component anthroponyms, some non-pagan names coincide completely with the dandies of the modern Russian onomasticon: Vadim, Igor, Oleg, Olga, Helga. One of the possible etymologies of the name Vadim is a contracted form of Vladimir, as it has already been noted above. Igor, Oleg  See, for example, the etymological indication “in Old-Russian Lada which means ‘favourite’, ‘darling’. Lada is a pagan goddess of marriage and love” (Petrovskij 1980: 138, orig. Russian). 19  It should be noted that, in terms of gender, feminine names make up only about 18% of our corpus. 20  Milad is recorded especially in Gafurov (1987: 166). 18

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and Olga are known as the names of several ancient Russian princes (Olga is a feminine name), including the oldest princes of the Russian Rurik dynasty. Helga is a Scandinavian version of Olga and etymologically corresponds to this name (the Scandinavian, or rather Norman, origin of the Rurik dynasty is still the subject of scientific discussion). Thus, the choice of such a neo-pagan name can be explained by means of ‘pre-Christian connotations’, despite the fact that Princess Olga adopted Christianity and is revered as an equal-to-the-apostles Saint. However, it is possible that, except for Helga, the other neo-pagan names are the real official given names of their bearers, ‘cleared’ of the patronym and the family name. The group of names formed through the transonymisation of common nouns was found to be surprisingly small, although the path appellative— nickname—name is natural for pre-Christian Slavic cultures. In addition to the above-mentioned names Voron, Klena, Kolod, Osoka and Rakita, our list also includes Chekan, Vened and Ёжъ [yozh]. Only Chekan could be interpreted as a potential old-Russian historically established pre-­ Christian name (derived from the name of the type of a battle axe). Vened or Venet is an ancient ethnonym denoting the tribes that may have been the ancestors of the Slavs. In the context of the Russian language it is a literary appellative, a scientific term that shows the name giver’s awareness of ancient history. The name Ёжъ has a graphical form, with the regulatory writing еж ‘hedgehog’, which seems to its bearer as ancient and old-fashioned. But it must be noted that the very use of the letter ё is a relatively recent innovation in the Russian language (reflecting the above transition from [e] to [yo]), and the final aphthong ъ is a part of the Christian Cyrillic alphabet. Thus, in this case the name giver tried to distance himself/herself as much as possible from the modern Russian tradition, but this did not bring him/her closer to the pre-Christian pagan state of the onomasticon. In three instances, the use of a precedent name of literary origin is obvious or highly likely. Mizgir and Svyatogor are old-Russian non-­ calendar names. Among other things, the first one is known as the name of the character of the play by A. N. Ostrovsky Snow Maiden (1873) and the opera by N. A. Rimsky-Korsakov of the same name (1882). The play is based on a folk source, and it really creates a pre-Christian folk-tale world. The two-component name Svyatogor (svyat ‘saint’  +  gora

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‘mountain’) refers to the most ancient hero of the Russian folk heroic epic. The name Radogast is assumed to be a slightly modified form of the name Radagast the Brown, bore by a character created by Tolkien; thus, despite the general orientation towards Slavic paganism, Western connotations are permitted among Rodnovers. In two further cases this is also obvious. Phonetically, Iggeld looks like a non-Slavic name (it is known to be a pseudonym of Dmitry Gavrilov, and the pseudonym seems to have appeared before the organisational formalisation of Rodnoverie21). The same remark is true for the pagan name Llir, which is assumed to have been chosen in honour of the pagan God of the Celts.

4 Conclusion In our opinion, the examples analysed above show that the main reason for choosing a pagan name is the desire to oppose it to the traditional Russian onomasticon, consisting mainly of calendar, that is, Christian, names.22 Neo-paganism is deliberately ethnic, national, and the traditional Russian onomasticon is international, so the adoption of a neo-­ pagan name, as its bearer thinks, is an act of affirming national culture to spite multiculturalism. From a scientific point of view, the neo-pagan community cannot go back centuries to the authentic pre-Christian state of the onomasticon. The names with the formants -slav and -mir are particularly eloquent examples. These name-building models appear in other Slavic States among princely names. In this regard, the names of Prince Vladimir, the Baptist of Russia, and his father Svyatoslav are

 As the bearer of this pseudonym writes in his blog, “the last Iggel’d, but rather Iggeld that was known before me, is a chronicler Rus from the Treaty of Prince Igor with the Romans. And the first one that became known after me is the character of the work by Yuri Alexandrovich Nikitin, who used my name for his character” (https://yggeld.livejournal.com/218637.html, accessed April 14, 2019, orig. Russian). 22  Note that the radical movements of neo-paganism suggest a special rite of debaptism and renunciation of the baptismal name. Nevertheless, in this chapter we are only talking about the onomastic aspects without considering the theological ones. 21

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representative.23 Although according to Maria Rut24 the formant -mir showed less nobility than the formant -slav, referring to the highest position in the feudal hierarchy (Prince Vladimir was the son of Prince Svyatoslav from a concubine slave), both name-building models referred to the names of the Slavic nobility and could not be reflected in the names of ordinary people of the pagan population of pre-Christian Russia. On the contrary, such names come into mass use through the Church calendar after the appearance of a number of Christian saints who were bearers of such names. Thus, in the best case, the neo-pagan re-enactors are limited to the imitation of non-calendar names in medieval Russia, that is, in a completely Christian State. In general, the very same idea that there is a set of names from which it is necessary to choose a name for a particular person, and that the names included in this set are considerably different from the appellative vocabulary and have a categorical and lexical seme ‘the name of a person’ in the structure of the meaning, develops in the Russian language of Christianised culture. If we had had to give advice to the neo-pagans on the choice of a name, we would have suggested them to turn to the traditions of the South Slavic languages, in which the choice of a given name is not rigidly associated with a set of calendar Church names and in which there is a large number of anthroponyms with appellative bases and a transparent internal form.25 The Russian anthroponymicon and, more broadly, the approach to the choice of a given name formed in Russian linguoculture, which is international and Christian in its origin, resists nationalisation.

23  The importance of choosing the Slavic name Svyatoslav for a representative of the Scandinavian family is noted in Litvina and Uspenskij (2006: 41). 24  As mentioned in a private conversation. The authors thank Prof Maria Rut for this and other important valuable comments for this chapter. 25  However, given that the South Slavic peoples adopted Christianity more than a century earlier than the East Slavic peoples, such names have long been inscribed in the Christian cultural context.

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References Alabugina, Yu.V. 1989. Kalendarnye imena v toponimii Russkogo Severa [Calendar Names in the Toponymy of the Russian North]. PhD diss., Ural State University, Sverdlovsk. Beskov, А.А. 2015. Russkoe neoyazychestvo v svete dannyh ergonimiki: metody i perspektivy izucheniya [Russian Neo-Paganism in the Light of Ergonomics Data: Methods and Prospects of Study]. Religiovedcheskie issledovaniya 1 (11): 9–22. Gafurov, A. 1987. Imya i istoriya. Ob imenah arabov, persov, tadzhikov i tyurkov [Name and History. On the Names of Arabs, Persians, Tajiks and Turks]. Moscow: Glavnaya redakciya vostochnoj literatury izdatel’stva “Nauka”. Golomidova, M.V. 1988. Iskusstvennaya nominaciya v russkoj onomastike [Artificial Name-Giving in Russian Onomastics]. Ekaterinburg: Ural’skij gosudarstvennyj pedagogicheskij universitet. Kanterov, I.Ya. 2006. Novye religioznye dvizheniya (vvedenie v osnovnye koncepcii i terminy): ucheb. posobie [New Religious Movements (Introduction to Basic Conceptions and Terms): Textbook in Two Parts], Part I.  Vladimir: Izdatel’stvovo Vladimirskogo gosudarstvennogo unisersiteta. Litvina A.F., and F.B. Uspenskij. 2006. Vybor imeni u russkih knyazej v X–XVI vv.: Dinasticheskaya istoriya skvoz’ prizmu antroponimiki [Choosing a Name for Russian Princes in the Tenth–Sixteenth Centuries: A Dynastic History Through the Prism of Anthroponymy]. Moscow: Indrik. Mangilev, P. Archpriest. 2002. Bazhovskoe dvizhenie [Bazhov Movement]. In Pravoslavnaya Enciklopediya, vol. IV.  Moscow: Cerkovno-nauchnyj centr “Pravoslavnaya Enciklopediya”. Online publication: http://www.pravenc.ru/ text/77354.html. Accessed 1 April 2019. Petrovskij, N.A. 1980. Slovar’ russkih lichnyh imen [Dictionary of Russian Personal Names]. 2nd ed. Moscow: Russkij yazyk. Shnirelman, V.A. 2001. Neoyazychestvo na prostorah Evrazii [Neo-Paganism in the Great Spaces of Eurasia]. Moscow: Biblejsko-Bogoslovskij Institut. Shnirelman, V.A. 2012. Russkoe rodnoverie. Neoyazychestvo i nacionalizm v sovremennoj Rossii [Russian Rodnoveriye. New Paganism and Nationalism in Modern Russia]. Moscow: Izd-vo Biblejskogo bogoslovskogo instituta. Sreznevskij, I.I. 1989. Slovar’ drevnerusskogo yazyka [Dictionary of Old Russian Language], vol. 2. Moscow: Kniga. Toporov, V.N. 2006. Praslavyanskaya kul’tura v zerkale sobstvennyh imen (element *mir-) [Proto-Slavic culture as mirrored by proper names (element

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*mir-)]. In Issledovaniya po etimologii i semantike, vol. 2, book 2, 11–book 2,141. Moscow: Yazyki slavyanskoj kul’tury. Tupikov, N.M. 2004 [1903]. Slovar’ drevnerusskih lichnyh sobstvennyh imen [Dictionary of Old Russian Given Names]. Moscow: Russkij put’. Uspenskij, B.A. 1996. Historia sub specie semioticae. In Izbrannye trudy, vol. I, 71–82. Moscow: Yazyki slavyanskoj kul’tury. Uspenskij, F.B. 2017. Hristianskaya dvuimennost’ na Rusi v 14–16 vekah. Dogadki i zakonomernosti [Christian Dual Names in Russia in the Fourteenth–Sixteenth Centuries. Guesses and Regularities]. In Vspomogatel’nye istoricheskie discipliny v sovremennom nauchnom znanii. Materialy 29 mezhdunarodnoj nauchnoj konferencii, Moskva, 13–15 aprelya 2017, ed. N.M. Brusilovskij et al., 41–44. Moscow: Institut vseobs ̂ej istorii RAN. Uspenskij, B.A., and F.B. Uspenskij. 2017. Inocheskie imena na Rusi [Monastic Names in Russia]. Moscow: Institut slavyanovedeniya RAN, SPb.: Nestor-Istoriya. Vasmer, M. 1996. Etimologicheskij slovar’ russkogo yazyka [Etymological Dictionary of the Russian Language], 4 vols., vol. 2. Saint Petersburg: Tera – Azbuka.

8 Multicultural Influences on Russian Nicknaming Practices Anna Tsepkova

1 Introduction The present chapter analyses multicultural influences on contemporary Russian nicknames from the synchronic perspective. Multicultural aspects of nicknaming practices are determined by the categorial properties of nicknames as an unconventional class of anthroponyms, characterised as open, flexible, unstable, dynamic, spontaneous, informal. They often appear as nonce words aimed at the deliberate change of a standard non-expressive proper noun (Golomidova 1998: 37). Nicknames represent a case of natural nomination determined by current needs of society (Golomidova 1998: 46–47). They may appear and disappear easily, falling out of stock as soon as the objects of contemporary culture become out-of-date. Thus, they are sensitive to changes of cultural dominants, including popular culture, cultural values and

A. Tsepkova (*) Novosibirsk State Pedagogical University, Novosibirsk, Russia © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_8

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attitudes, patterns of behaviour. Moreover, they indicate the aspects of foreign cultures which are relevant or valued by a certain social group active in producing nicknames (in our case—school, college and university students of Novosibirsk region and regions adjacent to it). Another factor which contributes to multicultural influences on nicknaming stock is connected with the local ethnic diversity of the region under analysis. Analysing multicultural influences on unconventional anthroponyms, researchers consider the origin of lexemes used in the formation of unconventional anthroponyms (Gasimova 2006: 16–17; Ashirova 2016: 20; Avchieva 2016: 20–21), the origin of loans serving as nicknames (Felecan 2014: 67–68), the morphological structure of loanword nicknames (Kabaso 2016: 88–90), cases of the so-called macaronic speech: nonce words, false nonce words, nicknames imitating non-native morphological patterns (Bobrova 2016: 44). Multicultural influences are a special issue in dissertations aimed at anthroponymic nominations on social networks (Sokov 2014, Avchieva 2016). Multicultural influences can be reflected in unconventional nomination on the levels of form (phonetic, graphic, morphological patterns), semantics (characterising potential) and pragmatics (communicative functions). In this chapter I will focus on formal and semantic levels. Thus, among multicultural influences on native nicknaming practices I will consider: (1) the influence of a non-native language, which determines phonetic, graphic, morphological, lexical peculiarities of coined nicknames. Such nicknames show their non-native character in their form as they imitate non-native patterns of word-formation; (2) the influence of a non-native culture. In this case a lexeme (a proper noun or an appellative), chosen as a nickname, alludes to culturally specific phenomena of a corresponding non-native culture (artefacts, people, characters of imaginary worlds, as well as stereotypes, opinions, attitudes, patterns of behaviour).

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2 Research Methodology and Principles of Selecting the Material The process of selecting nicknames for the present research underwent the following stages: ( 1) selecting borrowed lexemes from native lexemes; (2) differentiated analysis of borrowed proper nouns and borrowed appellatives: (a) Selecting culturally marked proper nouns alluding to a non-native culture. Here belong nicknames based on proper names of famous people, geographical objects, characters and places from imaginary worlds. Moreover, non-native cultural connotation is expressed in nicknames imitating non-native anthroponymic patterns. However, in this research I do not consider nicknames formed from Russian personal names of Greek, Hebrew, Latin origin as cases of borrowed nicknames (e.g. Abram < Abramov < Abraham, Iordashka < Iordanov < Jordan etc.). (b) Selecting culturally marked appellatives. In this research I do not consider assimilated borrowings (nicknames like Абажур [Аbatjour], Батон [Bâton], Одеколон [Eau de Cologne] etc.) and international vocabulary (Вирус [Virus], Бизон [Bison], Анчоус [Anchovy], Степлер [Stapler], Профессор [Professor], Вундеркинд [Wunderkind] etc.) as cases of multicultural influence on the contemporary Russian nicknaming system due to the fact that the nominator resorts to the word stock of the Russian language when choosing such nominations. By culturally marked appellatives I understand: loan words which denote artefacts representing certain spheres of a culture of origin; nonce words, unassimilated borrowings, whose non-nativeness is expressed in their form (graphics, phonetics, morphology); ethnonyms used as direct or metaphorical nominations.

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Table 8.1   Sample distribution by institution Institution

Number of respondents

Novosibirsk schools Novosibirsk colleges of vocational training Novosibirsk institutions of higher education Total number of respondents

321 189 131 641

Table 8.2  Nickname distribution by the type of motivation (whole sample—1, interculturally motivated nicknames—2) Type of motivation

1

2

External (characteristic) Internal (based on a person’s name) Mixed Pragmatic (nicknames of endearment) Pragmatic (pejorative nicknames) Inherited nicknames Transonymisation from Internet discourse Motivation not specified Total number of nicknames

784 684 31 58 30 4 12 222 1825

150 57 3 1 0 0 3 31 245

The selection was made from the data collected through questionnaires distributed among school, college and university students based in Novosibirsk over the period covering 2014–2019. Sample distribution by educational institutions is given in Table 8.1. Table 8.2 shows the results of motivational, lexico-semantic and quantitative analyses applied to the whole sample of data (1) and interculturally motivated nicknames in particular (2). When distributing nicknames into motivational types we follow the principles suggested by Morgan et al. (1979). According to these principles the scholars distinguish nicknames motivated by external factors (a person’s qualities), internal factors (a person’s name) and a combination of internal and external factors. In addition to these basic types of motivation, I have pointed out some minor types of motivation, which do not match the categories mentioned above: purely pragmatic nicknames (nicknames of endearment vs pejorative nicknames), nicknames inherited from a previous bearer (family member, friend), cases of transonymisation from social networks.

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3 Multilingual Influences on Russian Nicknames To analyse cross-linguistic influences within the nicknaming system we take into consideration the principles of classification and approaches to loan words and similar linguistic phenomena, discussed in Arnold (2012: 221–255), Hoffer (2002, 2005) and Zakhvatayeva (2013). Influences of a non-native language system on the choice of unconventional nominations are found on the level of form in both internally (linguistically) and externally motivated nicknames. In this case internally motivated nicknames are based on phonetic, graphic, morphological and lexical analogies or associations of a person’s name with appellatives or proper nouns from a foreign language. Influences of a non-native language on externally motivated nicknames are reflected in the choice of unassimilated loans.

3.1 Multilingual Influences on the Lexical Level Multilingual influences on the lexical level (Table 8.3) are connected with using unassimilated loans to create nicknames of the following types: (1) characteristic nicknames, representing:

(a) unassimilated loans from English, French, German, Turkic, which are spelled in Cyrillic: Нуб [Noob]1 (from English noob (OALD); direct characterisation of a person who wants to show off that he is ignorant or not good at certain things), Слоупок [Slowpoke] (from American English slowpoke (OALD); a slow person), Крейзи [Crazy] (from English; direct characterisation of a person’s temper), Киндер [Kinder] (from German; the nickname of a little girl), Ферштейн [Verstehen] (from German verstehen; the person often uses this word); Маман [Maman] (from French; a mother’s pet name), Баш [Bash] (from Turkic “head”; a big head);

 Hereafter examples of nicknames are given in their original form and spelling as graphics is considered in this chapter an important exponent of cultural connotation. Moreover, it must be taken into account that not all nicknames in our sample of data are given in this chapter, mainly due to the reasons of confidentiality or political correctness. 1

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Table 8.3  Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (lexical level) Language American Total English German French English Armenian Turkic Dagestani Type of nickname Characteristic Non-­charac teristic Total number of nicknames





19 2

8

21

8

4

4

3 1

2

4

2

1

1

1

1

1 1

(b) unassimilated loans in combination with a Russian lexeme: Маленькая Мисс [Little Miss] (behaviour and appearance); Девочка-эмансипе [Émancipé girl] (“unattractive girl, not ashamed of her appearance”); (c) a non-Russian first name associated with a certain ethnicity: Иштынбек [Ishtynbek] (< the person looks like a Dagestani);

(2) non-characteristic nicknames:

(a) consisting of an unassimilated loan and a Russian name: Же Вадим [Je Vadim] (the French pronoun je is put in front of the first name for purely expressive purpose: “to make it sound French”); (b) representing word play when a clipping of the first and patronymic names overlaps with a non-Russian first name: ВасГен [VasGen] (from clipping “Василий Геннадьевич” [Vasiliy Gennadyevich]).

3.2 Multilingual Influences on the Phonetic and Lexical Levels Multicultural influences on the phonetic and lexical levels (Table 8.4) are reflected in non-characteristic (linguistically motivated) nicknames created by means of

113

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Table 8.4   Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (phonetic and lexical level) Language Total English French German European Slavic Spanish Armenian Type of nickname (a) 9 (b) 1 (c) 1 (d) 1 (e) 7 (f) 3 Total 22 number of nicknames

5

1

2

1 1

1 1 2 3 9

3

3

2

2

3

2

1 1

1

(a) the analogy of a Russian name with a corresponding version of this name in a certain foreign language, with the corresponding foreign pronunciation: Эндрю [Andrew] (English version of the Russian name Андрей [Andrei]), Юджин [Eugene] < Евгений [Evgeniy], Пэдро [Pedro] < Петр [Petr], Вальдемар [Valdemar] < Владимир [Vladimir], Элен [Ellen] < Елена [Yelena]; (b) the analogy of a Russian last name formed from a first name with a corresponding version of this name in European languages: Андриен [Andrien] (from the Russian last name Андриянова [Andriyanova]); (c) the analogy of a Russian last name formed from a first name with a corresponding shortened version of this name in a certain foreign language: Мэт [Mat] (from the Russian last name Матвеева [Matveeva]); (d) the analogy of a Russian first name with a foreign last name formed from a corresponding first name: Йоханен [Johanen] (from the first name Иван [Ivan]); (e) the false analogy of a Russian first name or last name with a non-­ native-­sounding first name based on phonetic associations: Венцеслав [Wenceslas] (first name Вячеслав [Vyacheslav]), Карэн [Karen] (first name Карина [Karina]), Людовиг [Ludivig] (first name Людмила [Lyudmila]), Рудольф [Rudolf ] (last name Рудаков [Rudakov]); (f) paronomasia, representing a case of false etymology of a person’s first name (Айс [Ice]) or last name (Бэт [Bat], Бридж [Bridge]) based on phonetic associations with a non-native (English) lexeme.

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3.3 Multilingual Influences on the Morphological Level Multilingual influences on the morphological level (Table 8.5) are connected with the imitation of non-native morphological patterns of word-formation: (a) clippings of last names according to English patterns: Мак [Mac] (from the last name Макагон [Makagon]); (b) forming diminutives by means of clipping according to English patterns: Лео [Leo] (< Леонид [Leonid]), Ди [Di] (< Диана [Diana]), Крис(с) [Kris(s)] (< Кристина [Kristina]); (c) morphological transformation of a first name (or a last name formed from a first name) according to the patterns associated with non-­ native anthroponymic models (Baltic, French): Ленус [Lenus] (< first name Лена [Lena]), Янчес [Yanches] (< first name Яна [Yana]); (d) characteristic nicknames representing nonce words, derived from Russian appellatives according to the morphological patterns of a foreign language (pseudo-loans): (1) Косси [Kossi] < a blended derivative from the Russian adjective косой [kosoy], meaning “cross-eyed” + the English adjectival suffix -y (pronounced as /i/): “problems with eye sight”; (2) Лапшемен [Lapsheman]: a loanblend combining the Russian appellative лапша [lapsha], meaning “noodles” and the English suffix -man: “I said I didn’t want noodles”. Table 8.5  Multilingual influences of a non-native language system on Russian nicknames (morphological level) Language Type of nickname (a) (b) (c) (d) Total number of nicknames

Total

English

2 5 3 2 12

2 5 2 9

French

Baltic

1

2

1

2

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3.4 Multilingual Influences on the Phonetic, Graphic and Lexical Levels Multilingual influences on the phonetic, graphic and lexical levels are represented by Anglicisms spelled in English (11 nicknames): (a) a non-characteristic nickname representing a case of paronomasia, based on the false etymology of a person’s last name, inspired by phonetic associations (Little < Литвиненко [Litvinenko], One Guy < Вангай [Vangai]); (b) characteristic nicknames, represented by unassimilated loans, mostly Anglicisms, retaining their original spelling: Of course (favourite expression), Dollface (appearance), Novoblabla (a foreigner could not pronounce the name of the city of Novosibirsk and distorted its pronunciation); (c) a nickname combining internal and external motivation: paronomasia, based on homonymy of a person’s initials with an acronym, and metaphorical motivation (TV < Татьяна Викторовна [Tatiana Viktorovna] + hairstyle: hair sticks out like an antenna); (d) a nickname combining internal and external motivation and consisting of two elements: a transliterated person’s name and an Anglicism, retaining its original spelling, which is used as a characterising element (Tanya Play).

3.5 Multilingual Influences on the Graphic Level Multicultural influences on the graphic level (3 nicknames) represent cases of Latin transliteration of (a) asemic nicknames derived from a person’s first name (Romcheg < Рома [Roma]) or last name (Butkochka < Бутько [But’ko]); (b) a Russian appellative used as a characteristic nickname (Vint [screw], the nickname characterises a person’s occupation).

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3.6 Multilingual Influences on the Morphological and Phonetic Levels This group is represented by two nicknames combining non-native (French) morphological elements with allusion to pronunciation peculiarities, typical of the French language: (1) Ля-Фран [La-Fran], a nickname combining the French definite article la with the nonce word fran based on a chain of associations: the nickname characterises a person who smokes a pipe; → slang for smoking is фанить [fanit’]; → this person pronounces /r/ in the French manner → La-Fran (fran is a blend from fanit and French); (2) Шюли [Shyuli] (from the first name Юлия [Yuliya]).

4 Multicultural Influences on Russian Nicknames 4.1 Multicultural Influences on the Lexico-semantic Level Multicultural influences on the lexico-semantic level are manifested in externally motivated (characteristic) nicknames, referring to culturally specific artefacts, concepts and patterns of behaviour by means of metaphorical and metonymic associations (Table 8.6). Externally motivated characteristic nicknames are formed from (a) appellatives alluding to non-native cultural phenomena (13 nicknames), some of which have become part of the Russian culture (e.g. Emo). These are cases of metaphorical nicknames, used to characterise a person’s behaviour or character or a person’s appearance by means of associations with appellatives:

(1) denoting a certain social status, function, rank in a non-native culture: Сэнсэй [Sensei] (character and profession: “he teaches us important things”), Шаман [Shaman] (“weird behaviour”);

Type of nickname Appellatives: 7 social status, function, rank in a non-native culture Appellatives, 3 subculture Appellatives, 1 patterns of gender behaviour Appellatives, 2 folklore Antonomasia, Metaphor animated characters, anime characters Metonymy Antonomasia, Metaphor movie characters Antonomasia, Metaphor historical figures

Total

Culture

1 6

2 16 10

7

1

16 12

2

4

1

1

2

3

2

1

1

1

2

1

1

1

1

(continued)

EnglishLatin speaking Japa- InternaBel- Ancient North Cana- Aust- AzmeUkraiUS cultures British nese tional German Italian French gian Greek Asian Chinese dian rian rican Polish nian Czech

Table 8.6   Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames (lexico-semantic level)

8

1

1 1

1

2

1

2

7

7

1 1

3

5

1

3

3

1

2

1

1

2

1

2

2

2

1

2

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

EnglishLatin speaking Japa- InternaBel- Ancient North Cana- Aust- AzmeUkraiUS cultures British nese tional German Italian French gian Greek Asian Chinese dian rian rican Polish nian Czech

Metonymy 1 Parono 1 masia Antonomasia, Metaphor 4 present day celebrities Metonymy 1 Antonomasia, Metaphor 6 literary characters Metonymy 1 Metaphor+ 1 metonymy Antonomasia, Metaphor 4 comics characters Antonomasia, Metaphor 1 mascot, brand Metonymy 4 Antonomasia, Metaphor 1 TV show character Antonomasia, Metonymy 1 cities Total number 80 31 of nicknames

Total

Culture

Table 8.6 (continued)

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(2) referring to a certain subculture, originally non-native but adopted by young people in Russia: Эмо [Emo] (“a sad person”), Панк [Punk] (“the man’s hair sticks up in the Mohawk hairstyle”); (3) denoting patterns of gender behaviour: Мачё-Ман [Macho Man] (characterising appearance); (4) alluding to non-native folklore characters, originated in certain cultures but well-known internationally: Зомби [Zombie] (characterising lifestyle), Эльф [Elf ] (big ears); (b) proper names used as metaphorical antonomasia, mostly based on resemblance in appearance and alluding to





(1) animated and cartoon characters (16 nicknames): Спанч Боб [Sponge Bob], Сквидворд [Squidward], Пумба [Pumbaa], Бемби [Bambi], Шрек [Shrek], Свинка Пеппа [Peppa Pig] (overweight); (2) movie characters (16 nicknames): Терминатор [Terminator] (malicious; strong and tall; sharp movements); Дарт Вейдер [Darth Vader] (harsh voice); Сабрина [Sabrina] (resemblance to Sabrina, a character from Sabrina, the Teenage Witch). In addition to the Terminator movie series, the most frequent allusions are to The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter characters, visualised by the American-New Zealand and British-American screen versions, but originating in British literature: Профессор Снегг [Professor Snape] (resemblance); Бильбо [Bilbo] (resemblance to Bilbo Baggins; “hairy feet”); (3) historical figures (7 nicknames): Гитлер [Hitler] (resemblance), Моцарт [Mozart] (“sings a lot”). In this group there are cases of nicknames showing incorrect or inaccurate interpretation of facts: Хайзенберг [Heisenberg] (“the girl is good at chemistry”; allusion to a German physicist Werner Karl Heisenberg, a Nobel Prize winner in Physics), Аквинский [Akvinskiy] (“a person who doesn’t trust or believe in anything”; in this case a nickname giver/user confuses two famous namesakes: the Apostle Thomas and Thomas Aquinas);

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(4) modern celebrities (4 nicknames): Кличко [Klichko] (“says weird things”; allusion to Klitschko brothers, the Ukrainian boxers), Бибер [Bieber] (resemblance to Justin Bieber); (5) literary characters (6 nicknames): Дон Жуан [Don Zhuan] (a womaniser; allusion to Don Juan), Геркулес [Gerkules] (“big and strong”; allusion to Hercules), Белоснежка [Belosnezhka] (fair hair and quiet temper; allusion to Snow White); (6) comics characters (4 nicknames): Тинтин [Tintin] (resemblance), Смурфетта [Smurfetta] (allusion to Smurfette’s hairstyle); (7) mascot, brand (1 nickname): Макдональдс [McDonald’s] (resemblance to Ronald McDonald); (8) TV show character (1 nickname): Зелибоба [Zeliboba] (rumpled hairstyle; resemblance to a Sesame Street character).

(c) proper names used as metonymic antonomasia, alluding to



(1) brands (4 nicknames): Ла Коста [Lacoste] (“the girl wears clothes of this brand”), Сникерс [Snickers] (a person’s gastronomic preferences: Snickers chocolate bar); (2) anime characters (2 nicknames): Хокаге [Hokage] (“the person watches anime”; allusion to the Naruto manga and anime series), Радужная Пони [Raduzhnaya Poni] (“Rainbow Pony”, allusion to My Little Pony series and toys, because the person “loves rainbow colours”); (3) book characters (1 nickname): Поттер [Potter] (“I love Harry”; allusion to Harry Potter); (4) historical figures (1 nickname): Коменский [Komenský] (a student of the pedagogical university, “admires Jan Amos Komenský”, a Czech educational reformer); (5) modern celebrities (1 nickname): Тайсон [Tyson] (a person’s hobby; allusion to Mike Tyson, an American boxer); (6) cities (1 nickname): Чикаго [Chicago] (“a PE teacher forgot a student’s name and addressed him by the word printed on his T-shirt”);

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(d) paronomasia (1 nickname): Котичелли [Koticelli] (“the person’s artistic talent”; phonetic analogy with Botticelli, a famous Renaissance painter); (e) metaphor and metonymy (1 nickname): Шерлок [Sherlock] (the person’s favourite book character + this person has similar qualities with this character).

4.2 Multicultural Influences on the Semantic Level2 Cultural connotation on the semantic level is reflected in (a) ethnonymic nicknames, directly characterising a person by their ethnicity; (b) ethnonymic nicknames, characterising a person’s appearance, behaviour, abilities, stereotypically associated with a certain ethnic group: Чех [Czech] (“a goalkeeper”, metaphorical use of the ethnonym, alluding to Czechs as skilful hockey players); (c) ethnonymic nicknames created as reactions to a surname associated with a certain ethnic group. Nicknames of this group show multicultural contacts between the Russians and other ethnicities (Table 8.7).

5 Multilingual and Multicultural Influences on Russian Nicknames Multicultural influences on the formal and semantic levels (Table 8.8) are reflected in internally and externally motivated nicknames, based on culturally charged proper nouns or appellatives, alluding to non-native artefacts, precedent phenomena, culturally specific characteristic features and patterns of behaviour.  The examples are omitted due to reasons related to political correctness.

2

Type of nickname (a) 21 (b) 15 (c) 8 Total 43 number of nicknames

11

5 6

Total Jewish

Ethnicity

5 1 3 9

Ukrainian 1 1 3 5 3 1 4 3

3

2

2

2

2

1

1

1

1 1

1 1 1

1

1

1

1

1

1

ArmeGeorGerman Romani nian Korean Tatar Chechen Tajik Polish Kazakh gian Czech Afro

Table 8.7   Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames (semantic level)

Type of nickname (a) Based on appellatives, alluding to  (1) social status, 2 1 occupation  (2) folklore 1 characters  (3) nationality 2 1 (b) Based on proper names alluding to  (1) famous people 4 (historical)  (2) film characters 2 2  (3) animated 1 1 characters  (4) mythological 1 characters  (5) brands 3 1 1  (6) landmarks 1  (7) cities 1  (8) sports clubs 1  (9) mass media 1 1 Total number of 20 5 3 nicknames 3

3

1

1

1

1 1

1

1

1

AmeDagesTotal rican British French Arabic tani German Georgian

Culture

Table 8.8   Multilingual and multicultural influences on Russian nicknames

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

InternaGreek Italian Persian Chechen tional

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5.1 Multilingual and Multicultural Influences on the Formal Level Internally motivated non-characteristic nicknames are a result of transformation of a first or last name, based on paronomasia, that is, on the phonetic similarity between a person’s name and (a) an appellative, alluding to culturally charged concepts of a foreign culture (4 nicknames): Огр < last name Огарков (Ogr “ogre” < last name Ogarkov); (b) a proper noun, alluding to a culturally specific object (14 nicknames):





(1) famous people of the past (historical figures, authors, scientists): Дарий [Dariy] (Darius) < phonetic association with the female first name Дарья [Darya]; Дюма [Dyuma] (Dumas) < phonetic association with the first name Дима [Dima], Эмиль-Заря [Emil-Zarya] < phonetic association of the last name Заря [Zarya] with the name of the French writer Émile Zola; (2) film characters: Дарт Вейдер [Darth Vader], formed from the first name Артём [Artyom] through a chain of associations: Artyom > diminutive Тёма [Tyoma] > Тёмный [Tyomniy] (false etymology of the diminutive based on phonetic associations between Tyoma and the adjective tyomniy, meaning “dark”) > Тёмный лорд [Tyomniy lord] (“Dark lord”, inevitable associations3 with the word dark) > Darth Vader; (3) animated characters: Миньон [Minion] < phonetic association with the last name Маньянов [Manyanov]; (4) mythological characters: Геркулес [Gerkules] (Hercules) < phonetic association with the last name Герасимова [Gerasimova]; (5) landmarks: Колизей [Kolizey] (Coliseum) < phonetic association with the last name (last name is not provided); (6) cities: Батум [Batum] (allusion to the city of Batumi) < phonetic association with the last name (last name is not provided);

  I use the term inevitable associations after E.A.  Partridge, who introduced the terms inevitable/inseparable nicknames, that is, nicknames based on collocation or thematic, synonymic, antonymic analogy with the meaning of a personal name or phonetic associations of the name with a famous namesake (Partridge 1950: 21–27, 1984: 1388–1389). 3

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(7) sports clubs: Анжи [Anzhi] (allusion to the Dagestani football club) < phonetic association with the first name Анжелика [Anzhelika]; (8) brands: Порш [Porsh] (Porsche) < phonetic association with the last name Паршин [Parshin].

5.2 Multilingual and Multicultural Influences on the Formal and Semantic Levels Multicultural and multilingual influences are manifested in externally motivated (characteristic) nicknames on the graphic and lexico-semantic levels (2 nicknames). Nicknames of this group are Anglicisms retaining the English spelling and referring to a culturally specific phenomenon: Mc Димаська [Mc Dimas’ka] (metaphorical use of the appellative MC, motivated by similarity of manner (gestures) of the nickname-bearer and that of an MC rapper; Dimas’ka is a diminutive of a first-name Dmitriy), ВВС (metonymic use of the company name, motivated by a person’s love of nature and alluding to BBC Nature).

6 Conclusion 1. Quantitative analysis shows that 245 nicknames (13.4%) in our sample of data are created under the influence of a non-native language and/or culture. 2. Within the subsample of nicknames created under the influence of a non-native language and/or culture, nicknames reflecting multicultural influences number 123 (50.2%); nicknames reflecting multilingual influences number 71 (28.9%); nicknames reflecting multilingual and multicultural influences number 20 (8.2%).4  31 (12.7%) nicknames are based on non-native lexemes, but as their motivation is not provided by the informants, these nicknames are excluded from analysis. 4

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3. The type of influence is determined by the motivational type of a nickname: influences of a non-native culture are reflected in external (characteristic) nicknames, whereas influences of a non-native language system are reflected primarily in internal (non-characteristic) nicknames (see Table  8.9 for more details). Thus, the group of external nicknames is the densest in terms of multicultural influences. 4. Quantitative analysis of the subsample of nicknames created under the influence of a non-native language system shows that the top three languages influencing the formation of Russian nicknames are English (40 nicknames), French (10 nicknames) and German (7 nicknames). Less numerous groups consist of nicknames influenced by Armenian (2 nicknames), Slavic (2 nicknames), Baltic (2 nicknames), Spanish (1 nickname), Turkic (1 nickname) and Dagestani (1 nickname). 5. The analysis of multicultural influences on Russian nicknames shows: (1) Russian nicknames are coined with reference to the following spheres or aspects of non-native cultures:





(a) sphere of entertainment, represented by 43 nicknames alluding to animated characters (19 nicknames), film characters (18 nicknames),5 comics characters (4 nicknames), TV show characters (1 nickname), documentary programmes (1 nickname); (b) sphere of literature, represented by 14 nicknames alluding to literary characters (7 nicknames), folklore characters (3 nicknames), mythological characters (2 nicknames), authors (2 nicknames); (c) patterns of behaviour (12 nicknames) associated with a certain social status or occupation (8 nicknames),6 subculture (3 nicknames), gender role (1 nickname);

 However, it must be noted, that among allusions to film characters there are characters, originated in literature but popularised and visualised by the mass media (Bilbo, Professor Snape etc.). 6  The nickname Шейх [Sheikh] is not included in this group as it is formed from a person’s last name by means of arbitrary (accidental) phonetic associations with the appellative. 5

Influence of a non-native Culture Language Language and culture Total number of nicknames 123 71 20 214

Total 120 29 1 151

External

39 18 57

Internal

Motivational type of nickname

2 1 3

Mixed

3

2 1

Transonymisation from Internet discourse

1

1

Pragmatic (nicknames of endearment)

Table 8.9   Influences of a non-native language/culture on Russian nicknames of different motivational types

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(d) brands (8 nicknames), referring to automobile industry (3 nicknames), fashion (2 nicknames), food industry (2 nicknames), ICT industry (1 nickname); (e) sphere of politics, represented by 6 nicknames, alluding to historical (5 nicknames) and modern (1 nickname) political figures; (f ) cultural artefacts, represented by three nicknames alluding to cities (2 nicknames) and landmarks (1 nickname); (g) sphere of art, represented by three nicknames alluding to a famous composer, a painter and a contemporary singer; (h) sphere of sports, represented by three nicknames alluding to famous sportsmen and a football club; (i) sphere of science, represented by two nicknames alluding to famous scientists of the past; (j) sphere of philosophy (religion, education), represented by two nicknames alluding to representatives of this sphere; (k) sphere of sports and politics, represented by one nickname alluding to a sportsperson pursuing a political career.

A specific group of nicknames comprises nominations based on characteristic features (linguistic or extralinguistic) associated with a certain ethnicity (43 nicknames).7 (2) nicknames of groups (a–k) mentioned under the previous point are formed under the influence of the following cultures (view Table 8.10): 6. The analysis of multicultural and multilingual aspects of Russian nicknames shows that the English language and English-speaking cultures serve as the most frequent source of coining nicknames in comparison with other languages and cultures.

 I excluded from this group two nicknames which are formed from a person’s last name by means of arbitrary (accidental) phonetic associations with an ethnonym. 7

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Table 8.10   Multicultural influences on Russian nicknames Culture

Number of nicknames

US British English-speaking cultures Japanese International French German Italian Ancient Greek Belgian Chinese North Asian Arabic Austrian Canadian Czech Dagestani Georgian Latin American Persian Polish Ukrainian Total number of nicknames

36 9 8 7 6 5 4 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 98

References Arnold, I.V. 2012. Leksikologiya sovremennogo angliyskogo yazyka [Lexicology of Modern English]. Moscow: Flinta, Nauka. Ashirova, G.F. 2016. Leksika prozvishsh v bashirskom yazyke [Lexis of Nicknames in the Bashkir Language]. PhD Diss., Bashkir State University, Ufa. https:// dlib.rsl.ru/viewer/01006659928#?page=1. Accessed 22 January 2019. Avchieva, D.T. 2016. Strukturno-semanticheskiye osobennosti nikneimov sovremennogo russkogo yazyka polietnicheskogo goroda [Structural-Semantic Peculiarities of Nicknames of Contemporary Russian Language in Polyethnic City]. PhD Diss., Dagestan State Pedagogical University, Makhachkala. http://irbis.gnpbu.ru/Aref_2016/%D0%90%D0%B2%D1%87%D 0%B8%D0%B5%D0%B2%D0%B0.pdf. Accessed 20 January 2019.

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Bobrova, M.V. 2016. Yazykovaya igra v sovremennyh prozvishshah zhiteley Permskogo kraya [Language Play in Contemporary Nicknames of Perm Region Residents]. Ural′skij filologičeskij vestnik 2: 38–49. Felecan, O. 2014. A Psycholinguistic Approach to Nicknaming (With Reference to Nicknames Given by Students to Teachers). In Names and Their Environment. Proceedings of the 25th International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Glasgow 25–29 August 2014, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, vol. 3, 65–81. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. Gasimova, S. I. 2006. Istorico-lingvisticheskiy analiz tatarskikh prozvishsh [Historical and Linguistic Analysis of Tatar Nicknames]. PhD Diss., Kazan State University named after V.I. Ulyanov-Lenin, Kazan. https://www.dissercat.com/content/istoriko-lingvisticheskii-analiz-tatarskikh-prozvishch/ read. Accessed 17 December 2018. Golomidova, M.V. 1998. Iskusstvennaya nominatsiya v russkoy onomastike [Artificial Name-Giving in Russian Onomastics]. Ekaterinburg: Ural’skij gosudarstvennyj pedagogicheskij universitet. Hoffer, B. L. 2002. Language Borrowing and Language Diffusion: An Overview. Intercultural Communication Studies XI (2): 1–36. https://web.uri.edu/iaics/ files/01-Bates-L.-Hoffer.pdf. Accessed 21 January 2019. ———. 2005. Language Borrowing and the Indices of Adaptability and Receptivity. Intercultural Communication Studies XIV (2): 53–72. https:// web.uri.edu/iaics/files/05-Bates-L.-Hoffer.pdf. Accessed 21 January 2019. Kabaso, F.M. 2016. A Morphological and Semantic Analysis of Nicknames in Ig’umbo. PhD Diss., University of Zambia. http://dspace.unza.zm:8080/ xmlui/bitstream/handle/123456789/4812/Main%20Document. pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y. Accessed 19 January 2019. Morgan, J., C. O’Neill, and R. Harre. 1979. Nicknames: Their Origins and Social Consequences. London/Boston/Henley: Routledge and Kegan Paul. OALD = Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary Online. https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com. Accessed 12 February 2019. Partridge, E. 1950. Here, There and Everywhere: Essays upon Language. London: Hamish Hamilton. ———. 1984. Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English. Colloquialisms and Catch-phrases. Solecisms and Catachreses. Nicknames and Vulgarisms. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company. Sokov, A. A. 2014. Nikonim v virtualnom diskurse: lingvoprag maticheskiy aspect [Nickonym in Virtual Discourse: Linguopragmatic Aspect]. PhD Diss., Vladimir State University named after Aleksandr Grigiryevich and Nikolay

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Grigoryevich Stoletov, Vladimir. https://docplayer.ru/26474422-Sokov-aleksey-anatolevich-nikonim-v-virtualnom-diskurse-lingvoprag maticheskiyaspekt-specialnost-russkiy-yazyk.html. Accessed 23 October 2018. Zakhvatayeva, K. S. 2013. Angliyskiye zaimstvovaniya v sovremennom russkom yazyke: semanticheskiy aspect [English Borrowings in Contemporary Russian Language: Semantic Aspect]. PhD Diss., Southern Federal University, Rostov-on-Don. https://www.dissercat.com/content/angliiskie-zaimstvovaniya-v-sovremennom-russkom-yazyke-semanticheskii-aspekt/read. Accessed 21 January 2019.

9 Multicultural Patronymic Landscapes of Naming in Russia, France, Germany, Great Britain and Romania Eugen Schochenmaier

1 Introduction It has already been proven that through a variety of means, names express the identity of a society (Brozović-Rončević 2004; Shokhenmayer 2011). Not only from a historical perspective, but also statistically, they give evidence of valuable non-linguistic information on cultural, social, economic and other levels. So-called surnames or family names represent an especially interesting group of names, which are to be found throughout Europe. From the number and the dwelling-place of people bearing definite surnames we can speculate over the diffusion of certain traditions, crafts, activities, interests, and thus to some degree re-create the structure of mediaeval societies. A lot of names, regions, occupations and local crafts fell into oblivion, but the information on their former value is well encoded in onomastic evidence, mostly in surnames, as well as in their statistics.

E. Schochenmaier (*) International Council of Onomastic Sciences, Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_9

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We have admitted that the analysis of the most frequent surnames may be likened to the observation of the ‘tip of the iceberg’. Nevertheless, these names may be illustrative and shed light on some specific details. After the establishment of promising studies based on the top 100 most-­ frequent Russian, French, German and British surnames (Shokhenmayer 2016) and most common Russian, French and German occupational surnames in the top 500 surnames (Shokhenmayer 2018), we turn now to examine the multicultural patronymic landscapes of naming patterns involving statistics from Romania. We aim to clarify to what extent the meanings, or so to say name-driven motives, are similar in Germany, France, Great Britain, Russia and Romania. From this perspective, Romania is of greatest interest as this country is situated at the crossroads between East and West. For this reason, we will pay particular attention to the analysis of the Romanian names. Their typological analysis may help resolve numerous questions. Therefore, the contrastive analysis of the most frequent Russian, French, British, German and Romanian surnames is underpinned by the singular situation of their onomasticons. Although they have much in common with the rest of neighbouring communities in the essential linguistic system due to their genetic relationship and cultural affinity, their surnames exist and have originated in very different historical and social circumstances. The aim on this occasion is (1) to compare percentages of motive-based surname groups from each country, (2) to note similarities and differences between them, and (3) to discuss the results.

2 Romania Historically, in Romanian, until the reform of family names in the middle of the nineteenth century, personal names typically took the form [first name] + [father’s name] + [grandfather’s name]. After the family name reform was introduced, the default was to use a patronym or a matronym when the father was dead or unknown. A typical derivation was to append the suffix -escu to the father’s name, for example, Ionescu (‘Ion’s child’) and Petrescu (‘Petre’s child’). The suffix -escu is derived from Latin -iscum and cognate with Italian -esco and French -esque (Tomescu 2001).

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Less commonly, matronymics formed with the genitive form (using the prefix a-) were used, as in Amariei ‘(son/daughter) of Maria’. Romanian surnames do not have variable gender-specific endings. To analyse the most frequent surnames, we used the rankings based on data consisting of the names of 4 million persons extracted from phonebooks.1 Despite the ambiguous etymology for some surnames, in the top 100, 69 patronymic family names are identified2 (see Fig. 9.1 for percentages and Table 9.1 for the names): • • • •

23 are of Greek origin (Dumitru), 20—Slavic (Radu), 12—Hebrew (Matei), 10—Latin (Constantin),

16% 10% 10%

64%

1. Patronymic

2. Occupational

3. Characteristic

4. Toponymic

Fig. 9.1  Romanian surnames

1  Project of Surnames Mapping (www.hartanumeromanesti.eu/) by Stefano Ravara (accessed in March 2019). 2  Sixty-nine surnames make up 64%, not 69%, as several family names can refer to various types at once. By doing so, we classified 108 lemmas from 100 names. That is why 100% corresponds to 108 surnames.

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Table 9.1  Categorisation of the 100 most frequent patronym-based surnames with corresponding ranks (due to space constraints represented in abbreviated form for Romanian, French and Russian; by contrast, the German data exceed the TOP 100 as a result of the disproportionate nature of naming patterns) Romania

France

Russia

Radu (4) Ionescu (5)

Martin (1) Bernard (2)

Ivanov (1) Vasilyev (5)

Dumitru (6)

Thomas (4)

Stoica (7) Stan (8) Gheorghe (9) Matei (12) Constantin (13) Marin (15) Mihai (16) Ștefan (17)

Robert (5) Richard (6) Simon (11) Laurent (12) Michell (4) Garcia1 (5) David (16) Betrand (17)

Lazăr (18) Vasile (20) Toma (21) Florea (23) Ilie (24) Stanciu (25)

Vincent (19) Girard (22) André (23) Lambert (27) François (29) Martinez (30) Garnier (32) Guérin (36) Henry (38) Nicolas (40) Perrin (41) Mathieu (43) Clement (44)

Oprea (26) Tudor (27) Dumitrescu (28) Dinu (29) Cristea (30) Andrei (31) Ioniță (32) Anghel (33) Barbu (36) Sandu (37) Ion (38) Dragomir (40) Vlad (41) Georgescu (42) Constantinescu (43)

Germany

Wolf (16) Hartmann (24) Petrov (6) Herrmann (36) Mikhaylov (8) Walter (37) Fyodorov (10) Peters (43) Morozov (11) Friedrich (52) Alekseyev (13) Günther (53) Semyenov (15) Frank (56) Yegorov (16) Lorenz (60) Pavlov (17) Albrecht (63) Stepanov (19) Simon (65) Nikolayev (20) Andreyev (22) Makarov (23) Nikitin (24) Zakharov (25) Borisov (28)

Ludwig (66) Winter (68) Martin (70) Otto (74) Seidel (79) Heinrich (80)

Yakovlev (29) Grigoryev (30) Romanov (31) Sergeyev (33) Kuz’min (34) Frolov (35) Aleksandrov (36) Gauthier (45) Dmitriyev (37) Lopez (47) Ilyin (41) Robin (50) Maksimov (42) Masson (51) Antonov (49) Sanchez (52) Tarasov (50) Gérard (53) Filippov (53) Denis (56) Davydov (55)

Brandt (82) Dietrich (85) Engel (91) Thomas (96) Arnold (98) Wolff (100) Seifert (102)

Gautier (60)

Great Britain Jones (2) Williams (4) Davies (6) Evans (7) Wilson (8) Thomas (9) Roberts (10) Johnson (11) Lewis (12) Robinson (14) Thompson (16) Watson (18) Jackson (19) Harris (22) Martin (26) James (2) Edwards (31)

Harrison (35) Morris (38) Ward (40) Phillips (43) Mitchell (44) Adams (46) Anderson (48) Ernst (103) Davis (54) Jansen (107) Price (56) Franz (108) Griffiths (59) Peter (109) Kelly (60) Hansen (110) Simpson (61) Wenzel (111) Collins (63) Götz (112) Richardson (66) Gerasimov (57) Paul (113) Robertson (72) (continued)

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Table 9.1 (continued) Romania

France

Russia

Tănase (48) Iordache (49)

Roger (61) Noel (64)

Enache (50) Grigore (51)

Lucas (66) Jean (68)

Bogdanov (58) Riedel (114) Osipov (59) Hermann (117) Sidorov (60) Lenz (126) Matveyev (61) Jahn (131)

Petre (52) Voicu (53)

Perez (69) Marie (73)

Titov (62) Markov (63)

Nicolae (57) Ivan (60)

Mironov (64) Karpov (67)

Roman (61) Rădulescu (63)

Colin (80) Fernandez (81) Pierre (82) Renard (83)

Iancu (65)

Arnaud (84)

Gavrilov (71)

Vlasov (68) Denisov (70)

Germany

Thiel (132) Petersen (136) Arndt (139) Marx (140)

Great Britain Reynolds (74) Ellis (76) Richards (77) Wilkinson (79) Murray (84) Powell (85) Rogers (88) Stevens (89)

Walther (145) Thomson (92) Thiele (150) Matthews (93) Reinhardt Saunders (152) (100)

• 2—Hungarian (Oprea), • 1—Turkish (Manea), • 1—Dacian (Bucur). Naturally, we should be careful in differentiating a source language from a mediator language. The question remains open whether the surname Dumitru was directly borrowed from Greek Demetrios or via Bulgarian Dimitar. The names of Hebrew and Greek origin (35 surnames) prove that the Romanian onomastic stock was heavily influenced by the culture of Greek Orthodoxy within the larger communion of Eastern Orthodox Christianity, whose liturgy was traditionally conducted in Koine Greek, the original language of the Septuagint and the New Testament, and whose history and naming traditions are rooted in the early Church Fathers’ Name Days. For instance, the surname Ionescu derives from Ion. The Romanian masculine given name Ion is equivalent to the English name John and has the same etymology as Jon, tracing back the Hebrew name Johanan. Nearly 2 million Romanians bear the name John: Ioan,

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Ion, Ioana, Ionela and so on. This naming tradition is due to the celebration of John the Baptist. The Orthodox Christians in Romania believe St John the Baptist is the greatest of all saints, after the Virgin Mary. Some Romanian saints and martyrs bore his name (John James the Chozebite, John of Vlachia etc.). As for the Slavic influence on Romanian, it is noticeable on all linguistic levels: lexis, phonetics, morphology, syntax, as well as onomastics. Old Slavic influence began either in the sixth–seventh or eighth–ninth centuries according to scholars (Felecan 2009: 399), ending in the eleventh– twelfth centuries. For example, Radu, the most frequent patronymic family name in Romania, stems from a short form of any of the various Slavic personal names beginning with the element rad- ‘glad’ (e.g. Radek). Its popularity can be explained by means of Romanian traditions, according to which Radu I would have been the founder and ruler of Wallachia at a date around 1290.3 Stoica can be considered a diminutive of Stoyan, Bulgarian forename, or a form derived from South Slavic стоити ‘to stay’, ‘to resist’. It is important to point out that about 14% of the Romanian language is of Slavic origin. As for the lexis, the share of Slavic words in Romanian differs by dialect and style.4 In spoken Romanian, their share is around 5%. From this viewpoint, it seems appropriate to examine whether the percentage of Slavic-based surnames corresponds to the above-mentioned amounts in the Romanian language. As it has already been shown, only the numbers of patronymics among the most frequent 100 surnames are about 20%. Taking into consideration all types of surnames, the total of Slavic-based surnames reaches 25%, higher than 5–14% of loanwords and/or other borrowings (morphemes, grammatical constructions etc.). The above-mentioned statistics can be viewed as an additional reason in support of a claim that personal names exhibit properties which differ from other linguistic elements and take on particular sociohistorical and extralinguistic significance.  He is identified by many historians as the legendary Radu Negru, a mythical voivode of the early mediaeval state Wallachia, founder of the state’s institutions and ruler. 4   The number of Slavicisms is higher in border regions with significant Slavic-speaking populations. 3

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3 France French surnames were first used in the eleventh century to distinguish people who had the same given name, but surnames did not become common for everyone until centuries later. French surnames developed from four major sources: patronymic, occupational, characteristic and geographical surnames. A patronymic surname is the most common category of French last names. According to calculations made by Marie-Odile Mergnac (2000: 68), 46% of French surnames are based on patronyms (noms de baptême), 20% on occupational surnames (noms de métier), 18% on nicknames (noms de caractéristiques physiques ou morales) and 11% on topographic surnames (noms de lieux). Our analysis provided the following figures: 47% French surnames are based on patronyms, 21% on occupational surnames, 22% on nicknames and 10% on topographic surnames (see Fig. 9.2). Patronymic and matronymic surnames in France were formed in several different ways. The typical form of attaching a prefix or suffix that

10% 22%

47%

21%

Fig. 9.2  French surnames

1. Patronymic

2. Occupational

3. Characteristic

4. Toponymic

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means ‘son of ’ (e.g. de, des, du, d’) to a given name was less common in France that in many European countries, but still prevalent. Examples include Jean de Gaulle, meaning ‘John, son of Gaulle’. Suffixes meaning ‘little son of ’ (-eau, -elet, -elin, elle, elet etc.) may have also been used. These were often given as a term of affection for a child, usually one who had a parent with the same first name as them, and it usually followed them into adulthood, becoming their permanent surname. However, the majority of French patronymic and matronymic surnames have no identifying prefix, being direct derivations of the parents’ given names, such as August Landry for ‘August, son of Landri’ or Tomas Robert for ‘Tomas, son of Robert’. To analyse French patronym-based surnames, we used the onomastic data of births between 1891 and 1990 from the French National Institute for Statistics and Economic Studies.5 Meanings of patronymic surnames can be described in terms of origin and history of French culture: • 20 surnames are of Germanic origin (Bernard), which reflects the Frankish background of early Francia; • 10 Latin names are reminiscent of the parental relationship of French and Latin languages (Laurent); • 8 surnames of Hebrew origin refer to ecclesiastic name-giving traditions in the Middle Ages (Thomas); • 5 Greek names reflect the general Hellenistic influence (Nicolas); • 5 surnames of Spanish origin are surely related to the common border Spain-France and to the Provencal South (Martinez); • 1 Basque name (Garcia) in the top 100 can be explained by referring to the French Basque Country with 262,000 inhabitants (1999 census).

 Available on the websites www.geopatronyme.com, www.genealogie.com and others (accessed in March 2019). 5

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4 Russia Historical Russian naming conventions did not include surnames. A person’s name included that of his father: for example, Иван Петров сын (Ivan Petrov syn), meaning ‘Ivan, son of Peter’. That is the origin of most Russian surnames ending in -ov. The common suffixes -ов (-ov) and -ев (-yev), meaning ‘belonging to’ or ‘of the clan of/descendant of ’, are usually employed for patronymic surnames. Prof. A.  Zhuravlev from the V.V.  Vinogradov Russian Language Institute of the Russian Academy of Sciences collected 500 of the most frequent Russian surnames (Zhuravlev 2005). This collection served as the corpus analysed in this chapter. As we may conclude, the majority of Russian surnames (60%) are obtained from personal names: Sergeyev—‘Sergey’s son’, Vasilyev ‘Vasiliy’s son’ and so on (see Fig. 9.3). Their origins can be explained as follows: • 30 surnames are of Greek origin (Vasilyev from βασίλιος ‘basilic, royal’), influenced by the Byzantine Empire and New Testament;

1% 33% 59% 7%

Fig. 9.3  Russian surnames

1. Patronymic

2. Occupational

3. Characteristic

4. Toponymic

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• 17 surnames refer to Hebrew (Ivanov from ‫ןָנָחֹוי‬, Yôḥānān ‘Yahweh is gracious’), influenced by the Old Testament via Greek; • 10 surnames are from Latin (Pavlov from paulus ‘small, humble’, Romanov from Romanus); • 3 surnames refer to Slavic (Bogdanov from ‘given by God’, Morozov, Borisov). The continuity of Greek, Hebrew and partly Latin names represents the similar influence of Eastern Orthodox Christianity as in the case of the system of Romanian surnames. Three-quarters of Russians identify themselves as Orthodox Christians. The Orthodox Church in Russia evolved from Byzantine Rite Christianity, which became the state religion in the tenth century. The Byzantine Empire spoke predominantly Greek and named their kids after Greek saints or personages from the New Testament with Latin names. The question of zoological bynames continues to remain an enigma. We left such surnames out of the analysis, as it is unclear if they should be considered patronymics, occupation-based surnames or nicknames. A popular mediaeval naming practice is the use of zoological bynames, that is, using the name of an animal as a surname or descriptive element. The high frequency of this practice in mediaeval Russia had several explanations. First, animal names were sometimes given to children as forenames. As such, the children’s offspring would bear a patronymic based on the father’s given name that would be completely indistinguishable from the zoological byname. In this respect, did Nikita Sokolov mean ‘Nikita, son of Sokol’ or ‘Nikita the Falcon’? Without a pedigree, it is impossible to know, but both possibilities are reasonable. Another explanation is that a person might be named after an animal that he or she worked closely with. Ivan Zaytsev (‘John the Hare’) might be a breeder of hares. However, there were also plenty of occupational bynames that described animal husbandry, so this is less likely. A more probable reason to bear a zoological byname is because of one’s desire to invoke the animal and its qualities. Pavel Orlov’s parents might see the eagle as a strong animal and wish to claim such strengths for their

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child. Such a name-giving tradition reflects the pre-Christian pagan worldview and animalistic heathen beliefs (Wickenden of Thanet 2000). The high frequency of the zoological surnames is also due to the old tradition of the Eastern Slavs to have two names: one for common use, while the other was a secret one. Dual naming was preserved after baptism, the baptismal Christian name becoming the actual name, whereas the pagan name became the secret one. In some families, this tradition survived until the nineteenth century (Superanskaya 1999: 192).

5 Germany Surnames were gradually introduced in German-speaking Europe during the Late Middle Ages. They are generally classified into four groups by derivation: given names, occupational designations, bodily attributes and toponyms (including references to named buildings). Also, many family names display characteristic features of the dialect of the region of origin. Forenames often turned into family names when people were identified by their father’s name. For example, the first name Ahrend developed into the family name Ahrends by adding a genitive s-ending, as in Ahrend’s son (e.g. Ahrends/Ahrens, Burkhard, Wulff, Friedrich, Benz, Fritz). As many of the early city records were written in Latin, occasionally the Latin genitive singular -i was used such as in Jakobi or Petri (Kohlheim and Kohlheim 2000). For instance, Hans Bahlow mentions that the forename Johannes was the source of numerous family names via dialectal and contracted forms of the given name: Johannsen, Johanning, Johaentges, Johann, Jahn, Jansen, Jensen, Jantzen, Hans, Hansen, Hansel(mann), Hensel, Hensler, Hensgen, Henne, Henning, Henneke, Hähnel, Händel, Henle, Hänsich, Jänsich, Hanke, Jahnke, Hentschel, Jeschke, Jachmann, Hannemann, Jenner, Jonen, and even Johler, Sohnke and Joontjes. Such a wide spectrum proves that Johannes was one of the most frequent forenames in mediaeval German-­ speaking countries. Three of the above-mentioned forms make it to the top 150. As German surname-giving was mostly occupation-oriented, patronymics are relatively rare in comparison with other languages. Among the

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10%

22%

24%

44%

1. Patronymic

2. Occupational

3. Characteristic

4. Toponymic

Fig. 9.4  German surnames

top 150 most common family names, only 43 patronymic surnames are found (see Fig. 9.4). Their origins can be classified as follows: • 30 surnames—Germanic (Hartmann, Her(r)mann, Walt(h)er, Friedrich); • 5 surnames—Latin (Lorenz, Martin, Paul, Lenz, Marx); • 5 surnames—Hebrew (Simon, Thomas, Jansen, Hansen, Jahn); • 3 surnames—Greek (Peters, Peter, Petersen). The statistics demonstrates that the Christian naming patterns did not influence the German name-giving traditions on a large scale: only 8 given names generated 13 family names. The highest percentage (70%) of Germanic source-names reflects the historical development of cultural identity. On the one hand, the long history of feudal disunity of German States led to the dialectalisation and diversification of surnames. On the other, Germany could preserve the originality of its onomasticon because the old Germanic names were integrated into the list of names after Christian baptismal patterns had been acquired and fixed. By contrast, the Old Slavic, Dacian and Celtic pre-Christian names in Russia,

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Romania, England and France, respectively were not allowed and often renamed. It is highly likely that thanks to this distinctive character the German naming ‘self-sufficiency’ persisted and established a foothold.

6 Great Britain English patronymic surnames derive from a variety of sources: Old English, Norse, Norman French and Germanic, and they are usually formed with either the suffix -son, or the ’s genitive. Fitz is a prefix, which derives from Norman French fiz ‘son’. Patronymic surnames are derived directly from the father’s name, and back when surnames were beginning to become established, being known as ‘William, son of Edmund’ was one of the ways of distinguishing yourself from ‘the other William’, who was son of John. As a result, most patronymic names contain two parts: the masculine (father’s) name and the element meaning ‘son of ’. The earliest surnames in England were found shortly after the Norman Conquest in 1066 when the Old English names became less common and were replaced by popular continental European names (Davies 2012: 43). A typical English patronymic is Johnson (‘John’s son’), which can be shortened with the ’s genitive to Johns. The -s form was preferred in south and central England, hence the proximity of Wales to these areas influenced the type of many Welsh patronymics. The -son form was more common in northern England. Metronymics from a mother’s given name are rarer and include Annis (Agnes), Catling (Catherine), Cussons (Constance), Dyot (Dennis), Marriott (from Mariot, diminutive of Mary), Mollison (Molly) and Marjoryson (Marjory), Sibley (Sibilla), Tennyson (Dionise) and Tillotson (from Tillot diminutive of Till, nickname of Matilda). They seem to be derived mainly from the names of women who were heiresses in their own right, widows having a posthumous child, deserted wives or, rarely, for an illegitimate child (Hey 2006: 92–93).

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15% 35% 26%

24%

1. Patronymic

2. Occupational

3. Characteristic

4. Toponymic

Fig. 9.5  British surnames

Because of different theories of surname origins, we have classified 123 proprial lemmas for 100 surnames.6 Meanings of patronymic surnames can be described in terms of origin and history of Great Britain as well (Fig. 9.5): • 18 surnames are of Germanic origin, which reflects its Anglo-Saxon background (Wilson); • 15 Celtic names of Scottish, Welsh, Irish and Gaelic diaspora are reminiscent of the persistence of regional naming patterns (Evans); • 9 surnames of Hebrew refer to ecclesiastic name-giving traditions in the Middle Ages (Jones); • 3 Greek names reflect the general Hellenistic influence of the Renaissance period and significance of the New Testament (Phillips); • 4 surnames of Latin/French/Norman origin are surely related to the Norman Conquest (Martin).

 The onomastic data for UK are available on the websites www.surname.sofeminine.co.uk, www. britishsurnames.co.uk and others (accessed in March 2019). 6

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7 Conclusion Although many parallels could be drawn with the history of naming patterns in Romania, France, Russia, Germany and Great Britain, with regard to origins, sources and development, space permits only the briefest of comments. Statistic proportions vary from one country to another. They depend on local history, culture and name-giving traditions. Surnames based on given names, on the contrary, rank first place for each country except Germany, where occupational surnames considerably prevail. The main difference between these five cultures in name-giving may be identified as various historical reasons of the transition from patronymic to surname. While the history of European personal names displays general similarities, it also shows significant differences, as both first name and last names created out of the first name are closely bound up with the cultural identity of those to whom they belong. Surnames are one of the key elements defining the identities of human groups, from tribes to families. Surnames are passed from one generation to another, and therefore tend to remain unchanged through time. However, minor alterations were occasionally made.

References Brozović-Rončević, D. 2004. What Do Names Tell Us About Our Former Occupations? Collegium Antropologicum 28: 161–170. Davies, M. 2012. Surnames of the British Isles. [n.p.]: lulu.com. Felecan, O. 2009. Romanian-Ukrainian Connections in the Anthroponymy of the Northwestern Part of Romania. In Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Toronto, 17–22 August 2008, ed. W. Ahrens, Sh. Embleton, and A. Lapierre, 399–407. Toronto: York University. Hey, D. 2006. Family Names and Family History. London: Hambledon Continuum. Kohlheim, R., and V. Kohlheim. 2000. Familiennamen: Herkunft und Bedeutung von 20000 Nachnamen [Family Names: Origin and Meaning of 20,000 Surnames]. Berlin: Duden.

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Mergnac, M.-O. 2000. Les noms de famille en France: histoires et anecdotes [Family Names in France: History and Tales]. Paris: Archives & culture. Shokhenmayer, E. 2011. Analyse textuelle des noms propres et des unités propriales modifies [Textual Analysis of Proper Names and Modified Proprial Lemmas]. Saarbrücken: Südwestdeutscher Verlag für Hochschulschriften GmbH & Co. ———. 2016. Comparative Study of the 100 Most Frequent Russian, French, German and British Surnames. In Proceedings of the 25th International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Glasgow, 25–29 August 2014, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, vol. 3, 221–232. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. ———. 2018. Preliminary Study of the Most Frequent Russian, French and German Occupational Surnames. Onomastica Lipsiensia 13: 271–290. Superanskaya, A. 1999. Russian Personal Names. Folia onomastica Croatica 8: 191–200. Tomescu, D. 2001. Numele de persoană la români. Perspectivă istorică [Romanian Personal Names. Historical Perspective]. Bucharest: Univers Enciclopedic. Wickenden of Thanet, P. 2000. Dictionary of Period Russian Names. Normal, IL: Free Trumpet Press West. Zhuravlev, А. 2005. K statistike russkih familij [Statistics of Russian surnames]. Voprosy onomastiki 2: 126–146.

10 Transylvania—An Anthroponymic Perspective Oliviu Felecan

1 Introduction More than other parts of Europe, Transylvania proves to be a land where the people display characteristics of several ethnic groups which have crossed this territory over the centuries, and even settled there. The multiculturality of the area is not only genetic, but it can be noticed on all levels: • ethnicity: Romanian, Hungarian, German (Saxon, Swabian, Zipser German), Székely, Jew, Roma, Serb, Ukrainian, Slovak and so on; • religion: Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Greek Catholic, Protestantism (Lutheranism, Calvinism, Unitarianism), neo-Protestant denominations (Pentecostalism, Baptists, Seventh-day Adventist Church, Jehovah’s Witnesses and others), Judaism;

O. Felecan (*) Faculty of Letters, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Centre of Baia Mare, Baia Mare, Romania © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_10

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• social sphere: Romanian and Hungarian nobility,1 Romanian and Hungarian peasantry, German and Roma craftspeople, intellectuals of all nationalities, German and Jewish tradespeople and so on; • architecture: various architectural styles can be found throughout Transylvania and in specific settlements, be they towns or villages. The coexistence of architectural diversity reminiscent of different ages can be noticed in most towns and cities. The following examples provide a bird’s-eye view of the complexity of buildings in Transylvania: Romanesque architecture (St Michael’s Cathedral in Alba Iulia), Gothic architecture (Evangelical Church in Bistrița), Baroque architecture (Roman Catholic Cathedral in Oradea), Renaissance architecture (Greek Catholic Metropolitan Church in Blaj), Art Nouveau (Palace of Culture in Târgu-Mureș), Vienna and Budapest Secession (Black Eagle Palace in Oradea), Byzantine style (Orthodox Metropolitan Cathedral in Sibiu), traditional Romanian architecture (Wooden Church in Brebi, Sălaj), neo-Romanian architecture (House of the Army in Brașov) and so on. Just as Central Europe was perceived differently among European spaces (see Bölcskei 2018; Woodman 2018), and is even nowadays an object of divergent opinions, the geographical borders of Transylvania are not agreed upon unanimously among specialists. “Transylvanian space can be construed in two ways. In the narrow sense, it refers to the plateau enclosed by the Eastern Carpathians, the Southern Carpathians and the Western Mountains. In a broad sense, Transylvania could be considered to include the border regions of Banat, Crișana and Maramureș, where the influence of neighbouring languages (Hungarian, Serbian and Ukrainian) is strongly felt, especially in relation to phonetics, regional vocabulary and proper names” (Felecan 2018: 189).

 The relativity of ethnic belonging can be seen in the case of one of the most famous aristocratic families in Transylvania, Drágf(f )i, whose origins reach back to the fifteenth century. The members of this family are descendants of the Romanian aristocratic family Drag, but they underwent Magyarisation as a result of converting to Catholicism. Among the most noteworthy members of the above-mentioned family is Bartolomeu Dragfi (Bertalan Drágffy), voivode of Transylvania between the years 1493 and 1499. 1

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To grasp the best picture of Transylvanian specificity in matters of anthroponymy, a diachronic research is needed. It is the only kind of study that can shed light on the successive language strata which contributed to the formation of contemporary onomastic landscape. In Romania, like in other geographical areas, onomastics offers evidence for the ethnolinguistic particularity that resulted from the cohabitation or passage of several peoples through the CarpathianDanubian-Pontic space. Thus, in Transylvania the first linguistic traces date from Thraco-­Dacian, an Indo-European language, like Greek and the Celtic languages. The Latin stratum is subsequent, ensuing from the century-long Roman influence and rule.2 The withdrawal of Roman authorities was expedited by the successive waves of nomads, most of whom did not leave any marks on onomastics. The Slavs are an exception; the remarkable impact they had on the already formed Romanian language constituted its superstratum. In the second millennium AD, Transylvania was subject to various constant influences: Hungarian (as a result of vicinity), German (through the colonisation of the Saxons and Swabians in particular) and Modern Slavic (due to the Romanians abutting several Slavic peoples: Ukrainian, Polish, (Czech-)Slovak, Serbian and Bulgarian). Thus, for nearly a thousand years intra-Carpathian space proves to be multiethnic, multicultural, multilingual and multiconfessional. This diversity is reflected in proper names as well. To study Transylvania from the viewpoint of onomastics is a borderline, interdisciplinary scientific enterprise, a theoretical, methodological and practical endeavour that consists of linguistics, anthropology, culture, geography, history, sociology and psychology among others. Methodologically, anthroponyms will be analysed depending on the category into which they fall: family names, first names, nicknames. “In the pool of anthroponyms, first names are defined by nominal flexibility, which can be translated as the instability of the system due to the subjective selection of name givers. On this level one can notice the difference between the subcategory of first names, an open, innovative field subject  Due to the fact that there are no accounts from the time before and during the formation of the Romanian language, it was impossible to establish toponyms of Latin origin with certainty. 2

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to influences and trends, and the subcategory of family names, fixed and officialised by means of administrative documents, currently constituting an almost closed inventory of onymic forms” (Tomescu 2017: 292, orig. Romanian). As compared to family names and given names, nicknames have an unofficial, unconventional character, and are defined by transience and flexibility.

2 Anthroponyms “As anthroponyms depend on individuals’ and generations’ cultural behaviour more than any other aspect of language, they are more unstable than toponyms” (Ionescu qtd. in Sala 1989: 28, orig. Romanian). Functionally, anthroponyms may be individual (first/baptismal names, family names, nicknames/bynames) or collective, and they fall into two systems of name-giving: an official one and a folk one. As in the other regions of Romania, anthroponyms in Transylvania can be analysed from several perspectives. Thus, Domnița Tomescu (ELR 2001: 49) interprets anthroponyms according to the criteria below: • formal significance: unmotivated anthroponyms (the form is meaningless to the speakers): first names and family names that are usually borrowed but may be motivated in the source-language versus motivated anthroponyms (the form is derived from a meaningful common word): male/female first names, family names; • sociocultural function and significance: religious anthroponyms (biblical, hagiographical or calendar-based names): most anthroponyms in Transylvania fit into this category, due to the rapid conversion to Christianity of the former Roman province (in the third and fourth centuries AD) versus secular anthroponyms (much fewer, because of the strong Catholic, Orthodox and, later on, Protestant Christian element); • form: there are base forms (non-derivatives) versus secondary forms (e.g. hypocoristics); • structure: simple, derivative or compound forms. While derivative forms are numerous, compound ones occur scarcely.

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Diachronically, the evolution of anthroponyms implies several stages. During the Romanisation of Dacia, an onomastic mishmash was recorded, consisting of Dacian names (Burebista, Decebalus), Latin names (Aurelius, Caius) and names borrowed from Greek, Illyrian, Celtic and Oriental colonisers, coming ex toto orbe Romano (see Felecan 2010c: 57–80). Beginning with the age of the establishment of the Romanian language (the fifth–eighth centuries), homogeneous historical layers can be identified based on specific aspects and particularities. Examples of “religious anthroponyms, inherited Greek-Latin forms resulting from regular phonetic evolution” are Îndre(a), Undrea < Andreas, Nicoară, Nicora < Nicolaus (ELR 2001: 49, orig. Romanian). The Latin anthroponymic stock passed down to the Romance languages grew and was restructured during the Early Middle Ages, due to the massive input of Slavic names in the Orient (the equivalent of Germanic names in the Western world). Old Slavic borrowings are two-themed compound forms (Dragomir/Dragoslav, Radomir/Radoslav) and are often simplified: Drag(u), Radu. Cristian Ionescu noted that the “influence of church and administrative Slavonic is felt in the literary form of Romanian names to the same extent to which the influence of Medieval Latin is salient in Western Romance anthroponymy” (qtd. in Sala 1989: 30, orig. Romanian). The Slavic contribution to Romanian anthroponymy comprises three particular features: the borrowing of Old Slavic forms, the mediation of Greek religious names and the import of New Slavic forms from neighbouring languages. Medieval anthroponyms are unique names, first names and bynames/ nicknames. Their first documented mention in Transylvania dates from twelfth-century Hungarian documents, which may be indicative of the bearers’ origin: Iwanus, Nicolus, Sima, Wasil (see Tomescu 2001: 53). Another historical work points out the existence of Transylvanian anthroponyms since as early as the tenth–eleventh centuries: Bucna/Buhna, Geula/Gyla/Gyula/Jula/Gyvla/Gywla (Turcuș et  al. 2011, I: 222). The authors compile an inventory of anthroponyms in Transylvanian space between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries from all viewpoints, noting the number of records and spelling variants. Without pointing out the various forms with which they occur, the most frequent male first names were Ioan (2053), Nicolae (1750), Petru (1373) and Mihail (1047),

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while among the female first names one can mention Elisabeta (730), Margareta (61), (E)caterina (55) and Elena (51). The differences should not be surprising, as historical documents mainly recorded men, especially members of the clergy and the nobility. From the religious viewpoint, Christian anthroponyms were the most numerous. Of those referring to the Old Testament, the most frequently recorded ones were Michael, Abraham, Elyas and Solomon, whereas of the names related to the New Testament, the most employed ones were Iohannes, Petrus, Thomas and Paulus (Turcuș et al. 2011, I: 278, 284). The medieval Romanian system of onomastics was defined by unity and coherence in all the areas inhabited by Romanians (Transylvania, Moldavia and Muntenia). The establishment of this system was achieved gradually between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. Subsequently, the fixed anthroponymic system was not subjected to structural shifts but was steadily consolidated in the following centuries (see Tomescu 2001: 75–76). The modernisation of the aforementioned system began towards the end of the eighteenth century, along with the appearance of the Greek Catholic Church and the Latinist movement promoted by the Transylvanian School.3 “The modernisation implied making family names official, rejuvenating the inventory with New-Greek, Latinistic and Western forms, but it did not alter the onomastic stock conveyed by means of tradition until today” (ELR 2001: 50, orig. Romanian). The above-mentioned onomastic stock is based on fixed religious and secular anthroponymic forms that, through extensive use, have constituted the firm part of the onomastic system until present times. The restoration of the Romanian state at the beginning of the twentieth century conserved the multicultural character of names in Transylvania, as interwar Romanian laws allowed for the preservation of the specific nature of every ethnic group and religious denomination. Only after the fall of communism (in 1989), in the increasingly marked context of globalisation, can one notice the rejuvenation of the onomasticon, as a result of the acquisition of innovative first names especially from Romance and  The Transylvanian School was a political-social and spiritual movement for the liberation of Romanians in Transylvania, which aimed at recognising the Romanian nation as a constitutive part of the Principality of Transylvania. 3

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Germanic languages. Anthroponymic contact with source-languages “is achieved in parallel with language contact inside the borders—via the mass media—and in Western countries to which large communities of Romanians emigrate” (Felecan 2013b: 81, orig. Romanian).

2.1 Family Names The basis for the formation of family names was the hereditary transmission of certain folk forms (bynames and nicknames) and first names that were no longer clear enough to designate specific individuals. In Transylvania the first documented mentions in this respect were recorded in the thirteenth century for Hungarian ethnics, but beginning with the following century they also occurred with the Romanians, Germans and others (Turcuș et al. 2011, I: 358), about two centuries earlier than in the other Romanian principalities. Family names have not only been subject to a century-long process of standardisation and institutionalisation, but also to Magyarisation (Romanian Cîmpian > Hungarian Mezei; German Wilhelm > Hungarian Vilmos, cf. Farkas 2009: 370), a process that was fairly noticeable in Transylvania. Alongside autochthonous forms one could find here numerous foreign names (Hungarian, German, Serbian or Ukrainian ones) that influenced Romanian anthroponymy. Many family names are either translations of autochthonous forms in a foreign language—for example, ethnic names in Romanian (Frânc(u) ‘French’, Maghiar ‘Hungarian’, Rus(u) ‘Russian’) and Hungarian (Cseh ‘Czech’, Horvát(h) ‘Croatian’, Lengyel ‘Polish’, Német(h) ‘German’, Oláh ‘Romanian’, Tóth ‘Slovak’4), or transcriptions of foreign forms: Romanian Crișan—Hungarian Kri(z)sán, German Groß > Hungarian Grósz, Romanian Sas(u)—Hungarian Szász (‘Saxon’), Romanian Săcui/Secui— Hungarian Székely. As a result of the enduring language contact between historical ethnic groups in Transylvania, one can highlight the multiple variants of certain family names that have been investigated by Farkas and Fodor (2016: 425): Ardelean, Ardeleanu (< Ardeal), Árgyelán, Argyelán, Ardeleán, Árgyellán, Ardelán, Árdeleán, Argyilán, Árgyilán,  Tamás Farkas (2013: 504–517) analyses in extenso surnames of ethnonymic origin in the Hungarian language, drawing up statistics for Hungary and Transylvania. 4

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Árdelán, Argyellán, Ardellán, Árdellán, Ardellean, Árgyélán and Árgyalán (< Erdély).5 The multitude of onomastic variants in use makes it difficult to decode the ethnic appurtenance of the name bearers, even more so because two or three forms could coexist in the same family due to certain administrative modifications of family names during World War II, when a part of Transylvania was annexed by Hungary, and in the year immediately after the War, upon the return to the Romanian administration. At the same time, another factor that hinders the identification of name bearers’ ethnicity refers to mixed marriages, in which women most often gave up their maiden names. In addition to Romanian and Hungarian family names, in Transylvania one can also trace family names from the other ethnic groups, albeit proportionally fewer; these names may be German (Haldenwang, Iohannis),6 Ukrainian (Andrasciuc, Koposciuk),7 Serbian (Belodedici, Radan) and Bulgarian (Vasilcin, Velciov)8 among others. Socioeconomically, as in other areas, in Transylvania there are family names indicative of old, traditional occupations, specific to the peoples that used to inhabit the space under investigation: Croitoru (‘tailor’), Dascălu (‘teacher’), Gróf (‘count, landowner’, Hungarian), Iobag (‘serf ’, Romanian), Lingurar (‘spoon maker’, especially Roma), Păduraru (‘forest ranger’), Popa (‘priest’, one of the most frequent Romanian family names), Schuster (‘cobbler’, German), Spoitoru (‘tinker’, Roma), Țăranu (‘peasant’), Vânătoru (‘hunter’). The explanation consists of the fact that when family names were officialised the social status of the bearers was recorded in want of another criterion. As family names make up an almost closed anthroponymic category, acquisitions (through foreign input) and losses (due to the death of families) are insignificant, and formal evolution is excluded because standardisation has already taken place.  For the analysis of family names in Transylvania, see also Farkas (2009: 365–374, 2015: 122–136), Fodor (2013: 518–527, 2015: 163–173) and Slíz (2013: 700–706, 2015: 328–338). 6  The second family name is borne by the President of Romania, a German ethnic from Sibiu, elected in 2014. 7  In Maramureș, near the border with Ukraine, there are several Ukrainian settlements (Bistra, Rona, Ruscova etc.) that preserve the language, customs and names (see Felecan 2009: 399–407). 8  In the Banat there exist settlements (Dudeștii Vechi, Vinga) with Catholic Bulgarian inhabitants. 5

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2.2 First Names Alongside family names, with which they form the mixed, official name, first names individualise people within families. They make up an open, innovative field, subject to trends, regardless of the historical age one may consider. According to their meaning, they may have Christian connotations and religious content or they may be secular. Considering the old age of Christianity in Transylvania9 and the multiethnic configuration of the area, one can see that most baptismal names were disseminated via Byzantine-Eastern Orthodoxy and Latinist Catholicism. They continue to be predominant even today, to the detriment of secular first names. Synchronically, typical Romanian, Hungarian and Ukrainian names, as well as those of other origins, have been preserved unaltered in ethnically compact communities, but combinations are recorded in mixed families in urban and rural environments alike: Alexandra Iudita Mitruţa, Laszlo Robert Nicolae, Ştefania Karla Susana, Zoltan Vasile Ludovic. As a result of anthroponymic contact, numerous spelling variants are registered due to lack of education (Atilla, Attilo, Layos, Noemy) or hypercorrection (Anikö, Ildikö, Kathryn, Szidönia).10 The phenomenon is not restricted to the Hungarian community, but it also occurs with the Romanians (Andrea/Andreea/Andreia, Neculai/ Nicolae/Nicolaie/Niculae/ Niculaie), the Ukrainians (Ocsana/Oksana/Oxana, Vaselena/Vaselina/ Vasilena/Vasilina)11 and in the other communities: German, Gypsy, Serbian and so on. The post-1989 period is characterised by a significant import of first names especially from Western languages. This situation can be noticed in all the ethnic communities in Transylvania in the case of male and female names, which may be combined with autochthonous first names or new, unadjusted forms:  The church in Densuș was built in the thirteenth century, but the Donarium of Biertan—the first Christian votive object discovered in Transylvania—dates from the age of Constantine the Great (the fourth century). 10  The inventory of all the particularities was reviewed in the study Interferențe româno-maghiare reflectate în antroponimia românească [Romanian-Hungarian connections reflected in Romanian anthroponymy] (Felecan 2010a: 267–276). 11  Analysed in extenso in Felecan (2009: 399–407). 9

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• first names of Italian origin: Alessandro Gheorghe, Dario Mihai, Elisa Paola, Giulia Vanessa; • first names of French origin: Carmen Celine, Isabelle Georgiana, Julien Ionuţ, Melanie Mara; • first names of Spanish origin: Gheorghe Luis, Isabel Maria Lorena, Marian Antonio Jose, Miguel Cătălin; • first names of English origin: Andrea Brenda, Jessica Alexandra, Loredana Marlyn, Megan Beatrice; • first names of German origin: Alfred Ionuţ, Emanuela Hilda, Hubert Alexandru, Marius Klaus; • rare first names, considered exotic: Cristina Aggeliki (Greek), Hakim Dan Islam (Muslim). These examples prove the fact that multiculturalism as mirrored by first names is not only related to vicinity, to the coexistence of different ethnic groups in a single region, but it is nowadays linked to globalisation, the free movement of persons, the influence of mass media and the absence of political, religious and social restrictions specific to totalitarian regimes (see Felecan 2007: 97–107, 2010b: 1–23, 2013a: 123–134). The phenomenon is not specific to Transylvania alone. It can be seen in all areas, as Katharina Leibring notes in her chapter of The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming: “A contemporary but contrasting trend shows an increased usage of more international names, as well as names from idols in popular culture” (Leibring 2016: 211). This international onomastic openness coexists with the return to tradition, to the ancient anthroponymic stock: “during the last few years, there has also been a trend in many countries to use names of a more nationalistic colour” (Leibring 2016: 211). In Romania some eloquent examples in this respect are Catinca, Ilinca, Mara and Mihnea.

2.3 Nicknames “The boundaries between names and appellatives are not easy to draw” (Brylla 2016: 241), especially since many family names were originally nicknames and bynames. Of all the categories of anthroponyms,

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nicknames are the most exposed to renewal, as they are interdependent with social, psychological, economic, political, cultural and ethnic factors (see Felecan 2016: 65–81). In tightly knit communities and minority ethnic groups, nicknames are a picturesque and prolific onomastic category, a common means of designation. As occasional names which sometimes have the tendency to be hereditary (thereby becoming bynames), nicknames may be appreciative (Bocotanu ‘rich man’, Găzdoaie ‘housewife’) or pejorative (Coate-goale ‘without means, poor’, Sărăntocu ‘poor’). Most nicknames are qualifying, descriptive, and in the context of Transylvania only a few nicknames related to ethnicity will be mentioned on this occasion: Danezu (‘the Dane’, masculine form; he worked in Denmark for a while), Gypsy (< he wore a smudgy T-shirt and had darker skin), Neamțu (‘the German’, masculine form; his father was a German soldier in World War II), Tot (Doamna Tot ‘Mrs Tot’) (< the Hungarian family name Tóth). Other nicknames may refer to religion: Papistașu (the bearer is of Roman or Greek Catholic faith; that is, he acknowledges the primacy of the Pope), Pocăitu, Sectaru (‘sectarian’; the bearers are neo-­ Protestant believers). Another means of coining nicknames in the area under investigation is related to generic first names or hypocoristics, prototypical of an ethnic group, such as Ion (for a Romanian), Pișta, Gyuri (< István, György, for Hungarians), Fritz (< Friedrich, Frederick, for a German ethnic), Ițic (< Isaac, Itzhak, for a Jew). From an ethnic viewpoint, nicknames are the only onomastic category at which Gypsies excel, whether one refers to local examples (within a community) or examples from abroad.12 In conclusion, created perpetually and circumstantially, nicknames are characteristic of unconventional name-giving in Transylvania and beyond, in every area, regardless of ethnic appurtenance or historical context.

12

 Gypsy names have been analysed by Felecan in several studies (see 2011: 57–68, 2014: 502–214).

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3 Concluding Remarks Diachronically, although names transmitted from the Antiquity are scarce, Transylvanian anthroponymic landscape has diversified along with the coming of various populations to this Central European space. Thus, the multiculturality of personal names is a natural result of the multiethnicity, social stratification and multiconfessional character which have defined the Habsburg Empire for centuries. The research into anthroponymy in multiethnic and multicultural regions like Transylvania implies a complex endeavour. While family names make up a category that is well defined in time, without chances for rejuvenation, Romanian, Hungarian and German first names are more and more rivalled by Western baptismal names, which are part of the onomasticon of every ethnic group. Nicknames enjoy complete interethnic mobility and ‘spice up’ the onomastic background of the region.

References Bölcskei, Andrea. 2018. Central Europe as a Historical, Cultural, Social and Geopolitical Concept Today. Onomastica Uralica 12: 235–251. Brylla, Eva. 2016. Bynames and Nicknames. In The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, 237–250. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Farkas, Tamás. 2009. Surnames of Foreign Origin in a Language Contact Situation. The Reasons and Ways of Their Changes and Their Influence on the Surname Stock in Hungary. In Names in Multi-Lingual, Multi-Cultural and Multi-Ethnic Contact. Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences. August 17–22, 2008, York University, Toronto, Canada, ed. W.  Ahrens, Sh. Embleton, and A.  Lapierre, 365–374. Toronto: York University. ———. 2013. Surnames of Ethnonymic Origin in the Hungarian Language. In Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, ed. O. Felecan, 504–517. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2015. The Most Frequent Hungarian Surnames. A Study of Some Aspects of Contrastive Surname Typology. In Proceedings of the Third

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International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Conventional/ Unconventional in Onomastics, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 122–136. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. Farkas, Tamás, and János N. Fodor. 2016. Surnames of Romanian Origin in the Hungarian Surname Stock: Árgyelán, Marosán, Moldován. In Magistri et alumni, amore scribendi. Studia. In honorem Professoris Nicolae Felecan, ed. O. Felecan and D. Felecan (eds.), 424–438. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. Felecan, Oliviu. 2007. L’influence des médias sur les noms propres roumains après 1989 [The Influence of Mass Media on Romanian Proper Names After 1989]. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Uppsala, 19–24 August 2002, Volumen III, Section 2. Names and Society. 2b. The Conditions for Names, ed. Eva Brylla, Mats Wahlberg, and Rob Rentenaar, 97–107. Uppsala: Institutet för språk- och folkminnen. ———. 2009. Romanian—Ukrainian Connections in the Anthroponymy of the Northwestern Part of Romania. In Names in Multi-Lingual, Multi-­ Cultural and Multi-Ethnic Contact, Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, August 17–22 2008, ed. W.  Ahrens, Sh. Embleton, and A. Lapierre, 399–407. Toronto: York University. ———. 2010a. Interférences roumaines—hongroises dans l’anthroponimie de Nord-Ouest de la Roumanie [Romanian-Hungarian Connections in the Anthroponymy of North-Western Romania]. In Actes du XXVe Congrès International de Linguistique et de Philologie Romanes, (Innsbruck, 2007), Tome III, Section 8: Onomastique (toponymie et anthroponymie), 267–276. Berlin/New York: De Gruyter. ———. 2010b. Multiethnic Connections Reflected in the Anthroponymy of a Central European Region. Nomina Africana 24 (1): 1–23. ———. 2010c. A Diachronic Excursion into the Anthroponymy of Eastern Romania. Philologica Jassyensia 1 (11): 57–80. ———. 2011. Prenumele ţigăneşti: între antroponime şi nume de branduri [Gypsy Names: Between Anthroponyms and Brand Names]. In Name and Naming. Proceedings of the First International Conference on Onomastics: Multiethnic Connections in Anthroponymy, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 57–68. ClujNapoca: Mega. ———. 2013a. Il contatto linguistico romeno-romanzo attuale, riflesso nell'antroponimia [The Contemporary Romanian-Romance Linguistic Contact Mirrored in Anthroponymy]. In Actes de 26é Congrés Internacional de Lingüística i Filologia Romàniques, Valencia, vol. V, Secció 6: Descripció històrica i/o sincrònica de les llengües romàniques: onomàstica (toponímia i antroponímia), 123–134. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter.

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———. 2013b. Un excurs onomastic în spațiul public românesc actual [An Onomastic Excursion Into Contemporary Romanian Public Space]. ClujNapoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2014. Gypsy Names: Anthroponymic Identity/Assimilation. In Els noms en la vida quotidiana. Actes del XXIV Congrés Internacional d’ICOS sobre Ciències Onomàstiques/Names in daily life. Proceedings of the XXIV ICOS International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Secció 4, ed. Joan Tort i Donada and Montserrat Montagut i Montagut, 502–514. Barcelona: Generalitat de Catalunya, Departament de Cultura. ———. 2016. A Psycholinguistic Approach to Nicknaming (With Reference to Nicknames Given by Students to Teachers). In Names and Their Environment. Proceedings of the 25th International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, Glasgow, 25–29 August 2014, ed. Carole Hough with Daria Izdebska, vol. 3, 65–81. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. ———. 2018. Transylvania—A Toponymic Perspective. Onomastica Uralica 12: 289–299. http://mnytud.arts.unideb.hu/onomural/kotetek/ou12/20. pdf. Accessed January 2020. Fodor, János N. 2013. Geolinguistic Research of Historical Personal Names Found in the Carpathian Basin. In Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, ed. O. Felecan, 518–527. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2015. Language Contact Effects in Historical Hungarian and Romanian Personal Names. In Proceedings of the Third International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Conventional/Unconventional in Onomastics, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 163–173. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. Leibring, Katharina. 2016. The Development of Given Names in European Naming System. In The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, 199–213. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sala, Marius, ed. 1989. Enciclopedia limbilor romanice [Encyclopaedia of Romance Languages]. Bucharest: Editura Științifică și Enciclopedică. ———, ed. 2001. Enciclopedia limbii române (ELR) [Encyclopaedia of the Romanian Language]. Bucharest: Univers Enciclopedic. Slíz, Mariann. 2013. The Role of the Type of Sources in Historical Family Name Studies. In Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, ed. O. Felecan, 700–706. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut.

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11 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in Hungarian Anthroponymy Mariann Slíz

1 Possible Interpretations of Multiculturalism in Hungary The term multiculturalism can be interpreted in various ways referring to the personal name stock and name-giving in Hungary—especially from a diachronic point of view. Since several ethnicities have lived and used languages in Hungary—both historically and in the present day—the question of multiculturalism in the personal name stock and name-­giving habits cannot be separated from multiethnicity and multilingualism. Additionally, it is generally accepted that religion may have an impact on the personal name stock and name-giving. Thus, the religious history of Hungary and various religious influences have to be taken into account as well. Moreover, approaches considering the sources of names have The research for this chapter was supported by the János Bolyai Research Scholarship of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences and the ÚNKP-19-4 New National Excellence Program of the Ministry of Human Capacities.

M. Slíz (*) ELTE Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest, Hungary © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_11

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their own raison d’être. In the following, these aspects will be examined, concerning given names and surnames, respectively. It is essential to accentuate that the composition of the name stock and the motivations of naming should be treated separately, although these two phenomena can be intertwined in various ways. For instance, in the present day, a Hungarian child may be given a name of Turkish origin not necessarily due to religious or ethnic reasons but because the parents like a character (or their name) in a popular Turkish television series.

2 Multiculturalism in the Given Name Stock and Naming Habits in Hungary 2.1 Multiethnicity, Multilingualism and the Linguistic Origin of the Given Name Stock Hungary has always been a multiethnic country, in which Hungarian, Turkic, Slavic, German, French (Walloon), Italian, Romanian and so on ethnicities live together. Although the territory and number of non-­ Hungarian inhabitants of Hungary decreased significantly after 1920, there are still 13 officially recognised ethnicities in Hungary (in the order of population size: Romani peoples, German, Slovakian, Croatian, Romanian, Ukrainian, Serbian, Slovenian, Polish, Greek, Bulgarian, Rusyn and Armenian) and some non-recognised ones, too (e.g. Chinese, Russian). While today the majority of Hungarian citizens are monolingual, multi- or bilingualism was more common before the twentieth century, especially in ethnically mixed territories of the country and in the educated classes. Naturally, ethnic minorities and their languages left their mark on the Hungarian given name stock, as did cultural contact with other peoples and languages outside Hungary. The earliest data on the given name stock of Hungary or the Hungarians has survived from the Middle Ages. These names paint an extremely colourful picture. Names of Hungarian origin were of a referring nature: they pertained to the name bearers’ external or internal characteristics

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(e.g. Fekete ‘Black/Dark [hair or skin]’, Haragos ‘Furious’), or other features (e.g. age, occupation, ethnicity). Such names may have expressed these characteristics metaphorically or metonymically through names of animals, plants and so on (e.g. Medve ‘Bear’, Gyöngy ‘Pearl’). While the meaning of these names was evident for the Hungarians, names borrowed from other languages worked as meaningless signs for those who did not know the language in question. The oldest group of non-Hungarian given names for which data is extant is Turkic (e.g. Ákos ‘White Hawk’, Tas ‘Stone’, Ajtony ‘Gold[en]’). These names were borrowed from Turkic peoples during the centuries of migration before the Hungarian settlement of the Carpathian basin, and several other names were borrowed from Turkic peoples who settled in Hungary during the Middle Ages (e.g. Pechenegs and Cumans). Due to connections with the Holy Roman Empire and immigration from the empire (noblemen, city dwellers and peasants) several German given names entered the Hungarian given name stock in the Middle Ages (e.g. Henrik, Hermann, Gertrúd, Hedvig). Similarly, given names were borrowed from Slavic peoples, some of which had been living in the Carpathian basin since before the Hungarian settlement, while others came from abroad in later centuries (e.g. Szoboszló < Sobeslav, Kázmér < Casimir). Some French names also entered the stock of names in the Middle Ages (e.g. Jolánta < Yolande, Gyán < Jehan). However, most given names came from Latin (and partly from Byzantine Greek) with the mediation of both Christian Churches. These names gradually marginalised the other groups by the fifteenth century. Later the composition of the given name stock did not change significantly until the nineteenth century. (For more detail on the composition and changes of the medieval given name stock see Slíz 2017a: 50–92.) The given name stock was grown considerably by romanticism and the national idea. As a part of the Hungarian language reform, several foreign names were translated into Hungarian (e.g. Constantine > Szilárd, Victor > Győző), and long forgotten medieval names (mostly of Hungarian and Turkic origin) were revived due to the increased interest in the national past (e.g. names from the Árpád Dynasty: Álmos, Árpád, Béla, Géza, Vazul). Names newly created or revived by poets and writers found their way from books to the national name stock (e.g. Etelka and Jolán by András Dugonics; Zalán, Csongor and Tünde by Mihály Vörösmarty;

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Gyöngyvér by János Arany; Tímea and Kincső by Mór Jókai) (Slíz 2016: 249–250; Farkas 2017). Since the nineteenth century, the name stock has been growing consistently. Several foreign names were borrowed through cultural transfer, especially in the most recent decades, due to globalisation; for example, Spanish and/or Italian (e.g. Armandó, Dzsúlió, Eszmeralda, Rikárdó, Violetta), French (e.g. Anett, Dominik, Noel), English (e.g. Brájen, Dzsenifer, Dzsesszika, Gordon), Arabic and/or Turkish (e.g. Abdullah, Ahmed, Dzsamila, Dilara), Hindu or Sanskrit (e.g. Damajanti, Góvinda, Indira, Krisna, Laksmi) and so on. The creation of new Hungarian names from common words is also popular (e.g. Barka ‘Catkin’, Bársony ‘Velvet’, Gyömbér ‘Ginger’, Málna ‘Raspberry’). It is essential to mention that the given name stock has been officially regulated since 1982: since then, a name that is not on the list of registrable ones can only be given to a child if an application is accepted by the Given Name Committee of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. (For more information see Raátz 2012.)

2.2 Religious Motivations of Name-Giving in Hungary The religious nature of pre-Christian naming is known from medieval sources. As the spread of Christianity was a long and problematic process, burdened by riots against the new religion and its followers, several non-­ Christian names were preserved in charters and chronicles. Religious motivations can be divided into two types: (1) name magic, (2) expression of the name bearer’s feelings against Christianity. Examples of magical naming can be seen in names that deny the existence of their bearers to deceive evil spirits that bear ailments (e.g. Nemél ‘Does not exist’, Nemvaló ‘Not living’), while derogative names (e.g. Disznó ‘Swine’, Féreg ‘Worm’) were used to expel these spirits from sick people. The names of beasts and birds of prey might have been given as totemic names for the protection of their bearers. However, there could have been other, non-­ magical motivations behind derogatory and animal names as well (e.g. expressing some characteristics metaphorically). The other motivation type reflects the beliefs of name bearers negatively but actively,

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accentuating only one aspect: the refusal of Christianity (e.g. Pogány ‘Pagan’, Nemhű ‘Unbeliever’, Hitlen ‘Unbeliever’). (See e.g. Slíz 2017a: 101–103.) As for Christian names, they were transferred by both churches. Thus, the veneration of Catholic and Orthodox saints alike had an impact on Hungarian name-giving. Children may have been named after saints for several reasons, for example, particular respect for the saint (as the guardian saint of the family, the town, the occupation, the country). For instance, the frequency of the name László rose quickly among the nobility during the reign of the Angevin Dynasty (fourteenth century), since Saint Ladislaus (King Ladislaus I) was the greatest protector of the royal family and King Louis I (1342–1382) personally. Additionally, the popularity of the name was promoted by the fact that Ladislaus was regarded as the greatest chivalric saint during the century of late chivalry. (For a more detailed overview see Slíz 2017b.) Naming children after the saints whose day they were born on was also a widespread habit, one that can be traced to the Modern Age (Hajdú 2003: 403–406, 611–618). Some similarity between the saint and the child could also be the reason; for example, King Louis I may have named his first daughter after Saint Katherine of Alexandria because he had to wait decades for an heir, similarly to Katherine’s father according to her legend. The closeness of the relics of a saint or the centre of a cult could also increase the popularity of a saint’s name; for example, the name László was demonstrably more frequent in the agglomeration of Várad, the centre of Saint Ladislaus’ cult (Slíz 2011: 81–85). Notable events in the veneration of a saint could also be catalysts. Although Princess Margaret has been considered a saint in Hungary since the 1270s, repeated efforts for her canonisation only succeeded after ca. 670 years, in 1943. While her name was only moderately popular in the middle of the nineteenth century, its frequency rose drastically by the 1940s, becoming the fifth most popular female name. This change was due to the social influence of the well-known archaeological excavation of the cloister where she had lived and died in the thirteenth century and the campaign for her canonisation (and its concomitants: several books, films, radio shows, posters, stamps etc.). (See also Farkas and Slíz 2018: 289.)

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Although the reformation changed religious motivations, it did not change the given name stock significantly. Protestants preferred names from the Old Testament as they rejected the cults of saints, contrary to the earlier tradition in which names from the New Testament and martyrologies were more frequent. Nevertheless, some names of saints stayed among the most popular ones, as they were already widespread or due to their connection with the leading personalities of the Protestant churches (e.g. the name János due to Calvin and Márton due to Luther). Religious variability led to regional variability: several names were regarded as Catholic in one region or village, while Protestant in another (B. Gergely 1998; Hajdú 2003: 547–550; Farkas and Slíz 2018: 285). In modern-day Hungary, the religious motivations of naming are overshadowed by other motivations, for example, to give children unique names, names borne by famous people, names connected to ancient Hungarian history, names that have internationally uniform sound and written form and so on. While Christian names have not gone out of use, they are often given to children for reasons other than religion.

2.3 Names and Naming of Non-Christian Religious Minorities There is little data on the medieval and early modern name stock of Jewish people in Hungary. Extant sources indicate that they bore names from the Old Testament, for example, Saba (1349, AO. 5: 291), Izrael (1353, AO. 6: 84), or Yiddish names (e.g. Hirsch, Wolf), but Turkish and Christian names (in their German, Czech, Polish or Hungarian forms) can also be found in the data (Scheiberné Bernáth 1981: 41). A significant change came about due to the assimilation of Jews at the end of the nineteenth century: certain Christian names became the most common among them (e.g. Sándor ‘Alexander’, Miklós ‘Nicholas’, Ferenc ‘Francis’; Ilona ‘Helen’, Mária ‘Mary’, Anna ‘Ann’), and names connected to the (real or assumed) Hungarian history, revived or created in the nineteenth century (e.g. Béla, Jenő), especially the names of the dynastic saints of the Árpáds (István ‘Stephen’, Imre ‘Emeric’, László ‘Ladislaus’, Erzsébet ‘Elisabeth’, Margit ‘Margaret’) became more frequent (Frojimovics 2003).

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As other non-Christian minorities are small in Hungary, their naming habits are yet to raise onomastic interest. As mentioned, there are Arabic and Turkish names in the name stock. However, many of them were added to the list of registrable names over the past few years not for religious reasons but under the influence of Turkish television series (e.g. Hatidzse as the name of Sultan Suleiman’s sister in the series The Magnificent Century). Contrary to this, Hindu or Sanskrit names are certainly used due to the religious motivations of parents identifying as Krishna Conscious Believers (Raátz 2012: 27–29).

2.4 Cultural Sources of Given Names in Hungary The few traces of the pre-Christian name stock show the characteristics of a nomadic culture, where the sources of names were the objects of nature and the man-made world. By contrast, the sources of Christian names are restricted to the Holy Bible and martyrologies. Nevertheless, another source should be mentioned from the Middle Ages: chivalric literature, which made a moderate impact on the naming of the noble class between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries. Names taken from Arthurian legends (Arteus ‘Arthur’, Lanceret ‘Lancelot’, Weniwer ‘Guinevere’), The Song of Roland (Roland and Oliver), the story of Tristan and Isolde, the Trojan cycle (Priamus, Paris, Achilles, Hector, Ulyxes, Mercurius, Venus) or classical mythology known from the works of Roman authors (e.g. Medea, Galathea) can be found in documents, although they were not frequent compared to biblical and saints’ names. They were also crowded out by Christian names, and the habit of naming from literature did not return until the end of the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Then Classicism revived several mythological names, although their use remained sporadic, tied to some intellectuals and aristocrats. Romanticism and its new national literature served as stronger inspiration, as seen above. Some names were chosen from world literature (e.g. Aladdin— One Thousand and One Nights; Kordélia—Shakespeare, King Lear; Aramisz, Atosz—Dumas, The Three Musketeers; Anitra—Ibsen, Peer Gynt) and from operas (e.g. Ozmin—Mozart, The Abduction from the Seraglio; Aida, Radamesz—Verdi, Aida; Almiréna—Handel, Rinaldo). The

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twentieth century brought a new medium: the motion picture. In addition to the names from Latin-American and Turkish television series mentioned before, names from The Lord of the Rings (Gandalf, Frodó, Boromir, Aragorn, Arven), Star Wars (Amidala, Anakin), Game of Thrones (Denerisz) and Mortal Kombat (Kitana) have also become registrable in the past few years. (For more information on given names taken from literature and motion pictures in Hungary see Slíz 2016.) Since the end of the twentieth century, choosing Old Hungarian names for children is an increasingly common motivation, too. Several dictionaries listing names of this type have been published, especially in the 1990s. The name pools of these books—although they claim that their content is ancient Hungarian—contain not only historical names but names created by national writers (e.g. Vörösmarty) and invented names from newly created mythologies and alternatively rewritten history. The sources of these mythologies (beyond the authors’ imagination) are various; for example, the Hungarian chronicle tradition connected to the Huns (e.g. Ajbars, Apszik), classical authors’ works on Scythians (e.g. Aripeit from Herodotus), Sumerian names (e.g. Ur-Engur), place names (e.g. Mátra—mountains in Hungary), common words (e.g. Boci ‘Calf ’, Karcsú ‘Slender’) and so on. Nevertheless, names not found in credible historical documents are not registrable in Hungary according to a principle of the Given Name Committee of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, which may cause problems when parents apply to the Committee to use these names. (For more information on these dictionaries and the practical problems they may cause see Slíz 2018.)

3 Multiculturalism in the Surname Stock in Hungary 3.1 Linguistic Origin of the Surname Stock Due to the multiethnic nature of the Hungarian Kingdom, its surname system became quite colourful, regarding the linguistic origin of names. Although today there is only one name of non-Hungarian origin among

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the 100 most frequent surnames (Slavic Novak: 84th), the pool of foreign surnames was larger before the start of official name changes and the loss of territories inhabited by large ethnic (and also Hungarian) populations in 1920. According to János N. Fodor’s geonomastic project (AHSH.; see, e.g., N. Fodor 2013, 2015), 1 German and 12 Slovak surnames were among the top 100 of the first countrywide census in 1713 (for further information, see Farkas 2015: 131–132). In addition to these, names from other Slavic languages (mostly from Serbian, Croatian, Rusyn and Polish) and Romanian can also be found in significant proportions, and there are several sporadic entries for names originating from other languages as well. The first bynames, the antecedents of the Hungarian surname system, appeared in documents in the thirteenth century. Similar to the system of pre-Christian given names, these bynames reflected the social-economic-­ cultural environment of their bearers. They could express the name bearer’s relation to a person (mostly to the father), a clan, an ethnic group or a place (of birth or living and estates in the case of noblemen). Others referred to the name bearer’s individual qualities (appearance, characteristics, manner of speech or behaviour etc.) or an event which held importance in the life of the person in question. Among these types, names referring to ethnicity reflect the inhabitants’ multiethnic background: even if it is evident that these names may refer not only to ethnicity but also to language and a connection with or similarity to an ethnic group, these motivations bear witness to the colourful ethnic picture of the country. Concerning the contemporary surname stock, 10% of the 100 most frequent surnames refer to ethnicities. Moreover, five of them are ranked in the top 20: Tóth ‘Slavic, Slovak’ (3rd), Horváth ‘Croatian’ (5th), Németh ‘German’ (9th), Oláh ‘Romanian’ (18th), Rácz ‘Serbian’ (20th) (Farkas 2015: 131; for a detailed history of this surname type see Farkas 2013). The long process of bynames becoming hereditary started in the first half of the fourteenth century and lasted about two centuries. However, inherited surnames could easily be changed until 1814, when the edict of King Francis I forbade changes without official permission. Non-Hungarian surnames partly came with their bearers from abroad, and partly evolved in Hungary as the names of inhabitants belonging to

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ethnic minorities. While the surname system of Germans in Hungary slightly forewent that of Hungarians due to the bearers’ origin and strong connections to the Holy Roman Empire, the surname systems of the majority of ethnicities emerged somewhat later. As a part of the Jewish inhabitants of the Habsburg Monarchy did not have surnames even in the second half of the eighteenth century, King Joseph II ordered them to choose surnames (1787) and forbade the change of surnames. Three decades later, King Francis I extended the prohibition of unpermitted name changes to orthodox inhabitants (that is, mostly Serbs), too, since their patronymic bynames had naturally changed from generation to generation before the edict (cf. Kozma and Farkas 2009). From the nineteenth century onwards official name changes, as mentioned above, have led to a decrease in the proportion of surnames of non-Hungarian origin. Foreign sounding names have been authorised only in exceptional cases, mostly driven by family motivations (e.g. when the chosen names belonged to relatives or ancestors, or the adoptive parents of the applicants). New names have in part been picked from the existing name pool and in part have been newly created by the applicants. These creations have, at times, resulted in name structures or semantic characteristics that are strange in Hungarian, even if they are constituted of Hungarian elements. For instance, a set of names were based on the model of toponymic bynames, save that the place names in them never really existed and were often extraordinary (e.g. Békevári < béke ‘peace’ + vár ‘castle’ + -i suffix ‘from, of ’, Széplábi < szép ‘beautiful’ + láb ‘leg’ + -i suffix ‘from, of ’) (Juhász 2005). However, the Hungarianisation of a surname did not always mean the adoption of an existing or newly created Hungarian name. It could also be achieved by dropping an ethnospecific morphologic or phonologic feature from the name of foreign origin, for example, -ics/-vics/-ovics/-evics from the end of names of Slavic origin (e.g. Slavic Gasparovics > Gáspár) or the consonant cluster (e.g. Slavic Kmetykó > Metykó) and so on. Other ways consisted of adding Hungarian elements to non-Hungarian names (e.g. German Lackner + Hungarian -fi ‘son of ’ > Lacknerfi) or linking a Hungarian name to the non-Hungarian one with a hyphen (e.g. Hungarian Keresztes + German Fischer > Keresztes-­ Fischer) (for a detailed typology of changes with more examples see Farkas 2016).

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3.2 Hungarian Surnames Referring to Religion or Christian Culture in Hungary The Hungarian surname system maintains traces of the religious variability of past centuries. Some names refer directly to the religion of the name bearers’ ancestors; for example, Pápista ‘Catholic’, Kálomista ‘Calvinist’, Szombatos ‘Seventh-day Baptist’, Habán ‘Anabaptist’, Zsidó ‘Jew’ (however, this may also originate from a variant of Zsigmond ‘Sigismund’) (CsnSz.). The names Pogány ‘pagan’ and Hitlen ‘unbeliever, faithless’ may refer to non-Christians or reprobates. Other names—like Szentes ‘saintly’, Istenes ‘godly’, Böjtölő ‘fasting’, Kegyes ‘pious’—refer to religious, devout conduct. Some names are traceable to the names of church offices, ranks and dignities (e.g. Pap ‘priest’, Érsek ‘archbishop’, Keresztes ‘crusader, member of a chivalric order’). The names Angyal ‘Angel’ and Ördög ‘Devil’ certainly alluded to the first bearers’ behaviour metaphorically. Two types of surnames refer to Christian culture indirectly: patronymic surnames emerging from Christian given names (István ‘Stephen’, Jakab ‘Jacob’, Tamás ‘Thomas’ etc.) and toponymic surnames from settlement names derived from names of saints (Szentmiklósi < ‘Saint Nicholas’ settlement name + suffix -i ‘from, of ’, Szentgyörgyi < ‘Saint George’ settlement name + suffix -i ‘from, of ’).

3.3 Cultural Sources of Hungarian Surnames Similar to non-Christian given names, the sources of several surname types were the natural, the man-made and the social environment of people (animals, plants, objects, occupations, anthroponyms, ethnonyms and toponyms etc.). Unlike the pool of given names, the surname system gained few new entries from literature. Since Chivalric given names were low in frequency and went out of style by the beginning of the fifteenth century, it is no surprise that very few patronymic surnames are derived from them (e.g. Lorántffy < Loránt ‘Roland’ + -fi ‘son of ’, Perjémes ‘Priamus’, Roland, Terestyén ‘Tristan’, Izsold ‘Isolde’) (cf. Farkas and Slíz 2012: 97). A few proven examples of surnames of literary origin are known from the history of official surname changes: for example,

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Kárpáthy ~ Kárpáti ‘of the Carpathians’ and Szentirmay ‘Szentirma settlement name + suffix -i ‘from, of ’, both from the novels Egy magyar nábob ‘A Hungarian aristocrat’ and Kárpáthy Zoltán ‘Zoltán Kárpáthy’ by Jókai (Farkas 2007; Slíz 2016: 251). In some respects, newly created surnames based on historical tradition, affected by Romanticism in the nineteenth century may also be considered of literary origin. These were transmitted directly by means of medieval historical works which became widely accessible due to their first Hungarian translations and indirectly through the writers and poets who used the names found in these chronicles and gests in their historical epic poetry. Several names of chiefs and monarchs of the Hungarians (and the Huns and Scythians who were thought the ancestors of Hungarians at that time) served as bases of name creation (e.g. Csaba, Álmos, Huba, Töhötöm—given names). Sometimes these were integrated into a name structure (e.g. Etelvári < Etel ‘the short form of the name of Attila the Hun’ + vár ‘castle’ + -i suffix; Árpádfi < Árpád ‘the name of the Hungarian grand prince during the settlement of the Hungarians into the Carpathian Basin’ + -fi ‘son of ’). The names of old peoples became surnames as well (e.g. Hun, Avar, Szittya ‘Scythian [old variant of the ethnonym]’), as did the titles of old dignitaries (Vajda ‘voivode’, Nádor ‘palatine’, Kendefi < Kende ‘name of a high dignity from the pre-Cristian times’ + -fi ‘son of ’ etc.) (Juhász 2009: 98–99).

4 Conclusion As seen above, the pools of given names and surnames in Hungary reflect the colourful ethnic, religious and cultural nature of the country, in both historical and contemporary terms. Some of them fossilise ancient beliefs (e.g. name magic) or preserve the traces of old social and economic environment, while others reflect the religious background or reveal the interests of name givers (history, literature, cinema). Two periods can be considered the richest in the documented history of Hungarian given names: (1) the eleventh to fourteenth centuries, when Christian names had not overpowered every other type, and (2) modern times beginning

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with the nineteenth century, in which newly made Hungarian names and the wide range of adopted foreign names entered the name stock. While given names may react quickly to cultural, social, economic and political changes, surnames—due to their hereditary nature—may perpetuate the names of old occupations, dignities, ethnicities, cultural and religious habits and so on long after they fall into disuse as common words. For instance, the words pápista ‘Catholic’ and kálomista ‘Calvinist’ are no longer used (the accepted terms are katolikus and református today); similarly, the names Oláh ‘Romanian’, Rácz ‘Serbian’, Tóth ‘Slavic, Slovakian’ derived from outdated common words (their contemporary equivalents are román, szerb and szláv, szlovák). Due to official name changes, the growth of the Hungarian surname system continues to this day and may maintain the names of new professions (e.g. Programozó ‘programmer’ [as the second constituent of a hyphenated name]; cf. Farkas and Slíz 2012: 94) and so on as a hallmark of our times for future generations.

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———. 2017b. Between East and West. The Influence of the Cults of Saints on Personal Name-giving in Medieval Hungary. In Name and Naming. Proceedings of the Fourth International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Sacred and Profane in Onomastics. Baia Mare, September 5–7, 2017, ed. O. Felecan, 372–380. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2018. The Legal Deficiency of Publishing Calendars and the Problems Caused by Calendars and Dictionaries of Given Names Based on Lay Ideas in Hungary. Onomastica Uralica 10: 309–315.

12 Multicultural Aspects of Name and Naming in Pre-conquest Times and Catholic and Protestant Churches from Hungary: A Comparative Perspective Andrea Bölcskei

1 Introduction Below the effects of how significant cultural changes in the history of the Hungarian people have affected the personal name stock and the practice of bestowing given names to individuals in the language are examined and described. First, the early, secular native given names and naming conventions and the set and choice of Christian names are compared; then the principles behind Catholic and Protestant practices of giving Christian names reflecting religious affiliation are discussed. Finally, some modern tendencies leading to the secular renewal of the given name stock are identified. As a result, the multicultural background, as well as the occasional earlier religious affiliation of the elements of the Christian name stock used in the present-day Hungarian language is explored. A. Bölcskei (*) Károli Gáspár University of the Reformed Church in Hungary, Budapest, Hungary © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_12

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2 The Shift from Ancient to Christian Practices of Personal Name-Giving in the Hungarian Language Cultural shifts characteristically entail significant political, social and economic changes in a nation’s life. Between the mid-fifth and the late-ninth centuries, Hungarian people lived a nomadic way of life in the western regions of the Eurasian steppes. Their economy was based on breeding large domesticated ungulates on fields in common possession with limited basic forms of agriculture. Their pagan religious beliefs included eastern characteristics, while their society mostly consisted of free warriors. The tribal alliance was modelled on that of the Turkic-speaking peoples they lived side by side with, and language use was influenced predominantly by Iranian and western Turkic languages (Kálmán 1978: 39). In the transitional period of the tenth and eleventh centuries, after the invasion of the Carpathian Basin, Hungarians started to live in permanent settlements. Their economy shifted to rely on agriculture and stabling in animal husbandry, and developed individual differences in wealth due to unequal land ownership. An independent, centralised kingdom and a comitat system in government were established. This was followed by conversion to Western Christianity as a state religion and adoption of its Latin-based literacy. Previous tribal dialects were transformed into regional dialects, and they were surrounded mostly by Slavic and German peoples and languages. These fundamental changes in lifestyle necessarily affected language use as well as naming practices. In fact, the most dramatic change in the history of Hungarian naming conventions can be connected to this almost complete alteration in culture and living conditions that resulted from the conquest of the Carpathian Basin by the ancestors of the Hungarians (Kiss 2018: 45; Slíz 2017b: 51). Although no written records of the Hungarian language were preserved from pre-conquest times, there are several known elements of the early personal name stock which survived into later centuries in various ways, for instance, as given names, bynames or surnames in charters; as names for characters in legends; as constituents in special types of settlement names. Based on this evidence, several valid statements can be made

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on ancient Hungarian personal names. They were all secular names and typically consisted of a single element. By and large, their most numerous group was invented from meaningful Hungarian common words, usually spontaneously, by members of the community, for example, 1152: Legunei (‘young man’), 1210: Files (‘long-eared’), 1211: Hozug (‘liar’), 1095: Scekeres (‘carter’), 1198: Bika (‘bull’). As a result, most personal names of the era were intelligible, transparent forms for native Hungarian speakers; thus, they could identify as well as characterise the individuals bearing them. A strong connection between the name and its bearer was evident (Hajdú 2003: 347–348; Kálmán 1978: 39–46; Slíz 2017b: 50–51). Moreover, an individual could be given several distinct names throughout their lifetime. Name changes mostly accompanied changes in age, social status, occupation, life situation. The presupposed unity of the name and its bearer, based on prehistoric logic, also led to name changes in the hope of influencing the individual’s life or characteristics, cf. 1211: Moglou (‘fertile’). Apart from semantically motivated Hungarian personal names, a few loan names of Turkic origin can also be found from the era. Choosing from among these was determined by trends in naming practices, especially among the supposedly bilingual leaders of the Hungarians, who might have understood the borrowed names to a certain degree (Hajdú 2003: 348, 356–358; Slíz 2017b: 50–51). Although naming practices were constrained by some restrictions—for example, the need for the bestowment of certain conventional, hereditary names within clans, or the adoption of semantically related names for close relatives, for example, Nyest (‘beech marten’) and Nyuszt (‘pine marten’) for two sisters—giving personal names in the early era was a creative act. Once the motivation was decided upon, practically any comprehensible Hungarian common nouns could be turned into personal names, and interpretable loan names were also available. This liberal approach to name-giving resulted in an open set of personal names, including several more or less intelligible name forms, each of very low frequency (Hajdú 2003: 348; Slíz 2017b: 50–52). Conversion to Christianity led to a slow, but drastic change in Hungarian naming conventions. In addition to the earlier native Hungarian or loan secular names which remained in use for an extended period of time, borrowed ecclesiastic, Christian names started to appear.

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These foreign forms of Western culture proved to be unintelligible, non-­ transparent personal names to native Hungarian speakers. An incomprehensible Christian name could not accurately characterise its bearer any more, even if it was meant to transmit the positive traits of the Biblical figure or those of the saint after whom the name was given to the name bearer. The primary function of these semantically unmotivated Christian names in the Hungarian speech community was to identify the individual. As a result, the previously assumed inherent connection between the name and its bearer faded (Hajdú 2003: 358–359; Slíz 2017b: 51). In Christian naming practices, the name was attached to its bearer for a lifetime in a formal baptismal ceremony carried out by a representative of the Church. Moreover, an individual could have only a limited number of unalterable Christian names (often a single one) throughout their lifetime. A Christian name was meant to place the individual under the protection of the patron saint of the same name, but at the beginning of the Christian period, people were still commonly known by a secular name in the community. Although at that time personal names in use usually still consisted of a single element, the duality of having a secular, ‘pagan’ name, as well as a Christian name, offered potentials for the development of two-element name forms, for example, Szár László (‘bald’ and ‘Leslie’) (Kálmán 1978: 46; Slíz 2017b: 51–52). Moreover, giving personal names relied on the guidance and the approval of the Church in further ways as well. Christian naming practices made exclusive use of either biblical names or those of the later saints. The sources of the latter forms were martyrologies, in which canonical names were collected, fixed and from time to time updated by the authorities of the Church. This means that the Christian name stock was constituted of a basically closed set of names, including a finite, slowly growing number of name forms. The limited number of the ecclesiastical names, whether biblical or martyrological, could easily lead to the spread of high-frequency Christian names in the community, which might also have been a contributing factor in the development of additional identifying elements, that is, the (antecedents of ) family names in thirteenth–fourteenth-century personal name forms (Hajdú 2003: 359–363; Kálmán 1978: 46; Slíz 2017b: 51).

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The choice among the few, unintelligible Christian names could be strongly influenced by contemporary fashion in naming practices, influenced by the cults of the saints. At the end of the thirteenth century, for instance, in accordance with Western European trends, the names of the apostles seem to have been very fashionable in Hungary (e.g. András, Jakab, János, Pál, Péter, Tamás). At the same time, the relatively high frequency of names such as Benedek, Egyed for males, and Anna, Katalin, Klára for females reflects the popularity of certain international saints in the country. The veneration of saints from the House of Árpád was extremely strong in the fourteenth century, contributing to the repeated adoption of the names István, Imre, László for males, and Erzsébet, Margit for females (though Margaret of Antioch was also reasonably popular in the era). The popularity of the names Demeter, György, Mihály, Miklós for males, and Ilona for females was the result of the reverence for the well-­ known saints of the Eastern Catholic Church. In general, the most common Christian names in the Old Hungarian period also included Domokos, Gergely, Márton as male names, and Ágnes, Kunigunda, Skolasztika, Cecília, Dorottya as female names. Many Christian names were assimilated into the general structures of contemporary Hungarian words and were abbreviated to one or two syllables, to which (groups of ) derivational suffixes could be added, for example, Benedictus > Ben, Bene, Bencs, Bende, Benke, Benkó and so on (Berrár 1952; Fehértói 2004; N.  Fodor 2010; Hajdú 2003: 360–364; Kálmán 1978: 41–47; Slíz 2017b: 53–119). In Hungary, naming practices were not regulated by law until the 1279 Synod of Buda. The Synod, however, stated that it was the responsibility of the priest to give a child a name, and gave the right that had earlier been practised by the parents or godparents to the Church. Although the use of Christian names had spread relatively quickly in the eleventh– twelfth centuries in all social groups, usually from the upper to lower classes, this decision led to the almost complete elimination of secular names in the country by the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In the thirteenth–fourteenth centuries, the most popular given names were borne by 7–10% of the population, which reflects the beginnings of homogenisation in name use, peaking between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. The stock of given names in high society, however, was

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slightly enriched by mythological and classical names as well as names taken from popular western European chivalric romances during the twelfth–fifteenth centuries, for example, Achilles, Mercurius, Roland, Priamus, Lancelot, Izolda; while among city-dwellers, many of whom were foreigners, German and French names were fashionable (Hajdú 2003: 359–360; Kálmán 1978: 42, 46; Slíz 2017a: 373, 2017b: 52–59).

3 Religious Affiliation as an Influential Factor in Naming Practices in Early Modern Hungary The Ottoman victory at the Battle of Mohács in 1526 resulted in the division of the Kingdom of Hungary between the Ottoman Empire, the Habsburg Monarchy and the Principality of Transylvania. The former political unity of the country ceased to exist. Hungarian identity was determined by Hungarian being an individual’s mother tongue. Protestantism, the most important European intellectual trend of the era, also highly appreciated national languages as a convenient means of conveying the message of the Bible to all believers. With the advent of Protestantism to the politically divided country, processes leading to the development of the standard variety of the Hungarian language began. The translation of the Bible into Hungarian, the spread of literacy, the appearance of scholarly research into the characteristics of the Hungarian language, the establishment of higher educational institutions, the publishing of printed books in Hungarian, all contributed to the levelling of regional dialects and the evolution and consolidation of the publicly used written prestigious variety of the language. Protestantism, through its morals, also brought several modifications to sixteenth–eighteenth-­ century naming conventions. As seen above, in Roman Catholic traditions the given name was strongly connected to the saint under whose protection the child was placed by means of baptism. It is no wonder that the choice of the Christian name was influenced by factors such as: on which saint’s feast day the child was born, which saint’s features the child was hoped to be

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provided with, which saints had significant countrywide or regional cults at a given time, which saints were the patron saints of the royal family, or which saints enjoyed the support of a religious order and so on. Thus, in the Old Hungarian language martyrological names and names from the New Testament (many of which were also included in martyrologies) proved to be much more common than those from the Old Testament. Protestant Churches, however, encouraged the free choice of given names, and it was usually the privilege of the father to find a name. In theory, Protestants had a wide name pool to choose from; still, in practice, they have in the past used less varied names than Catholics. Interestingly enough, despite the liberal approach to naming, Protestants mostly chose ecclesiastical, especially biblical names. This practice was often restrained by the adoption of hereditary names within the family or by a preference for names determined by the calendar (a remnant of the Catholic habit to name a child after the saint on whose feast day the infant was born). Christian names used by Protestants in the Middle Hungarian language seem to have been specific, but somewhat monotonous, and reflect conservatism in naming practices (B.  Gergely 2012: 34; Hajdú 2003: 365–371, 402–406; Ördög 2008b: 169–170; Slíz 2017a: 375–377, 2017b: 103–130). A few general tendencies can be defined in the period. To avoid choosing saints’ names for ideological reasons, Protestants preferred using names from the Old Testament. The frequency of these latter names, however, was below that of names from the New Testament among the Hungarian population all through the Middle Hungarian period. As the Bible and martyrologies include more names for males than females, the number and variety of male names exceeded the number and variety of female names in the sixteenth–eighteenth centuries, especially among Catholics. Female names, at the same time, gradually became more varied over the centuries, because restrictive traditions in name choice were applied less to them than to male names (Hajdú 2003: 365–371; Ördög 2008b: 170). Male names regarded as characteristically Protestant given names started to appear in the second half of the sixteenth century: first Dávid and Gábor, then Dániel became more and more popular in Protestant communities. In some Eastern Catholic settlements in Transylvania

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Gáspár, Menyhért and Boldizsár counted as common male names in the period. Male names such as Mihály, György, Gergely and Pál were at the same time frequent in all regions of the country, regardless of the predominant religion in the areas. In the heyday of the Reformation, especially between 1626 and 1650, Protestant female names such as Éva, Judit and Zsuzsanna also began to spread. In the second half of the seventeenth century, the male name Sámuel and the female name Judit became fashionable among Protestants, and some earlier widespread Catholic female names such as Orsolya, Borbála and Dorottya gradually lost popularity. Independently of religious affiliation, János, István, Katalin and Anna were among the most frequent male and female given names in the period. Female names such as Magdolna, Julianna and Terézia started to be used more often, and Erzsébet was slowly substituted by the previously tabooed Mária (B. Gergely 2012: 36; Hajdú 2003: 371–385). In the first half of the eighteenth century, in Catholic communities, the male names József and Ferenc became fashionable, while Gergely and Márton lost popularity. In Protestant regions male names such as Gábor and Sámuel became even more popular, Dávid and Dániel remained as frequent as they had been previously, Péter gradually became a Protestant name, Ábrahám proved to be fashionable in the south-eastern part of Transdanubia as well as in Transylvania. In the period, partly as a result of the Catholic Revival, frequent Catholic female names (e.g. Mária, Magdolna, Margit, somewhat later Veronika and Apollónia) increased in number more quickly than Protestant ones (e.g. Judit, Éva, Zsuzsanna, Sára). Still among the female names: Krisztina became less fashionable, but Ilona, Rebeka, Zsófia and Rozália started to gain popularity. Lutheran names often adopted in the north-western region of the country included the male names Sándor, Dávid, Zsigmond, Benedek, Bálint, Dániel, Sámuel, and the female names Zsuzsanna, Rebeka, Regina and Zsófia. The Unitarian community in Transylvania preferred the male names András, Áron, Ferenc, György, István, János, József, Mihály, Mózes and Sámuel, enhancing the Protestant preference for names from the Old Testament. The aristocratic tradition of giving two or three Christian names to a child, a fashion borrowed and spread by middle-class German immigrants in Hungary, first appeared in connection with female names in Catholic registers of the period. Protestant priests at the same time often

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gave unique names such as Abigél, Tábita and Lídia to their children (B. Gergely 2002: 64–68, 2003: 25, 2012: 35; Slíz and Farkas 2018: 285; Hajdú 2003: 385–397). However, it should be noted that the religious affiliation of certain given names differed in distinct parts of the country, as fashionable names were borrowed from one religion to the other. In the 1700s, for instance, in the West Transdanubian region known as Őrség the name Judit from the Old Testament, which was one of the popular female given names among Calvinists elsewhere in the country, was the most frequent name in Catholic baptismal registers. Similarly, in the nearby Zala county the female names Sára, Rebeka, Ráchel from the Old Testament, typically adopted by Calvinists in the country, were borne mostly by Catholics. Ádám, a male name from the Old Testament, was also fashionable in the Catholic regions of Transdanubia, despite general trends. Furthermore, in the eighteenth century, József happened to be a Catholic name in Central Transdanubia, a Lutheran name in the Southern Great Plain and a Calvinist name in Northern Hungary. In fact, religious affiliation and regional division in the country were typically interrelated in the period, thus the religious associations of given names regularly correlated with regional preferences in name choice. The male names József and Ferenc, for instance, seem to have spread from west to east in the country, while Sára and Rebeka became popular first in the eastern, then in the western counties (B.  Gergely 2012: 35; Hajdú 2003: 406–412; Ördög 2008a: 188, 2008b: 173). In general, in the Middle Hungarian language the most common Christian names were János and István (borne by 30% of males) as well as Erzsébet, Katalin and Anna (borne by 50% of females). Era-specific Christian names of average frequency included Benedek, Lőrinc, Kelemen, Gál, Sebestyén, Barabás, Adalbert, Tódor, Kristóf, Gellért, Ambrus as male names, and Dorottya, Rebeka, Orsolya, Apollónia, Ráchel as female names. Some later fashionable Christian names such as the male Kálmán, Károly, Lajos, Vilmos, and the female Eszter, Edit, Irén, Gizella only just started to appear in the period. Apart from these Christian names, some secular names such as Farkas, Bán, Bokor, Gécse (cf. today’s Géza) and Csaba did survive from the past; and a few given names of foreign origin (e.g. Marian, Constantin from Romanian; Kirill, Raduj, Vaszilij, Bogdan,

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Sztojan from southern Slavic; Stefánia from German), often borne by foreigners, can also be observed in Middle Hungarian (Hajdú 2003: 368–371).

4 Religious Affiliation as a Fading Factor in the Naming Practices of Modern Hungary After 1772 throughout the nineteenth century, standardisation, especially that of the written and special languages, proved to be the strongest tendency in language policy in Hungary. As a result of conscious efforts, Hungarian became suitable to be made the official language of the country by law in 1844. Convergence in language use also continued spontaneously in the following decades and led to the development of the standard spoken and regional Hungarian varieties. Since 1920, however, as a result of political decisions and emigration waves, a large number of Hungarian people live outside Hungary under the influence of different cultures and languages, which favours divergence also in native language use. In recent times, communication through modern technology strengthens linguistic convergence to a certain degree, but it also establishes its own linguistic norms. In the past few centuries, convergence and divergence have been typical tendencies in the use of given names as well. Although religious affiliation was often reflected in name choice in the nineteenth century, the introduction of the state registration of births in 1895 decreased the Church’s influence on naming practices. Furthermore, religion was more or less socially marginalised in the following decades, and growing secularisation has practically suspended the religious division of given names by the present day. In addition to this convergent trend, divergence can also be observed, especially today, primarily in the fulfilment of the urge to choose a unique name for a child (or to choose a native Hungarian name for a child that pertains to an ethnic minority) (Hajdú 2003: 412–416; Slíz 2018: 298).

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Between 1770 and the end of the nineteenth century, a relatively rich and constant stock of Roman Catholic given names can be observed, including Ágoston, Alajos, Ignác, Jakab, Lőrinc, Anna, Apollónia, Franciska, Katalin, Magdolna and Terézia as the most frequent ones. From 1851 to 1870, the Roman Catholic baptismal registers were written in Latin once again, which brought forward the use of some peculiar ecclesiastical names, such as Angelusz, Ciprián, Joachim, Celesztina and Teofila. A typical Catholic motivation behind name-giving was to use the name of the patron saint of the local church: this is how, for instance, Bernát and Rókus became fashionable names in Eger and Csongrád, respectively. The popularity of Mária was strengthened by the countrywide cult of St Mary in the 1830s–1840s; the revival of some Hungarian historical names, initiated by the Catholic Church, led to the frequent use of Margit, István and Erzsébet in the era (Hajdú 2003: 547–548). Protestant given names in the era were fewer in number than Catholic ones. Some of the most frequently used names in Calvinist regions included Ábrahám, Áron, Benjámin, Gábor, Gerzson, Sámuel, Eszter, Florentina, Jusztina, Ráchel, Rebeka, Sára, Zsófia and Zsuzsanna. As they were relatively far from each other, Protestant regions in the country were under the influence of different theological seminaries, so central guidance, typical in the Catholic Church, could hardly affect Protestant name choices. In Calvinist communities, the custom of giving two or more Christian names started to spread in the middle of the nineteenth century. Among Calvinists, female names seem to have been more varied than male names. As a result, some male names could strongly be associated with Calvinists and could thus be effectively used to demonstrate identity, often required from men in the era. In general, male names with religious affiliation proved to be more changeable than those popular in the whole of society. Adopting biblical name pairs for twins, such as Ádám and Éva (both in Catholic and Calvinist regions), more rarely Gáspár and Menyhért, Menyhért and Boldizsár (mostly in Catholic regions), or as first and second Christian names, such as Mária Magdolna, Péter Pál could be connected to religious communities rather than to the nation as such (Hajdú 2003: 548–549). The characteristic motivations of name-giving in Protestant communities were inheriting ancestral names (a strong tendency in the case of male

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names) or the name of the godfather (often given as a second name), giving names inspired by the calendar (e.g. a name day of or distant from the birthday, a name day close to the date of the baptismal ceremony), especially common when choosing a rare name. In Catholic communities, the priest who baptised the child often gave a second name if the first name had no patron saint. Furthermore, the name day of the parents’ wedding day, the name of a well-known, historical person, or the doctor’s/nurse’s name also often affected name choice. After World War I, only two or three children were born regularly in a family, which restricted the number of given names in use (Hajdú 2003: 601–637). Divergence in the nineteenth century was supported by the considerable increase in the number of given names. The first wave of new names in the 1830s–1840s made use of several distinct sources and techniques to enrich the name stock; for example, names adopted from literature (e.g. Etelka, Jolán, Tünde, Csilla), the romantic revival of ‘national’ Hungarian historical names (e.g. Gyula, Jenő, Árpád, Kálmán, Géza, Béla, Zoltán, Aranka, Emese), names borrowed from German by the middle classes, including female names created from male names (e.g. Aurélia, Ernesztina, Kornélia, Stefánia), translated names (e.g. Győző from Victor, Szilárd from Constantinus, Ibolya from Violet), were all fashionable in the era. The second wave of introducing new names in the 1930–1940s mostly revived ‘ancient’ Hungarian names (e.g. Attila, Csaba, Emese, Ildikó). Today’s legal background makes it possible to apply for new given names. These are accepted and officially registered as elements of the modern given name stock only if they fit into it systematically: they are conventional foreign given names in Hungarian spelling, revived or newly created native names, variants or by-forms of existing given names, or female versions of male names. Recently, new sources for names (e.g. television, media, neighbouring countries, immigration) have extensively been exploited to create new name forms. Given names used by ethnic minorities also increase the number of first names in use today (Raátz 2012; Slíz 2018: 298).

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5 Conclusions In the survey above, distinct types of given names found in the present-­ day Hungarian language were identified. Hungarian people still use a couple of their earliest native name forms originating from the Eurasian nomadic period of their history. The vast majority of the contemporary given names are those of Christianity, several of which were associated with the Catholic, others with the Protestant faiths at given times in history. Secular loan names of different language origins (e.g. Turkic names from the early period; Slavic, German, Walloon names from the Middle Ages; English, French, Spanish, German, Arabic, Turkish names from the recent past) are also used today, borrowed in different eras in distinct ways (e.g. coexistence, literature, films, celebrities). Minority given names constitute a special layer of personal names used by Hungarians. Ethnic Hungarians living in a minority situation might adopt some of the given names utilised by the majority population. Three critical points were identified in the history of Hungarian naming conventions concerning significant cultural changes influencing name choice. First, the early native and Turkic personal names and secular naming practices were almost entirely substituted by Christian names and ecclesiastical naming patterns, when the Hungarians moved into the Carpathian Basin. Second, with the advent of the Reformation to Hungary, partially distinct sets of Christian names seem to have been given preference by the Catholic and Protestant Churches, for ideological reasons. Third, modernity gradually erased the religious affiliation of given names and gave way to a noticeable expansion of the name stock from several sources, including non-religious ones.

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Naming”. Sacred and Profane in Onomastics Baia Mare, September 5–7, 2017, ed. O. Felecan, 372–380. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2017b. Personal Names in Medieval Hungary. Hamburg: Baar-Verlag. ———. 2018. Tulajdonnév-történet [The History of Proper Names]. In A magyar nyelvtörténet kézikönyve, ed. J. Kiss and F. Pusztai, 284–307. Budapest: Tinta Könyvkiadó. Slíz, M., and T.  Farkas. 2018. Connections of the Sacred and Profane in the History of Hungarian Given Names. In Onomastics Between Sacred and Profane, ed. O. Felecan, 279–292. Malaga: Vernon Press.

13 Multicultural Features in Scandinavian Toponymy Staffan Nyström

1 Introduction What is multicultural toponymy? What motives for and perspectives on naming can be regarded as multicultural, and what features of Scandinavian toponymy (including that of Finland) can be seen as multicultural? In the following, I explore these questions with reference to a series of concrete examples (cf. Nyström 2007). The Nordic countries have for a very long time constituted a relatively homogeneous region in terms of culture, language and place names. Some immigration has admittedly occurred, from the Middle Ages onwards, and the German-, French- and English-speaking cultural spheres, in particular, have influenced language, vocabulary and society in the Nordic region. However, this part of the world has not seen major waves of migration on the scale experienced in continental Europe, where Roman, Slavic, Celtic and Germanic groups have at various times

S. Nyström (*) Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_13

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migrated, settled, been assimilated and left traces in the toponymy. In central parts of Scandinavia—Denmark, Norway and Sweden—place names are basically always formed from linguistic elements of Scandinavian origin. In Finland, an officially bilingual country, names are of Finnish or Swedish origin, with very few traces of other languages detectable in the name stock. Several exceptions can, however, be found to this uniform picture. In the following, I shall highlight three of these. First, in our urban name environments, we see clear traces of a foreign influence, to some extent in older names and in official names of streets and alleys, but above all in modern, unofficial names, for instance for places of entertainment, shops and restaurants. Second, there are numerous borrowed names, for instance from places in German, French, Italian and also biblical settings—names like Berlin, Paris, Montebello and Jeriko in Sweden; indeed, there are examples of such names from virtually all over the world. The third and most obvious exception, however, is to be found in northern parts of the Scandinavian Peninsula—in Finland, Norway and Sweden— where countless indigenous Sami place names are used, often in parallel with Finnish, Norwegian and Swedish name forms. In addition, there are originally Finnish names that have spread across various areas of both Norway and Sweden with Finnish immigrants from the east. In this chapter, I give a brief overview—with something of a bias towards Swedish examples—of place names in the Nordic countries that are of non-Scandinavian origin or linguistic content. I show where and why such names occur and comment on how they are used and how they have been treated in terms of standardisation, legislation and revitalisation.

2 Multicultural Place Names in Urban Settings Let us begin with a closer look at names in urban environments. Here I wish to highlight a number of name types that may have been coloured by a multicultural influence. An important distinction must first be made

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between official and unofficial place names (Nyström 2018: 67 ff.). The official names of streets, blocks, squares and other public places are the result of deliberate choices, administrative processes and, usually, political decisions. Unofficial names arise more spontaneously, from the needs, wishes and linguistic playfulness of individuals and groups. Some Swedish towns have their roots in medieval times, when there were well-developed urban centres in several parts of the country. By the seventeenth century, a good many towns had been established. Many of them have long had significant communities from non-Nordic linguistic and cultural regions, for example, from Germany during and since the Middle Ages. Many families from England, Scotland, the Netherlands, France and modern-day Belgium also ended up in Sweden for various reasons. They may reasonably be expected to have exerted a visible influence on urban place names. And indeed they have, but actually it is a very limited one in relation to the overall name stock of today. Such an influence is clearly evident in Gamla Stan in Stockholm, where the largest old town centre, including its place names, has been preserved. Here we find street names such as Funckens Gränd, named after the Funck family, who moved to the city from Stralsund, and Ferkens Gränd, after a tavern called Ferken/Farken “the pig”, from the German word Farch (Ferkel). Names like these still have a somewhat exotic ring to them in Sweden, in that they contain German personal names or German words unfamiliar to Swedes in other contexts. However, they are not particularly multicultural, but rather “monoculturally” German. The stock of names that emerges if we study all the towns of Sweden turns out to be very Swedish. Of course, words, place names and personal names of foreign origin sometimes form part of our street and road names, but as a rule these are words and names long established in Swedish in general, so we get no sense of a foreign or multicultural influence. The reasons for such choices of name vary widely, and here I would just mention, without further comment, a few Swedish examples: Amerikagatan, Baltiska vägen, Engelska vägen “English Road”, Islandsgatan “Iceland Street”, Jakobsgatan, Katarinavägen, Kinagatan “China Street” and Ryska gränd “Russian Alley”. The use of thematic groups of names for streets and blocks in major towns is common in the Nordic region, and this too can of course result in individuals, countries or places from a certain part of the world

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featuring in names, without it being the direct result of multicultural thinking or a multicultural influence. Such themes are not generally a reflection of existing conditions in the area in question. We can, for instance, find “Icelandic” street names such as Gullfossgatan, Isafjordsgatan and Skalholtsgatan in the same neighbourhood of Stockholm, without the area being more Icelandic in other respects than any other. We also find blocks named after foreign ports, such as Pireus, Rio, Rotterdam and Valparaiso, with no other connection with the towns concerned than the fact that they are close to the port of Stockholm. In addition, we know of a number of unofficial, often somewhat disparaging names for areas with large immigrant populations, mostly in our major cities, areas which in slang usage, and in certain circles, have been renamed and identified as something special. As a rule, the namers (presumably not themselves residents of the districts in question) take the name from some well-known part of the world currently in the news. A few decades ago, Biafra was one example of this, and before that Abessinien (Abyssinia). Today, it could be Somalia or Syrien (Syria). But these names are quite uncommon all the same, and they are not officially adopted or approved. Other sporadic instances of unofficial naming in multicultural districts of our towns are slang-like names based in some way on the official Swedish ones, for example, when Skärholmen and Vårberg in Stockholm become Skärharlem and Vårbronx, alluding to the notorious districts of Harlem and the Bronx in New York. Unfortunately, we do not know very much about the extent of and mechanisms behind this freer name formation, or about all the different examples of this unofficial toponymy. There is much to suggest, however, that such names are not in fact as numerous or divergent as the many languages and ethnic groups represented might give us reason to believe (Nyström 2016: 191 ff.). There is one group of names, though, alongside the official names of streets, roads, squares and so on, that has undergone a huge transformation in the past half-century, a group sometimes referred to as “other names”, that is, names for shops, hairdressing salons, places of entertainment, restaurants and the like. This group is a highly flexible and innovative one, readily adapting to a changing, multicultural society. In this context, the naming process and name users are different, and the advent

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of multiculturalism gives rise more naturally to multicultural names. From the gastronomic offerings of the Nordic capitals, a few random examples may be given: Benares Indisk Restaurant and Natraj Tandoori Restaurant (serving Indian cuisine in Oslo), Izbushka (Russian in Copenhagen), Ahaan Fusion, Trattoria Montanari and Tbilisis Hörna (Thai, Italian and Georgian in Stockholm), and Pobre Filipino and La Morena (Filipino and Peruvian in Helsinki). Finally, in this section I must also mention the increasingly common use of English name elements in Scandinavia, not in official names of streets and squares, but in names for buildings, hotels and arenas, for example: Stockholm Waterfront Conference Centre, Mall of Scandinavia, Ericsson Globe Arena and the like. However, one language being replaced by another—English—is hardly, I would argue, a sign of linguistic or cultural diversity.

3 Borrowed Place Names from Near and Far Another naming method that has long been used in Scandinavia is to replicate existing place names from other parts of the world (Rentenaar 1996, Wahlberg 2009, Helleland 2010). There are now countless such names here, referring both to settlements and to fields, meadows and natural features. The terminology in this area is complex, including expressions such as “(pure or conditioned) name transfer”, “name borrowing”, “second-hand names” and “name replication”. This is not the place, though, to comment further on these terms or the differences between them. Sometimes foreign place names have been taken over in exactly the form they have in the donor language, sometimes they have been adapted in some way to the new languages and name users. Hamburg, Kairo, Lissabon, Rom and New York are the names of small houses and crofts in Sweden. Afrika and Australien are field names. Havaji (Hawaii) and Tahiti are the names of islands on several Swedish lakes, while Himalaja and Alperna (The Alps) refer to hills and uplands. A search on the Finnish

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website Nimisampo (http://nimisampo.fi/app/map_markers, accessed in March 2019) produces numerous hits for the Finnicised name forms Lontoo (London), Pariisi (Paris), Moskova (Moscow) and Siperia (Siberia). From Norway, Helleland (2010) cites names such as Betlehem, Betania, Filadelfia, Holstein, Krim (Crimea), Korea, Lybekk, Meklenborg and Nordpolen (North Pole). From Denmark (Kousgård Sørensen 1994: 23), a few examples may be given from a typical group of names in this category, namely those of smaller dependent farms and crofts around a large estate on the island of Funen, given systematically in the eighteenth century, including Athen, Ithaka, Korinth, Sparta and Troja (Troy). According to local tradition, the landowner had a clear educational aim in choosing these designations, hoping that schoolchildren in the area would more easily learn about important places in Europe if they recognised the names from their local environment. These replicated names have perhaps not had a wider or more pronounced multicultural impact, but they have no doubt helped give people in Scandinavia a better knowledge of geography and greater awareness of events in the world around them. When Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated at the Battle of Leipzig in 1813, he lost his power and was soon forced to abdicate. He was allowed to go on calling himself emperor, but his “empire” was now much smaller than before—the island of Elba in the Mediterranean. Elba is also the name of a small island on Lake Mälaren in Sweden. Nearby, there is a house called Waterloo. When Queen Josefina of Sweden (1807–1876) gave the name Elba to a small island off Tullgarn Palace on the east coast, and Princess Victoria had an eagle owl called Napoleon placed in a cage there, they were of course fully au fait with the emperor’s life and adventures. And they were not alone: toponymic reminders of his exploits and his fate are to be found throughout Europe. When Napoleon returned from exile on Elba and tried to reclaim his former position, he was defeated again at Waterloo and subsequently banished to another, even remoter island, St Helena. In Sweden there are several small islands called Sankt Helena. Here, a piece of history has come to be associated with a handful of place names that have subsequently been copied and spread around the world, helping to preserve and pass on that history to others.

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4 Sami Languages and Sami Place Names The third exception to the powerful dominance of place names of Scandinavian origin in the Nordic region is the large element of Sami and Finnish names in the north. Sami, which like Finnish is one of the Finno-­ Ugric languages, has been spoken in Scandinavia since time immemorial. The Sami linguistic and cultural region, referred to by the Sami themselves as Sápmi, extends over large parts of northern Norway, Sweden and Finland and the Kola Peninsula of Russia (Fig.  13.1). The division of Sápmi between the four nation states of today is of much more recent date. Sami is sometimes spoken of as a single language, but is in fact far from a uniform entity. On the contrary, there are a number of spoken varieties of Sami shading continuously into one another and mutually so different that they can be regarded as distinct languages, up to ten or eleven of them. Three main groups can be distinguished: South Sami, Central Sami and East Sami. The first includes, from south to north, Jämtland, Västerbotten and Ume Sami; the second, Arjeplog, Lule and North Sami; and the third, Inari and Skolt Sami, spoken in Finland alongside North Sami, as well as Kildin and Ter Sami in Russia, now used by just a handful of surviving speakers. North Sami is the Sami language with the most numerous speakers in Finland, Norway and Sweden, totalling perhaps 20,000–25,000, and the one most used as a written language. In Norway, three written forms of Sami, three different orthographies, are used, representing South, Lule and North Sami. In Sweden, four are used (including a separate orthography for Ume Sami, although the number of speakers is very small). The Sami word for “mountain” is, for example, written as várri in North Sami, várre in Lule Sami, várrie in Ume Sami and vaerie in South Sami (á denotes a long a-sound). This word occurs in many names that have been assimilated into Swedish (see below), in the form vare, for example, Gällivare. North Sami orthography is common to the three countries, in line with a decision from 1979. In Finland, North, Inari and Skolt Sami are written in three different orthographies. The oldest known Sami texts are from the early seventeenth century, and since then different variants and forms of Sami have been used for all manner of written purposes,

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Fig. 13.1  Map of the Nordic countries showing broadly where the many varieties of Sami and Finnish are spoken (see text below). Off the map, in the easternmost part of the Kola Peninsula, Ter Sami is spoken (10). The shaded areas in central Sweden are areas of centuries-old Finnish settlement where the largest numbers of Finnish place names survive. (© The author.)

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often related to the church (Korhonen 2016). But all the official Sami orthographies in current use have come into existence in modern times— from the 1970s to the present. For a long time, the Sami people, along with their culture and language, were oppressed and treated condescendingly, not to say badly, by the colonial powers from the south. Discrimination, racism, cultural hierarchisation and forced removals have occurred (Swedell 2007: 95 ff., Frändén 2010: 37 ff. with references cited there). Unfortunately, this is a phenomenon we recognise from many other parts of the world, a consequence of insensitive attempts by Western explorers and settlers to establish their culture, world view and traditional way of life. In Sweden, Sami schoolchildren were, for example, forced, even in “mother tongue” classes, to use and work in Swedish and not Sami. When modern maps began to be produced around the turn of the last century, there was no carefully thought-out strategy for preserving existing Sami names and including them on maps. Either entirely Swedish substitute names and name forms would be used (or the equivalent in Norway and Finland), or Sami names adapted to the majority language, written in a kind of invented map orthography. A good many of these “incorrect” name forms have been used for so long now, and are so firmly established in many contexts, that it is difficult to replace them, even if we know that they rest on dubious foundations. Most adult Swedes are used to the country’s highest mountain being called Kebnekaise (based on the Swedified map orthography), which is why official maps now continue to show this name form, alongside the genuine North Sami Giebmegáisi. Other, less well-known names have been easier to replace with more authentic Sami forms. Today, the position of the Sami and the Sami language is better, if not unproblematic. Signs showing Sami names are still sometimes painted over or damaged in other ways, but as in many other parts of the world there is now greater awareness, an ambition to revitalise the language and a clear will on the part of central government to remedy past mistakes, including with regard to linguistic and onomastic issues. Section 9 of the Norwegian Place Names Act (1990, as amended up to 2015) provides that “Sami and Kven place names that are used among people who are permanently resident in or have economic ties to the place shall normally be used by the public authorities on maps and signs and in registers etc.

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together with any Norwegian name”. Section 17 of the Constitution of Finland (1999), under the heading “Right to one’s language and culture”, states among other things that “The national languages of Finland are Finnish and Swedish. […] The Sami, as an indigenous people, as well as the Roma and other groups, have the right to maintain and develop their own language and culture. Provisions on the right of the Sami to use the Sami language before the authorities are laid down by an Act […]”. The reference here is to Finland’s Sami Language Act (2003), Section 1 of which states that its purpose is to ensure the constitutional right of the Sami to maintain and develop their own language and culture. The Act contains provisions on the Sami’s right to use their own language before the courts and other authorities, as well as on the authorities’ duty to enforce and promote their linguistic rights. In Sweden, Section 7 of the Language Act of 2009 states that “The national minority languages are Finnish, Yiddish, Meänkieli (Tornedal Finnish), Romany Chib and Sami”, while Section 8 provides that “The public sector has a particular responsibility to protect and promote the national minority languages”. The place-names section of the Historic Environment Act, on “Good place-name practice”, spells out one of the implications of this: “names in Swedish, Sami, Finnish and Meänkieli shall, as far as possible, be used in parallel on maps and on road and other signs in multilingual areas”. In Norway, Sweden and Finland, certain northern municipalities have been identified as being of particular significance with respect to the language legislation and minority languages. Here, the most stringent requirements apply as regards safeguarding the right of the Sami to use their own language (Helander 2015, 2016; Pedersen 2015, 2016). Sami place names are now spelt in accordance with the common or country-specific use of the different orthographies of the Nordic region. In the South Sami area, South Sami (in Norway and Sweden) or Ume Sami orthography (in Sweden) is used; in the Central Sami area, Lule or North Sami orthography is used in both Norway and Sweden; and in Finland names are written using North, Inari or Skolt Sami orthography (Voulab-Lohi 2009, Valtonen 2014). In many cases, there are parallel names in two or more languages: for example, for places in Norway a Sami, a Norwegian and a Kven (Finnish) name may be shown on maps and signs, while in Finland, a Finnish and three different Sami names

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may be used. In Finland, the Finnish name is always placed first if there is one. The boundaries between the different Sami language areas are sometimes debatable, and it is not always obvious which Sami language and orthography should be used. Nor are the relevant authorities, organisations and individuals always agreed on what places are entitled to have a Sami name form approved and shown on maps and signs (Edlund 2017). The discussion about the influence and responsibilities of Sami organisations and/or other bodies regarding Sami place names remains very much alive.

5 Finnish Place Names in Sweden and Norway In somewhat simplified terms, place names of Finnish linguistic origin outside Finland are to be found in three different areas of Scandinavia (Fig.  13.1): in Tornedalen and some way to the west of it in Sweden (Meänkieli names); in parts of Troms and Finnmark counties in Norway (Kven names); and in the extensive forest regions of Sweden, from southern Lapland in the north to Västergötland in the south. These “forest Finnish” names are best known from a continuous area of Värmland and south-eastern Norway (see Wahlberg 1991, Eskeland 1994). The oldest preserved Finnish place names outside Finland can be found in Tornedalen, around the Torne älv river, and in the iron-ore fields of the far north of Sweden. Here, Finnish has been spoken for getting on for a millennium at least. From the Middle Ages to 1809, Sweden and Finland were a single country—Sweden. Finland was, quite simply, the eastern half of the realm. But when Finland was ceded to Russia and the border was drawn along the Torne älv, an invisible language boundary was also created—not very dramatic to begin with, but in time, owing partly to the influence of Swedish, a special Tornedal Finnish, now known as Meänkieli “our language”, emerged on the Swedish side of the border, a variety which, since 2000, has had the status of a national minority

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language in Sweden. On the eastern side, the language is still regarded as a North Finnish dialect, alongside other dialects of Finnish. As the country to the west, towards the Swedish–Norwegian mountains, was colonised from the seventeenth century on, the Finnish language and Finnish toponymy spread further into Sweden and Norway (as did their Swedish counterparts from the south), across what had long been the homeland and cultural sphere of the Sami. In some municipalities in the far north of Sweden, both Meänkieli and Finnish are regional languages, enjoying, by law, a stronger position here than in the rest of the country. Here, place names in both Finnish and Meänkieli are used, but it is difficult to make a sharp distinction between them, as the name forms often coincide. Up to now, Lantmäteriet, the Swedish mapping, cadastral and land registration authority, has categorised place names with a Finnish form in its official name database as either Finnish or Meänkieli. In its basic geodata, we currently find, for example, the twin forms Kardis (Swedish)—Kaartinen (Meänkieli) and Jarhois (Swedish)— Jarhoinen (Meänkieli) as the names of two villages in Tornedalen, close to the river. Travelling some 130 km to the west, to two well-known neighbouring mining towns, we see on the same map the triple forms Gällivare (Swedish)—Jellivaara (Meänkieli)—Váhtjer (Lule Sami) and Malmberget (Swedish)—Malmivaara (Meänkieli)—Málmmavárre (Lule Sami). Another Malmivaara meanwhile, roughly 100 km north of the better-­ known one just mentioned, is categorised as a Finnish name. The very active Swedish Tornedalian Association (STR-T) is now campaigning to have all Finnish-origin names in northern Sweden classed as Meänkieli. In several places in the northern counties of Troms and Finnmark in Norway, an originally Finnish dialect, known here as Kven, is also spoken, by a total of a few thousand people (Andreassen 2015). Kven is very similar to Meänkieli, and the history and present-day status of the languages are broadly the same. Both face an uphill struggle under pressure from the local Sami languages and, above all, the majority languages Norwegian and Swedish. Kven has been an official minority language in Norway since 2005, and where possible Kven place names are shown on official Norwegian maps. Finally, let us turn to the third group of names of Finnish origin. As early as the Middle Ages, quite a number of Finnish speakers, particularly

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from western Finland, came to work and settle in present-day Sweden, in both rural areas and towns. These new arrivals may of course also have had some influence on the Swedish language and toponymy, but Finnish left a clearer mark in all the place names coined by Finns from eastern Finland, especially Savolax (Savo), who moved to Sweden over a period of almost a century from around 1570. These immigrants engaged in swidden (slash-and-burn) cultivation, which requires large areas of land, and they came to clear and put to the plough the vast uninhabited forest areas of Sweden. They expanded further and further north and south, and also westwards across the border into south-eastern Norway. Numerous Finnish farm names, such as Ritamäki, Täppälä and Villola, were created in these Finnish settlement areas—finnbygder—and around the farms thousands of names based on Finnish words were coined for fields and small natural features, like Hoftalamp from lampi “small lake”, Kivanitti from niitty “meadow” and Karomägg from mäki “mountain”. Today, though, these “forest Finnish” settlers have been completely assimilated into the surrounding majority population. None of their surviving descendants still speak Finnish, and the Finnish place names they left behind have gradually been adapted to Swedish spelling and pronunciation (Wahlberg 1991: 64 ff.). Many Swedes still recognise them, and perhaps have some inkling of their origins, but even if these names are seen as somewhat odd and exotic-sounding, they are treated in every respect as entirely Swedish place names.

6 Concluding Remarks Last of all in this brief survey of multicultural features in Scandinavian toponymy—and in order to include Denmark as well—I would like to take a long leap from the Swedish–Finnish–Sami linguistic and cultural sphere of the north to the encounter in the south between Danish and German on the border between the two countries. There are no official German forms of place names in Denmark, but calls for place names to be written in two languages can be heard on both sides of the frontier. According to an article headed “Skal sønderjyske skilte både være på dansk og tysk?” in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten (20 March 2015),

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the editor of the daily Flensborg Avis, mouthpiece of the Danish minority in Germany, has expressed the following view: “The time has come to put history behind us and acknowledge that we live in a borderland, where both Danish and German exist.” Meanwhile, the German minority in Denmark has proposed that German name forms should also be shown on road signs in the Danish county of Sønderjylland. “It is a matter of making visible the existence here of two cultures”, says the group’s chair. In certain contexts, its members wish to see the use of twin name forms, such as Aabenraa and Apenrade, Tønder and Tondern, Sønderborg and Sonderborg, and Haderslev and Hadersleben (presented here with the Danish form first in each pair). As yet, though, no formal decisions have been taken on bilingual signage. As far as I am aware, there is little official interest in the idea in the Danish municipalities concerned. The social and political pressure that exists for the revitalisation, standardisation and preservation of Sami and Finnish names in the north finds no real counterpart in the border region of Denmark and Germany.

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Helander, K.R. 2015. Samiske stedsnavn i Norge [Sami Place Names in Norway]. In Namn i det fleirspråklege Noreg, ed. G. Alhaug and A.-K. Pedersen, 45–83. Oslo: Novus forlag. ———. 2016. The Power of Administration in the Official Recognition of Indigenous Place Names in the Nordic Countries. In Names and Naming: People, Places, Perceptions and Power, ed. G. Puzey and L. Kostanski, 229–249. Bristol/Buffalo/Toronto: Multilingual Matters. Helleland, B. 2010. Frå Jeriko til Vaterlo—utanlandske nedslag i norske stadnamn [From Jeriko to Vaterlo—Foreign Elements in Norwegian Place Names]. In Från sjö till hav: Namn-och ordstudier tillägnade Birgit Falck-Kjällquist, ed. M. Löfdahl, F. Skott, and L. Wenner, 53–67. Göteborg: Institutet för språk och folkminnen. Korhonen, O. 2016. Samiskan under fyra sekel i Svenska kyrkans arbete [Four Centuries of the Sami Language in the Work of the Church of Sweden]. In De historiska relationerna mellan Svenska kyrkan och samerna: En vetenskaplig antologi, ed. D. Lindmark and O. Sundström, vol. 2, 735–795. Skellefteå: Artos & Norma bokförlag. Kousgård Sørensen, J. 1994. Korinth—på Sydfyn [Korinth—on South Funen]. Sfinx 1994 (1): 22–24. Nyström, S. 2007. Städernas namnmiljöer i mångkulturellt perspektiv [Urban Name Environments in a Multicultural Perspective]. In Namn och mångkultur—flerspråkiga miljöer och kulturella influenser. Föredrag vid Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala 70-årssymposium 21–22 oktober 2006, ed. K.  Leibring, S.  Nyström, and M.  Wahlberg, 65–74. Uppsala: Ortnamnssällskapet i Uppsala. ———. 2016. Naming Parks, Footpaths and Small Bridges in a Multicultural Suburban Area. In Names and Naming: People, Places, Perceptions and Power, ed. G.  Puzey and L.  Kostanski, 185–196. Bristol/Buffalo/Toronto: Multilingual Matters. ———. 2018. Place-name Policies in Scandinavia and Elsewhere. Onomastica Uralica 14: 65–82. Pedersen, A.K. 2015. Norske stadnamn i fleirspråklege område [Norwegian Place Names in Multilingual Areas]. In Namn i det fleirspråklege Noreg, ed. G. Alhaug and A.-K. Pedersen, 11–43. Oslo: Novus forlag. ———. 2016. Is the Official Use of Names in Norway Determined by the Place-name Act or by Attitudes? In Names and Naming: People, Places, Perceptions and Power, ed. G.  Puzey and L.  Kostanski, 213–228. Bristol/ Buffalo/Toronto: Multilingual Matters.

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Rentenaar, R. 1996. Namen im Sprachaustausch: Toponymische Nachbenennung [Names in Language Exchange: Toponymic Renaming]. In Namenforschung/ Name Studies/Les noms propres: Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik/ An International Handbook of Onomastics/ Manuel international d’onomastique, ed. E. Eichler et al., vol. 2, 1013–1018. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter. Skal sønderjyske skilte både være på dansk og tysk? [Should Signs in Sønderjylland Be in Both Danish and German?]. Jyllands-Posten, 20 March 2015. Swedell, U. 2007. Samiskt, finskt och svenskt kulturmöte i ortnamnsperspektiv [Sami, Finnish and Swedish—A Cultural Encounter in a Place-name Perspective]. In Namn och mångkultur—flerspråkiga miljöer och kulturella influenser. Föredrag vid Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala 70-årssymposium 21–22 oktober 2006, ed. K.  Leibring, S.  Nyström, and M.  Wahlberg, 95–102. Uppsala: Ortnamnssällskapet i Uppsala. Valtonen, T. 2014. Mielen laaksot/Mïelen vuemieh/Miela vuomit/Mielâ vyemeh/ Miõl vue’m: Neljän saamen kielen paikannimien rakenne, sanasto ja rinnakkaisnimet vähemmistö–enemmistö-suhteiden kuvastajina [Valleys of the Mind: Place-name Construction, Lexicon and Parallel Names as a Reflection of Minority–Majority Relations among Four Sami Languages]. Helsinki: Suomalais-ugrilainen seura. Voulab-Lohi, K. 2009. Sámi Place Names in Finland. In Geographical Names as Part of the Cultural Heritage, ed. P. Jordan, H. Bergmann, C. Cheetham, and I. Hausner, 55–58. Vienna: Institut für Geographie und Regionalforschung der Universität Wien. Wahlberg, M. 1991. Ortnamnsförrådet i de svenska finnmarkerna [The Place Names of the Finnish Settlement Areas of Central Sweden]. In Ortnamnssällskapets i Uppsala årsskrift, 48–69. ———. 2009. Landskrona, Sibirien and Jeriko. Borrowed Place Names in Sweden Down the Ages. In Names in Multi-Lingual, Multi-Cultural and Multi-Ethnic Contact: Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences, August 17–22, 2008, York University, Toronto, Canada, W.  Ahrens, Sh. Embleton and A.  Lapierre, 1036–1043. Toronto: York University. https://yorkspace.library.yorku.ca/xmlui/bitstream/handle/103 15/4048/icos23_1036.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y. Accessed March 2019.

14 Multicultural Aspects of Name and Naming in Contemporary Italian Anthroponymy Davide Astori

1 Introduction Onomastics is a science that, cum grano salis, allows us, perhaps more than others, to play, in the noblest sense of the term. And this is what we briefly intend to do in the following pages—by consulting the Istat website,1 the Istituto Nazionale di statistica [Italian National Institute of Statistics], main producer of official statistics in Italy formed in 1926, we aim to discuss name revolutions in contemporary multicultural Italy. After having briefly illustrated the main data which are useful for a debate on the subject, we will propose a brief reasoned conclusion. Firstly, let us frame the onomastic question in the social situation of the country.

1  Source: https://www.istat.it/it/dati-analisi-e-prodotti/contenuti-interattivi/contanomi (accessed in November 2019).

D. Astori (*) Università degli Studi di Parma, Parma, Italy © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_14

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2 Foreigners in Italy The number of foreigners residing in Italy (in the last decade) can be seen in Table 14.1. Here is the population’s trend (foreign citizenship) over the past 15 years (see Tuttitalia.it, “Cittadini stranieri in Italia – 2018” [Foreign citizens in Italy – 2018]) (Fig. 14.1).

2.1 The Largest Minorities in Italy over the Last Four Years Below we introduce taxonomically the largest minorities in Italy (focusing on the first ten) by diagrams (see Tuttitalia.it, “Cittadini stranieri in Italia  – 2017” [Foreign citizens in Italy—2017]): they are much more eloquent and of immediate evaluation than verbally articulated speech (Figs. 14.2, 14.3, 14.4, 14.5 and Table 14.2). Table 14.1  Foreigners residing in Italy

Year

Number of foreigners

%

2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018

3,891,295 4,235,059 4,570,317 4,042,081 4,387,721 4,922,085 5,014,437 5,026,124 5,046,994 5,144,440

6.5 7.0 7.5 6.8 7.4 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.3 8.5

5.144.440

5.400.000 3.600.000 1.800.000 0

2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012(*) 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018

Andamento della popolazione con cittadinanza straniera - 2018 ITALIA - DatiISTAT 1° gennaio 2018 - Elaborazione TUTTITALIA.IT (*) post-censimento

Fig. 14.1  Italian population over the last 15 years

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Romania 23,1% Altri Egitto 2,3% Repubblica Moldova 2,6% Bangladesh 2,6% India 3,0% Filippine 3,3%

Albania 8,6% Marocco 8,1% Repubblica Popolare Cinese 5,7% Ucraina 4,6%

Fig. 14.2  The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2018 Romania 23,2% Altri Egitto 2,2% Bangladesh 2,4% Repubblica Moldova 2,7% India 3,0% Filippine 3,3%

Albania 8,9% Marocco 8,3% Repubblica Popolare Cinese 5,6% Ucraina 4,6%

Fig. 14.3  The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2017

Romania 22,9% Altri Egitto 2,2% Bangladesh 2,4% Repubblica Moldova 2,8% India 3,0% Filippine 3,3%

Albania 9,3% Marocco 8,7% Repubblica Popolare Cinese 5,4% Ucraina 4,6%

Fig. 14.4  The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2016

Romania 22,6% Altri Peru 2,2% Bangladesh 2,3% Repubblica Moldova 2,9% India 2,9% Filippine 3,4%

Albania 9,8% Marocco 9,0% Repubblica Popolare Cinese 5,3% Ucraina 4,5%

Fig. 14.5  The ten largest minorities in Italy in 2015

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Table 14.2  Foreign population in Italy in the last four years (the ten largest minorities divided according to sex) Country

2018

2017

2016

2015

1. Romania

1,190,091 (23.13%) ♂ 505,961 ♀ 684,130

2. Albania

440,465 (8.56%) ♂ 225,103 ♀ 215,362 416,531 (8.10%) ♂ 221,932 ♀ 194,599 290,681 (5.65%) ♂ 146,450 ♀ 144,231 237,047 (4.61%) ♂ 52,267 ♀ 184,780 167,859 (3.26%) ♂ 72,599 ♀ 95,260 151,791 (2.95%) ♂ 89,749 ♀ 62,042 131,967 (2.57%) ♂ 96,424 ♀ 35,543 131,814 (2.56%) ♂ 44,309 ♀ 87,505 119,513 (2.32%) ♂ 80,394 ♀ 39,119

1,168,552 (23.15%) ♂ 497,577 ♀ 670,975 448,407 (8.88%) ♂ 229,870 ♀ 218,537 420,650 (8.33%) ♂ 225,278 ♀ 195,372 281,972 (5.59%) ♂ 142,227 ♀ 139,745 234,354 (4.64%) ♂ 50,726 ♀ 183,628 166,459 (3.30%) ♂ 71,888 ♀ 94,571 151,430 (3.00 %) ♂ 89,778 ♀ 61,652 122,428 (2.43%) ♂ 88,263 ♀ 34,165 135,661 (2.69%) ♂ 45,512 ♀ 90,149 112,765 (2.23%) ♂ 76,754 ♀ 36,011

1,151,395 (22.91%) ♂ 492,737 ♀ 658,658 467.687 (9.31%) ♂ 241,329 ♀ 226,358 437,484 (8.70%) ♂ 236,158 ♀ 201,326 271,327 (5.40%) ♂ 137,282 ♀ 134,045 230,728 (4.59%) ♂ 48,932 ♀ 181,735 165,900 (3.30%) ♂ 71,481 ♀ 94,419 150,456 (2.99%) ♂ 89,791 ♀ 60,665 118,790 (2.36%) ♂ 84,141 ♀ 34,649 142,266 (2.83%) ♂ 47,689 ♀ 94,577 109,871 (2.19%) ♂ 75,302 ♀ 34,569

1,131,839 (22.57%) ♂ 487,203 ♀ 644,636 490,483 (9.78%) ♂ 254,622 ♀ 235,861 449,058 (8.96%) ♂ 243,052 ♀ 206,006 265,820 (5.30%) ♂ 135,447 ♀ 130,373 226,,060 (4.51%) ♂ 47,393 ♀ 178,667 168,238 (3.36%) ♂ 73,320 ♀ 94,918 147,815 (2.95%) ♂ 88,838 ♀ 58,977 115,301 (2.30%) ♂ 81,185 ♀ 34,116 147,388 (2.94%) ♂ 49,929 ♀ 97,459 103,713 (2.07%) ♂ 69,985 ♀ 33,728

3. Morocco

4. China

5. Ukraine

6. Philippines

7. India

8. Bangladesh

9. Moldova

10. Egypt

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2.2 The Spread of the Most Common Names in Their Homelands The ten most widespread names in the respective countries in the trend of recent years are indicated below,2 in alphabetical order, divided into male and female names. Considering the aim of the work, the following data should be read as the general situation in recent years, for the purpose of investigating the representativeness of the names in Italian onomastics without reconstructing their positions in a diachronic perspective (year by year).3

2.2.1 Romania ♂ Alexandru, Andrei, Cristian, David, Darius, Gabriel, Ionuţ, Luca, Mihai, Ştefan ♀ Alexandra, Ana, Andreea, Antonia, Daria, Elena, Gabriela, Ioana, Maria, Sofia

2.2.2 Albania ♂ Aron, Ergi, Joel, Luis, Mateo, Noel, Roan, Roel, Samuel, Xhoel ♀ Ajla, Alesia, Amelia, Amelija, Kejsi, Klea, Leandra, Melisa, Noemi, Sara

2.2.3 Morocco ♂ Ali, Amine, Karim, Hamza, Mehdi, Mohamed, Omar, Yassine, Youssef, Zakaria ♀Aya, Kenza, Imane, Lina, Meryem, Rita, Salma, Sarah, Yasmine, Zineb  As is often the case, and as well highlighted in Felecan (2013: 132), here too we found as a common factor “the hesitation in the choice/use of certain names that allow multiple variants of spelling and pronunciation” (orig. Italian). 3  The list was created starting from the information contained in the specific sites of each country indicated on Wikipedia, “List of most popular given names”. Another visited website is Top-names. info (see References). 2

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2.2.4 China ♂ Bin, Feng, Hao, Jian, Jie, Jun, Le, Yi, Yong, Wei ♀ Jie, Jing, Li, Lili, Tingting, Yan, Ying, Xiaomei, Xiaoyan, Xinyi

2.2.5 Ukraine ♂ Андрій, Артем, Богдан, Данііл (Данило), Денис, Дмитро, Кіріл (Кирило), Назар, Нікіта (Микита), Олександр ♀ Ангеліна, Анна (Ганна), Вікторія, Дар‘я (Дарина), Діана, Єлизавета, Крістіна (Христина), Марія, Софія, Тетяна

2.2.6 Philippines ♂ Alexander, Angelo, Daniel, Francis, Gabriel, Jacob, James, John, Mark, Joshua, Nathaniel ♀ Angel, Angela, Althea, Andrea, Ashley, Janine, Princess, Samantha, Sofia, Sophia

2.2.7 India ♂ Aarav, Advik, Arjun, Atharv, Ayaan, Mohammad, Reyansh, Sai, Vihaan, Vivaan ♀ Aadya, Aaradhya, Amaira, Anaya, Angel, Diya, Myra, Riya, Saanvi, Shanaya

2.2.8 Bangladesh ♂ Ahnaf, Anik, Fardin, Mehedi, Nazir, Rafi, Rakib, Sabbir, Sumon, Shamim ♀ Afia, Barsha, Eider, Hridi, Maaryam, Muntaha, Musarrat, Rifah, Saliha, Sayeda (Sayed, Tasnuva)

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2.2.9 Moldova ♂ Alexandru, Artiom, Bogdan, Daniel, David, Ion, Matthew, Maxim, Michael, Nikita ♀ Alexandra, Amelia, Anastasia, Andreea, Daria, Evelina, Gabriela, Sofia, Valeria, Victoria

2.2.10 Egypt ♂ Mohamed (Ahmed, Mahmoud), Hassan, Hussein, Khaled, Mustafa, Yassin, Youssef, Taha, Hamza, Bilal, Ibrahim, Karim, Tareq, Abdel-Rahman, Ali, Omar, Halim, Murad, Selim, Abdallah (Coptic Christians: Peter, Pierre, George, John, Mina, Beshoi, Kirollos, Mark, Fadi, Habib) ♀ Shaimaa, Fatma, Maha, Reem, Farida, Aya, Shahd, Ashraqat, Sahar, Fatin, Dalal, Doha, Fajr, Suha, Rowan, Hosniya, Hasnaa, Hosna, Gamila, Gamalat, Habiba (Coptic Christians: Mary/Marie/Mariam, Marina, Irene, Malak, Habiba, Hana, Farah, Marwa, Nada, Salma)

3 Foreign(ers’) Names in Italy: Some Brief Reflections on the Contemporary Situation Here are the names which foreign parents choose in Italy for their children and which compete in recent years for the top positions (again in alphabetical order, to show the trend, not the position year by year4): ♂ Adam, Ahmed, Alessandro, Alessio, Ali, Amir, Anas, Andrea, Andrei, Bilal, Cristian, David(e), Daniel, Denis, Francesco, Gabriel(e), Kevin, Leonardo,

 Similar results, at least as a trend, are contained in Caffarelli (2015: 173–180) (Appendix C: “I nomi personali dei cittadini stranieri in Italia” [Personal names of foreign citizens in Italy]), dated to 2013 and reconstructed as an elaboration of the Rivista Italiana di Onomastica on ISTAT data. 4

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Luca, Matteo, Mattia, Mohamed, Omar, Rayan, Samuel, Yahya, Youssef, Zakaria ♀ Alessia, Amina, Amira, Aurora, Aya, Elena, Elisa, Emily, Emma, Fatima, Giulia, Hiba, Jannat, Khadija, Lina, Malak, Maria, Mariam, Martina, Marwa, Melissa, Noemi, Sabrina, Sara, Serena, Sofia, Vanessa, Yasmin

In general, male children born from foreign parents residing in Italy reflect more the tradition of their countries of origin, while the female ones more often have Italian names. The preferences of foreign parents differ according to their citizenship. As it is well known, the Chinese community tends to choose, for the outside world, a name which is common in the host country rather than a traditional one (the favourite names are Matteo, Andrea, Alessio, Marco, but also Kevin and Oscar, for males; for females Sofia, Emily, Angela, Elisa), while the parents from Morocco, India, Tunisia and Bangladesh generally show the opposite attitude, as they prefer a name linked to their country of origin. Both the Romanian and Albanian communities choose Italian and non-Italian names: the former prefer Matteo or Luca, but also David, Gabriel, Andrei or Alexandru, and Sofia, Alessia, Giulia but also Alessia Maria, Maria or Giulia Maria; the latter’s first choices are Enea and Amelia, respectively. Some onomastic preferences can support the choice of maintaining the name in its most traditional form, particularly where there is a strong identity sensitivity, not least of religious origin.5 With regard to the minorities in question, choices are rarely made in relation to the belonging to a prestigious community.6 It should also be stressed that Italy does not impose a language policy on its “new citizens”.

 “The selective adoption of specific names from other civilisations, the making of certain rational choices can be associated, on the one hand, with the identification with the standards of one’s culture and religion, their conscience towards valorisation, without positive or negative hierarchies” (Felecan 2013: 127, orig. Italian). 6  Here are the main features, as outlined in Felecan (2013: 131, orig. Italian): “a community of prestige is made up of both perennial models—mythological, historical, literary etc.—as well as current celebrities, films, music, sport, show business and so on.” 5

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4 Conclusions As a theoretical framework, we note the contribution by Felecan (2013), fundamental in this field,7 to whom these pages are deeply indebted: for its methodological and scientific value we reread the provided data within this significant reflection, in which the author points out how the more general features of the contemporary question, characterised, on the one hand, by the extreme mobility of individuals and, on the other, by the social, psychological and sociocultural factors of sociopolitical reality (see specifically p.  124), are reflected in anthroponymy. This aspect is also reflected in the similar consideration by Enzo Caffarelli: “The choice of names, their etymological value, their use in speech and writing make up a key to better know the country of arrival and the migrants’ countries of origin” (Caffarelli 2015: 8, orig. Italian). There are numerous phonetic and spelling hesitations, a problem that has also been felt in the progress of this research, especially with regard to Sects. 2.2 and 3. In this regard Caffarelli (2015: 16, orig. Italian) writes: From a graphic point of view, the difficulty consists of the so-called diacritical signs. Some foreign alphabets have signs extraneous to the Italian language, which as a diacritic sign it recognises only the accent. In Italian documents these signs of the other languages generally disappear: the cedillas under the “s” and “t” and the circular sign on the “a” of the Romanians, the pipettes on the Slavic “c”, “s” and “z”, the length bars on Indian names, the commas under some vowels and the dots superimposed on consonants of the Baltic languages, and so on. For foreigners, however, this is a significant loss, because even the pronunciation changes gradually: to give just one example, the Romanians surnamed Timis should actually be Timish, but the Italianised form has already rapidly prevailed. However, with the INA-SAIA system (INA is the National Index of Registry offices, SAIA is the Access System and Personal Data Interchange) it is now possible to accept diacritical characters (that is, the “strange” signs: accents, cedillas, swallows,

 It is all the more fundamental in the lack of more specific bibliographic references, as pointed out by Caffarelli (2015: 181) in the note on “Le fonti consultate” [the accessed sources]. 7

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dots etc.) contained in alphabets with Latin characters, and correctly register names and surnames that include these signs.

As is to be expected, extralinguistic factors also play a determinant role in the onomastic choices of the “new citizens”. As for the Romanian language in the magistral analysis of Felecan (2013), and for Italian too, in this case, we confirm the significance of the linguistic contact, which extends from the lexical level to involve the sociolinguistic reality up to the phenomenon of “naming”.8 Now, let us leave the task to the readers to “play” a little with the data shown within the provided framework, looking for the different names on the ISTAT website, to evaluate, from time to time, their impact on modern Italian society, and to confirm the summarised trend. Upon accessing the ISTAT address (https://www.istat.it/it/dati-­analisi-­ e-­prodotti/contenuti-­interattivi/contanomi), one finds the page “Quanti bambini si chiamano…” [How many children are named…]. After selecting the year (“nomi più diffusi dei bambini nati nel” [most common names of children born in the year]) and the gender (M or F) and inserting the name of choice, one finds statistics regarding the use of the selected name. For example, when searching for Alexandru,9 we get information about “Maschi nati tra il 1999 e il 2017 che si chiamano Alexandru” [Males born between 1999 and 2017 called Alexandru], both as “valore assoluto” [absolute value] (Table 14.3) and as “% sul totale” [on a percentage basis] (Fig. 14.6): In this second case, upon clicking the points we can read the percentage (Fig. 14.7):  Both these domains of language “are a sensitive seismograph of the transformations of social, political, cultural and economic life. In the context of international and intercultural exchanges, not only do names represent the expression of a given cultural identity, with a unique and precise history, developed within a given context, but they also become a dynamic, transnational linguistic product. A name passes very easily through linguistic, social, religious etc. barriers. The loan or creation of new anthroponyms are much freer and more active than in the field of common names” (Felecan 2013: 125, orig. Italian). 9  For a specific source in the culture of reference, see the website of Institutul Național de Statistică [the National Institute of Statistics] (https://insse.ro/cms/ro/content/stiati-ca, accessed in November 2019). 8

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Table 14.3   Use of Alexandru in the last two decades (absolute value) ALEXANDRU 1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017

absolute value

% of total men

5 Siwe (no meaning)

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The original meaning is probably known by the users, but the shortened form remains meaningless, hence they become IKS-derived names. Even among the Muslim students who, just like the Xhosa speakers, carry extremely positive names when transcribed from Arabic, names are subject to shortening: Shameema (‘fragrance’) > Meema (no meaning) Sameega (‘jovial, companion’) > Meega (no meaning) Nafeesa (‘precious, valuable’) > Feesa (no meaning)

Illustrating these shortened forms with English and Afrikaans examples is easy: Afrikaans English Nicolaas > Nic (m) Winifred > Winnie (f ) Abraham > Braam (m) Judith > Judy (f ) Monique > Mo (f ) Lucinda > Cindy (f ) Melanie > Mel (f ) Enrico > Ricky (m) Heinrich > Heini (m)

One should not forget that these affective diminutive forms do not concern or affect the meaning of the names. The basic names used do not carry any obvious meaning. An aspect of emotion comes into play. Many of the names above use the diminutive ending -i, -ie or -y. In Xhosa that creates a problem. Xhosa only has one productive diminutive suffix, that is, -ana. This can only connect morphophonologically and in a regular way with the final vowel of nouns as follows: umntu (‘a person, grownup’) + -ana > umntwana (‘a [small] child’) isikolo (‘a school’) + -ana > isikolwana (‘a small school’) inja (‘a dog’) + -ana > injana (‘a small dog’)

Xhosa speakers, influenced by the Afrikaans and/or English speakers, also feel the desire to shorten the names in an affectionate manner but cannot use -ana to that end. Landman (1986: 167) refers to the tolerance

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regarding borrowing from English or Afrikaans bynames. It is typical when a society is characterised by various languages and cultures, to ‘borrow’ a phenomenon like affective diminution by using the diminutive endings found in English and Afrikaans names. Here are some examples illustrating this borrowing of diminutive endings, and thereby creating ‘unusual’ Xhosa forms pertaining to names: Andile (‘they have increased’) > Andy Nombulelo (‘gratitude’) > Buli Sandisiwe (‘we have been added to’) > Sandy Nonkululeko (‘freedom’) > Nkuli Mpumelelo (‘success’) > Mpumi Solomzi (‘guardian of the home’) > Solly

The original IKS name now in its diminutive form carries no meaning and can only be considered an IKS-derived name. The incorporated affective and diminutive endings give the names a ‘Western’ (that is, English or Afrikaans) tone. The final ethnic group singled out for an interesting phenomenon in an onomastic context is the so-called Coloured population group. The history of the ‘Coloured’ people is a fascinating but complex one. They are found all over South Africa with the main focus in the Western Cape, including Cape Town and surroundings. Generally speaking, the term or name Coloured is assigned to an ethnic group composed primarily of people of a mixed race. Any or various combinations of these may have formed the ancestry. One can only guess at the possible confusion that may exist when current Coloureds try to establish their origin and ancestry, as well as their identity. Their naming heritage has not been documented thoroughly (see I’m not Black, I’m Coloured—Identity Crisis at the Cape of Good Hope, Monde World Films 2009). The term Coloured (Afrikaans Kleurling, that is, ‘a person of colour’) is a nonsensical term. All people across the world are ‘Coloureds’, ranging from very light-skinned (‘white’) ones to extremely dark-skinned (‘black’) ones. A fairly huge percentage of the Coloureds in Cape Town are referred to as bruin (Afrikaans for ‘brown’),

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being the most common colour. The English ‘Coloured’ speakers, however, prefer not to use that term in English. Many scholars have addressed this issue about identity (see Venter 1974; Martin 1998; Neethling 2009), but it will not be addressed in this chapter. The current Coloureds in the Western Cape are bilingual, speaking Afrikaans and English. One can also divide the ‘Coloureds’ on religious grounds. Many of them are Muslim orientated, and they seem to prefer English even though they can speak Afrikaans really well, and at times ‘mixing’ both languages. The other group has a Christian background, and belong to many different churches where the preaching and singing might be in Afrikaans, but at times also in English. What has become noticeable from an onomastic point of view is the innovative first names emerging from this section of the population, notably the Afrikaans speakers. This phenomenon is also noticeable among the Afro-Americans from the US, and it seems as if the Cape Coloureds may have been inspired by the Americans (see Johns 2013; Neethling 2018). The surnames do not play a role here, and very ordinary and typical Coloured surnames are used, whereas the first names are certainly innovative, unique and invented. One most certainly cannot speak of IKS names, because such a heritage does not exist. Although the Coloureds form an important section of the total population and a particular cultural grouping, it seems as if the Coloured parents are interacting with the rest of South Africa, but have decided not to share their unusual and innovative first names with other South Africans. They seem to hold onto or ‘outdo’ all others regarding first names, and reluctant to let go of them. As mentioned above, the struggle to establish the origin, ancestry and identity is a major problem. The solution from seemingly mainly Afrikaans speaking Coloureds, judging by their family (surnames) is to name their children with extremely unusual and innovative names that were not really known in the old ‘apartheid’ days. These first names also appear with English speaking Coloureds who usually have family names sounding like English ones. They do, however, share these first names with their Afrikaans counterparts, that is, also using unusual names (not the same ones).

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The only negative aspect, also at times among white Afrikaans and English speakers, is the lack of meaning of these first names. The semantic transparency found in the names of nearly all the Bantu languages speakers is not to be found here. A hunt for the origin and meaning of these names yields nothing. A random list follows, first with female names, followed by male names. Even typical markers suggesting the gender are becoming fewer: Female names Beaulinda Bernique Charmoney Chrismedine Devonesha Fezlynn Jefrodeen Juvony Lauranique Loumic Miglen Nicoliaha Seronda Sheryllize Veneatha Whenlin Male names Ashrick Curwen Duwayne Ferlin Gershwill Janilo Jevano Joshluwin Loumic Matthewunn Sheraldo Teszio Virnol Zarion

One may speculate about the name endings and how that links to gender, but the varieties are many. The last names (or surnames) of this ethnic grouping seem not to be affected even if those names often refer to extremely ‘old’ and common ones. It does not form a part of this chapter although one may argue that it might be considered a part of the naming heritage, however dubious it might be. In the final analysis it is clear that all the cultural and different language groups are rather tolerant in an onomastic context to one another, and where possible, borrowing can take place. It is equally clear that anthroponymics is to a large extent a typical feature of all the cultural and language groups and it will probably stay like that.

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4 Toponymy This is the official term in onomastics for place names. It is a huge category, seeing that nearly all places carry names. All are manmade and named by man. Then there are also geographical locations that also require names to distinguish them from one another and to describe their features. The first category in the ‘new’ independent South Africa after 1994 that came under the spotlight was toponymy, or place names. Most of these entities, whether towns, airports, hospitals, educational institutions and streets, received their names from the previous government, and it came as no surprise when the majority of the black population started complaining about existing place names, and arguing why they should change. The first Act appeared in 1998 known as the South African Geographical Names Council (SAGNC) who should advise the Minister for Arts and Culture on the suggested changes. Every province had to have its own Provincial Geographical Names Committee, who needed to advise the SAGNC regarding matters pertaining to geographical names. Before the Act appeared in the Government Gazette of South Africa (1998), many names were already changed without proper consultation, and even when the Act was established, many municipalities simply ignored the SAGNC. It is simply impossible to include all the name changes that have taken place up to 2021 in this chapter (see, for instance, Wikipedia, “List of Renamed Places in South Africa”). An aspect that emerged quite strongly is commemoration. Many towns, airports, hospitals, universities and streets, for example, carried the names of former politicians, and it was suggested that such designations be replaced with names of previous political leaders who were campaigners in fighting for political freedom. People still alive are not eligible to be sources of names. Many former supporters of the ‘old’ apartheid system are not particularly happy with events, seeing developments of the past as historical in nature, and who always complain about the expensiveness of changing a name. In spite of the current very weak economy of South Africa, having been ‘captured’ by a variety of companies, individuals and politicians, the

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commemoration of deceased ‘warriors’ remains on the agenda. Light (2004: 154) describes it thus: Those names which commemorate key events or personalities from a country’s history are a manifestation of political order, and can be significant expressions of national identity with a powerful symbolic importance. They represent a particular view of the national past which is directly mapped onto urban geography.

Although the symbolic function of a street or any other geographical name as a vehicle for commemoration is considered as subordinate to the practical function, that is, that of signifying spatial orientation, Azaryahu (1996: 321) emphasises how politicians manage through commemoration to cleverly impact on the everyday consciousness of the city dweller: The utilization of street names for commemorative purposes enables an official version of history to be incorporated into spheres of social life which seem to be totally detached from political contexts or communal obligations, and to be integrated into intimate realms of human interactions and activities.

5 Commemorative Name Changes As was expected, many name changes took place in South Africa after 1994, the year when independence arrived. The provinces were reduced to nine. The old and biggest Transvaal (‘Across the Vaal River’) were formerly split into four provinces, that is, Transvaal, the Northern Transvaal, the Eastern Transvaal and the Western Transvaal. The central and smallest part, that is, Transvaal, including the big cities Johannesburg and Pretoria, became Gauteng (‘The place of Gold’), a derivative from the Afrikaans goud (‘gold’) and the Sotho -ng suffix meaning ‘the place of ’. The Northern Transvaal became Limpopo, named after the river. Its capital city Pietersburg, named after General Piet Joubert, became Polokwane, the Northern Sotho or Pedi name for ‘Place of safety’. The Eastern Transvaal became Mpumalanga (‘The place where the sun rises’). Its most

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prominent town Nelspruit, named after the Nel brothers, became Mbombela, the same name as that of the municipality with no clear meaning. The Western Transvaal simply became a geographical entity, that is, the North-­West province. The province in the middle of the country, the Orange Free State, simply ‘lost’ the Orange part, a reminiscent feature of the Dutch society, retaining Bloemfontein as the major city. Natal and KwaZulu (‘The place where the Zulu people live’) simply became KwaZulu-Natal, which was a good compromise, with Durban and Pietermaritzburg as the major cities. Lastly, the huge Cape province was also simply divided into three geographical entities, that is, Eastern Cape (with Port Elizabeth and East London as the major cities), Western Cape (Cape Town as major city) and Northern Cape (Kimberley as the major city). Whether these provincial and significant town names that up to this point have not been changed will remain unchallenged and unchanged nobody knows. South Africa is currently battling economically, and any name change is rather expensive. Given the fact that South Africa has undergone a major political change since 1994, name changing is an ongoing affair. As major role players from the struggle era become deceased, it appears as if they are immediately thought of as worthy of commemoration. The most popular type of commemoration is the changing of a human name to another human name. The commemoration of the new name becomes the decommemoration of the previous person. Other forms of (de)commemoration also exist. There are essentially three types of (de)commemoration: a) Commemoration by replacing a previously commemorated individual (of the old dispensation) with another one (of the new dispensation); b) Commemoration by replacing the name of a previous non-human entity with the name of an individual (of the new dispensation); c) Decommemoration by replacing the name of an individual (of the old dispensation) into another non-human entity.

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5.1 Commemoration: Individual Through Another Individual If a feature carried the name of a former politician and, as in South Africa, the ‘apartheid’ regime had to give way to independence in 1994, including all the population groups and not only the ‘white’ South Africans, then those who struggled politically are often recognised through commemoration. The name (old and new) was usually linked to a toponym, such as a street name (see Neethling 2016). Decommemoration is therefore as common as commemoration. Below follow a few examples of fairly ‘old’ well-known politicians as well as those individuals who became known as freedom fighters or others, for example, theologians opposing apartheid, which replaced them in the street name category (see Ndenze 2010; Hartley 2012): DF Malan Drive → Beyers Naudé Drive (2001, Johannesburg) Hendrik Verwoerd Drive → Bram Fischer Drive (2007, Johannesburg) Hendrik Verwoerd Drive → Johan Heyns Drive (2012, Pretoria) Oswald Pirow Street → Christiaan Barnard Street (2011, Cape Town)

In the last case Oswald Pirow was not really a prominent politician of the old regime, although he was the Minister of Justice from 1929 to 1933, and he also founded the South African Airways. The street named after him was only changed recently (2011) with that of the well-known (now deceased) first heart transplant surgeon, Christiaan Barnard. Another ‘unusual’ building name change occurred at the University of Cape Town. A prominent venue, the Jameson Memorial Hall was changed in December 2018 to Sarah Baartman Hall. Leander Starr Jameson was the prime minister of the Cape colony in December 1895 who executed the illegal Jameson invasion that was a key event leading to the Anglo-­ Boer war. By contrast Sarah Baartman (born in 1789) was only 20 years old when she was taken on board an English ship to London where she was displayed as an unusual ‘attraction’. She had unusually big buttocks and was displayed in a cage nearly naked. She became known as the Hottentot Venus. She died soon after sickness and longing back for South

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Africa. European scientists at the time, after dissecting her body, identified her as the ‘lost link’ between humans and apes. She is considered a victim of colonial inhumanity, and her name now replaces the name of a criminal colonist (see Barnard 2018; BBC News 2002). Baartman’s remains were returned to South Africa in 2002 and buried at Hankey in the Eastern Cape. Unlike most of the commemorative name changes reflecting those challenging the apartheid system, Sarah Baartman can also be considered commemorative, but certainly of a different kind who did not play any significant political role in early colonial times.

5.2 Commemoration of Individual into Non-human (Toponymic) Entity The following airports, formerly carrying names of early politicians from the apartheid era, simply received new names, referring to the geographical space, that is, the city where the airport is located. It appears as if the new government was keen to remove the names of the politicians, but was not yet ready to commemorate new individuals. One could view this as decommemoration: DF Malan Airport → Cape Town International Airport (1994) Ben Schoeman Airport → East London Airport (1994) H. F. Verwoerd Airport → Port Elizabeth International Airport (1994) K. D. Matanzima Airport → Mthatha Airport (2004)

The Johannesburg Airport was similarly treated, but the geographical space, that is, Johannesburg, was soon replaced by commemorating an old campaigner, fighting against apartheid: Jan Smuts International Airport → Johannesburg International Airport (1994) → OR Tambo International Airport (2006)

Initially the new government, the ANC (African National Congress), argued against the motion to name airports after politicians, but later

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reversed that decision and named the airport after Oliver Reginald Tambo, a former president of the ANC. Two other toponyms, with names of political or old leaders engrained, were simply changed into other toponyms: – Verwoerdburg → Centurion (1994, Johannesburg Settlement); the incorporated H.F. Verwoerd gave way to a neutral toponym; – Pieter Retief → emKhondo (2010, Mpumalanga); the Voortrekker leader gave way to emKhondo, a localised toponym. Its meaning seems to be unknown.

5.3 Commemoration of an Individual by Involving the Name in the Ordinary Non-human (Toponymic) Entity Eastern Boulevard → Nelson Mandela Boulevard (Cape Town) Table Bay Boulevard → FW de Klerk Boulevard (Cape Town) Western Boulevard → Helen Suzman Boulevard (Cape Town)

Cape Town was rather slow in changing street names through involving and commemorating prominent leaders or politicians from the past. A somewhat unusual change occurred when FW de Klerk, former president of the ‘old’ South Africa, was commemorated although still alive. He and Nelson Mandela were extremely important characters in the crossover times. This name change was common among airports. A geographical entity, linked to the name of the major city of the province, gave way to a selected individual who played an important role in the past, even before the actual struggle against apartheid: – Durban International Airport → King Shaka International Airport (2010). Shaka Zulu (1787–1828) was one of the most influential monarchs of the Zulu Kingdom. He is still widely revered although many historians criticise him for the brutality of his reign;

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– Bloemfontein International Airport → Bram Fisher International Airport. Bram Fisher was a strong supporter of the ANC and served in their structures.

There is currently (end 2018–beginning 2021) a big controversy regarding the names of airports (see Wikipedia, “List of Eponyms of Airports”). From an international perspective an airport name is an extremely important one, often featuring an important individual. Many international travellers to South Africa also encounter these commemorative names (after they had been named) and are in that way exposed to the ‘battle history against apartheid’ of South Africa before 1994. South Africa with its fairly huge number of big cities, all of them with adjacent airports, are also keen to commemorate individuals who played a decisive role during the anti-apartheid era, fighting for freedom. The current government (ANC) is supporting a Programme called Transformation of Heritage Landscape. Cape Town International Airport, Port Elizabeth International Airport, Kimberly Airport and East London Airport are all pegged to undergo the name-change process (see IOL 2018). ACSA (Airports Company South Africa) of Cape Town International has since held a public meeting regarding the renaming of Cape Town International Airport, which resulted in heated debate and the meeting being called off. Frontrunner names according to the social media include: – Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, also known as Winnie Mandela. She was a South African anti-apartheid activist and politician, and the ex-wife of Nelson Mandela. The airport renaming came to the fore shortly after her death in 2018; – Robert Sobukwe, a prominent struggle stalwart and political dissident, who founded the Pan Africanist Congress in opposition to the South African apartheid system; – Albertina Sisulu, a political activist and nurse, was one of the most important leaders of anti-apartheid resistance in South Africa. She is often referred to as the Mother of the Nation. She acted on her ideal of human rights throughout her life, assisted by her husband and fellow activist, the late Walter Sisulu;

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– Krotoa (or Eva), a Khoi translator, working for the Dutch during the founding of the Cape Colony. (See Bornman 2018; Dordley 2018; news24 2018.) The outcome of this renaming process will only be available in 2021.

It is clear that once a dramatic government change has taken place as in South Africa in 1994, the changing of names, particularly where individual human names are embedded in toponyms, will follow. Some of the types of changes have been discussed above, and the changing is likely to be an ongoing process. Only time will tell.

References Azaryahu, M. 1996. The Power of Commemorative Street Names. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 14 (3): 311–330. Barnard, Marelize. 2018. Sarah se naam “in ere herstel” [Sarah’s Name “Restored in Honour”]. Die Burger, 14 December 2018: 8–9. BBC News. 2002. Hottentot Venus Goes Home. 29 April 2002. http://news. bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/1957240.stm. Accessed 13 August 2013. Bornman, Jan. 2018. Cape Town International Airport Must Be Renamed after Chris Hani—SACP. news24. https://www.news24.com/news24/southafrica/ news/cape-­town-­international-­airport-­must-­be-­renamed-­after-­chris-­hani-­ sacp-­20180606. Accessed June 2019. Dordley, Linda. 2018. Renaming Cape Town International Airport Could Cost Up to 20-Million. Cape Town for Capetonians—cape{town}etc. https://www. capetownetc.com/cape-­town/renaming-­cape-­town-­international-­airport-­ cost-­r20-­million/. Accessed June 2020. Government Gazette of South Africa. 1998. South African Geographical Names Council Act. http://www.dac.gov.za/sites/default/files/Legislations%20Files/ a118-­98.pdf. Accessed June 2019. Hartley, Aziz. 2012. More Cape Street Names to Change. IOL. https://www.iol. co.za/news/politics/more-­cape-­street-­names-­to-­change-­1344889. Accessed June 2019. Horsthemke, Kai. 2004. “Indigenous Knowledge”—Conceptions and Misconceptions. Journal of Education 32: 31–48.

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IOL. 2018. Four Airports to Be Renamed “As Soon As Possible”. https://www. iol.co.za/capetimes/news/four-­a irports-­t o-­b e-­r enamed-­a s-­s oon-­a s-­ possible-­15294239. Accessed June 2019. Johns, Lindsay. 2013. “Say It Loud! I’m Coloured and Proud”. IOL, 6 November 2013. https://www.iol.co.za/capeargus/say-­it-­loud-­im-­coloured-­and-­proud-­ 1602788. Accessed June 2019. Landman, K.J.H. 1986. Byname. In Names/Name, ed. P.E.  Raper, 167–177. Pretoria: HSRC. Light, Duncan. 2004. Street Names in Bucharest, 1990–1997: Exploring the Modern Historical Geographies of Post-Socialist Change. Journal of Historical Geography 30: 154–172. Martin, Denis-Constant. 1998. What’s in the Name “Coloured”? Social Identities 4 (3): 523–540. Monde World Films. 2009. I’m not Black, I’m Coloured—Identity Crisis at the Cape of Good Hope. USA release. Ndenze, Babalo. 2010. Cape Town Streets to Get New Names. IOL. https:// www.iol.co.za/news/politics/cape-­streets-­to-­be-­renamed-­488569. Accessed June 2019. Neethling, Bertie. 2009. Perceptions around Ethnicity, Naming and Identity: Coloured Students at the University of the Western Cape. Nomina Africana 23 (1): 51–90. ———. 2014. Xhosa Onomastics as Part of Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS). Names 62 (4): 218–228. ———. 2016. Street Names: A Changing Urban Landscape. In The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, 144–157. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. 2018. Onomastics—A Multidisciplinary Field of Study. Krugersdorp: Lambert Academic Publishing. news24. 2018. EFF Hits Out at ANC Over Airport Name Change Proposals. https://www.news24.com/news24/southafrica/news/eff-­hits-­out-­at-­anc-­ over-­airport-­name-­change-­proposals-­20180606. Accessed June 2019. Venter, Al.J. 1974. Coloured. A Profile of Two Million South Africans. Cape Town, Pretoria: Human & Rousseau. Wikipedia. List of Eponyms of Airports. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_ eponyms_of_airports. Accessed June 2019. Wikipedia. List of Renamed Places in South Africa. https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/List_of_renamed_places_in_South_Africa. Accessed June 2019.

17 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in the Arab World Wafa Abu Hatab

1 Introduction Regardless of the diverse structure a name can have, it is considered a cultural and social representation through which one can get introduced to other cultures and civilisations. It serves as an index to identity and social, ideological and cultural belonging. Because names are symbols of culture, children’s names reflect their gender, culture, religion, language and family history, as well as their parents’ hopes for their futures (Botelho and Rudman 2009). Names situate individuals in their social locations (Lieberson and Bell 1992; Lieberson and Mikelson 1995; Wilson 1998) and reflect social norms and expectations with variation in trends related to socioeconomic status, race and gender (Lieberson and Bell 1992; Lieberson and Mikelson 1995; Wilson 1998). Names are defined, changed or adopted by humans at various moments in history and in the life course; they result inevitably from social naming practices, which occur within specific ethnic and cultural contexts. In

W. Abu Hatab (*) Zarqa University, Zarqa, Jordan © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_17

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many societies, surnames are passed along patrilineal lines, while forenames are chosen by parents according to prevailing local, cultural and temporal preferences (Finch 2008; Lasker 1985). Arabs have always paid considerable attention to naming practices, particularly with regard to the connotations of names as well as linguistic and social norms, so that the chosen name reflects reality and serves as an indicator of individual and social identity. Therefore, significance of proper names is stressed in Arabic cultural heritage where names are viewed as true manifestations of social values and beliefs. The Islamic era witnessed a shift in the naming practices towards religious names such as names of prophets in general and Prophet Mohammad in particular. In the pre-Islamic era, female names in the Arabic culture had social and cultural implications. Most names revolved around women’s physical traits such as height, beauty or white complexion. Some common names of that era were Khawla (‘a doe) and Jareya (‘tall woman’). After Islam, new names were introduced focusing on women’s contributions to life rather than their physical beauty. The present study explores the multicultural aspects of the naming practices in the Arab world, focusing mainly on five Arab countries; Egypt, Sudan, Algeria, Morocco and Jordan. Anthroponyms in all these countries are explored focusing on both masculine and feminine first names. Toponymy in Egypt and Jordan is discussed in view of clarifying naming practices and features of street names in both countries.

2 Multicultural Aspects of Anthroponymy 2.1 Sudan and Egypt Sudanese Arabs constitute 70% of the population of Sudan which contains other ethnic groups such as Beja, Copts and Nubians. Mustafa (2008) investigates names from a sociological perspective, stating that the most common names are the names Mohammad (after Prophet Mohammad), his companion’s names, Muslim Imams, prophets, angels,

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Islamic places, Sufi nicknames and lunar months. Some of the names after Prophet Muhammed are Mohammed, Ahmed, AbuElqasim, Alshafi’. The names of Prophet Mohammad’s companions were also given to men such as Abu Baker, ‘Omar, ‘Uthman and Abu Hurairah. Other names were given after Muslim scholars such as Malik and Al-Shafi’i. Since the Malki School of jurisprudence is very common in Sudan, the name Malik is very widely used. Names of prophets such as Adam, Nuh, Zakareyya, Yusuf, Alyasa’ and Alkhader are common in the western parts of Sudan. Some Sudanese are named after angels (Jibril, Ridwan), while others are named after lunar Arabic months (Ramadan, Rajab, Sha’ban). Masculine names representing Islamic places such as Makki and Madani representing two cities in Arabia, Mecca and Medina are given to boys. It is also common to name girls after Islamic cities and places (Mecca, Medina, Muzdalefa, Zamzam, ‘Arafa, Haram) or women closely related to Prophet Mohamad: Halima Sa’deyya, Prophet Mohammad’s foster mother, and Amenah Bent Wahab, Prophet Mohammed’s mother, his wife Khadija or his daughter Fatima. Sufi dimension is clear in some Sudanese names such as AlJunaid, Aljilani, ‘Arabi, Kibashi, Assamani and Altijani. One of the names that can be found mostly in Sudan is the feminine name ‘Alaweyya, which is the feminine of ‘Ali. Some Sudanese tribes derived names from religious titles such as Al-hudendwa tribe, who uses the name Ushik derived from the religious title Shaikh to name a boy. Selecting names from the Quran can be attributed to the increase of religious awareness among the Sudanese manifested in choosing names such as Alaa’, Namareq, Tasnim, Zulfa, and Mu’meen for girls. Gender has its effect on the choice of names for both males and females. Like many Arab societies, it is preferred to have more boys than girls in the family. This is reflected in naming the daughter born after five or six girls Khitam or Khitma (literally, ‘end’) to express the hope of having no more girls and the desire to have a boy. If death takes a son or a daughter, the one born after him/her is given a name to show that his/her birth represents a compensation like ‘AwaD for a boy and ‘AwaDeyya for a girl (literally, ‘compensation’). Environment is reflected in choosing names of animals such as Asad (‘lion’), Feel (‘elephant’), Nimer (‘tiger’), or geographical locations: Sahel (‘field’), Abu Jabal (‘father of a mountain’). For girls,

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preferred names represent delicateness such as Yasmin, Warda and Nisreen, all of which are used to denote flowers. Mustafa (2008) provided some examples of names affected by historical and political events that either Sudan or the Arab World witnessed and names that show admiration of an Arab or international political leader. This is shown in names such as Tito, Ghandi and ‘Abdelnasir or naming girls after the Egyptian singer Umkulthum following her visit to Sudan in 1967. After signing a unity agreement with Egypt and Libya, some boys were named after the three presidents of these countries— Nasir, Numari and Gadhafi. After the October Revolution, the names Thawra (‘revolution’) and Intisar (‘victory’) were given to girls. Affected by the Turkish control over Sudan, some Turkish titles were borrowed and used as names such as Basha, Hanem and common Turkish names such as Tawhida and masculine names ending in the sound /t/ such as Tharwat. Birth circumstances could also affect the choice of names. For example, if the mother faces difficult labour, the newborn might be named after the nurse or the doctor in charge. Farah (2009) states that some names are only limited to a certain Sudanese tribe. For example, the compound name Sayyed Ahmed is found in the northern parts of Sudan while Auwshiq, Abu Fatimah, Abu Amnah, Mohammaddeen and Mairghani are found in the eastern parts. The masculine names Haroun and Adam are common in the western parts where the usual practice is to open the Quran and choose a name from it. The name Malwal is common in the south inhabited by the Dinka. Nwair and Shalk tribes choose names related to cows and their features. Yar, for instance, is a female name meaning ‘the white cow’. Other names reflect the influence of Christian missionaries such as Santino, Carbibno from Italian, or the Catholic Church such as John, James and Arthur. Northern parts have names such as Khalil, Mohammed, Saleh, in addition to some Egyptian and Turkish names. The female names for the Shaygeyya tribe reflect Islamic spirit and are marked with the frequency of the names Nafisa and Maryam which are common among the Merghani sect. In addition to names such as Rawda and Sit Alnafar, Ja’li tribe feminine names begin with Sit or Dar such as Sitelbanat and Dareserour. Kurdufan is characterised by ethnic variation that is reflected in names. Names such as Sahel, Mahel, FadulAllah are common among cowherds, while the

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names Qadem, Qaydoum and Rahhal are used among horses and camel shepherds. In the middle parts of Kurdufan, where farming is the common activity, names that denote light are frequent, such as Alnour, Aldaw, Dayelnour and MaDwi. Alsa’ati’s (2001) survey of Egyptian names showed that Egyptian names are influenced by social values, social classes, witchcraft and fashion. Her sample was collected from rural and urban areas between 1950 and 1975 in an attempt to explore the social change that had impact on the naming practices and the relationship between names, values, social class and proverbs. She views naming as an image of the common values in a given society. The spread of religious names, for example, is an indication of the value of religion in that society. Names in rural areas were found to observe rules followed in Ancient Egypt: naming a boy after the day he was born on, such as Khamis (‘Thursday’) and Jum’a (‘Friday’), giving the name Wihda (‘Unity’) to girls born on the day of declaring unity between Egypt and Syria in 1958, or choosing names after religious occasions such as ‘EId. Alsa’ati’s study (2001) revealed that a common naming practice in rural areas is to name a boy after the grandfather or grandmother or the father who died before the birth of his son. The most common religious names in rural areas were Ahmad, Mohammad, Mahmoud, Mustafa for boys, and Khadija, ‘Ashia, Fatima, Zainab and Umkulthoum for girls. Other names were Aktham, Haytham and Turkish names such as Jawdat for boys, as well as Persian names such as Shahinaz and Safinaz for girls. Some names have political implications like the names after famous political figures (Mohammad Ali, Mustafa Kamel, Sa’ed Zaghloul, Jamal ‘Abdunnasir) or political party leaders (Lenin, Stalin, Hitler). Girls’ names basically reflected beauty, such as Jamaleeh. Jamalat and Baheyya. all of which are synonyms for ‘beautiful’, in addition to Shams and Qamar meaning ‘sun’ and ‘moon’, respectively, as well as Jamal and Bahaa for boys. Uncanny names to avoid the evil eye were also found, such as Khaisha (‘sackcloth’) and Alghabi (‘the idiot’) in addition to some uncommon names such as Nefertiti, Ramses, or Roman names such as Cleopatra. Folkloric names unique to Egyptian culture are Zanati Khalifa, ‘Antar, Abuzidelhilali for boys, and Qatrennada and Baheyya for girls. Sometimes the social events surrounding the birth of a child affect the choice of his/

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her name. For example, if the boy is born after a financial crisis, he is named Faraj (‘a way out, a solution’), or Bushra (‘good tidings’) for girls. Other names display the parents’ satisfaction with the birth of the new child such as Rida, ‘Ateyya for boys, and Hadeyya (‘gift’) for girls. As with other Arab countries, having many girls in the family is not favoured. After seven daughters, a frequent name might be Kefaaya (‘enough’). The most common Christian names are names that are used either by Christians only (Victoria, Elizabeth, Margret for girls, and ‘Abdelmashih, Poulus and Jerjes for boys), or shared names with Muslims (‘Aziz, Dawood, ‘EId, Fayez).

2.2 Algeria and Morocco Jabas (2005) provides an anthropological analysis of personal names in the city of Constantine in Algeria. Her descriptive analytical methodology is an attempt to identify naming criteria across different historical eras relying basically on birth certificates and family trees. Her study revealed that the naming practices followed cultural, folkloric, psychological and socio-historical measures. Names that have religious connotations topped the list of names with 64% for males and 35% for females. The most frequent male names were Mohammad, Ahmed and Belqasem followed by names of the prophet’s companions, prophets’ names and compound names with the word deen which means religion. As for females, the most frequent were Fatimah, Prophet Mohammad’s youngest daughter, his mother Amenah and Maryam (Mary). Naming was also affected by social beliefs. Some male names were given either to show optimism such as Mas’ud (‘the one who lives happily’) and Suroor (‘happiness’), or names that indicate shock at the birth of a girl—Khatima (‘the last one’), which indicates a desire to stop having more girls. Other names displayed a strong connection with nature: Haytham, Usama and Shahin for boys, and Warda, Yasmina, Narjes and Nisreen for girls. Jabas (2005) also provided a list of names introduced in the 1980s such as names with religious associations (Aya, Israa, Islam and Alaa), names of heaven and its rivers (Salsabil, Rayyan, Firdous), names of

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chapters in the Quran (Yassin and Kawther) and compounds with Islam (Fath Elisalam, Noor Elisalm). Female compound names were combined with God’s name (Allah or Alrhmani, such as Ayato Alrhman, Hebtu elrhamn, Amatu Allah, Hebutu Allah). Other female names with new artistic values were introduced such as Lamis, Faten, Dareen, while at the same time old ones were reconsidered: Samah < Samiha, Safa < Safeyya, Haneen < Hanan. Compound names showed a tendency to respect the old and cope with the modern at the same time, which is clear in names such as Nawal, Serean, Noras, Raed, Shaherman Fadi and Baderezaman. Foreign names such as Rosa, Linda Azad and Rustum were found to be the least frequent. Other names were given in memory of an important political figure: Alˀamir Khaled (prince Khaled), Hawwari Bumedian (Algerian President), Jamal ‘Abelnaser, Anwar Al-Sadat (Egyptian Presidents), Saddam Hussein (Iraqi President) and Tariq ‘Aziz (Iraqi Prime Minster). As for naming practices, priority was given to the grandfather to name the child if he was still alive, but this is now replaced by negotiation between the parents. Sa’idi (2005) conducted a study on Algerian names in the city of Telmsan trying to investigate the naming process from historical and cultural perspectives, analysing how names started, spread and ended. His study revealed that most names were chosen by the father, then the grandfather, the mother came third, while very few cases were reported by the brothers and other relatives. According to his study, 83% of names were decided on after the birth of the child. Most names were chosen because of their religious associations for being names of prophets, their companions, or to show respect for the family by naming after the grandfather, uncle or a friend. History was found to play a significant role in naming practices. Sa’idi studied names over four periods from 1960–2000. The period from 1960–1970 was affected by consequences of the Algerian revolution with names reflecting celebration of victory and independence of the French invasion and loyalty to the martyrs who sacrificed their lives to give Alegria its freedom. The second circle, 1970 to 1980 was influenced by the art and culture of the eastern parts of the Arab World such as Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan and Syria. The years 1980–1990 witnessed social

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activities of religious parties which affected naming practices increasing the frequency of opting for prophets’ names, the Rashidun caliphs and certain Muslim scholars. The fourth circle from 1990–2000 was characterised by the call for social, political and cultural multiplicity, and adaptation of new names that represented the tendency to liberate from the unified social, political and cultural norms. Raihani (2001) studied Moroccan first names in an attempt to unravel the components of the Moroccan identity through investigating factors that affect naming practices. His data were basically driven from school records for students in five schools as well as his personal experience as a participant in a population census. The factors that govern naming practices in Morocco are not different from other Arab countries. Religion played a major role, in addition to the regional dimension shown in names used only in Morocco (‘Alal, Milud) or the linguistic dimension, such as Amazigh names Baiha, Bihi and Fatim. Demographic factors also had their influence. Names in rural areas were different from Bedouin ones. Sabir, ‘Isam, Ibtisam are common in urban areas, while the names Sha’bana, Yaseyya and Alhabasha are frequent Bedouin names. Gender distinction is observed despite the emergence of some names that could be used to refer to both males and females such as Ihasan, Jihad and Rajaa’. Gender is marked in Moroccan names in two ways, either by using the suffix -a or the free morpheme um literally meaning ‘mother’. For example, Sa’id (‘happy’) is masculine, and the feminine is Sa’ida. Abu is another morpheme that indicates masculinity and literally means ‘father of ’. Thus, Abu Baker and Abu Taleb are male names, while um Kulthoum and um Elkhair are female names. Recent trends in naming practices involve borrowing foreign names with no religious content, simplifying male names (for example, Bahaaeddin is shortened to Bahaa’, Qamar is taken from Qamar azzaman), or using a diminutive of the name (‘alal from ‘abd al’ali). Common religious Moroccan names take the form of a compound name consisting of the word ‘abd (literally ‘worshipper of ’) followed by one of God’s divine names (for example, ‘abd Salam, ‘abd Kareem). (See Abu Hatab (2019) for more details on divine names.)

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2.3 Jordan Jordan is not different from other Arab countries in giving a child’s family the full right to choose his/her name. Article (15) of the Jordanian Civil Status states that the birth certificate should include the name of the child, his/her gender and the trilateral names of the parents. The name should not violate social or religious values or contradict public order. Ali (2014) provides some examples of the strangest names that were prohibited, such as Jahannam (‘hell’) and ‘Uzareel (‘angel of death’). Other uncanny names that found their way to actual use were Sahen (‘plate’) and ‘Qider (‘pot’). Masculine and feminine names are distinguished by phonological and morphological markers. Names denoting courage and bravery are given to boys such as Nimer (‘tiger’), Thib (‘wolf ’), while names associated with beauty are assigned to girls (Haifa, Jamila). Abu Hatab (2015) investigated anthroponyms in Jordan, tackling questions related to gender, ethnicity and the conventions involved in naming practices. Lists of the top 50 female names and top 50 male names for the years 1945, 1955, 1965, 1975, 1985 and 1995 were used to identify morphological and phonological features of feminine and masculine anthroponyms. The study revealed that political, social and economic factors affected naming practices. The dissatisfaction with the execution of the Iraqi president Saddam Hussein was reflected in naming newborn boys after him. The same applied for the Mu’aath, the captive Jordanian pilot who was burned alive by ISIS in Syria. Female names showed religious influence in 1945, 1955 and 1965 with names such as Fatima, Khadija and Mariam topping the lists of the most frequent names. Some female names in 1995 were taken from the Quran such as Isra’ and Ala’. Most names for the year 1945 ended in the feminine suffix -ya as in Fawzeyya and Fatheyya, while the names Hend, ‘Alia, Muna were less frequent. In 1955, frequent names were Amal, Maha, Hend, Reema, Nada, Nuha, and Hana. Other common female names ended in a glottal stop such as Wafaˀ, Hanaˀ and Sanaˀ in addition to names such as Rana, Nuha and Suha. In 1975, foreign names such as Suzanne and Lara and Turkish ones such as Murvet and Jihan appeared, while in 1985

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new names such as Lama, Yara, Hala, Linda, Sali and Danya were introduced, though names ending in glottal stop such as Wafaˀ, Isaraˀ and Safaˀ were still common. New names such as Leen, Tala, Sali, Rama, and Sandra, religious names such as Salsabeel, Tuqa and Sundus and names ending in the vowel /a/ such as Lana, Lara and Dana were frequent in 1995. The choice of name for a Jordanian boy is affected by men’s role in society along with religious beliefs. The names Mohammad, Ahmed and Mahmoud are very common. Abu Hatab (2015) found that the most common boys’ names in 1945 were Qasem, Majed, ‘Adel, Fayez, Salem, Saleh and Khaled. In 1955, names such as Saleh, Salem, Fayez, Basem, Qasem ‘Atef, and Maher were still common. In 1965 afˁal formula, which is used to derive the comparative form of verbs to form comparative adjectives was very frequent with names such as Amjad, Ayman, Akram and Anwar and less compound anthroponyms with ‘Abed were found. In 1975 new anthroponyms appeared such as Waˀel, Bassam, Zeyad though compounds with ‘Abed were still common along with Af ’’al formula such as Ashraf, and As’ad. Names ending in the vowel /i/ such as Shadi and Fadi were frequent in addition to Nidal and Jihad. Rare compounds and more names ending in glottal stop such as Bahaˀ and Deyaˀ were also noticed. More names with the afˁal formula such as Anwar along with the emergence of names taken from Islamic history such as Huthayfah, ‘‘Ubayda, Bara’’, Mu’aweyya and Șuhaib were frequent in 1985, while names such as Tha’er, Niďal and Jihad were still common. Since 95% of the population in Jordan consists of Muslims, it is normal to find Ahmed, Mohammed and Mahmoud as common anthroponyms. Circassians and Armenians in Jordan choose names that are associated with their countries of origin. The names Armeen, Qufork and Rafayeel are common among Armenians. Circassians living in Jordan use both Arabic and Islamic names as first names, while their identity is kept through their family names that are not changed. Some of the easy Circassians names are still used such as Nart, Yanal, Sirsa and Aram. Weather also affected the naming practice in Jordan. Some old girls’ names were Thaljeh (‘snow’), ‘Asefeh (‘storm’) and Shatweh (‘a rainy

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event’). In 2015 a father named his twin girls Huda and Jana after two snow storms that hit Jordan. Jordan welcomed Palestinian refugees who were expelled from Palestine by Israel in 1948 and 1967. This affected names of both Jordanians and Palestinians who started to name girls Palestine in addition to some cities in Palestine such as Yafa and Bisan. Many boys who were born after 1967 were called Nidal, Jihad, Kifah (all mean ‘struggle for freedom’) and Tahrir (‘Liberation’) for girls. The name ‘Uday, Saddam Hussein’s eldest son, became frequent after the war on Iraq in 1990. The choice of that name was motivated by the high status Saddam has among Jordanians. It is the usual custom to address a man by the term Abu (‘father of ’) followed by the name of his eldest sons, so those who named their sons ‘Udday wanted to claim a title similar to Saddam’s as a sign of love and respect.

3 Multicultural Aspects of Toponymy 3.1 Jordan The naming and numbering project for places and streets was first introduced in 1965 to name old and new places in Amman first, then covered other cities at a later stage. That system was subsequently modified in 1989 to cope with the economic and social development in the country. Naming regulations pinpoint the conditions by which the names should abide. The technical criteria for naming stated that the name should be linguistically simple and have the timbre consisting of one or two syllables without causing any pronunciation difficulty. Preserving old and common names as much as possible was stressed, and if renaming was needed, old names should be written under the new names between brackets. The regulations for naming classify names into the following categories: A. Names of the Hashemite kings, some battles in Islamic and Arab history, some Caliphs in various Islamic eras especially ones connected with Jordan, Palestine, Syria and some of the Islamic conquest leaders connected with Jordan, abstract nouns such as Alistiqlal (‘independence’) and Alhureyya (‘liberty’).

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B. 1. Names of some members of the Hashemite Family after consultation with the royal court, names of some intellectual Arab and Muslim leaders, names of dead Amman mayors, names of some dead members of legislative and judicial councils, names of dead ministers; 2. Names of capitals of Arab and Islamic countries and the cities with twinship agreements. C. Some cities and villages of Jordan and Palestine, some martyrs of the armed forces upon approval, some Arab and Muslim martyrs, some members of the Parliament of the Faisali government in Syria, names of some dead legislative councils and tribe sheikhs, dead members of the council of Amman municipality, some dead leaders of the Great Arab Revolt who had a distinguished role, some dead leaders of unions, some dead famous Jordanians who gained intellectual, scientific, political, social or economic fame or those who contributed to the establishment of Amman (Greater Amman Municipality. Naming and Numbering Regulations for Amman 2018).

Though one of the biggest commercial streets was named after one of the prime ministers, Wasfi al-Tal, people still call it Gardens Street, written both in Arabic and English, after an old restaurant that used to be there. Another street was named after Abu Baker, the first Muslim Caliph, but people use the old name Rainbow Street, which was given after the oldest cinema in that area. As far as streets are concerned unconventional was replaced with a new convention. The following Table 17.1 provides some old names and the modern names along with a literal translation. Table 17.1  Old and modern toponyms in Jordan Old name

Meaning

New name

Meaning

Jabel altahtur Qbaib elghuleh Jabal al-malfouf Jabal elkharita

‘stones mountain’ (‘monster’s cave’) ‘cabbage mountain’ ‘the map mountain’

Jabal AL Hussein Jabal Al-Marrikh Jabal Amman Jabal eltaj

Al-Salt Street

‘a city in the north’

umelkelab Um-elqanafeth

‘mother of dogs’ ‘mother of hedgehog’

King Hussein Street Umelusud Al-Rawda

‘AlHussein mountain’ ‘Mars mountain’ ‘Amman mountain’ ‘the crown mountain’ — ‘mother of lions’ ‘the garden’

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The reasons for renaming are sometimes political, thus denoting political significance or having political implications. Jabal AL Hussein and Share’ Al-Hussein are named after Sharif Hussein the leader of the Arab Revolt in 1916. Share’ Alsa’ada (‘Happiness Street’) was named after King Hussein following his visit to Zarqa city, Jabal eltaj (‘the Crown Mountain’) replaced Jabal elkharita as it was overlooking Raghadan Palace, the crown palace. Other reasons for renaming could be social, basically to make the names look more prestigious or to indicate a positive change in the area. For example, Um-elqanafeth is replaced by AlrawDa (‘the Garden’). Names with negative denotations are replaced by positive ones, such as Umelklab (‘mother of dogs’) is replaced by Uml?usud (‘Mother of Lions’) since dogs in some contexts have negative connotations in colloquial Arabic.

3.2 Egypt Naming streets in Cairo became common during the reign of Mohammed Ali Basha. Prior to that, streets were named after a tribe living in that street or after a group of a certain craft or a name of a palace. Ahmed Basha Street, for instance, is named after the grandson of Mohammed Ali Basha who ruled Egypt in the nineteenth century. Ahmed Helmi Street is named after a journalist who was the first to call for boycotting English products during British mandate over Egypt. Alazbakeyya is named after Azbak, an Egyptian army leader during the Mamlouk Sultanate. Saqer (2018) provided a comprehensive review of the naming practices as far as street names in Cairo, the capital of Egypt, are concerned. Suggestions are given by government sectors or citizens for naming new streets or renaming old ones for economic, political or social reasons. After receiving ten proposals at least, the executive committee in Cairo meets monthly to make a decision. Naming regulations state that the new streets should be named after historical figures or the greatest archaeological monument, its original place before it was made a street, the most famous historical event or the first to build it or live in it. Regulations

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take into consideration keeping records of the most prominent events or historical figures in Egypt’s history so names related to events or figures belonging to pre-Islamic eras could be chosen only if they are relevant, that is there is a clear connection. For modern areas that have no connection with the history of Egypt or were not inhabited in the past, a description should be provided in the name that can facilitate the process of naming roads based on the geographical, geological, demographic or historical status or numbers, but no names of living people should be given to any road or street. Contemporary non-Egyptian names are prohibited unless the name refers to someone who offered a distinguished service to Egypt or in case of name exchange avoiding as much as possible names of villages and cities. As for old streets, old names should be kept more often than not to preserve real estate properties, unless owners accept the name change, a case in which the name sign carries both the new name and the old name under it with the word ‘formerly’ or ‘used to be’. Unfavourable names can be replaced by better ones upon the request of real estate owners of a given street with the new name and the old one under it. As a sign of respect to martyrs and in recognition of their sacrifice, their names are given to streets, schools and public institutions.

References Abu Hatab, Wafa. 2015. Postcolonial Anthroponyms in Jordan. In Proceedings of the Third International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming”. Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, Baia Mare, September 1–3, 2015, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 65–74. Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut. ———. 2019. God’s Divine Names in the Qur’an. In Onomastics between Sacred and Profane, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 3–15. Malaga: Vernon Press. Ali, Anas. 2014. The Strangest and Rarest Jordanian Names. Ammon News. http://www.ammonnews. net/article.aspx’articleno=181046#sthash. vnCD9Srw.dpuf. Accessed 3 July 2018. Alsa’ati, Samya. 2001. Asmaa’ Elmisreyyen, Alusul Waldalalt. Cairo: Egypt. Botelho, M.J., and M.K.  Rudman. 2009. Critical Multicultural Analysis of Children’s Literature: Mirrors, Windows, and Doors. New York, NY: Routledge. Farah, Khaled. 2009. Aldalalt Althaqafeyya Walijtima’ya Li Asmaa Alsudaneyyn. http://www.sudanile.com/436. Accessed 5 July 2018.

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Finch, J. 2008. Naming Names: Kinship, Individuality and Personal Names. Sociology 42: 709–725. Greater Amman Municipality. 2018. The New Regulations for Naming and Numbering Streets and Buildings. http://alsaa.net/article-74099. Accessed 16 Jan 2019. Jabas, Huda. 2005. Alism Haweyya wa Turath. Insaniyat 29–30: 143–171. Lasker, G.W. 1985. Surnames and Genetic Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lieberson, S., and E.O. Bell. 1992. Children’s First Names: An Empirical Study of Social Taste. American Journal of Sociology 98 (3): 511–554. Lieberson, S., and K.S. Mikelson. 1995. Distinctive African American Names: An Experimental, Historical, and Linguistic Analysis of Innovation. American Sociological Review 60 (6): 928–946. Mustafa, Mu’tasem. 2008. Alasmaa’ Alsudaneyya min Manthour Ijtma’i. https:// www.sudaress.com/sudansite/1088. Accessed 5 June 2018. Sa’idi, Mohammad. 2005. Alism Wausuluhu Elthaqafeyya. https://pnr.crasc.dz/ pdfs/2005-­saidi-­des%20noms-­pnr-­ar.pdf. Accessed 5 July 2018. Saqer, Hala. 2018. Kaifa Yatem Tasmeyat Shaware’ Alqahira. https://www.tahrirnews.com/Story/872492/%D9%83%D9%8A%D9%81. Accessed 3 July 2018. Wilson, S. 1998. The Means of Naming: A Social and Cultural History of Personal Naming in Western Europe. London: University College London Press.

18 The Formation of a Multicultural Society in Japan: An Observation of the Names of Shops and Signboards Kazuko Tanabe and Yuan Jiang

1 Introduction In Japan, the appearance of multiple languages has been advancing at an astonishing speed in recent years. To ensure the domestic labour supply in the face of the falling birth rate and aging of society, a long-delayed government policy allowing the acceptance of foreign immigrants has finally been adopted. The Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Law was revised in April 2019, expanding the acceptance of foreign workers. Until now, technical trainees were not permitted to stay in Japan for long periods, but under the new residence status of Specified Skills, people with superior skills can reside permanently in Japan. The

K. Tanabe (*) Japan Women’s University, Tokyo, Japan e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] Y. Jiang Hakuhodo Inc., Tokyo, Japan e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_18

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government predicts that industries such as nursing care, construction, and others, which face severe shortages of workers, will accept up to 340,000 workers during the next five years. As such internationalisation advances, the appearance of the towns of Japan is also about to be transformed, and the signs on their streets will most vividly reflect this change (Backhaus 2006, 2007; Inoue 2005; Jiang and Tanabe 2013). Here, foreign language signs and even foreign language store names are appearing. This chapter analyses such conditions to clarify the characteristics of multicultural Japan from the perspectives of region, industry, and language.

2 Writing System of the Japanese Language Before introducing the signs, we would first like to introduce the characteristics of the writing system of the Japanese language. The writing system of the Japanese language has many unique characteristics that set it apart from the many other languages used throughout the world. In modern Japanese, the following three writing systems are used: 1. Kanji are logograms originating in China and also include a small number of characters originally devised in Japan (kokuji). They are used in nouns, adjectives, and verb stems (e.g. 友人 yujin ‘friends’, 幸 福 kofuku ‘happiness’, 美しい utsukushii ‘beautiful’). There are two ways to read kanji: on’yomi, based on Chinese phonemes, and kun’yomi’, based on the pronunciation of a native Japanese word that was close to the meaning of the Chinese character at the time it was introduced. 2. Hiragana are phonograms (syllabic characters) created in Japan based on cursive kanji. They are used in conjugative suffixes of adjectives and verbs, postpositional particles, and Japanese words without kanji (e.g. 泳ぐ oyogu ‘swim’, 快いkokoroyoi ‘comfortable’, わさび wasabi ‘Japanese radish’). 3. Katakana are phonograms (syllabic characters) created in Japan from components of more complex kanji. They are used to express words

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and names with foreign origins (e.g. オレンジ orenji [orange], ゲー ム geemu [game], ジョン jon [John]). These three character systems are used together in the following manner: Example: A sentence from an article dated 14 January 2014  in the Tokyo Shimbun. バレーボールという競技は、もともと職場のレクリエーシ ョンから始まったそうです。 Bareebooru to iu kyougi wa, motomoto shokuba no rekurieeshon kara hajimatta sou desu. ‘The sport of volleyball is said to have begun as a form of workplace recreation’. 1. Kanji: 競技(kyougi ‘game, sports’)職場 (shokuba ‘workplace’) 始 (haji ‘begin’) 2. Hiragana: という to iu, は wa, もともと motomoto, の no, から kara,(始)まった matta, そう sou, で de 3. Katakana: バレーボール bareebooru ‘volleyball’ レクリエーショ ン rekurieeshon ‘recreation’ Words in Japanese are expressed with the three-character systems depending on the type of word and its meaning (Table 18.1). Table 18.1   Japanese orthography Character Word type

Kanji

Hiragana

Katakana

Native Japanese

私 watashi ‘I’ 経済 keizai ‘increase’

ワタシ watashi ‘I’

Sino-Japanese

わたし watashi ‘I’ けいざい keizai ‘increase’

Foreign origin

カクテル kakutelu ‘Cocktail’

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3 Recent Trends in Foreigners Residing in Japan The geographical locations of the region and the towns which were the object of the analysis presented in this chapter can be seen in the maps below (drawn by Kazuko Tanabe) (Figs. 18.1 and 18.2).

Fig. 18.1  (a) Map of Japan; (b) map of the Kanto region; (c) map of Tokyo

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Ikebukuro

Takadanobaba Shin-Okubo

The Yamanote line

Fig. 18.2  Map of the Yamanote Line in Tokyo

4 Formation of the City and Shop Names This section considers the multilingualisation inside Tokyo and regional cities in the Kanto-Nishikasai in Edogawa Ward, Kawaguchi City in Saitama Prefecture, and Oizumimachi in Gunma Prefecture.

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4.1 Nishikasai Among the 23 wards of Tokyo, the Indian minority is the biggest, consisting of 4000 people, in Edogawa Ward. Nishikasai, in the southern part of Edogawa Ward, in particular has been called Little India in recent years because its Indian population is the highest in Japan. People from India have chosen to live in Nishikasai for several reasons. First, transportation is convenient. It is directly linked to Otemachi and other office districts by the Tokyo Metro Tozai Line. At the same time, Nishikasai is a new bedroom suburb, so the small number of residents with long-term ties to the district has prevented the erection of barriers to their residence, and the Indian people have thus not isolated themselves into an ethnic enclave, allowing them to blend into the local Japanese community. Home rents are lower than in the centre of the city. The large number of UR rental homes that lease to people regardless of their nationality and do not require the payment of key money is convenient for foreigners. On the first floor of an UR rental building to the north of Nishikasai Station, TMVS Foods, which is an Indian grocery store, can be seen. The most serious problem that Indian people face when they move to Japan is food. Many of them cook for themselves because of the various religious restrictions they observe, but it has been difficult for them to obtain the necessary ingredients. At first, only Indians shopped at this store, but Japanese who have tried out its wares have also become regular customers. It uses two languages, Japanese and English, and the signboard shows the shop name TMVS FOODS, while the information that the products it sells are ‘food and sundries’ and the fact that the products are characteristically Indian are presented only in large Japanese characters. The signboard reveals a strong awareness not only of the Indian people, but of the Japanese people who live in the neighbourhood. All around Nishikasai there are many facilities that Indian people need as a part of their daily lives. Restaurants serving Indian cuisine, entertainment facilities where Indians gather, schools, and so on have been established. In Fig. 18.3, the languages used and the meaning of the words in both Japanese and English on the signboard indicate that an Indian Grill and Sports Bar operates there, but when you look inside, almost everyone is Indian.

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Fig. 18.3  Signboard on a restaurant/bar in Nishikasai. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.)

4.2 Nishikawaguchi In southern Saitama Prefecture on the opposite side of the Arakawa River from Tokyo, there is a district called Nishikawaguchi Chinatown. Of the total population of about 600,000 in Kawaguchi City, about 20,000 are Chinese. Furthermore, more than 50% of the 4500 residents of the Shibazono Housing Estate are Chinese, so the Japanese residents are increasingly playing a secondary role in the life of the estate. What background factors resulted in such a high concentration of Chinese residents in this district? As in Nishikasai, properties operated by the Urban Renaissance Agency do not require guarantors, simplifying their rental for foreigners. In the 1980s and 1990s, the number of Chinese students attending Japanese language schools in Shinjuku and Ikebukuro in Tokyo increased, but they gradually looked for and moved into homes in low-rent easily

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accessible districts in the suburbs. Housing in the district was also rented out as dormitories for engineers working in IT companies. The Shibazono Housing Estate is just like a small town enclosing an inner courtyard, but in the total of eight residential buildings of the estate, signboards near the elevators presenting precautions concerning garbage disposal and noise and information about local events are printed in both Japanese and Chinese. As shown in Fig. 18.4, on a sign titled Requests for Uses of the Inner Courtyard, the message is written in both Japanese and Chinese even though many non-Chinese foreigners live on the estate, showing clearly that the sign is intended to draw the attention

Fig. 18.4  Sign in the inner courtyard of the Shibazono Housing Estate. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.)

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of Chinese residents to the problem of noise in the public spaces of the housing estate. In order to live in this area, Chinese residents relied on information obtained by word-of-mouth from friends, relatives, and other Chinese people. A Chinese community has already formed, and it is easy for its members to obtain information in their mother tongue. On the site of the housing estate and on nearby streets there are rows of Chinese restaurants and Chinese food stores, which are thought to have been established for Chinese people. For instance, the poster of a Chinese restaurant near Nishikawaguchi Station shows the restaurant name, 张亮麻辣烫 zhāng liàng má là tàng, consisting of 张 (a simplified form of the character 張 used only in Chinese) 亮麻辣烫 liàng má là tàng, and its signature dish 麻辣烫 má là tàng (from Sichuan Province in China), in Chinese characters and pinyin, and the slogan is printed in Chinese and in English. It is safe to assert that the operators of this restaurant do not consider Japanese people to be potential customers at all.

4.3 Oizumimachi In Oizumimachi, Ora-gun, Gunma Prefecture, of the 40,000 people, about 16% are actually foreigners, mostly Brazilians, so it is called Gunma’s Brazil. This community formed as a result of Sanyo Electric hiring many Brazilians of Japanese descent when it opened its largest domestic refrigerator factory in this town. Sanyo Electric later disappeared when it was absorbed into Panasonic. The Brazilians who had lost their jobs were unable to return to their home country, so they formed a colony in this town. This is a rough account of the birth of Gunma’s Brazil. As you walk around Nishi-koizumi Station on the Tobu Railway Line, you will see Portuguese signs everywhere and rows of Brazilian restaurants with bright green and blue as their keynote colours. For example, a sundries store managed by a Brazilian of Japanese descent that caters to Brazilians, Peruvians, and Bolivians indiscriminately displays Portuguese language magazines and daily newspapers. When we asked the owner of the store about the origins of the store name, Canta Galo Miyagi Store, he told us that Canta Galo means ‘singing rooster’ in Portuguese, and the founder of the store, whose name was Miyagi, named it after a street in a

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place where he had lived in Brazil. In addition to Portuguese-language information about goods sold by the store displayed in large letters, information in Japanese can also be seen.

5 Current Status of the Adoption of Multilingual Information on Signboards in the City In Sect. 4, signboards on shops in districts somewhat far from the centre of Tokyo were considered, but this part will focus on the content of signs in addition to the store names in order to consider the advance of multilingualisation in the centre of Tokyo.

5.1 Nishikawaguchi Station (Kawaguchi City in Saitama Prefecture) 5.1.1 School for Job and Business This is a signboard advertising a company that introduces jobs for foreign students. The word visa is translated into eight languages written in the following sequence (Fig. 18.5).

Fig. 18.5  Signboard seen at a station in Nishikawaguchi. (Photo taken by Yuan Jiang.)

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Katakana (Japanese) Korean Chinese Arabic English Nepalese Vietnamese Burmese

Recently, not only Chinese and Koreans but many Nepalese, Vietnamese, and Burmese have come to Japan.

5.2 Takadanobaba In Sect. 4, the situation in neighbourhoods in relatively suburban areas where families have settled permanently was introduced, but in Takadanobaba, a central Tokyo district where Waseda University (a school in which many foreign students wish to enrol) is located, numerous Japanese language schools have opened to help them prepare to take university entrance examinations. Having been informed by a student from Myanmar that many of the Burmese who have visited Japan in rising numbers in recent years have gathered there, we visited the Takadanobaba District.

5.2.1 Nong Inlay This sign displays the restaurant name Nong Inlay in Burmese and Roman characters, and the restaurant name again in Japanese katakana ノン グ・インレイnongu inrei, while Shan Restaurant is written in Japanese by combining the katakana phonograms シャン and kanji, 料理 ryori. This restaurant is on balance operated to serve Burmese customers.

5.2.2 Rose Family Store This is a supermarket operated by Burmese. It mainly sells Asian foodstuffs and instant foods. In the centre, the words Rose Family Store are printed in katakana, ローズファミリーストアrozu fuamiri sutoa, but the remainder of the sign is in either Burmese or Roman characters. Clearly, this store is operated to serve Asians but not Japanese.

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5.3 Shin-Okubo Shin-Okubo is the next station to Takadanobaba station on the Yamanote Line (a circular electric train line in central Tokyo). Historically, it has been a residential area for Koreans since before the war. Almost all its stores were operated to serve Koreans, but included a shop selling photographs of Korean movie stars. At the time of the Korean boom that started in the early part of the first decade of this century, it was widely reported that Japanese women travelled long distances to this store to buy pictures of these stars. Having heard that many non-Korean foreigners have started to reside here, we visited this neighbourhood. The photo shown below is the sign of a Nepalese restaurant. There used to be many signs put up by restaurants serving Indian and Nepalese cuisine, but this sign advertises a restaurant serving only Nepalese cooking. Its menu items are all indicated in two languages—Japanese and English—so we can assume that its intended customers are not only Nepalese, but also Japanese and Koreans who can read Japanese and visit Shin-Okubo (Fig. 18.6).

5.4 Ikebukuro (District Two Stations Away from Shin-Okubo Station on the Yamanote Line) Ikebukuro is one of Tokyo’s three major entertainment districts. The area north of Ikebukuro has been frequented by many Chinese for more than 20 years, and there is a restaurant district popular among Chinese people

Fig. 18.6  Signboard of a Nepalese restaurant. (Photos taken by Kazuko Tanabe.)

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in northern Ikebukuro. There are many restaurants with an atmosphere that seems to be unwelcoming to Japanese who cannot speak Chinese. They serve cuisine with flavours reminiscent of their Chinese homeland.

5.4.1 Chinese Restaurants Japanese people cannot fully understand this signboard. Perhaps the characters, 凡記, represent the name of the restaurant, HannKi, in Roman characters, and the Chinese 西饃安肉夾 is represented by Japanese katakana pronounced shii an roo shyaa moo shi. However, Japanese would not understand the meaning of these characters even though they can read katakana. In brief, the target clientele of this restaurant is limited to Chinese people.

5.4.2 Hú pàng zi Chinese Restaurant Japanese cannot even read the restaurant name on this signboard. The restaurant name is Hú pàng zi 胡胖子, but there is nothing on the sign showing how to pronounce it. They would understand トマト ‘tomato’ and 赤カラ ‘red pepper’ among the menu items in the centre of the signboard. Under the words 98円 ‘98 yen’, 肉類 ‘meats’, タレ ‘sauce’, エ ビつみれ’shrimp balls’, and 鶏肉つみれ’chicken balls’, there are other menu items printed in Chinese that are almost incomprehensible to Japanese people (Fig. 18.7).

5.4.3 Card from a Vietnamese Restaurant (East Ikebukuro) East Ikebukuro District, which is across Ikebukuro Station from the North Ikebukuro District, is one of the liveliest neighbourhoods in Tokyo and the location of many department stores and other retail establishments. We discovered a small Vietnamese restaurant in this neighbourhood. A Thai massage parlour is operated in the same building. This photograph shows a card given out by this restaurant. It states that it opened for business in 2016. The front of the card shows the restaurant name in Vietnamese SÀIGÒN and the word RESTAURANT in English.

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Fig. 18.7  Chinese restaurant signboard. (Photo taken by Kazuko Tanabe.)

Below that is written the katakana サイゴンレストラン Saigon restoran. The back of the card is a map labelled in Japanese katakana. The address is shown in kanji, clearly indicating that this restaurant is aimed at Japanese customers. The manager was a Japanese woman but the employees were almost all Vietnamese. An employee of a cell phone AU who works at the large electric goods store Labi located near this restaurant told us that recently it has served a rising number of Nepalese and Burmese customers (Fig. 18.8).

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Fig. 18.8  Vietnamese restaurant card. (Photo taken by Kazuko Tanabe.)

6 Conclusions This chapter considered the process through which a multicultural society has been forming in Japan by looking at store names and the contents of signboards. This has clearly shown that the languages used by foreign residents are diversifying. The enforcement of the new law mentioned in the introduction to this report will probably result in a future increase in residency by people from other Asian countries such as Indonesia and Thailand. We think that this change will be less likely to lead to the establishment of communities of people from specified countries centred on specific companies or industries than strengthen the present increase of the number of people working as employees of companies and stores intended to cater to Japanese people in the centres of entertainment areas. A new trend will probably be a future rise in the number of foreigners among personnel working in specified industries or workplaces such as hospitals or retirement homes. During this period of such a major transformation of Japanese society, it will probably be necessary for the

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Japanese who are accepting these foreigners to adapt flexibly to the rapid formation of a multicultural society and to take into account the considerate behaviour and policies needed to coexist with the new arrivals.

References Backhaus, Peter. 2006. Multilingualism in Tokyo: A Look into the Linguistic Landscape. International Journal of Multilingualism 3: 52–66. ———. 2007. Linguistic Landscapes: A Comparative Study of Urban Multilingualism in Tokyo. Clevdon/Buffalo/Toronto: Multilingual Matters. Inoue, Fumio. 2005. Econolinguistic Aspects of Multilingual Sign in Japan. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 2005 (175–176): 157–177. Jiang, Yuan, and Kazuko Tanabe. 2013. A Quantitative Study of Linguistic Landscape in Some Asian Urban Neighbourhoods. In Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, ed. Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheșiu, 67–84. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

Part II Naming as a Form of Identity Construction in Multicultural Societies

19 Names and Naming in the Iberian Peninsula. Joan Coromines’ Intercultural Approach in Onomastics Joan Tort-Donada

1 Introduction The Iberian Peninsula has traditionally been seen as both a geographical and a linguistic crossroads. In the course of its history, the imprint left by human groups (and their cultures) as they have moved within its territory can be traced along two main routes, with respect to which the Peninsula has played a constant role as a “bridge” or “link”: on the one hand, north-­ south, that is, between the extreme southwest of Europe and the north of Africa (in particular, the Maghreb); and, on the other, east-west, in this case, between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean. There are many reasons, therefore, why the Iberian Peninsula might be said to constitute the perfect “geolinguistic laboratory” for studying the relations between language and territory. The alluded “laboratory” provides the context, in fact, in which we can seek to understand the figure and work of Joan Coromines: a philologist

J. Tort-Donada (*) Universitat de Barcelona, Barcelona, Spain e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_19

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who, in the course of his lifetime, by taking the Catalan language as his primary point of reference, succeeded in building a body of work that would be enormously transcendent for the Spanish language and indisputably relevant for all Romance languages. Yet, his achievements do not end here. In our view, the interdisciplinary and intercultural nature of his body of work makes him—above and beyond his specific contribution as a philologist—a paragon of the “global researcher” in his field of study. Following on from this introduction, the text is organised into three main sections. First, we present a general outline by way of introducing the author and his work. In the second section, we take a more specific look at the significance of the three great etymological dictionaries (Catalan, Castilian and onomastic dictionary of Catalan) that he compiled. We dedicate the third section to an analysis of the geographical dimension of the linguistic work of Coromines. Finally, we conclude the chapter with a brief summary of the main points made.

2 Joan Coromines: General Background Joan Coromines (1905–1997) is considered one of the great figures of contemporary Romance philology. Despite the important role played by Pompeu Fabra and Ramón Menéndez Pidal in his training, he always considered himself an admirer and disciple of the Swiss linguist Jakob Jud (Várvaro 1999). Because of his great reputation as a philologist—evident in the magnitude of his work—certain aspects of his complementary work as a language scientist are often overlooked. The words of Joan Solà, regarding Coromines’ global relevance, are eloquent in this regard: Joan Coromines is the most complete Catalan linguist of all time and, together with Pompeu Fabra, one of the two that has had the widest and most profound impact on so many aspects of the language. He is also one of the best and most widely recognised Romanists with one of the richest and most prolific bodies of work to his credit. […] In conducting his research, Coromines has been able to call on an endless wealth of knowledge: linguistic, historical, ethnological, geographical, literary etc. In his linguistic work, he has drawn on sources that range from the vestiges of the

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Indo-European languages to his own personal data collected from the mouths of shepherds, fishermen and villagers; from ancient German and Arabic, to Basque, Iberian and Latin. His work is characterised by a diversity of elements that a single person has rarely been able to dominate. (Solà 1999b: 15)1

Coromines’ work, which explicitly places the Catalan language at its heart, should, however, be understood and assessed in relation to the place it assumes in the context (or, arguably, contexts) of the broad spectra occupied by philology and linguistics. Solà, one of the most prominent scholars of Coromines’ work, has written elsewhere that “his gaze simultaneously encompassed all Romance languages, since he firmly believed that only in this way could a given language be studied” (Solà 1999c: 193). Várvaro, similarly, has referred to Coromines as a “Romanist without limitations”, and argues that: “He has shown himself to be without limitations both in the sense of the familiarity he showed with the Romance languages […] and in the sense that he possessed a boundless capacity to explore the particular problems posed by Spanish, and especially Catalan, in the complicated horizon of Romance philology” (Várvaro 1999: 24–25). But possibly even more eloquent of this belief are the words of Coromines himself (as recorded by Josep Pla during a long interview about the former’s career as a linguist): There exists a philological unity and, even more obviously so, a unity of Romance languages. It always alarms me to see that someone knows no more than French linguistics, or Spanish or Catalan […]. Romanism is inconceivable without polyglotism. And not only because the study of a sister language is the best training for the study of the other languages, but because the history of any language—even the most studied of languages, such as French—is full of irreparable gaps, irreparable, that is, when considered on their own, but gaps that can be addressed to some extent by induction, thanks to which we can make educated guesses about languages of the same family. (Coromines in Pla 1981: 278)

 All the quoted material is originally in Spanish or Catalan (see References) and has been translated by the author of this chapter. 1

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3 The Significance of Coromines’ Three Great Dictionaries Although it is not the aim of this chapter to enter into a detailed analysis of Coromines’ work,2 we should stress the fundamental role played in it by his three great etymological dictionaries: that of the Catalan language; that of the Spanish language (first version, DCELC, 1954–1957; expanded version, DCECH, 1980–1991) and the onomastic dictionary of Catalan (Onomasticon Cataloniae, published between 1989 and 1999). It might be said that the sum of the three provides, in two senses, the perfect summary of Coromines’ work: that is, as a “general compendium” of his lexicographic contribution and as a “culmination” of a life dedicated entirely to philological-linguistic research.

3.1 An Appraisal of the Diccionari etimològic i complementari de la llengua catalana (DECat) The DECat was published in nine volumes, between 1980 and 1991. Conceived by the author as a personal project (as in fact were all his dictionaries), Coromines nevertheless worked with a team of collaborators. The scope and general approach of the works are outlined by Coromines in the Preface to Volume I, from which we extract some fragments: This is the work of a lifetime. Since 1922, the date when I penned the first notes, I have increasingly dedicated more and more of my time to it […]. This is a dictionary that, in great measure, complements previous lexical compilations, but rather than recording new words, it offers new meanings and data of all kinds concerning the life and context of words […]. The historical and dialectological details recorded in this dictionary take on a particular importance. In short, etymology is, at all times, its ultimate goal. (Coromines, DECat I: IX)

 For a detailed compendium of Coromines’ work, see Solà (1999a).

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Later on in the same preface, Coromines refers to the sources he draws on in his research. He first mentions the written sources, before alluding to the data collected first-hand in the field. His thoughts on this are highly insightful: To these written sources are added here an infinity of data that I have collected personally from the mouths of the people throughout our linguistic domain. From my earliest youth, I have sought out people with a hale and hearty linguistic tradition; people who speak with a rich lexicon, one that is undeniably ours and transmitted from parents to their children as opposed to having been learned in books or from literary circles—above all, farmers, mountain folk and those that go to sea. And since those days I’ve taken notes, I’ve listened and I’ve conversed with people, rather than bombard them with questions. (Coromines, DECat I: X)

In practice, and in seeking to look beyond Coromines’ own thoughts on the matter, we find in many of the entries in DECat clear evidence of the author’s desire for his dictionary to act as a veritable “interpreter of the territory”. This intention is clearly visible in relation to the words of the Catalan language that show considerable differences on the dialectical level. In these instances, Coromines expertly calls upon his vast knowledge of the territory; a knowledge obtained as a rule in the field and founded on two qualities: his huge memory and his remarkable ability to establish correlations and equivalences, in a rich array of senses, in the use of words, in their variants and in their forms of pronunciation. In the fourth section of the chapter we return to this point in more detail.

3.2 Publication of Diccionario crítico-etimológico de la lengua castellana (DCELC/DCECH) According to Cahner (1976: X) the writing of this dictionary (the most important contribution of Coromines to Spanish linguistics) represented the challenge of having to “double-up” his research: that is, although from the beginning of his career, Coromines had made the compilation of an etymological dictionary of Catalan his main objective, his exile in the Americas after the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939) led him to adopt,

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and to seek to attain, a similar objective for Spanish. In so doing, Cahner claims, he took advantage of many of the materials he had collected for Catalan, materials “that include many words shared with Spanish; even some that are, if anything, Catalan” (Cahner 1976: XVIII). The final outcome of this work is well known: with his Spanish and Catalan dictionaries, Coromines ended up constructing a monumental lexicographic work that filled, at the time of their publication, a massive void in the field. Moreover, his work provided multiple elements of connection and continuity not only on the “internal” level (between the two languages), but also on the “external” level (that is, in relation to all other Romance languages). As for the general conception of this dictionary, a fragment from its “Introduction” is highly illustrative of the conditioning factors under which Coromines worked. Interestingly, a concern also emerges in this extract about the fact that researchers often focus on what, in his opinion, are secondary issues at the expense of providing an essential overview, a perspective that needs to prevail, he claims, when undertaking an in-­ depth study of a language: The absence or shortage of previous studies on a large part of the Spanish lexicon is a formidable obstacle with which I have had to contend: there are many words that have never previously been the subject of serious study. One of the greatest benefits that we can expect from the publication of this book will be precisely that of alerting researchers to these gaps, scholars who, unfortunately, have shown themselves more inclined, in our specialist field, to focus on problems that have already been much debated, while broad swathes of the lexicon remain in a virgin state: how little attention has been paid to the study of the names of plants, fish and birds, the terminology of mining, horsemanship, folk medicine and the like, the lexis of the trades and, for that matter, all technical vocabularies, while so many scholars continue to opine on problems […] long since clarified, or on those […] already examined from all possible points of view. (Coromines, DCECH I: XIV)

Coromines’ linguistic versatility, a direct reflection of the breadth of view to which we alluded above, and which is clearly manifest in this work, has been repeatedly highlighted by the scholars. It is interesting to

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note what Blecua and Clavería (1999: 33) have to say on the matter: “One of Coromines’ great virtues is his ability to achieve a global vision of the lexical structure of a language. He does not conceive it as an isolated entity […] but in contact with other languages and other dialectical variants”. According to these same authors, the DCECH should thus be seen as “an endless fountain of data, not only of Spanish but also of the languages and dialects of the peninsula, because, both in their synchrony and diachrony, the dialectical amplitude of these data is immense” (Blecua and Clavería 1999: 33). It comes as no surprise that, by way of conclusion, these authors claim that the etymological work of Coromines is endowed with “Herculean greatness”.

3.3  Onomasticon Cataloniae (OnoCat): An Onomastic Dictionary That Completes Coromines’ Lexicographic Project The Onomasticon Cataloniae is an etymological dictionary (comprising eight volumes, published between 1989 and 1999) of, as the subtitle to the work indicates, “the place names and names of persons of all the lands of the Catalan language”. Conceived, like the DECat, as a personal project, it was a response to an initiative first taken between 1921 and 1923 by another philologist, Josep Maria de Casacuberta, and one that would be taken over by Coromines in 1925. Progress on the work was highly conditioned by the circumstances of the Civil War and Coromines’ exile, as well as by his working on his other two etymological dictionaries (Spanish and Catalan) which, according to his thinking, were to precede the OnoCat. The goals and general approach of the work are summarised in an article that the author himself published in 1953, from which we extract some insightful fragments: The Onomasticon Cataloniae will be a vast collection of onomastics which will record and explain etymologically all the names of persons, ancient and modern, used within the Catalan linguistic domain […] as well as all its place names […] in the broadest definition of that word: names of

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inhabited places (whatever their individual importance), names of water courses or ponds, names of relief features, isolated houses, caves, springs, names of trees etc. […] A vast area corresponding to the territories of 2,000 municipalities has been extensively explored, 1,600 surveyed by myself and 394 by my team members. These municipalities make up the entire Catalan language domain of Spain and France. (Coromines, OnoCat I: VII–VIII)

These extracts allow us to make a series of reflections in relation to his work. First, we find that the eight volumes of the OnoCat do not correspond exactly, in terms of content, to the claims made by Coromines in 1953 (Casanova 2003): the final work falls well short of the exhaustive onomastic dictionary that he had originally foreseen. What, however, cannot be called into question is that the OnoCat constitutes the first etymological dictionary of Catalan onomastics, based on criteria that are quite similar to those employed in compiling the DECat and the DCECH. And if the OnoCat entries are complemented with the rich onomastic information contained in these two dictionaries, we can conclude that, while Coromines did not produce the onomastic dictionary that he had originally planned, he did succeed in compiling, thanks to his work as a lexicographer, a magnificent “etymological dictionary of the Catalan language and its onomastics”. In sum, the Onomasticon has no equal in terms of any other initiative of its kind carried out over the last century in the countries of the Romance languages.

4 On the Language-Territory Interaction: The Relevance of the Geographical Dimension in the Onomastic Works of Coromines 4.1 Note on the Onomastic Methodology of Coromines In 1932, Coromines, by that date fully immersed in the planning and development of the first phase of studies that would culminate in the

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Onomasticon Cataloniae, delivered a paper in Barcelona, entitled “Introduction to the Study of Catalan Toponymy”. In fact, it constitutes, as Jürgen Untermann has underlined, the perfect methodological introduction to the study of toponymy, and it “remains to this day remarkably up-to-date and well worth reading in detail” (Untermann 1999: 184). To this, we could add that it constitutes a methodological introduction that clearly demonstrates Coromines’ constant attention to the interactions between language and territory or, put differently, his concern at all times to place the study of a language (and, therefore, of toponyms) within the geographical framework in which this language (as well as its corresponding toponyms) is embedded. The opening paragraph of the paper, which was published in 1965, is especially eloquent on the author’s thinking: the study of place names—that is, of toponymy—is socially relevant because the search for the meaning of these names is a universal human impulse and cannot, as such, be confined exclusively to the specific sphere of etymologists or specialists in language history: The study of place names is one of the subjects that most awakens the curiosity of scholars as well as that of the public in general. It is only natural that this be so. After all, these names are applied to the property of which we are the owners, to the mountain that limits our horizon, to the river from which we draw water to irrigate our fields, to the town or city that has seen us born and which we love above all others, and to the region, the country and the state in which our collective lives are framed. Could it be otherwise that man, who ever since he has learned the use of reason and wondered about the whys and wherefores of all the things he sees and feels, should not wonder about the meaning of those names that are constantly on our lips? (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 7)

However, the author of this paragraph is all too aware that while one thing is curiosity another thing—something which is, in fact, quite distinct, albeit in their roots they were initially connected—is science (and, specifically, the scientific method). What Coromines later writes, and which we summarise here, captures the methodological complexity, in a general sense (that is, it holds for all languages) of the scientific study of

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such an elusive “raw material” made up of such diverse ingredients as is the case of place names: But while this curiosity is as old as language itself, the scientific study of the origin of place names is very recent, dating from the mid-nineteenth century. And if etymological studies are always difficult, this difficulty is magnified when it comes to dealing with place names. In the case of a language’s names, the researcher has two guides to help discover their etymology: the phonetic shape of the word and its meaning. […] But with place names we do not know the meaning and we have nothing else to go on than the sounds. It is understood, therefore, that in toponymy, more than in any other field, a knowledge of the ancient forms of the name is necessary to undertake etymological studies. (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 7)

The “seeker of the origins (of names)” is, therefore, inexorably confronted with the historical study of linguistics if they hope to advance in their research. Such a study can never be easy, insofar as the retrospective consideration of any language will involve addressing two particularly complex interactions: that of this language with other languages (on the level of exchanges, loans and influences, in general), and of the language itself with its particular geographical context. This is how Coromines summarises the “methodological problem” that the etymologist faces, taking Catalan as his reference: Having collected the old forms, […] and arranged the toponyms in series […] our work is not yet finished. […] [The scholar] must have a perfect command of the historical grammar of Catalan. […] He must continue to study its vocabulary in depth: sometimes the toponymy preserves singular words that in everyday language are almost unknown but which survive in some remote dialect […]. [And bear in mind that] often, the visual appearance of the place will guide us to its meaning […]. Not only must the scholar dominate Catalan, he must also have a great knowledge of other related languages, and Romance languages in general—because sometimes in our toponymy Romance words appear that have disappeared altogether from Catalan but which remain alive in its sister languages. (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 19, our italics)

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In the methodological approach outlined, we are struck as geographers by the emphasis that Coromines places on geographical observation. Far from a banal detail, it is, in our opinion, the expression of a methodological premise of onomastic research that reveals the author’s efforts as a linguist to “double up” as a geographer. This is a matter we have previously sought to stress (Tort 2007), and which has also been highlighted by a number of linguists, including, for example, Untermann (1999: 188): “For Coromines, these [geographical] observations are of fundamental importance, because thanks to them he can go some way to overcoming the problem of the absence of meaning […]” (our italics). Faced by this obstacle—the veritable problem of etymological research—an “investigative” attitude in the sense expressed can, in a given moment, prove critical: “In most of his attempts to etymologise toponyms, Coromines is satisfied when he is able to combine an original form, which appears to him as being phonetically appropriate, with a meaning that describes the geographical location of the place in question” (Untermann 1999: 188, our italics). Interestingly, Coromines does not understand the territory-language relationship (that is, territory-toponymy) in a linear or unambiguous fashion. Quite the contrary. He sees it as a genuine interaction, a generator of exchanges and reciprocities that enrich both the linguistic and geographical perspectives. In this sense, the following paragraph, also taken from his 1932 conference, captures this transversal and intercultural vocation that characterises, in global terms, the particular methodological approach employed by Joan Coromines: In addition to this linguistic use, toponymy provides geography with an infinite source of precious data in all the disciplines that form part of this great science: human geography, in particular, and cartography […], but also botanical, zoological and mineralogical geography, studies of local statistics, and especially any inquiry of historical geography. I refrain from saying any more about these questions due to the clear weight of their own evidence. (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 22)

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4.2 Case Study. Application of the Methodology to the Historical Interpretation of the Territory of Catalonia By way of illustrating the ideas in the previous section, we outline below a specific case of the application of the methodology proposed by Coromines—as explained in the second part of the aforementioned article (Coromines 1965–1970)—to the territory of Catalonia. We believe it to be a significant example because, in examining the underlying issue (the correlation between the toponymy of four moments in history and four different types of human colonisation/settlement in Catalonia), the author supports his arguments by resorting to cartography (which we have reworked here, for the purposes of this chapter, drawing on Coromines’ original maps). He identifies his methodological “starting point” as follows: “The greater usefulness of toponomastics—as distinct from toponymy—for history lies in the information it can provide about the geographical distribution and intensity of the colonisation of the different peoples that have settled in Catalonia” (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 23). Here, it is interesting to observe the four points of historical reference he describes, from the most ancient to the most recent, and his corresponding comments: 1. Map I (Fig. 19.1):3 Pre-Roman names. “Their density in el Pallars is extraordinary. [Pallars: Northwestern region of Catalonia, coinciding with the steepest slopes of the Pyrenees] […] So extraordinary […] that it is impossible to believe that all of them were formed in the pre-­ Roman era—during which the linguistic Romanisation of Catalonia took place. […] This leads us to hypothesise that in el Pallars, Basque or Iberian was spoken for many centuries after the Romanisation of the rest of Catalonia.” (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 28, our italics)

 The four maps in Figs. 19.1, 19.2, 19.3 and 19.4 are original and have been designed by Albert Santasusagna. All the photographs adjacent to the maps have been taken by the author of this chapter. 3

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Fig. 19.1  Pre-Roman names

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2. Map II (Fig. 19.2): Roman names terminating in -ANUM, -ACUM: “This map includes the names terminating in -anum, -anam, -anicas, -acum; names which, for reasons too lengthy to explain, we know were formed only during the Roman era (and, above all, some at the beginning of the Visigothic era). Excellent resource, therefore, for determining the geographical intensity of Roman colonisation.” (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 26–27, our italics) 3. Map III (Fig. 19.3): Germanic names. “Germanic toponyms all originate from names of persons. However, the fact that the name of a person originates from a given language does not mean that that individual belonged to the people who spoke it. In fact, we know that in an era that stretches from approximately the eighth to the thirteenth century, it was a widespread fashion in Catalonia to give people Germanic names (such as Berenguer, Gombau, Galceran, Alemany, Guitard etc.) […]. The map shows us in which Catalan territories this fashion was most intense and, therefore, where the Germanic influence was most intense.” (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 25–26, our italics) 4. Map IV (Fig. 19.4): Arabic names. In relation to toponyms of Arabic origin and their particular distribution (located above all on the plain of western Catalonia, and usually near its rivers), Coromines tells us: “If we include on a map of our linguistic domain all the names of Arabic origin, we can see the areas or regions in which Muslim power exerted its strongest influence. Indeed, the fact that a place has a name of Arabic origin can mean one of two things: either that it was founded by the Muslims, who gave it that name on its foundation, or that in that place Muslim power was sufficiently strong to change the name of the already existing village and give it a new name formed from the Arabic language. This is what map IV shows us.” (Coromines 1965–1970, I: 23, our italics)

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Fig. 19.2  Roman names

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Fig. 19.3  Germanic names

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Fig. 19.4  Arabic names

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5 Final Summary We can conclude that the scientific personality of Joan Coromines, which is projected over a body of work of almost inconceivable magnitude, is characterised essentially by a very high dosage of transversality, by which we mean he always presented an intellectual or scientific attitude that was notably open to interrelations. This is precisely what the prominent scholar Edward O. Wilson refers to as “consilience” (Wilson 1998) and which, in the case of Coromines, can be found, as one of the researchers on his work has pointed, at the point of convergence “between the particular and the universal” (Várvaro 1999: 17). As such, we believe that the mark left by Coromines, far from being limited to the terrain that he properly called his own—that of linguistics and philology—clearly extends to other fields: especially that of geography and history, as perspectives specifically embedded in space and time. Indeed, it might safely be claimed that no area of knowledge was foreign to him: Coromines’ profile was outstandingly interdisciplinary, and his dedication to the world of names and naming is the best expression of his global curiosity and, at the same time, of his unifying vocation. But his overall contribution cannot only be interpreted from an interdisciplinary perspective. The flexibility that Coromines is able to call upon when addressing his linguistic raw material and, in particular, onomastics demonstrates a highly remarkable ability to establish connections between names, and illustrates that, from this angle, he was most clearly an author (perhaps avant la lettre) within the paradigm of interculturality. This is, in short, the great virtue we wish to highlight about Coromines, and it is one that we believe can be defended most fervently in a context such as the current one—that is, a context of the progressive dilution of the boundaries between all fields of knowledge and, at the same time, of the increasing intersection between all of them. Acknowledgements  Sincere thanks are due to Iain Kenneth Robinson for his linguistic assistance in the text. This chapter has been prepared as a part of the Research Project CSO2015-65787-C6-4-P, and within the research group GRAM (corresponding to 2017SGR1344).

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References Blecua, J.M., and G. Clavería. 1999. La lexicografía castellana, antes y después de Joan Coromines [Spanish Lexicography Before and After Joan Coromines]. In Solà 1999a: 29–43. Cahner, M. 1976. Notes bibliogràfiques sobre l’obra de Joan Coromines [Bibliographical Notes on the Works of Joan Coromines]. In Entre dos llenguatges, ed. J. Coromines, V–XXIII. Barcelona: Curial. Casanova, E. 2003. L’Onomasticon Cataloniae, de Joan Coromines. In Aportacions a l’onomàstica catalana. Actes del XXVI Col·loqui de la Societat d’Onomàstica, ed. A. Turull, 97–135. Lleida: Institut d’Estudis Ilerdencs – Universitat de Lleida. Coromines, J. 1954–1957. Diccionario crítico etimológico de la lengua castellana (DCELC) [Critical Etymological Dictionary of the Spanish Language], 4 vols. Madrid: Gredos; Bern: A. Francke A. G. ———. 1965 [1932]. Introducció a l’estudi de la toponímia catalana [Introduction to the Study of Catalan Toponymy]. In Estudis de toponímia catalana, 7–30. Barcelona: Barcino. ———. 1965–1970. Estudis de toponímia catalana [Studies on Catalan Toponymy]. 2 vols. Barcelona: Barcino. ———. 1980–1991. Diccionari etimològic i complementari de la llengua catalana (DECat) [Etymological and Complementary Dictionary of the Catalan Language]. 9 vols. Barcelona: Curial Edicions-Caixa de Pensions. ———. 1989–1999. Onomasticon Cataloniae (OnoCat). 8 vols. Barcelona: Curial Edicions-Caixa de Pensions. Coromines, J., and J.A. Pascual. 1980–1991. Diccionari crítico etimológico castellano e hispánico (DCECH) [Critical Etymological Dictionary of the Spanish Language]. 6 vols. Madrid: Gredos. Pla, J. 1981. Joan Coromines, filòleg, de la Universitat de Xicago [Joan Coromines, Philologist, at the University of Chicago]. In Homenots, 2nd ed., 257–293. Barcelona: Destino. Solà, J., ed. 1999a. L’obra de Joan Coromines. Cicle d’estudi i homenatge [The Works of Joan Coromines. Studies and Festschrift Volume]. Sabadell: Fundació Caixa de Sabadell. ———. 1999b. Presentació [Introduction]. In Solà 1999a: 15–16. ———. 1999c. L’obra de Joan Coromines [The Works of Joan Coromines]. In Solà 1999a: 193–210.

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Tort, J. 2007. Per a una interpretació geogràfica de l’obra etimològica de Joan Coromines [For a Geographical Interpretation of the Etymological Work of Joan Coromines]. In Studia in honorem Joan Coromines, ed. E. Casanova and X. Terrado, 263–287. Lleida: Pagès Editors. Untermann, J. 1999. Joan Coromines y la onomàstica de la Hispania Antigua [Joan Coromines and Onomastics in Ancient Spain]. In Solà 1999a: 183–192. Várvaro, A. 1999. Joan Coromines y la lingüística románica [Joan Coromines and Romance Linguistics]. In Solà 1999a: 17–27. Wilson, E.O. 1998. Consilience. The Unity of Knowledge. New  York: Random House.

20 Between Cultural Heritage and Marketing: German Place Names in Post-Communist Czechia Jaroslav David and Tereza Klemensová

1 Introduction We deal with German forms of place names—mostly place names of settlements—in the Czech Republic (Czechia), and we especially focus on their revitalisation, restoration and preservation after 1989. Unlike the interwar period (1918–1938), when the German people accounted for about 30% of the former Czechoslovakia’s population, nowadays, after their post-war relocation (expulsion), they account for less than 1% (0.2%, the data from the last census in 2011). Given that there are nearly no native users (speakers) of German, there are thus no people for whom the German forms of the names in Czechia are part of their native tongue. Nevertheless, some of the names were preserved, especially the names used by locals in their everyday communication—in this case, we could

J. David (*) • T. Klemensová Department of Czech Language, Faculty of Arts, University of Ostrava, Ostrava, Czech Republic e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_20

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talk about residues of the Czech–German linguistic contacts. On the other hand, it is relatively common to use the German forms in public space and in different types of texts, too; as to the latter, however, the role of these has been changed, and they are perceived differently.

1.1 German Forms of Settlement Names as the Objects of Competition (and Clashes) Between Nationalities It is not possible to present the complex history of Czech place names briefly, given the nearly seven centuries of Czech and German peoples’ coexistence in the Czech Lands (used as a synonym for Czechia, including the territories of Bohemia, Moravia and Silesia; in 1918–1992, a part of the Czechoslovak Republic). According to the father of modern Czech historiography, historian and politician František Palacký, the first evidence of a German place name in the Czech Lands was recorded around 1200 (as cited in Palacký 1939: 424, 429 [first published in 1848]; cf. Schwarz 1961: 99; Matúšová 2015: 122). The same period—the beginning of the thirteenth century—was also confirmed as the terminus post quem during the intense dispute over the autochthonic theory in the twentieth-century interwar period (Skutil 1976: 59). The discussion was opened by German nationalistic historians—for example, Josef Freising, Bertold Bretholz—who tried to prove that the German settlement was indigenous (autochthonic, that is, pre-Slavic) to the Czech Lands. However, their speculative theory was refuted—and most arguments were based on the linguistic (onomastic) analysis of the toponymy in the Czech Lands. In 1931, Ernst Schwarz, a Prague-based German linguist, published the crucial work on the topic, Die Ortsnamen der Sudetenländer als Geschichtsquelle [Place names in the Sudety region as a historical source]. In this book, he proved that in the Czech Lands, German place names are not recorded before the beginning of the thirteenth century— the period when the Czech kings of the Přemyslid dynasty invited German people to colonise especially the mountainous regions in the western and northern borderlands, later known as the Sudety (Sudetenland in German) region.

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However, in modern times, the coexistence of the Czech and German peoples brought several violent clashes (way more violent than the academic one mentioned above). During the thirties, most of the German population of the Czech Lands (more than three million people, according to the last interwar census in 1930) sympathised with Nazi Germany’s aggressive policy attacking the Czechoslovak Republic. As the result of the darkest period of the Czech–German relationship, the Sudetenland region was united with Germany in 1938 (on the grounds of the Munich Treaty, guaranteed by Germany, France, the United Kingdom and Italy). After the end of World War II, when the Czechoslovak Republic was restored, nearly all the German population was relocated from the borderland regions to Germany and Austria (1945–1946). The region that had lost its traditional population and culture was also devastated from the viewpoints of environmentalism and ecology—its skyline was dramatically reshaped by open-pit coal mines, and its landscape was redrawn by huge chimneys of power and chemical plants during the so-called Socialist/Communist era (1948–1989). The fact that the region was neglected is also illustrated by its linguistic assessment—the region was marked as a “linguistically indifferent area” because of the great demographic change and the absence of a traditional territorial dialect (cf. Kloferová 2000: 9–14). In reality, the attribute “indifferent” meant that the region’s language situation and its toponymy were off the scope of linguistic research, including collecting field names (anoikonyms) in Bohemia (1963–1980) and in Moravia and Silesia (1965–1986). Nevertheless, after the fall of Communism in 1989, topics previously regarded as taboo were revisited by researchers and the civil society—the destinies of “disappeared neighbours” (mostly Germans and Jews) were one of them. It is illustrated with an intense interest in the topic, which emerged in the previous two decades (fiction, film, exhibitions, conferences and academic papers, including onomastic research; cf. the newest pieces by Matúšová 2002—for summary, see 2015; Boháčová 2011, 2014; Lábus 2016; Lábus and Vrbík 2018; see also Pleskalová 1999, 2020). It seems that German toponymy is not a bookish or academic matter; rather, it re-emerges as a widely accepted feature in public space in Czechia on the threshold of the twenty-first century.

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1.2 Place Names as Witnesses of the Czech– German Coexistence The significant feature of the Czech–German coexistence—lasting nearly seven centuries—is reflected in place names: there are Czech and German variants for many settlement names, while each variant has had different statuses and functions. Most localities in the Sudety region (the inner Czech Lands as well, for that matter) have double names, a Czech and German form, for example, Opava—Troppau. The German variant could be both the primary form (Reichenberg > Liberec), or it could have been created secondarily, by means of adaptation of the Slavic toponym (Slavonice > Zlabins); alternatively, but rarely, there are two independent forms (Hranice/ Weißkirchen), or even German translations of the Czech forms (Most > Brüx), and vice versa (Blumendorf > Květnov). The system of Czech–German double naming was functional until 1945, when, in relation to the new, post-war organisation of Europe, the German population was relocated, and the German toponymy revised and changed (via the process known as (re-)bohemisation, de-Germanisation or renaming; cf. Matúšová 2015: 136–145, 159–168). Nowadays, the German place names of Czech settlements have lost their national character—that is, they are clearly non-Czech forms, but local native German speakers, members of the national minority, do not use them (since there is no such minority). They refer to the objects formerly settled by German people, but inhabited (today and for the past three generations) by non-German people, whose grandfathers arrived there after World War II; the post-war population mixture included Czechs as well as Slovaks, Romani, Greeks and Ukrainians. Traditionally, the situation of the post-war settlement of the Sudety region is described by the adjective unrooted, referring to people without any local identity and close connection to the place; this fact is used to explain the social problems of the region (cf. Cidlinová 2013: 77; Jeřábek et  al. 2004; Spurný 2006: 12). Although those facts can be strong arguments for considering the local people “unrooted”, the research focused on urban toponyms brought different results (cf. David 2018). From the perspective of the creation, usage and knowledge of local place names—mostly

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non-standardised forms—the people have a strong relationship to a city, and it is thus inadequate to use the attribute “unrooted” for them. The German versions of place names are now strictly used for their cultural, historical and marketing values (cf. David and Klemensová 2019); moreover, they are not considered a political topic anymore, neither are they names associated with a national minority living in the Czech Lands. Instead, they were accepted and perceived as a part of the cultural heritage and local identity of people whose grandparents settled in the former Sudety region after the war. This identity is revived by non-­ German inhabitants more than sixty years after the relocation of the original German inhabitants. The post-1989 treatment (and destiny) of the German toponyms in Czechia is the topic we focus on in the present chapter. Concretely, we investigate whether the German names have become standardised once again (by renaming or revitalisation), whether they are used in marketing and whether they have been thematised in texts—and if so, in what forms.

2 Revitalisation of Historical German Toponyms Even though some of the original German forms of settlement names are standardised (Liberec, Šumperk; for more, see Matúšová 2015) or, alternatively, they appear as exonyms in German-speaking areas, they are also used in names of hotels, restaurants, regional food products or local events. This is the result of their transonymisation from the sphere of oikonymy (settlement place names) to the sphere of chrematonymy (names of companies, institutions, shops, hotels, events etc.). The transonymisation process can also appear between oikonymy and anoikonymy (names of natural objects, e.g., fields, woods, lakes etc.), as illustrated by the name Setzdorfská louka (“Setzdorf ’s Meadow”) referring to the original German names of the neighbouring village of Vápenná, formerly Setzdorf, or—though rarely—they are transferred to anthroponymy (as part of nicknames or pseudonyms, e.g., Lukáš von Jägerndorf—from Krnov, formerly Jägerndorf).

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In case of chrematonymy, the process concerns the revitalisation of original German names. This trend is typical of the period after 1989 (the Velvet Revolution, the fall of the Communist regime), when German names were no longer taboo. This is also apparent in standardised oikonymy—during the 1990s, several settlements returned to their pre-war German names: for instance, Křížová returned to its original name Krucemburk in 1991, Zlaté Hory (the Prague region) became Kamberk in 1993 again. Thus, there are names that contain the pre-war German forms: BOHEMIA HEALING MARIENBAD WATERS a. s. (Marienbad, nowadays Mariánské Lázně), or Klub hledačů a přátel historie Maffersdorf (“Club of Searchers and Friends of History of Maffersdorf ”; Maffersdorf, nowadays Vratislavice nad Nisou) in the Business Register (Veřejný rejstřík a Sbírka listin). We can distinguish three reasons these original settlement name forms were used as chrematonyms; they can be illustrated with the form Aussig, the historical German name of the city of Ústí nad Labem. First, the forms refer to the (former) bilingual and multinational contacts in the locality—for example, a festival of German films Kino Aussig. Second, they represent the place’s history and can be used in a historical context—a theatre performance about the twentieth century in (then) Aussig is called Café Aussig. Third, the German forms “have a nice ring to them”, and thus are used for marketing—for example, Taxi Aussig and the music band Schwarze Aussig. The usage of German names as a marketing device is quite understandable when the localities are situated near the borders with Germany or Austria, where customers from abroad are expected. For example, in Karlovy Vary1 (formerly Karlsbad), there are many hotels and apartments with Karlsbad in their names—for instance, Karlsbadtur, Karlsbad Apartments, Karlsbad Grande Madonna, Karlsbad Prestige. The very same applies to the form Carlsbad on the label of the alcoholic liqueur Becherovka produced in Karlovy Vary; however, this label is associated with a long-time tradition, and was used even during the whole Communist era because of its importance for export (cf. the usage of the  In the Karlovy Vary region, 59% of visitors came from abroad, and 48.3% of them were from Germany, in the period from 1 July 2018 to 30 September 2018 (Český statistický úřad—the Czech Statistical Office data). 1

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form Pilsen instead of Plzeň on beer labels, David 2011: 188). However, in the name of the Czech album Karlsbad (by Marek Dusil Blend), we deal with something quite different. In this case, the name Karlsbad has got a symbolic function and refers to the atmosphere of the borderland city and to the author’s youth, so it evokes the passage of time (cf. Princ 2019: 4). It is thus unlikely to see an explanation for the usage of historical German names only in relation to foreign visitors. They work as symbols for the Czech population, too. The situation is similar in other cities near the Czech–German borders: you can have a coffee at Falknow CAFE (in Sokolov, formerly Falknov or Falkenau), you can visit a design festival Design Days Reichenberg (in Liberec, formerly Reichenberg), you can go to a concert of the hip-hop band Brüx Colony (from Most, formerly Brüx), you can stay at Schlosshotel Marienbad (in Mariánské Lázně, formerly Marienbad) and you can join the airsoft team Aussig Psycho Killerz (from Ústí nad Labem, formerly Aussig). The symbolic/marketing function is even more evident in the northern regions—originally on the border with Germany (Prussia), nowadays on the border with Poland. The number of German-language visitors is lower2 there, so German (or generally foreign) tourists cannot be the main target group. Although the district of Jeseník is situated in the north, next to the border with Poland, original German names are also used in chrematonyms: boarding house and restaurant Gräfenberg (in Jeseník Lázně, formerly Gräfenberg), boarding house and restaurant V Gruntě (“In Grunt”; in Dolní Údolí, formerly Nieder Grund), a release Freiwaldau (by the band Priessnitz; referring to Jeseník, formerly Freiwaldau), boarding house Dittershof (in Dětřichov, formerly Dittershof), restaurant Cukmantl KEBAB (in Zlaté Hory, formerly Cukmantl or Zuckmantel) or pizza CUKMANTL kapsa (“Cukmantl Pocket”). Moreover, Czech tourists (or Czech locals) may fuel the use of German forms of names. In this case, we can talk about an illusory function, when owners of these commodities try to mediate an authentic—respectively pseudo-authentic—experience of being in the borderlands, and they try  In the district of Jeseník, 92% of the visitors were Czech citizens in 2017. For the sake of comparison, in the district of Karlovy Vary, only 36.4% of the visitors were Czech citizens (Český statistický úřad—the Czech Statistical Office data). 2

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to resume the threads of pre-war history. This is not so surprising, if we take into consideration the problematic post-war situation, which is still present in the borderlands (Jeřábek et al. 2004: 115–122), and the myth about “unrootedness”. It should be noted that apart from the revitalisation of German settlement place names, current owners of restaurants and hotels renew the original German chrematonymy, too—for example, naming of the spa house Moravanka in Lipová-lázně with the original name Villa Grohmann; or they can use personal names of pre-war personalities from the area— for example, renaming the hotel Chata Svoboda in Rejvíz to Hotel Franz after Franz Wochler, the founder and mayor of the village. The process of restoring the original German place names (or chrematonymy) is not a frequent motive in Czech chrematonymy in general. However, the restoration of the original place names is not the only trend of revitalisation of pre-war history—it is connected with the rehabilitation of landscape (Salzmann et al. 2015) and with the reconsideration of the Czech–German history in general after 1989 (cf. the activity of the Antikomplex association).

3 Preservation of Historical German Toponyms As it was mentioned above, German place names are preserved mostly in chrematonymy, that is, mostly in written texts. From a wider perspective, however, it is also important to research the usage of these names in the everyday communication of the local people. The preservation of historical German forms of place names (as non-standardised variants) in and through the spoken language of local people emerged as a serious research topic after 1989, in the investigations by Jana Matúšová (1989: 183–185, 2015: 206–210) and by Jana Pleskalová (1999: 189, 2020). However, they were dealing with the preservation of German field names, not settlement place names. On the other hand, their findings could be useful for the research of oikonymy as well. It seems that whether or not German settlement names have been maintained depends on the number of the German population in comparison to that of the Czech population in a

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given place before 1945. Thanks to the Czech–German language contacts, it was common to exchange the names between languages; thus after 1945, old Czech residents (or the Germans who stayed) could pass these names to the next generations. Another important factor is the continuity of the settlement after 1945: the more disrupted it was, the fewer original names were preserved (there was a huge wave of migration after 1945  in the borderlands; see Arburg and Staněk 2011). However, Michaela Boháčová (2014: 32) pointed out that rather than the actual number of old German and Czech residents who stayed, it was the quality of their mutual relationship (or the relationship with the new settlers) that was sometimes more decisive. In addition, Jana Matúšová (2015: 208–209) singles out the size (magnitude) of the object—the more important the object was (especially for orientation), the more likely it was that its name was preserved. Moreover, the post-war process of collectivisation contributed to the extinction of names. Last but not least, the repertoire of toponyms people use has been generally decreasing since 1945; in addition, many names—and also the German names which were known after 1945—have vanished (cf. David and Mácha 2014). The aforementioned conditions of the preservation of German forms as anoikonyms were confirmed during our field research3 in the district of Jeseník (the Olomouc region). Two factors turned out to be the most important—the post-war fluctuation of inhabitants (that is, settlement continuity) and the magnitude of the object. The research also focused on the preservation of settlement names. Circumstances of their preservation are not the same as in case of field names, but they overlap in some aspects. All in all, we noted a higher usage (or knowledge) of the original German field names in those municipalities in which the original German place names were used, not only for the researched municipality but also for municipalities in the surroundings of the given place (in our case of the city of Jeseník), for example, Cukmantl (from Zuckmantel) instead of Zlaté Hory, Grunt (from Niedergrund and Obergrund) instead of Horní Údolí and Dolní Údolí, Lacdorf (from Latzdorf) instead of Javorná or Grefák (from Gräfenberg) instead of Jeseník Lázně.  The field research was carried out via half-structured interviews during 2016–2018  in chosen municipalities of the Jeseníky region. 3

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Do the historical forms, which were found either in chrematonymy or in everyday communication, have the potential to become new standardised names? As for a possible standardised (official) renaming, there is a certain nontrivial amount of problems (documented, e.g., in the arguments the local officials faced when discussing whether the city of Jeseník should return to its original name Frývaldov after 1945; the persistent issues were finances, an impact on tourism and so on; for more, see David and Klemensová 2019). As a matter of fact, there were only four such changes after 1989 (until that point it was assessed as an “entirely unconventional practice”, cf. Lipová > Liptál, formerly Lipthal). It is rather misleading to see the usage of German names as a necessary precondition for renaming, especially because some of these variants are used only by locals in the surroundings, but not in the whole locality; alternatively, the name is used only within a particular social group (typically by the Germans still living in the borderlands or exclusively by the oldest generation etc.). Apart from settlement continuity, the preservation of the German forms is probably linked to whether or not the renaming is suitable (or successful) after 1945. A nice example of a less suitable renaming is the change that the spa of Gräfenberg underwent in 1947 when it became Lázně Jeseník (“Spa of Jeseník”; nowadays it is part of the city of Jeseník). In addition to the surviving historical variant Grefnberk (or Grefák), there are more name variants for this place, like Priessnitz (based on the name of the spa founder), or simply Lázně (“spa”); these variations indicate that the “new” name is not ironclad in the residents’ usage. It was clear from the very beginning of the field research that the name Lázně Jeseník is not functional in communication; one respondent was not even sure about the official name: “To Grefák. And what do you say in Czech?” In the case of the name Gräfenberg, it is possible to think about preservation, but also about revitalisation (which can be, again, an issue of marketing, given the fact that Gräfenberg is a spa and a tourist locality). Chrematonyms (as just described) are not the only locus where the effort for revitalisation is salient; another area prone to revitalisation is linguistic landscape.4 There are many signs with historical German names  For the notion of linguistic landscape, see Landry and Bourhis (1997).

4

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in the public space of Lázně Jeseník; on the website of the spa, for instance, you are bid “Welcome to Gräfenberk” (Priessnitz: O nás) and so on. Moreover, it is the German name forms that are used in the spa symbol and in official documents, such as booklets (cf. the local newspaper— including its web-based version—Lázeňské prameny also uses the name Gräfenberg). Most likely, it is exactly the combination of preservation and revitalisation that fuels the renaming (nevertheless, this is a topic for more comprehensive research that should cover more and various locations). In other cases, German names—in addition to the fact that they are historical—will probably remain as variants used by some social groups or for marketing reasons.

4 Thematisation of German Place Names in Poetry and Fiction as Opposed to Opinion Journalism As mentioned above, the pre-war German forms of Czech place names are nowadays perceived mostly as references to the past. The referential “value” contained in the place names is exploited in the process of thematisation, that is, conceptualisation of the expression that—itself— becomes the topic of the text. The process is realised in many ways; in the case of German forms, it lies in their appearance in modern Czech texts (cf. David and Davidová Glogarová 2019). Thus, the place names are not used to refer to the geographical objects in the current context, as there are no German native speakers in the Czech Republic (as discussed above). Nowadays, these German names are used to evoke the “lost” period of Czech history, and this happens, presumably, mostly in fiction. This was—indeed—proven on the material from the Czech National Corpus (cf. David and Klemensová 2019). Having analysed opinion-­ journalism texts, we claim that the German name variants are not a conflict-­provoking topic in the Czech political debate, even though— from a historical perspective—the “German question” in itself is an issue of utmost controversy, especially in political and historical debates. On the other hand, German forms appear in fiction, where they evoke the

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interwar past and symbolise the irreversible flow of time. Understandably, they appear in memoir-like fiction; alternatively, the German (or Germanised) names are (often also as motives) revived in poems and lyrics in general. Their use in fiction confirms their status as language devices that have already lost their basic referential function (indicating geographical objects) and are thus used merely as symbols or metonyms, as illustrated in the following examples: “A vast field // and altogether with a piece of the sky // that is shining // shabby Karlsbad // the café Elefant […]” (Erben 1995: 79, orig. Czech); “Opavská granny […] She was called Opavská because after finishing her not so long stay in Liberec (in Reichenberg, she would say), she ended up in the care of a nun shelter in the city of Opava” (Exner 2002: 70, orig. Czech).

5 Conclusions Historical German names, which formally ceased to exist as part of Czech standardised toponymy, are nowadays rehabilitated. This process has been in operation for the past twenty years and is connected with the social changes after 1989 and with the reassessment of the Czech–German relations. The actual place-name renaming after 1989 was rare (it happened in four cases only), but some of the pre-war German names have been revitalised by being thematised in fiction or used for marketing reasons in trade names—chrematonymy. These names are, of course, used in historical or bilingual contexts, but more often, they fulfil the symbolic function only and refer to the diverse pre-war world. German names are still preserved in communication, especially in the localities where the after-war settlement has continued; in this case, the German names function as non-standardised (social) names, or sometimes even as a primary or more common variant. Though it is rather improbable that the names could become standardised and official, nevertheless, there are two phenomena—revitalisation and preservation—that could indicate (or even be) the first step towards renaming in the future. For the time being, however, the German names live to be reminders of the passage of time and mediators of the genius loci of the borderlands.

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Acknowledgement  This research was supported by the University of Ostrava’s internal grant (SGS) project no. 02/FF/2018–2019 Vytváření reality prostřednictvím jazyka—kvalitativní analýza novočeských textů [Reality creation through language—a qualitative analysis of modern Czech texts].

References Antikomplex [Antikomplex Association]. https://www.antikomplex.cz. Accessed 26 January 2019. Arburg, A., and T. Staněk. 2011. Vysídlení Němců a proměny českého pohraničí 1945–1951: dokumenty z českých archivů [Removal of Germans and Transformations of the Czech Borderlands 1945–1951: Documents from Czech Archives] 2. Středokluky: Zdeněk Susa. Boháčová, M. 2011. Chorvatské osídlení jižní Moravy a jeho stopy ve vlastních jménech [The Croatian Settlement of South Moravia and Its Traces in Proper Names]. Slavia 80: 419–430. ———. 2014. Kontinuita anoikonymie v jihomoravském pohraničí [On Ways of Preserving Continuity of Anoikonymy in the Borderline Regions of South Moravia]. Acta onomastica 55: 24–31. Český statistický úřad [The Czech Statistical Office]. https://vdb.czso.cz/vdbvo2/ faces/cs/index.jsf?page=uziv-­dotaz#. Accessed 14 February 2019. Cidlinová, J. 2013. Stereotyp o vykořeněném pohraničí a teritoriální identita v životních příbězích nejstarší generace obyvatel Českolipska [The Stereotype of “Uprooted Borderland” and Territorial Identity in the Life Stories of the Oldest Generation in the Česká Lípa Region]. In Když výzkum, tak kvalitativní: serpentinami bádání v terénu, ed. M. Pavlásek and J. Nosková, 76–84. Brno: Masarykova univerzita. David, J. 2011. Smrdov, Brežněves a Rychlonožkova ulice: kapitoly z moderní české toponymie [Smrdov, Brežněves and Rychlonožkova Street: Chapters on Modern Czech Toponymy]. Praha: Academia. ———. 2018. Toponymy in a Relocated City: The City of Most, Czech Republic. Voprosy onomastiki 15 (2): 70–86. David, J., and J. Davidová Glogarová. 2019. Thematisation of Place Names in Opinion Journalism: Czech Exile Politicians’ Radio Speeches Between 1938 and 1945. Acta onomastica 60 (1): 7–23. David, J., and T. Klemensová. 2019. Still Having a Conflict Potential? German and Hungarian Toponyms in the Czech and Slovak National Corpora Texts.

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21 Multiculturalism in Polish Toponymy Barbara Czopek-Kopciuch

1 Introduction Multiculturalism is a highly complex concept. According to P. Sztompka, this notion can be understood in two ways: firstly, as the “multiplicity and heterogeneity of cultures, both in terms of following one another in a historical dimension, as well as coexisting contemporaneously”, and secondly, as “an ideological standpoint that highlights the right of different communities to lead different ways of life and which even goes so far as to advocate full equality between all cultures” (Sztompka 2005: 255, orig. Polish). Given the difficulties of definition and interpretation, for the needs of the present text I have adopted the first of these approaches. A permanent feature of any culture is its language and—in its various manifestations—its nomenclature. Z. Kaleta described this very aptly: “A collection of proper names is a specific repository of the individual and shared experiences of a particular collectivity, of its heterogeneous needs

B. Czopek-Kopciuch (Deceased) (*) Institute of the Polish Language, Polish Academy of Sciences, Kraków, Poland © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_21

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that change over the course of time” (Kaleta 1995: 27, orig. Polish; see also Kaleta 1998). Proper names constitute a treasure trove of every nation, concealing knowledge of its political and social history, the history of its culture and religion, its values and relationships with other countries and peoples, its actions, aspirations even its emotions and world views. As such they are witnesses to the ethnicity of human beings. Place names highlight the predominant role played by the native national element in Poland. However, a certain number of names betray the influences of foreign newcomers and comply with the latter’s language and onymic systems. These place names are of Belarussian, Ukrainian, Lithuanian, Czech and, in particular, German origin. They entered the Polish onomastic system either as a result of language-cultural contacts in borderland areas or by means of migration and settlement from the thirteenth century onwards. Over the course of time, foreign names were spontaneously adjusted to the Polish language and oikonymic system. We are thus dealing with two sources of multiethnicity: the geographical proximity of various (often linguistically related) ethnicities and the appearance of foreign onomastic elements as a result of historical and economic processes. As a consequence, foreign names are present in all borderlands in the Polish language area. These can be names originating from foreign appellatives, names created by foreign newcomers or names acquired from neighbours in the borderlands.

2 Names of German Origin Most borrowed names are of German origin; approximately 1200 such names underwent spontaneous Polonisation (Czopek-Kopciuch 1995). Over the course of many centuries, Polish lands were settled by rural colonists from various regions of Germany. They were brought to royal, monastic and urban properties or estates owned by nobles to settle empty and borderland areas as well as to introduce new methods of farming. This phenomenon was especially pronounced in western parts of medieval Poland, that is, Wielkopolska, Silesia and Pomerania, but also in mountainous areas of Malopolska bordering Spiš. Rural German settlers enjoyed numerous privileges, among others, freedom from duties to the

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church and the local manor as well as exemption from taxes. Following colonisation in the Middle Ages, two further waves of settlement occurred: in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, as a consequence of the economic and political expansion of Germany, as well as during the Partitions when large swathes of Poland fell under Prussian and Austrian rule. Thus, the existence of German oikonyms in the Polish language occurred not only due to the influx of Germans as settlers, but also as a result of administrative decisions. Here, economic, civilisational and political factors came into play. Over the course of time, these names were adapted to the Polish language. Their Polonised forms appear in historical documents from the thirteenth century onwards, with the earliest and most numerous attestations recorded in Malopolska and Silesia. In Pomerania and other areas of Poland a large number of Polonisations occurred in the sixteenth century, while the same phenomenon took place in Warmia and Masuria at the beginning of the fourteenth century. This process of onymic integration had its own rules and took place within the framework of the linguistic integration that occurred as a result of social contact between peoples and languages. This process produced place names that were either phonetic, morphological and semantic adaptations or various combinations of such adaptations. The most common forms were phonetic adaptations of an entire name. German vowels were replaced by the Polish vowels closest in sound to them, and it can be assumed that these were quite regular substitutions, regardless of the region where they occurred. On the other hand, substitutes for German consonants (in particular, the consonants [s], [z], [š]) were less regular. The rendering of certain elements of German names followed regular patterns throughout Poland. This regularity is phonetically based and is driven by concurrent developments in German dialects. This regularity is so striking that their Polonised forms may be treated as quasi-suffixes; importantly, however, they did not become productive in the Polish onomastic system. This phenomenon concerns the following German words: • words featuring the element -berg, which was consistently adopted as -bark, for example, Barkweda (German Bergweide), Idzbark (German

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Hirschberg), Kolbark (German Kolberg), Rozbark (German Rossberg), Szymbark (German Schönberg), Tymbark (German Tannenberg); words with the element -burg, which was consistently adopted as -bork, for example, Frombork (German Frauenburg), Kluczbork (German Kreutzburg), Malbork (German Marienburg), Więcbork (German Vandsburg); words with the element -walde, which was adopted as -wałd, for example, Barwałd (German Bärenwalde), Frywałd (German Freiwalde), Szynwałd (German Schönwalde), Wałdowo (German Waldau); words with the element -haus (< *hūs), which was adopted as -us, -usz, for example, Hejtus (German Heytus), Olkusz (most likely German *Ilkhus), Rotuz (German Rothhaus); words with the element -stein, which was adopted as -sztyn, -szten, for example, Barsztyn (German Bartenstein), Czorsztyn (German Schornstein), Dursztyn (German Durstin), Olsztyn (German Holstein; Allenstein), Rabsztyn (German Rab(en)stein).

Thanks to this regularity we can recognise in contemporary names traces of their German origin.

3 Names in the North-Eastern Borderlands Settlement processes both in the Middle Ages and in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries resulted in the emergence of numerous village names of Prussian origin in north-east Poland (Biolik 1998). Beginning with the fifteenth–sixteenth centuries, settlers from Mazovia began to arrive in these areas, which at the time were inhabited by Balt tribes. The Prussian language became extinct, but in the Mazuria and the Suwalki regions traces remained in the names of villages. For example: Morąg (from the Prussian word mary ‘lagoon’ + suffix -ing), Sorkwity (from Prussian sur‘bay’ + kwit-), Kiejkuty (from the Prussian forename *Kieikait possibly meaning ‘wild horse’), Kiemławki (from the Prussian forename Kelmas + *lauks ‘field’). Other names may have been references to the plant or animal kingdoms, the shape of the terrain, for example, Worliny (from the Prussian warlē ‘frog’), Węgajty (from Prussian wangus ‘oakwood’). A

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distinctive feature of this toponymy is the relatively large number of compound nouns. The first part of the name takes an appellative, proper or toponymic form, for example, Stawiguda (from Russian stabis ‘stone’ + gudde ‘bush, thicket’), Drutławki (from the Russian proper name Drute + *lauks ‘field’). The second component frequently had a structural character, motivated by the nouns *lauks (‘field’) and *kaimis (‘village’). They were quite regularly taken over as -ławki, -kiejmy, -kajny, for example, Worpławki, Senkajmy, Redykajny. The remaining Baltic names in this area are Lithuanian. As a general rule, over time, all have been phonetically transformed in Polish. The Polish phonetic influence is evident, for example, in the following names: Kompocie, Lithuanian Kampuočiai (Lithuanian -a- rendered as -o-, uočiai as -ocie); Skarkiszki, Lithuanian Skarkiškiai (here the Lithuanian suffix -iškiai was appropriated as -iszki); Oszkinie, Lithuanian Ožkiniai (from ožka ‘goat’; here Lithuanian -žk- was appropriated as -szk- in accordance with Polish pronunciation rules). The names in this area may also have Lithuanian foundations combined with Polish suffixes, for example: Puńsk from Lithuanian pūnė (‘cowshed, pigsty’). Other names brought by settlers from Poland and adapted relatively early to the Polish language assume plural forms in this area, for example, Worliny, Węgajty. Many names in north-eastern Poland are unclear and etymologically ambiguous. This results from the fact that beginning with the fourteenth century, the North-Eastern Borderlands were inhabited by three different ethnic groups: Prussians, Germans and Poles. They spoke three different languages belonging to three different branches of the Indo-European language family. They created names which underwent various forms of adaptation, first on the basis of the German language and later on the basis of Polish. Today’s nomenclature is testimony to the history of these lands, which is not always clearly understood nowadays.

4 Names in the Eastern Borderlands The same holds true today as regards the few East Slavic names, that is, Ukrainian or Belarusian, to be found in the Eastern Borderlands (Wolnicz-Pawłowska 1998b: 453–466). Local names in the Eastern

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Borderlands bear witness to centuries of contact and interpenetration between settlements, and thus of the coexistence of various ethnicities. They are also testimony to specific historical processes. These East Slavic traces are visible in the phonetics of the official forms of place names, for example, Biłgoraj (preservation of Ukrainian i < e), Nehrybka (preservation of Ukrainian hard n as well as h), Choroszcz (the pleophony -oropreserved), Zabłudów (Ruthenian -u- preserved instead of Polish -ą-), as well as in lexically motivated names, for example, Kodeń (from Ruthenian koda ‘hut’), Batycze (from Ukranian bata ‘father’), Harasiuki (from the Ukrainian forename Haras’uk), Dmytrowice (from the Orthodox forename Dimitrij). This borderland region was also an area of Polish-Belarusian language contacts (Bijak and Czopek-Kopciuch 2020). The Belarusian minority traditionally inhabits the south-eastern part of Podlaskie voivodship. The region’s nomenclature developed under the influence of complex political relationships, among others. The Belarusian and Polish population conglomerate was reflected in the language used by inhabitants as well as in the nomenclature. The mutual influences between these languages are reflected in phonetics, word formation and the lexical stock of names. They are visible in historical records, although often the form of a name depended on the language in which records and documents were drawn up. Former names with Belarusian characteristics were adapted to the Polish phonetic system and orthography. Often such transpositions were made by people who did not know the Belarusian language or its dialects. Thus, they associated them with the closest sounding expressions in their own language. This led to many distortions of names possessing correct forms in local dialects and sometimes in historical documents. One good example of this phenomenon consists of the numerous official place names in this area bearing the form Gród, allegedly motivated by the common noun gród (‘castle, fortress, town’). In the Belarusian language this corresponds to the form Hrud, from hrud (‘hillock among muddy meadows’), while the Polish equivalent is grąd (‘deciduous forest, predominantly hornbeam and oak, usually located in wetlands’). Another example is the transformation of the historically Belarusian name Sawina Hrud, from the name Sawa (< Belarusian Sawielij), into Sowin Gród, following its association with the proper or common noun sowa (‘owl’).

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The name Gończary, today known as Gonczary, is evidence of the transformation and misunderstanding of the Belarusian name Hanczary, which corresponds to the Polish name Garncary. The oikonym Pieszczatka would take the Polish form Pieszczatka, from the word pysko (‘sand’). The Belarusian suffixes -szczyna and -owszczyna were replaced by their Polish equivalents -szczyzna and -owszczyzna, respectively. Belarusian h was Polonised as g; for example, Kruhłe was replaced by Krugłe or Krągłe, Kruhło by Krugło. These localities lie in close proximity to one another, and their historical records prove that the original form was Kruhłe (from East Slavic kruhły ‘round’).

5 Names in the Southern Borderlands The Southern Borderlands are a kind of melting pot in which Slovak, Czech and Lemko influences merged (Wolnicz-Pawłowska 1998a: 467–478). As in the Eastern Borderlands, in this region we find phonetic names typical of Czech, Slovak and Ukrainian. Traces of Czech can mainly be observed in areas associated with Lach dialects (Polish-Czech transitional dialects), for example, Branica (-a- preserved instead of Polish -o-), Hradczany (anlaut h-, -a- preserved instead of Polish g-, -ó-), Pietrzacin (-a- preserved instead of Polish -ę-). Researchers studying the nomenclature of this area (Mrózek 1984) claimed that the oldest onomastic layer is predominantly made up of sources reflecting Polish language features, while only from the mid-fifteenth century onwards, that is, since the introduction of Czech as the language of the government and administration, did names with Czech phonetic elements begin to appear. There must have been direct contact on the dialectal level in the Southern Lach-Moravian Borderlands, which is how Czech (Moravian) forms such as Racimów (previously Wrocimów), Hruszov (earlier Gruszów) and Dobracice became established. In the Cieszyn Silesia mountainous region attention has been drawn to Slovak influences resulting from pastoral colonising movements. They are visible in the more recent onomastic layer of hamlet names, for example, Błatnia (Polish *Błotnia), Kotelniczka (Polish *Kocielniczka), Raztoka (Polish *Roztoka). Stronger Slovak influences are noticeable in  local

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nomenclature, for example, Hala (instead of Polish *Gola ‘non-forested place’), Mładnik (Polish *Młodnik), Kohutówka (Polish Kogutówka), Krale (Polish *Króle), Mutne (Polish Mętne), Złatna (Polish Złotna). Along a fairly large border section in the south-east, the Poles’ direct neighbours are not Slovaks but rather the Lemkos, an ethnic group that had gradually begun to emerge in the fifteenth century as a Ukrainian-­ speaking enclave surrounded on both sides by Polish and Slovak ethnic groups. A distinctive feature of Lemko toponymy are Dołhe-type names (Polish *Długie), Dubna (Polish Dębna), names with suffixes -(iv) ci, -(ov)ce, -at-, for example, Duszatyn (Polish *Duszęcin), Chryszczata (from Lemko chreszczate zilie ‘name of plant’ or from chrest ‘cross’).

6 Names Connected with Other National Groups One more phenomenon is worth noting. Certain national groups already living in Poland or who settled in Polish territory did not leave any traces of their language in the nomenclature in the forms described above. One such group were the Jews, who for centuries constituted one of the main ethnic components of Poland and its culture. Traces of their presence in Polish toponymy can be observed throughout the entire country in names of the type Żydowo, Żydów and Żydy, and thus in names formed from the ethnonym Żyd. Here (as in the case of Holendry-type place names discussed below), we are not dealing with phonetic traces of a language, but rather with the indication of a non-Polish ethnic element by using the lexeme naming it. Such names also include Holendry-type place names (Czopek-Kopciuch 2004). The latter are evidence of the settlement of newcomers from the Netherlands in the sixteenth century. The existence of the names Holender and Holendry (a total of 54 towns) in Poland is the legacy of Dutch settlers who came to Poland in the sixteenth century. They bequeathed a specific type of settlement governed by separate systems of law, intended mainly for the cultivation of meadows and cattle farming, and named after their national grouping. These names were spread throughout Poland by means

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of colonisation, although not by the Dutch but rather by Germans and Poles. The area affected by these settlements is a belt of land along the Vistula as well as Wielkopolska. They are located sporadically along the edges of Poland where they were probably introduced by individual settlers. Place names inspired by national groups have enriched the Polish system of name creation, first as appellatives and names of settlements, and then as a feature of proper nouns. Depending on the meaning of the word discussed, names can fall under different semantic types. The ethnic name Holender was appellativised, and thus also denoted different technical terms. The Dutch legacy in Poland, just like its Jewish counterpart, is therefore not directly linguistic, but rather cultural.

7 Legal Regulations Following World War II The various pacts and treaties ending World War II resulted in the incorporation of new areas in the north and west of Poland known as the Recovered Territories. Before the war place names in these areas had been German, often based on Germanised Slavic nomenclature. Now they were settled by new inhabitants from other regions of the country. Existing foreign names had to be replaced with new Polish substitutes. Most often this was done via official channels. The Commission for Establishing the Names of Towns and Physiographic Objects, which was especially established for this purpose, carried out the enormous task of Polonising around 32,000 names. German names were Polonised phonetically, if necessary, by adding a Polish suffix instead of the German element (e.g. Greifenberg—Gryfice) or by means of translation (e.g. Hirschberg—Jelenia Góra, Neudorf—Nowa Wieś), while others were replaced by completely new names based on different forms typical of the Polish oikonymic system. This foreign onomastic substrate has a specific bearing on modern Polish nomenclature. Poland is a relatively homogenous country ethnically, culturally and linguistically. In the National Census of 2011 (GUS 2015: 29) 96.2% of the Polish population declared themselves as having Polish nationality-ethnicity. On the other hand, 3.8% declared a national-ethnic affiliation other than Polish. Before World War II,

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national minorities in Poland made up more than 30% of the population (the largest such groups were Ukrainian, Jewish, Belarusian and German minorities). Poland’s national-ethnic structure was radically altered by World War II due to the mass extermination of the Jewish population, resettlement, deportation, migration, emigration and changes in borders. Currently the largest national minorities are Germans, Belarusians and Ukrainians. Other minorities located on Polish soil include Lithuanians, Russians, Slovaks, Jews, Armenians and Czechs, while 400 persons were unable to define themselves as belonging to any national group. Their representatives also speak Polish on a daily basis. Certain minorities (Jewish, Armenian, Russian and Czech) are dispersed throughout the country. Others are concentrated along Poland’s borders. All national minorities have their own social-­ cultural  institutions and organisations. Polish legislation guarantees minorities the following rights: freedom to preserve and develop their own language, freedom to maintain customs and traditions and to develop their own culture, the right to establish their own educational institutions and the unrestricted right to practice their religion. Polish law also ensures electoral privileges for electoral committees for minority organisations and likewise prohibits discrimination. The above-mentioned national and ethnic minorities are trying to have their languages officially recognised as regional and second languages. The relationship between the official language, which according to Article 27 of the Constitution of the Republic of Poland is Polish, and other languages, that is, the languages of national minorities, appears to involve no conflict. However, it does give rise to problems in terms of identity. In Poland these problems are regulated by legislation, more specifically by the following statutes and legal acts: the Constitution of the Republic of Poland, the Electoral Law, the Education System Act, the Radiophony and Television Act, the Polish Language Act, the Penal Code, the Personal Data Protection Act, and the National and Ethnic Minorities Act. The latter permits the use in selected municipalities of minority languages as auxiliary languages in contacts with municipality authorities as well as in the proceedings of courts of first instance. It also stipulates that traditional names in minority languages may be used as additional names for towns, physiographic objects and streets alongside geographical names

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recognised in the Polish language. These additional names will be recognised if they are entered in the Register of Municipalities. An additional name can be introduced at the request of the municipality council, if the minority population is no less than 20% of the total number of inhabitants or more than half of the inhabitants of the towns participating in the consultations agree to recognise the additional name. These same arrangements apply to the names of streets. Any such requests submitted by a municipality council must be approved by the Commission for Names of Localities and Physiological Objects. These names are placed after the Polish name and cannot be used separately. Currently, the Register of Municipalities includes 60 municipalities in areas in which minoritylanguage place names are used. In these municipalities only four minorities (Belarusians, Lithuanians, Germans, Kashubians) constitute at least 20% of the population. In accordance with the procedure described above, since 2006 additional place names in German, Kashubian, Lithuanian, Lemko and Belarusian have been recognised in nearly 1200 localities. The introduction of additional names has for the most part proceeded without any major problems, although there have been some signs of protest. Additional names are placed, among other places, on town signs, city limit signs, signposts and distance signs. There have been a few infamous cases of the additional names on such road signs being painted over. This occurred, for example, in Puńsk municipality (the additional language was Lithuanian) in the following localities: Buraki, Oszkinie, Puńsk, Sejwy, Trakiszki and Wojtokiemie, as well as in Orla municipality (Belarusian language names) in the following localities: Reduty, Topczykały. There have also been other types of conflict, such as disputes between neighbours in villages where, for example, Poles, Ukrainians and Lemkos had hitherto lived harmoniously. These conflicts are fuelled by stereotypes and events from the relatively recent past, that is, World War II.

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8 Conclusion The material presented above shows that many place names highlight the former yet, in some cases, still existing multiethnic character of society, shaped by centuries of contact as well as by historical and settlement processes. This is especially visible in borderland regions. This multiethnicity or multiculturalism should be rooted in the coexistence of Polish and foreign onomastic elements. Local names of foreign origin, despite having been Polonised, reflect this phenomenon through their phonetic form and motivating foundations (non-Polish appellatives, names specific to different languages, ethnic names). In recent decades, thanks to existing laws and the growing national consciousness of the population, the multiethnic character of Polish society is also reflected in the nomenclature. This is made possible by recognising additional place names originating from the languages of national and ethnic minorities. It is worth recalling here the words of Wilhelm Humboldt that proper names are the most durable monuments of history, through which the nation tells its history, monuments that must be deciphered.

References Bijak, U., and B. Czopek-Kopciuch. 2020. Toponyms of Selected Communes with Minority Languages in North-Eastern Poland (Legal Regulations and Practice). Onomàstica 6: 131–143. Biolik, M. 1998. Pogranicze północno-wschodnie [North-Eastern Borderland]. In Polskie nazwy własne. Encyklopedia, ed. E. Rzetelska-Feleszko, 427–452. Warszawa, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Instytutu Języka Polskiego PAN. Czopek-Kopciuch, B. 1995. Adaptacje niemieckich nazw miejscowych w języku polskim [Adaptations of German Place Names in Polish], 98. Kraków: Prace IJP PAN. ———. 2004. Holländische Siedlungsbewegung und Ortsnamen Holendry in Polen [Dutch Settlement and Holendry-Type Place Names in Poland]. In Sprachkontakte. Niederländisch, deutsch und slawisch östlich von Elbe und Saale, ed. D. Stellmacher, 323–336. Frankfurt am Main: Lang.

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GUS. 2015. Struktura narodowo-etniczna, językowa i wyznaniowa ludności Polski. Narodowy Spis Powszechny Ludności i Mieszkań 2011 [NationalEthnic, Linguistic and Religious Structure of the Polish Population. National Census of the Population and Households of 2011]. Warszawa: GUS. Kaleta, Z. 1995. Świat ludzkich wartości odzwierciedlony w nazwach własnych osob (nazwiska zachodnioeuropejskie i słowiańskie) [The World of Human Values Reflected in Personal Names. (Western European and Slavic surnames)]. Slavia Occidentalis 52: 27–34. ———. 1998. Teoria nazw własnych [Theory of Proper Names]. In Polskie nazwy własne. Encyklopedia, ed. E. Rzetelska-Feleszko, 15–36. Warszawa, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Instytutu Języka Polskiego PAN. Mrózek, R. 1984. Nazwy miejscowe dawnego Śląska Cieszyńskiego [Place Names of the Former Cieszyn Silesia]. Katowice: Uniwersytet Śląski. Sztompka, P. 2005. Socjologia [Sociology]. Kraków: Znak. Wolnicz-Pawłowska, E. 1998a. Pogranicze południowe [Southern Borderlands]. In Polskie nazwy własne. Encyklopedia, ed. E. Rzetelska-Feleszko, 467–478. Warszawa, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Instytutu Języka Polskiego PAN. ———. 1998b. Pogranicze wschodnie [Eastern Borderlands]. In Polskie nazwy własne. Encyklopedia, ed. E. Rzetelska-Feleszko, 453–466. Warszawa, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Instytutu Języka Polskiego PAN.

22 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming Reflected in German Brands Angelika Bergien

1 Introduction The practice of naming brands has long been part of ordinary economic life. Brands can be described as “an outcome of establishing recognisable designations and symbols for goods and services, as well as firms’ identities” (Mendonça et al. 2004: 1385). Branding provides a company or a product with an image, and it is therefore the connotation that a brand name conveys which matters most. Although the name is only one player in a team of branding tools (e.g. colours, fonts, logos, slogans, acoustic effects), it is usually the most important carrier of a brand. Naming a brand is not just about promoting a product or service commercially, but also covers the idea of names as minimal texts (Joseph 2004) whose intention is to enhance the image of a company. Following Solly (2002: 217), the name can thus be seen “as an attempt to create an attribute of singularity at a time when everything tends to be a replica”. Being a part

A. Bergien (*) Otto von Guericke University Magdeburg, Magdeburg, Germany e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_22

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of corporate mission, it guarantees that the identity of the brand is recognised in such a way that it is accepted in its social and economic environment. When it comes to branding, naming directors therefore do not want to make a mistake. Unlike Shakespeare’s rose, a company or product by any other name can end up the butt of criticism, jokes and media ridicule. Against this background, it can be said that names of brands should be studied from a pragmatic point of view, and first and foremost be considered in terms of their functional meaning. In addition, a pragmatic approach focuses on the way owners and consumers communicate and use these names in their social contexts. Although typological properties and semantic motivations are useful, they do not appear to be sufficient to account for the dynamic and flexible character of names. In my opinion, such a description does not depend on formal independent properties, but more crucially, on functions and the role these names play in the interaction between companies and consumers. A brand name has to fulfil many functions, among them distinction, identification, protection and promotion. In addition, Sjöblom (2005: 268) mentions a socioculturally integrative function, which, among others, accounts for the use or avoidance of foreign name elements. The function implies that the referent (e.g. a company) is part of its sociocultural environment, and the name thus reflects sets of common values that are connected with that environment in people’s minds. These cultural, social or emotional values are important to maintain a certain ‘we-feeling’, which is necessary for the unity of the citizens. Brands in general and brand names, in particular, can suggest all of the above-mentioned functions and ideas at once, and so they can best be described as multifunctional. The present chapter attempts to show how cultural diversity in Germany may lead to a segmentation of the sociocultural environment of a brand and raises the question, whether this has an impact on the naming process.

2 Cultural Meanings of Brands According to the American Marketing Association Dictionary (1995), a brand is defined as “a name, term, design, symbol, or any other feature that identifies one seller’s good or service as distinct from those of other

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sellers”. Over the last century, brands have developed into something far more important in contemporary culture than mere marketing tools. They have emerged both as culturally important symbols that shape consumers’ identities and as devices that bring competitive advantages to their legal owners by offering added values to customers (Bengtsson and Ostberg 2006: 83). As Kates (2006: 94) observes: “Consumers construct different meanings from what brand sponsors may have intended, and different types of consumers construct multiple meanings, depending on personal background, contexts of consumption and multiple frames of reference”. As a consequence, branding is more complex and requires attention to the company’s strategic vision, its corporate culture and its contemporary status in the consumer culture. Bengtsson and Ostberg (2006: 85–86) see the cultural meaning of a brand as constructed by various “authors”: brand owner, consumers, popular culture and other important stakeholders (e.g. competitors, retailers). Brand owner and consumers are no doubt the two significant factors that contribute to the meanings of a brand. Through consumption, the particular status, uses and meanings of brands are subject to social negotiation. In addition to these two factors, a brand’s meanings are also produced by popular culture such as TV programmes, magazines, movies, books and so on. It is important to note that culture within each group of authors is not homogeneous but differs from that of other authors. The concept consumer culture refers to the dominant mode of consumption that is structured by the collective actions of firms in their marketing activities (Holt 2002: 71). It explains how consumers define, perceive and enact their identities through consumption. Consumers may form interpretative communities (Kates 2006: 95) whose members commonly share interpretative strategies to construct the meanings of a brand. Faced with increasingly heterogeneous markets, businesses frequently adopt market segmentation strategies to help marketers understand customer needs, preferences and evaluation criteria (Pires and Stanton 2015: 36–37). Bases for segmentation may be demographic, geographic, psychographic and other social-cultural variables. An interesting demographic variable is ethnicity, and ethnicity-based market segmentation has grown in importance in recent years. The

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reason is that many countries, including Germany, at different levels of development recognise their populations’ ethnic diversity and proclaim their status as multicultural societies. Ethnic marketing can thus be described as a deliberate consideration by firms of target groups of people that have a cultural context other than that of the mainstream context. With regard to the term ethnicity, Eriksen (2002) observes that in everyday language, the word ethnicity still has a ring of minority issues, but in social anthropology it refers to aspects of relationships between groups which consider themselves, and are regarded by others, as being culturally distinctive. Ethnicity-based marketing is a complex issue, since ethnic groups, like the majority, mainstream population, may be rather heterogeneous in terms of age, income, education and so on. Further limitations of ethnic marketing will be addressed below. Of all the marketing variables it is the brand name which receives the most attention by consumers and is a key influencer of their perceptions of quality (de Chernatony and McDonald 1998: 88). The naming of brands is therefore a very sensitive issue in (ethnic) marketing.

3 Multilingual Brand Names as a Reflection of Cultural Diversity? In view of increasing business activities in the modern world, it is not surprising to see that the forms of brand names are more varied than those of, say, place names. According to Lieberson (2000: 266), names are in general not only distinctive, but also a matter of fashion and taste: As we have seen, many domains that are traditionally not viewed as related to tastes have a fashion dimension. In fact, there are aesthetic elements in matters removed from what we traditionally think of as aesthetic topics. In the same way that we find some names appealing whereas those favoured earlier are less so, mechanisms likewise influence these other dimensions of culture.

In the light of this, experts in the field of naming (e.g. Falkner 1999) conclude that a really good name, that is, one with a powerful sales

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appeal, connotes secondary properties such as comfort or prestige rather than the utilitarian character of the business. Many products we use in everyday life, their trade names and the names of the companies that provide these products or services have gained a very special image. Such an image creation is of vital importance in relation to customers, who, if they are to be persuaded to invest their money and time in the company, must be able to trust it and also to identify with its ideas. Seen from this perspective, the brand name somehow contributes to the construction of consumer identity. For Faigley (quoted in Juncal 2006: 86) the “desire to consume is predicated on the lack of a stable identity. Purchasing and using a consumer object is a temporary and unstable attempt to occupy an imagined identity provoked by an image”. However, images, as Lieberson (2000: 126) points out, are “not cast in stone but may change over time in ways that alter the nature of symbolism associated with the entity. These changes could improve or reduce the desirability of a given cultural feature.” German brand names that are taken from a language other than German, or are invented but comply with certain expectations people hold about the sounds of words of another language, suggest the ‘foreignness’ of the products or service of the company. Brand names based on a foreign language will typically be taken from prestige languages, from languages that are, and whose speakers are, positively stereotyped. In particular, company names which either are English or at least look and sound English (no matter if they are actually used anywhere other than in Germany) are regarded by the managing directors as a means of making their businesses more successful by giving them an aura of international renown (Falkner 1999: 319). Consumers are invited to assume that the stereotypes they hold about the language in question, the area where it is spoken and its speakers will also apply to the service or products. The use of foreign elements as prestige markers in commercial language thus implies certain iconic aspects (Piller 1999: 333). This principle can be illustrated with a shop name from a provincial town near Magdeburg in Saxony-Anhalt (cf. Bergien 2008). Although there is no objective relationship between the shop name Kosmetikstudio La Cosmetique and a French-speaking country, the name implies that just as La Cosmetique is a French phrase, so the business is part of French culture. As a French

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sign in a French context, La Cosmetique is conventionally related to its denotation ‘cosmetics’. As a French sign in a German context, however, it is conventionally related to connotational meanings such as ‘fashion’, ‘elegance’ or ‘femininity’. So, through the relation between the sign La Cosmetique and the sign system ‘the French language’ that exists in German, a relation is suggested iconically. In other words, the phrase La Cosmetique is used for effect or form rather than information or content, and it is the German idea about a French product or service. Such practice is not always seen as a positive thing because the indiscriminate and unconsidered use of foreign words can mystify the culture concerned even further, making it more different, more exotic. In the 1950s, the New Jersey-based ice-cream manufacturer Reuben Mattus needed to find a name for his new ice cream. His way of telling customers that this ice cream brand was super-premium was to give it a European-sounding name, since European ice creams had the association of quality. The name Häagen-Dazs, a nonsense word, was invented by Mattus to make the brand appear Danish, since a leading quality brand at the time, Premium Is, was in fact Danish. Thus, in addition to foreignness, the market success of Haägen-Dasz worldwide is also attributable to foreignness and product ethnicity. For Kelly-Holmes (2008: 22), such a symbolic use of foreign words is not really “normal” multilingualism or bilingualism, since “it does not generally reflect societal multilingualism”. This is similar to the situation of English in German brand names. Native speakers from the UK, the US or Australia, for example, do not make up a sizeable ethnic or linguistic minority; instead, the most significant linguistic minorities are constituted by speakers of Arabic, Turkic and Slavic languages. Thus, the disproportionate dominance of English in German brand names, for example, Penny (discount supermarket chain), Ernsting’s Family (textile company), New Yorker (clothing retailer), Finish (dishwasher detergent), Beauty Kids (care products for children), Makeup Factory (makeup), does not reflect the true multilingualism of the country. However, unlike French in German or German in English brand names, the use of English in German brand names is, to a large extent, independent of the countries in which it is spoken as a native language. Internationally, English seems stereotyped with a number of

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associations such as modernity, internationalism or cosmopolitanism, trendiness and success. Another issue comes up when the particular brand has adopted a global or international strategy, and this, by default, is in English (Kelly-­ Holmes 2008: 75). English is in fact the lingua franca of global business. Global brands are highly valued, tangible corporate assets that require immense investment and infrastructures. They are about commonly understood ideas that transcend borders, cultures and geographies, and they give companies competitive advantages (Roth 2008: 250). Against this background, it is interesting to note that in the names of the 50 most valuable brands in Germany (Consultancy.eu 2018), which are also well-­ known global players, there are hardly any English elements. The reason is that most of these brands are rather traditional and their names are either identical to the personal name of the founder or acronyms and abbreviations. Examples are BMW (cars), Siemens (conglomerate), Nivea (personal care), Hipp (food and dairy). The most valuable German brand in 2018 was SAP, a world leader in enterprise applications. People are frequently surprised to find out that SAP is actually a German brand, since they expect such products to be American and by implication to be associated, symbolically and practically, with the English language. The company never uses the full version of the abbreviation SAP, but explanations range from German ‘Systeme, Anwendungen, Produkte’ or English ‘Systems, Applications, Products’. In today’s more competitive environment far more care is necessary in naming a brand, and idiosyncratic approaches to naming brands can lead to failure. The internet and global travel are clearly two pressing drivers of global brand expansion. Today, the development of a brand identity or name for even a regional product or business is unthinkable without considering its cross-cultural implications. However, as Holt et al. (quoted in Roth 2008: 251) observe: “The rise of global culture doesn’t mean that consumers share all the same tastes or values. Rather, global brands allow people to participate in a shared conversation, drawing on shared symbols. Like entertainment, sports, or politicians, global brands have become the lingua franca for consumers all over the world.” A true brand represents a consistent set of associations and attributes that are recognisable to a relevant target audience, and a global brand

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must do this on an international scale, “delivering a reliable core promise while remaining relevant to diverse audiences” (Roth 2008: 251). What is involved in this strategy is the interplay of the more global with the more local. Localisation is the adaptation of a product to a specific country or market. The aim is to localise a product linguistically, technically and culturally for a specific market and equip it with the look of having been created specifically for this particular market, thereby treating consumers as cultural beings whose values and habits are shaped by the culture they live in. As a consequence, there is a growing demand for translation and transcreation (a combination of translation and interpretation) activities, especially in the advertising world. It is, for example, interesting to see that McDonald’s and Starbucks draw a lot on localisation and depend a great deal on market and target consumer research in order to understand their habits and preferences and in order to succeed on a foreign market. When Starbucks realised that although gingerbread is a famous treat during Christmas time in Germany, yet Germans did not buy the Gingerbread Latte since the name was not familiar to them, Starbucks translated the name and called it Lebkuchen Latte. The drink then became an immediate success (Language Reach 05/2016). Compared to food and drink companies, car companies need to focus less on adaptation and more on finding the right balance between their original identity and the need to be understood in the foreign market. The biggest challenge here is probably the brand name, considering the diverse markets with their different languages and the risk a company can run with translation, transcreation or even finding a totally new name. The difficulty not only arises when checking the meaning a brand name could have in another language but also when trying to convert the Latin character to Chinese or another letter system. However, especially in Asian countries, it is extremely important to create a brand name people are able to read, pronounce and understand so that consumers can talk about it. If the company neglects this aspect, customers will come up with their own names according to the pronunciation and this might not always be in favour of the company. Moreover, it is important to create a strong brand identity within the automotive industry since many target consumers want foreign brands (cf. World Trademark Review 2013). A positive example of a car company that entered the Chinese market and adapted its brand

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name, car models and advertising, but at the same time kept its identity, would be the German company Volkswagen (cf. Volkswagen 2017). Up to now, adaptation mainly looks at geographical boundaries of certain countries with a monolingual population instead of intracultural differences such as age, gender, religion, social class or ethnic groups (Upitz 2013: 154). However, there is hardly a country without ethnic diversity and minority language groups. The decision of a company to use such a minority language may be motivated, on the one hand, by the desire to mark the product as associated with an ethnicity and conjure up for the targeted public notions of a homeland and an identity and, on the other, by the desire to communicate most effectively and easily with individuals in that language group. The latter is frequently referred to as “true” or “normal” multilingualism (Kelly-Holmes 2008: 21–22).

4 Ethnic Marketing and Multicultural Brands in Germany Cultural diversity has emerged as a key concern at the turn of the new century. Culture should be regarded “as the set of distinctive spiritual, material, intellectual and emotional features of society or a social group, and that encompasses, in addition to art and beliefs, lifestyles, ways of living together, value systems, traditions and beliefs” (UNESCO 2002). Many cultural elements which can be different from culture to culture exert a strong influence on consumer behaviour. Minorities use specific products not only to demonstrate their personal identity and values but also the ones from their ethnic group (Franch et al. 2012: 27). Virtually all countries contain cultural diversity to varying degrees within their boundaries, but it is difficult to measure this diversity. The International Migration Outlook 2012 by OECD (cf. Pires and Stanton 2015: 5) shows, for example, that 13.1 per cent of the total population in Germany were foreignborn. However, such a demographic approach to capture the magnitude of ethnic diversity is simply inadequate because it ignores people with dual citizenship or those who have been naturalised and hold a German passport only. They are lodged in the statistics as Germans, but retain the culture of their native country. Another issue is the existence of autochthonous or

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indigenous minorities like the Sorbs in the district of Lusatia in Saxony and Brandenburg or the Danes and Frisians in South Schleswig. Old or autochthonous regions are those which at one point had their own language(s) and were partly politically independent, but which later joined or were forced to join a nation state which had a different national standard language. Since the knowledge and the use of the majority language was a prerequisite for social and economic success in such an area, the speakers of the minority language had to become proficient in the majority language as well as in their own language (Auer and Wie 2007: 10). Consequently, companies do not normally develop marketing strategies to address these minorities in their own languages. This is different in linguistic communities constituted by immigration that seem “to be demanding and getting some kind of response from the ‘market’ in the form of media and advertising in their language” (Kelly-­Holmes 2008: 139). Over the past years, many European countries, including Germany, have been receiving a considerable number of immigrants. Ethnic groups create cultural variety by the fact that they contribute to and actively change the culture of the society they live in. Kebab (‘Döner’) shops, Chinese restaurants and pizzerias belong to Germany’s culinary landscape now, and one cannot think about Germany without them anymore. Dishes like kebab, which is a popular snack among many consumers outside Turkey, change the preferences of the national non-­immigrant consumers by introducing them to new food. In addition, there are ‘Asia’ bistros, Russian supermarkets, sushi or shisha bars, and Vietnamese tailor shops. The shops or restaurant signs include different languages and different scripts. In her study of the linguistic landscape in Berlin, Budarina (2017) found that of all analysed signs in public areas (including shops and restaurants) about 32 per cent were non-German and about 35 per cent were bi- or multilingual. Ethnic marketing is a strategy that refers to the cultural differences which appear within a country. Although the car company DaimlerChrysler began Turkish-language advertising directed at the Turkish community in Germany in 1994 (Ebrahimi 2002), ethnic marketing is a relatively new phenomenon in Germany and tends to be largely the preserve of minority or ethnic agencies. Waldeck and von Gosen (2007) report about successful advertising campaigns by Mercedes Benz and mobile communications supplier Otelo. However, there are also risks. Advertising

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directed to minority groups may fail if it lacks sensitivity. In 2000, for example, the ads of Siemens that were shown in Turkish newspapers wished all Turkish citizens a Merry Christmas, although the majority of German Turks are Muslims who do not celebrate Christian holidays (Szillat and Betov 2015: 90). Marketing brands to minority groups may also support ethnic stereotypes (Kelly-Holmes 2008: 139), or the language may become associated with particular spheres such as food. Less sensitive marketing which is not exclusively directed to minority groups may also lead to conflicts, as a recent example from the US-based sportswear company Nike shows. An online petition is demanding that Nike recall many of the Air Max 270 shoes. Stamped in the sole of most versions of the sneaker is ‘Air Max’. The way it is written out makes part of it resemble the Arabic word for ‘Allah’. Given its placement, the name ‘will surely be trampled, kicked and become soiled with mud or even filth’, the petition notes, adding that it is ‘offensive’ to Muslims. Nike has said that any resemblance to the word for Allah is accidental. But the controversy nonetheless leaves the company in a precarious position that highlights the complexity of serving an array of customers and cultures around the world (Bain 2019). The more prominent question for this chapter is how the multicultural and multilingual situation affects the naming of brands. The first observation is that a number of traditional German brands have extended their product groups, leading to new sub-brands which can be bought by majority as well as minority citizens in all supermarkets that store these products. The company Meßmer, for example, sells a tea called Marokkanischer Masir, Minze-Honig (‘Moroccan Masir, mint and honey’). The name Masir refers to the indigenous people of North Africa (Human Rights Council 2011). The company also offers a brand called Türkischer Apfeltee (‘Turkish apple tea’). This type of brand extension is usually restricted to a few foreign words which connote exotic features and are thus rather symbolic with regard to their function. This strategy is to be distinguished from ethnic marketing directed at minority groups. The most straightforward way would perhaps be the transfer of brand names from German into a minority language. This is, however, a tricky business as the imperative to keep a brand constant in order to achieve brand recognition is in conflict with the imperative to be responsive to the

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specificity of the target market. Transliterated brand names into Arabic are criticised by Piller (2010), who argues that these names are obviously fakes because they look multilingual but beneath the surface there is only monolingualism. Another problem occurs when apparently unproblematic names lead to misunderstandings, as the famous example of Coca Cola shows. When the company entered the Chinese market many years ago, they used their original name Coca Cola, which means ‘bite the wax tadpole’ in Chinese. Its transliterated name in Chinese is actually Ke Kou Ke Le literally meaning “tasty fun” (Matinée multilingual 2017). Against this background, Franch et al. (2012: 32) suggest four branding strategies for companies in ethnic marketing: 1. Brand extension: Introducing a new product developed for the minority group under an existing brand. 2. Create a sub-brand: Using an existing brand in the product category but adding a sub-brand to indicate that the product was developed for the minority group. 3. New Brand: Introducing a new brand to the market that is specifically developed and targeted towards the minority group. 4. Acquire an existing brand: Purchasing a brand that is already being used by the targeted ethnic group. The first two strategies have been used more frequently in relation to one of the largest ethnic minority groups in Germany: the Turks. In 2006, for example, Deutsche Bank decided to create a new division to target Turkish customers in Germany. The brand name chosen was Bankamiz, which literally means in Turkish ‘our bank’ or ‘the bank of us’. One of the first images to be developed to promote this new brand, which has since become the brand’s icon, was a cup of tea. Deutsche Bank selected tea since it is part of the Turkish culture. Tea is appreciated and is also a symbol of friendship and hospitality. Accordingly, one of the main images became a glass of tea with the Deutsche Bank logo on the side, together with some sugar cubes (Franch et al. 2012: 35). In 2010 Citibank changed its name to Bankadas (‘friend of a bank’) to address Turkish customers, and in 2005 mobile communications supplier Eplus designed a brand of its own, Ay Yildiz (the name of the Turkish flag

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‘moon-star’), to target the segment of German Turks (Waldeck and von Gosen 2007). It is interesting to note that up to now the creation of sub-­ brands by existing German brands is directed to the largest ethnic minorities only and restricted to fields like banking or mobile providers. However, there are an increasing number of new businesses founded by people from ethnic minorities whose languages are used for naming brands that help shape the onomastic landscape of Germany.

5 Concluding Remarks All the developments outlined above are driven by the market; language is exploited to stretch its boundaries, with the primary objective of selling products. Multilingual communication in various market-discourse situations, including advertising and brand names, is an attempt to meet the needs of multicultural customers. As the marketplace becomes even more pluralistic, marketers must be aware of the differences in order to remain competitive. Ethnic marketing addresses cultural differences which appear within the country. Ethnic groups or subcultures hereby become target groups. These target groups must exceed a critical size in order to render marketing measures worthwhile. Another observation is that, up to now, ethnic marketing mainly refers to advertising strategies and rarely affects the brand name. The reason is the imperative to keep a brand constant in order to achieve brand recognition. Recent examples from the financial services and banking industry in Germany, however, show that new branding strategies aimed at the Turkish-German population have proved successful and helped attract new customers.

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Human Rights Council. 2011. Form for Submitting an NGO Written Statement. https://www.gfbv.de/fileadmin/redaktion/UN-­statements/2011/Indigene_ Voelker_und_ihre_Sprachen_18t_HRC_2011_STP_Written_Statement_ Indigenous_Peoples_Languages.pdf. Accessed 18 February 2019. Joseph, J.E. 2004. Language and Identity. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Juncal, M.L. 2006. Strategic Language in Web Site’s Advertisements by Network Companies. In Discourse and Enterprise, ed. F. Ramallo, A.M. Lorenzo, and X.P. Yáñez, 85–92. München: Lincom. Kates, S.M. 2006. Researching Brands Ethnographically: An Interpretative Community Approach. In Handbook of Qualitative Research Methods in Marketing, ed. R.W. Belk, 94–104. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Kelly-Holmes, H. 2008. Advertising as Multilingual Communication. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Language Reach. 2016, May 26. https://www.languagereach.com/localisation-­ of-­food-­products-­earns-­brands-­trust/. Accessed 12 January 2019. Lieberson, S. 2000. A Matter of Taste. How Names, Fashions, and Culture Change. New Haven: Yale University Press. Matinée multilingual. 2017. Unfair Competitive Advantage; How Multilingual Brands are Taking over the World. https://www.matinee.co.uk/blog/ multilingual-­brands-­taking-­world/. Accessed 19 February 2019. Mendonça, S., T.S.  Pereira, and M.M.  Godinho. 2004. Trademarks as an Indicator of Innovation and Industrial Change. Research Policy 33 (9): 1385–1404. Piller, I. 1999. Iconicity in Brand Names. In Form Miming Meaning. Iconicity in Language and Literature, ed. M. Nänny and O. Fischer, 325–341. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. ———. 2010. Transliterated Brand Names. Language on the Move. http://www. languageonthemove.com/transliterated-­brand-­names/. Accessed 20 January 2019. Pires, G.D., and J. Stanton. 2015. Ethnic Marketing. Culturally Sensitive Theory and Practice. London: Routledge. Roth, H. 2008. The Challenge of the Global Brand. In Handbook of Brand and Experience Management, ed. B.H.  Schmitt and D.L.  Rogers, 250–269. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Sjöblom, P. 2005. The Problem of Meaning and Function Related to Company Names. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala 19–24 August 2002: Vol. 1, ed. E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg, 264–276. Uppsala: Språkoch folkminnesinstitutet.

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Solly, M. 2002. “Once a Trademark, Not Always a Trademark”: Using Language to Avoid Legal Controversy. In Conflict and Negotiation in Specialized Texts, ed. M. Gotti, D. Heller, and M. Dossena, 211–232. Bern: Lang. Szillat, P., and A. Betov. 2015. Marketing to Multicultural Audiences—Ethnic Marketing for Turks in the German Automotive and Telecommunications Industries. International Journal of Business and Management 3 (2): 85–95. UNESCO. 2002. Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity. https://unesdoc. unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000127162. Accessed 7 February 2019. Upitz, A. 2013. Ländermarktspezifische Timingstrategien und internationale Wettbewerbsstrategien [National Market Timing Strategies and International Competition]. Wiesbaden: Springer Gabler. Volkswagen. 2017. http://www.vw.com.cn/cn.html. Accessed 5 February 2019. Waldeck, B., and C. von Gosen. 2007. Ethno Marketing in Germany. https:// www.fh-­k iel.de/fileadmin/data/wirtschaft/dozenten/waldeck__bernd/ ethno_marketing.pdf. Accessed 19 January 2019. World Trademark Review. 2013, May 10. Brand Consultants Strongly Endorse Localisation for Foreign Automobile Brands in China. https://www. worldtrademarkreview.com/brand-­management/brand-­consultants-­strongly-­ endorse-­localisation-­foreign-­automobile-­brands. Accessed 10 January 2019.

23 Italian Brand Names as Mirrors of Multicultural Aspects Paola Cotticelli-Kurras

1 Introduction In the last few decades, marketing literature has recognised that the linguistic nature of a brand has become an important topic of debate in relation to the globalising tendencies of international markets (van Gelder 2003). In a multilingual context, the change of cultural, historical and behavioural characteristics also influences the naming strategies. The history of Italian brand naming from its beginning is a clear example of the interplay between tradition and language use, multicultural society and linguistic features, language history and social trends. Language as a tool for the creation of brands is a mirror of the changed consumer’s perception of the society, its commercial products and advertising strategies. By means of the study of brand names, it is possible to sketch an outline which depicts the extent of the presence of multiculturalism and its relevance in Italian society from the beginning of the twentieth century to the present. Our database contains ca. 6000 registered product

P. Cotticelli-Kurras (*) University of Verona – I, Verona, Italy e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_23

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trademarks, displaying classes which are representative of particular aspects of real life. We chose the following product classes, which are named according to the Nice classification: Class 3: detergents, cosmetics and hygiene products; Class 5: pharmaceutical and veterinary products; Class 29: foods such as meat, fish, poultry, game, eggs, oils and fats, jams, pickled fruit and vegetables; Class 30: coffee, cocoa, sugar, rice and bread; Class 31: fruit, vegetables and cereals; Class 32: beverages such as beer, mineral water, juices and lemonade; Class 33: alcoholic beverages, such as wine and spirits. For contemporary products in society (for the years 2014–2017) as representative of multicultural aspects, we added Class 25 (clothing, footwear and headgear) and Class 28 (games, toys and playthings, video game apparatus, gymnastic and sporting articles). The time span under consideration is 1904 to 2018. The final introductory consideration concerns the well-known questione della lingua and its sociocultural influence on the interaction between advertising and language in its development in the twentieth century. It is a fact that purism,1 prohibition and partial limitation of the use of foreign elements, as well as the creation of structural and translation calques, are maintained alternately in advertising language until the seventies. The situation changed markedly after the 1970–1980s, and the country now has a high literacy rate and industrialisation while losing a certain degree of its dialectal vitality as English words penetrate the language of advertising. In this new panorama, the new topics for discussion are national language, standard varieties and the role of foreign languages.

2 Linguistic Analysis In this section, we will analyse different linguistic aspects which portray a multicultural picture of Italian society during the last hundred years, in different phases and to varied extents.

 S. Raffaelli’s (1983) work with the programmatic subtitle “State’s Purism and advertising regulation in Italy (1882–1945)”, where the author reported significant examples. 1

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2.1 Use of Foreign Languages Despite the influence of linguistic policies and purism from the beginning of the creation of brands, we can observe that some foreign words were introduced in the Italian advertising lexicon and language in the twenties and thirties. While German and English were frowned upon or even proscribed, French was the language for luxury goods, alcoholic beverages, chocolates and sweets, some fish food and also new technical devices. Between 1904 and 1930, we find the following French brand names (Table 23.1).2 It is interesting to note that for certain technical instruments or exotic goods, German and English words were also tolerated, such as the following (Table 23.2). As the tables show, products using foreign languages can be divided into different semantic fields, which are complementarily distributed. They represent in a certain way symbols of a sort of multiculturalism in Italian society in the early decades of the twentieth century, although foreign products were restricted to an exclusivist and elitist sector. In Table 23.1  Examples of French lexemes in Italian brand names until 1930 Names

Year

Denotation

French Caramel Princesse Promethée Madame Angot Salentine liqueur Fixité Chronomètre Suprème champagnette Touriste Citron Champagne Mon coeur Imperialite Orangini Turin blanc Marque Cheval

1904 1904 1904 1908 1908 1908 1912 1912 1912 1925 1925 1930 1925 1930

Sweets Explosives Fish Alcoholic beverages Films Watches Beverages Sweets Drink Chocolates Explosives Chocolates Beverages Tomato sauce

 For a study of the role of Romance languages in Italian brand names of the twentieth century, see Cotticelli Kurras (2020). 2

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Table 23.2  Examples of German and English lexemes in Italian brand names until 1930 Names German Gramophone Concert Record Flirt Pelikan Kronprinz Orient café Butterkäse Alpenflora Foto-Tank Rasch Papier Satinet Papier Iraki Juwel English Lion-Lion-Star The Oriental Queen brand olive oil superfine BRAND OLIVE Cioccolato Sport Club Patent Dry Gin Imperial Jazz Deny cotton Pink Fire Oxen The Nightingale Miracle

Year Denotation 1904 1904 1904 1908 1920 1925 1925 1925 1925 1925 1925 1930

Gramophone plates Wine Electric tools Sewing machine Coffee substitute Creamy cheese Cheese Photo cameras Sewing machine Cigarette rolling paper Cigarette rolling paper Sewing machine

1912 Sewing machine 1912 Cigarette rolling paper 1912 Olive oil 1912 1912 1920 1925 1925 1925 1925

Chocolate Cigarette rolling paper Beverages Music instrument Tobacco smoking device Antineuralgic Electrical appliances in general 1925 Beef meat extract 1930 Olive oil 1930 Espresso machine

addition, other more exotic brands could occasionally be found, such as Guanaco, 1904, a brand name employed as a symbol for the South American region from which coffee as an exotic product was exported, for example, Elixir Ruwenzori,3 1908, a drink; Kaanlandia,4 1912, cocoa powder; Everest, 1925, salted biscuits; Goka,5 1930, cameras. It is  The mountains between Uganda and Congo.  Kaan is the geographical name of a place in Germany near Mayen and Koblenz. 5  A town located in Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan. 3 4

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remarkable that in this period, languages such as Latin and Greek were also employed for the creation of brand names because their use was functional in underlining the semantic value of tradition and origin for Italian product names. The situation changed following World War II and especially after the sixties. The higher degree of literacy and the wider diffusion and use of the Italian language through the media (radio and television), together with the country’s increasing economic growth and the diffusion of advertising agencies, brought a new scenario. At this time, some foreign languages, mainly English and French, make an entrance into the Italian language of advertising so that the increasing use of foreign languages in the twentieth century becomes evident, as Fig. 23.1 shows. Only in recent years has it been possible to find product names that are entirely in English for all the considered product classes. For example: Very Italian Food (2008, food and fruits), Galaxy (pharmaceutical/medical preparations, 2008), Etruscan Farm (food, fruit, vegetables, cereals, 2008), Baby fresh (2004), KinderCare (2008) or some mixed names, such as Johnson´s Baby: i riti dell´Amore (‘rituals of love’, 2008). 70 60 50

italiano nome ibrido straniero

40 30 20 10 0

Fig. 23.1  Distribution of languages in the twentieth century (Cotticelli Kurras 2012a: 326)

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Moreover, a trend towards the use of foreign languages has made its way not only in the introduction of single lexemes, as we have already seen. There is also the creation of hybrid words, (those consisting of a part in Italian and a part in a foreign language), built according to different processes, and of blends, especially the so-called complete blends, both of which testify to the diffusion of extra-grammatical techniques in the creation of brand names. The last category is present in the Italian brand names created after the Fascist period. A completely new scenario appears, mountain sports, through the analysis of other product names. Here we find the presence of more languages in a completely globalised marketing sector, as recent studies show (Fig. 23.2).6 In this corpus, monolingual commercial names are coined in the following languages: Italian, English, Latin, Greek, Urdu, Japanese, Sanskrit and Native American languages. Representative examples from this corpus are as follows: • Firetail in FIRETAIL 3 is a univerbation of an original English compound; • Crosslite in CROSSLITE EVO is a type of extra-grammatical derivation [adjective + noun compounds] from cross and the element (suffixoid) lite;7 • Dragontail in DRAGONTAIL LT/GTX is again a univerbation of an original English compound [noun + noun compounds]; • Gore-Tex in Karakorum HC Gore-Tex Woman, Trango S Evo Gore-Tex Woman and Hyper Mid Gore-Tex is meant as a hyphenated compound [noun + noun compounds] from tex (< ‘textile’) and Gore (= family name of the inventors of this special tissue); • W’S does not fit into the phenomena of word formation because it is one of those reductions that Thornton (2004: 558, orig. Italian) defines “[…] mostly limited to written use, and generally pronounced as the whole word”;  For material and some results, see also Bianchi (2014) and Compostella (2016).  -lite is an interesting case: it renders the phonetic reading of English ‘light’ but through another spelling and becomes very productive in sport brand names. Its position is in this case the Italian one according to the Italian word order. 6 7

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LINGUE ALTRO CINESE FRANCESE SPAGNOLO SANSCRITO BALTI LINGUE NATIVE AMERICANE URDU LINGUE TURCICHE GIAPPONESE GRECO NEPALESE ROMANCIO TEDESCO LATINO INGLESE ITALIANO

Fig. 23.2  Distribution of languages at the beginning the twenty-first century in the product class 25 (Compostella 2016)

• GTX is an abbreviation from the sequence of the three consonants extrapolated from the term Gore-Tex, a special material that is breathable and impermeable to water. The term occurs in as many as sixty-­ eight commercial names in the analysed corpus; • WMN is recurrent in five commercial names: Crux wmn, Force X wmn, Neutron Gtx Wmn, Rebel Gtx wmn and Zen Pro wmn; • WMS in TOWER LX GTX WMS; • WNS in 132 AIROUND GTX RR WNS—WOMEN’S. These three last abbreviations (WMN, WMS, WNS) refer to the word woman/women’s. They are created by selecting different consonants belonging to the word;

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• MID in ALP FLOW MID GTX, ALP TRAINER MID GTX, HIKE ROLLER MID GTX, MOUNTAIN TRAINER MID LEATHER, Hyper Mid Gore-Tex is the result of back-clipping, a shortening technique which creates from the original adjective middle the semantically recognisable form mid; • S in WILDFIRE S GTX and in Trango S Evo Gore-Tex Woman is a fore clipping from the original adverb plus that gives the residual consonant “s”. The element S remains from the previous forms of these commercial names, which contained the entire word; • X in Force X wmn is the only case of ambiclipping from the original form extra reduced to the simple element X. It is also an example of extra-grammatical neo-formation since in English the word extra is a very productive prefix8 functioning as a bounded morpheme.

2.2 Morphological Strategies The above-mentioned morphological strategies—that is, the creation of hybrids and blends—would not exist if the use of foreign languages had no relevance in a certain society. In the case of Italian brand names, it is especially interesting to find such strategies despite the prevalence of a language policy in the first decades of the twentieth century. They are an important component of the language of advertising, which is freer in embodying new trends in language and society. In the following, we will give some examples of hybrids (Sect. 2.2.1) and blends (Sect. 2.2.2).

2.2.1 Hybrids We start with a brief definition of the concept of hybrid (words), construed as neo-formations from a model or existing word(s) coming from different languages. Nevertheless, the main language for Italian brand names is Italian. The combination with a foreign language shows some variations according to the cultural influences and the political policies of  “The prefix extra- contrasts with intra- and forms comparable technical terms […]” (Huddleston and Pullum 2002: 1686). 8

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certain ages. The examples come from the entire period under investigation (1904–2017). The examples of hybrids from the early phase of Italian brand names refer to products that belonged to the commercial classes of electrical devices and instruments, and pharmaceutical products. Some of them can be identified through the special semantic of the second members of the names, and they display English words or suffix(oid)s (see Sgroi 2003), for instance: Marconigraph 1904, where Marconi is an Italian proper name and -graph a clipping for English graphic, while Silcoil (1925) is an oil company name deriving from the company acronym SILCO + English [-]oil. Names containing the English-clipped elements -tron (from electronic), -matic (from automatic) or -light are semantically connoted and are indicative of products from the corresponding commercial areas. We find names such as Fonotron (electronic devices, 1930), from Italian fono9 + the English and international element -tron. The suffixoid is partially substituted by the longer form -tronic which is used in names such as Unitronic (electronic devices, 1980) from Italian  unico (‘one, sole, unique’). Elcomatic (a measuring device, 1970) derives from the Italian acronym of the company name, ELCO < Elettronica Elcos, + the English and international element -matic; Fonolight (acoustic devices, 1970), from the Italian element fono (because of the orthography), semantically referring to the acoustic sphere + English light. Audiopak (music cassettes, 1970) is derived from the Italian and neoclassic/international element audio that identifies the commercial product or area + English pak < package; Hi-fuga (music instruments, 1980), from the English abbreviation of the adjective hi(-gh) + Italian fuga, as the product name of an electronic keyboard. Further examples from other commercial areas are medical and hygiene products displaying the following features: Deoxy (medical product, 1970), from the Italian and international prefix de- with privative meaning, originally from Latin + the English and international clipped form -oxy(-) from oxygen; Citronformio (disinfectant, 1975), from international and English citr(us) + Italian suffix -on + Italian -formio,  Note here the Italian spelling of fono- with f-, and not the English orthography with ph (phono-).

9

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modelled on another product name, Lisoformio; Citrosedol (medical product, 1975), from international and English citr(us) + Italian suffix -on + Latin sedare or Italian sedativo (‘sedative’) + Italian suffix -ol. A name such as Fishvit (vitamin preparation for fish, 1975) testifies to an English element fish + the Italian and international clipped form vit- from vitamin(a); finally, Termostrip (clinical thermometer, 1980), from the Italian form for termo- (Italian orthography), meaning ‘warm’ + the English word strip. In addition, starting from the seventies, food products have had some interesting foreign (English in these cases) elements or apposition in their names, such as Ferrarelle mix (water and beverages, 1970), composed of the Italian place and company name Ferrarelle + mix from English mixture; Formy (food product, 1970), from the English and international word form with English morpheme -y. Lemonsan (beverages, 1970) is from English lemon + the Latin/neoclassic or Italian element -san, created by means of clipping from Latin sanus/Italian sano (‘healthy’); Liosoda (beverages, 1970), from English lion and Italian/international soda, a loan word originally from Arabic suwwâd. The name Martini tonic (beverages, 1970) is a phrase formed from the company name Martini + English tonic; Lampo drink (beverages, 1975), from Italian noun lampo (‘thunder’, but probably used as an appositional metaphor for ‘speed’) + English drink. Lemonina (beverages, 1975) is derived from the English noun lemon + the Italian diminutive suffix -ina. It is interesting that the Italian word for lemon is masculine (il limone), but the suffix is feminine, as indicated by means of the female ending -a, with an incorrect agreement to the base word. The reason could lay in the reference noun bevanda, that is, meaning ‘drink with a lemon flavour’. Liquore amaro big (bitter liqueur, 1980) is formed from an Italian phrase identifying the product (‘bitter liqueur’) and an English adjective, big, put in the position of an Italian adjective, following the head. At the same time, semantically, the adjective big probably refers not to the form of the bottle of the drink, but to the alcohol content (measured in degrees) of the drink itself. Yogurt Orient (food, 1975) is formed from the Italian loan word yogurt + the English and international noun orient, perhaps used as an adjective, meaning ‘oriental’; Tonic Dry Norda (beverages, 1975) is obtained from English tonic dry + the Italian company name Norda. I vov you (egg

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liqueur, 1980) comprises the regional form vov for the Italian word for ‘egg’, uovo, but in Venetian dialects vovi ‘eggs’. The slogan is a joke and allusion to the English sentence I love you, aimed at the promotion of the product. Nicostop (filter for cigarette smoke, pipes with filters, 1970) is derived from Italian and international nicotina + English stop. Supertab (tobacco products, 1975) has no clear semantic origin, since super is an internationalism, originally from Latin, and the clipped form -tab is obscure. Further research has clarified that the form comes from Italian tabacco ‘tobacco’, so we can classify the name as a hybrid. An example related to French is Orangini (pralines, 1925), from French orange + the Italian diminutive suffix, plural male for -ini (literally ‘little oranges’). We can also mention two examples from German: Starbrau (beer, 1980, from the Italian place name Staro + German Brau(en) ‘brew’) and Caciola Milkana (food, cheese, 1980, a combination of the name of a cheese variety, Caciola, and the German brand Milkana). Further examples from the database containing data from the years 2004 and 2008 are the following: Drivecaffè (a sort of ‘coffee to go’, 2004); Wellness Cucina (2008); Tale & Quale Total Natural (2008) is a complex adjectival phrase as a hybrid expression. Dolactive (2004), a clipped form from Italian dolore and the English adjective active, is a type of univerbation of the adjectival phrase dolore attivo (‘active against pain’), but the word order is Italian. Myfarma (2004) is structured as a univerbated phrase with the possessive adjective. It is the commercial name of a variety of soap, in which the element farma is indicative of typical Italian orthography, but it phonetically coincides with the company’s name, Pharma (Pharma GDM srl). The Italian adjective dolce (‘sweet’) and the English noun land together form the univerbation Dolceland (2004), meaning ‘sweet land’. In our research dealing with sport brand names from the years 2016–2017, we can find hybrids with a great variety of linguistic combinations. Moreover, English is the most widely used language for the names in this corpus. If we compare them with older brand names (e.g. Superga supersafe (sport shoes, 1975), from the Italian brand name Superga + English supersafe), English recurs both as a single language in

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the commercial name and in combination with other languages, forming hybrid names: [English + Italian], [English + Latin], [English + Italian + Latin], [English + alphanumeric], [English + German], [Romansh + English], [Nepalese + English], [Japanese + English], [Turkish languages + English], [Native American + English languages], [Balti + English], [Spanish + English], [Urdu + English], [French + English], [Chinese + English], [English + Greek]. In this section, we have provided some examples of hybrids. Only a few names have an Italian component as well, such as Conero GTX (9 c.), Alta Via GV (9 c.) or Selle Royal (selle ‘bicycle seats’; a phrase with Italian word order but an English adjective).

2.2.2 Blends The use of foreign languages led to morphologically relevant innovations in word formations: the most interesting are the blends.10 They were first introduced in a few Italian names like cedratuva (cedrata + uva), with the fusion of the syllables -ta + u-. Starting with the seventies, blends are more frequent; for example, Lyfenol (deodorant and insecticide, 1970), from English life + Italian fenol(ftaleina), with fusion on the syllable /fe/; Nauticard (accessories for boats and ships, 1980), consisting of Italian nautica ‘boating’ + English card; Tecsonic (recording devices, 1980), probably from English technical and the suffixoid -sonic. In recent times, we have recorded more examples, such as Yogood (yogurt, 2008), in which the base words (Italian yogurt + the English adjective good) cross, maintaining the disyllabic structure of the word yogurt. Note here the Italian word order [noun + adjective]! The most recent studies show that the tendency of pure foreign language names has been pushed back and that hybrid names display a relatively high frequency. Rewoolution (2014), the name of a sport product, contains the word wool inscribed within the word revolution; Runtastic (2014) is the blend of run and phantastic (semantically, it is a pun: ‘fantastic run’); Sabelt

10

 For this type of word formation, see Cotticelli Kurras (2007, 2008, 2012a, 2012b, 2018).

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results from the blending of safety and belt, with semi-transparent meaning.

2.3 Orthographic Level: Making Italian Elements Foreign On the graphic level, the use of letters that do not belong to the Italian alphabet is a strategy to lend a foreign character and to draw the attention of the readers. The foreign character could be associated with better quality or with a higher technical level of the products. For Italian brand names, this is often created by using the letters x, y, k. Some examples are: • Rhitmo (musical instruments, loudspeakers, 1970): the use of /rh/ in a mix of English rhythm and the Italian form ritmo; • Mukki latte (cow milk, 1970): writing mukki with /k/ aims at creating a name with a foreign character because the grapheme /k/ does not belong to the Italian alphabet; • Bibita express (1975): the word express, a loanword from English, is used to underline the situation for drinking or buying the drink, namely, in a fast way.

2.4 Syntactic Level Kidactive (2004) is a univerbated hybrid phrase consisting of adjective and noun, lexically both from English, whereas the word order is Italian. As the head of the structure shows, the rules of English grammar are not followed. Drivecaffè (a sort of ‘coffee to go’, 2004) is a hybrid form with a rather strange word order. Wellness Cucina (2008) is also a hybrid phrase or even a determinative compound. In addition to the examples cited from the sports world, we can often find very long lists of attributes to the products that are probably aimed at a buyer knowledgeable of the area. They contain many abbreviations from English words but the word order is not always according to English

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grammar, as these examples display: SUPERVERTIGO CARBON GTX WOMAN, Gea GTX W’S (9 c.), Rock II GTX (9 c.), T8 EXTREME (9 c.), Force X wmn (9 c.), Zen Pro wmn (9 c.). These names seem like formulas, through their use of special abbreviations and combinations: Karakorum HC Gore-Tex Woman (24 c.), 132 AIROUND GTX RR WNS— WOMEN’S (23 c.), Trango S Evo Gore-Tex Woman (23 c.), 1013 LEOPARD GTX (WIDTHS) (22 c.). Swimxwin (‘swim for win’) is written in a semi-logographic formula, where x as a mathematical term means ‘for’. RoyalPadel is the univerbation of an adjectival phrase. Finally, Lignum Tee and Arai Helmet are phrases with two nouns.

3 Conclusions: Language as Mirror of Culture We selected our material from historically significant periods which provide a diachronic overview from the beginning of brand names (our choice was the years 1904, 1908 and 1912), towards the time after World War I and on to the Fascist era (1920, 1925 and 1930) and then a wide jump into the seventies (1970, 1975, 1980). The most important consists of the economic and social reasons for the linguistic changes of product names in this period. The focus was on the interaction between language and society. World War II also caused a drastic break with tradition in Italy and a reorientation in cultural policy. We continued our collection with material from the beginning of the new millennium, some from the years 2004 and 2008. Finally, we directed the research to other product classes from the sports sphere and from the years 2014–2016. The type of product classes could reveal other information about the changes in our society and markets, an inside-view into a globalised world where interaction and multiculturalism are reflected in product names and languages used in them. Morphological structures, exotic languages and semantic associations are testimonies to

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contemporary global interplay. Such associations as in Pearl Izumi11 (the name derives from the union of the word for ‘pearl’ with the name of an area of Japan known for its clear waters, therefore ‘pearl fountain’) for cycling shorts, jerseys and outerwear underline the multicultural thinking in creating sports apparel. During our research, we discovered that several other commercial areas are connected with globalisation, combining product names, foreign words and linguistic strategies. This chapter has illustrated how the brand name itself, in contexts where advertising predominates, even in nations with traditional brand naming like Italy and especially for particular product classes, becomes a symbol for multiculturalism through linguistic strategies, allusions and associations that bind different customs, fashions and cultures.

References Bianchi, Federica. 2014. Analisi linguistica dei nomi dei marchi di articoli sportivi [Linguistic Analysis of Brand Names of Sports Products]. Master’s thesis, Università degli studi di Verona. Compostella, Arianna. 2016. Strategie di Brand Naming delle calzature di alta montagna italiane: un’analisi linguistica [Brand Naming Strategies for Italian Mountain Footwear: A Linguistic Analysis]. Bachelor’s thesis, Università degli studi di Verona. Cotticelli Kurras, Paola. 2007. Die Entwicklung der hybriden Wortschöpfungen bei den italienischen Markennamen [Development of Hybrid Word Formations in Italian Brand Names]. In Names in the Economy and in Economic History: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, ed. Ludger Kremer and Elke Ronneberger-Sibold, 167–185. Berlin: Logos. ———. 2008. La struttura morfologica dei marchionimi italiani nel xx secolo (fino agli anni ‘80) [Morphological Structure of Italian Brand Names in the Twentieth Century (until the End of the 1980s)]. In Proceedings of the 22nd International Congress on Onomastic Sciences, Sezione 2, Pisa, August 28–

11  See the homepage https://www.pearlizumi.com: Pearl Izumi has been creating cycling shorts, jerseys, outerwear, essentials and footwear for athletes on two wheels for over 65 years.

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September 4, 2005 (ICOS), ed. M.G.  Arcamone et  al., 695–709. Pisa: Edizione ETS. ———. 2012a. I nomi commerciali a cavallo di due secoli: Continuità e innovazione [Commercial Names Spanning Two Centuries: Continuity and Innovation]. In Lessicografia e onomastica nei 150 anni dell’Italia unita, Atti delle Giornate internazionali di Studio Università degli Studi Roma Tre, 28–29 ottobre 2011, Quaderni Internazionali di RIOn, ed. Paolo D’Achille and Enzo Caffarelli, 321–347. Rome: SEI—Università Roma Tre. ———. 2012b. Assoziationen italienischer Markennamen im XX Jahrhundert [Associations of Italian Brand Names in the Twentieth Century]. In Onomastics Goes Business. Role and Relevance of Brand, Company and Other Names in Economic Contexts. Proceedings of Names in the Economy II, International Symposium at the Vienna University of Economics and Business Administration, 15–17 June 2007, ed. Holger Wochele, Julia Kuhn, and Martin Stegu, 53–67. Berlin: Logos. ———. 2018. Dem Kompositum seine Grenzen: Italienische Wortschöpfungen aus heutiger Sicht [Limitations of Compounds: A Contemporary Viewpoint of Italian Word Formations]. In Festschrift für Elke Ronneberger-Sibold zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Kerstin Kazzazi, Sabine Wahl, et al., 41–64. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag. ———. 2020. Echo der anderen romanischen Sprachen in italienischen Markennamen: Konnotationen im Vergleich [Echoes of Other Romance Languages in Italian Brand Names: A Comparison of Connotations]. In Romanistik und Wirtschaft, Romanistisches Kolloquium XXXIII, ed. Lidia Becker, Julia Kuhn et al., 175–197. Tübingen: Narr Verlag. Huddleston, Rodney D., and Geoffrey K.  Pullum. 2002. The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Raffaelli, Sergio. 1983. Le parole proibite, di stato e regolamentazione della pubblicità in Italia (1882–1945) [Forbidden Words: The Condition and Regulation of Advertising in Italy (1882–1945)]. Bologna: il Mulino. Sgroi, Salvatore Claudio. 2003. Per una ridefinizione di “confisso”: composti confissati, derivati confissati, parasintetici confissati vs etimi ibridi e incongrui [For a Redefinition of “Confix”: Confixed Compounds, Confixed Derivatives, Parasynthetic Words vs Hybrid and Incongruous Etymons]. Quaderni di Semantica 24 (1): 81–153. Thornton, Anna. 2004. Parole Macedonia [Macedonian Words]. In La formazione delle parole in italiano, ed. Maria Grossmann and Franz Rainer, 569–572. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Van Gelder, Sicco. 2003. Global Brand Strategy. London: Kogan Page.

24 Names of Street Food Vendors in Romania: Between Locality and Globality Alina Bugheșiu

1 Introduction This chapter aims at describing and illustrating the behaviour of names of street food vendors, a subcategory of trade names which has diversified significantly in the last few years, along with the development of street food festivals in Romanian public space. Under the influence of globalisation, localisation and locality (localism), street food festivals function as liminal spaces, in which multiculturalism and multilingualism are natural occurrences. In this context, names of street food vendors become markers of liminality and, implicitly, of the coexistence of languages and cultures within liminality. The approach is multidisciplinary, as it makes use of theoretical principles from different fields: onomastics, sociolinguistics, language contact, semiotics. The names analysed were collected by the author from a Facebook (n.d.) page dedicated to advertising street food festivals in Romania (see References).

A. Bugheșiu (*) Faculty of Letters, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Centre of Baia Mare, Baia Mare, Romania © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_24

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2 Global Versus Local Trends in Contemporary Romanian After the fall of the Communist regime in Romania in December 1989, the informational explosion triggered by the opening of borders towards Western civilisation was overwhelming. All spheres of culture, broadly speaking, were transformed almost overnight. They adapted to reflect diversity in every form—social, political, religious, ethnic, artistic and linguistic—and emphasise that this quality of human existence is to be celebrated, not rebuked or censored. Under the influence of globalisation, Romanian public space adopted the foreign element and integrated it in people’s daily lives, so much so that it lost its alien essence and began to be perceived as natural: a different, yet functional and efficient normalcy. In the field of language, this process of restandardisation is particularly salient with respect to the vocabulary. It has been actualised by means of English, and its impact is undeniable. Curiously, however, the English influence began before the demise of Communism, despite the strict supervision of language use during that age. Its employment was restricted to specific fields, mostly because it introduced new concepts in science, technology, sports, cinema and music (Pârlog 1971: 57; Stoichițoiu Ichim 2006: 219). This established a precedent and constituted the starting point for the massive borrowing of English words after 1989 and for considering their use a mark of prestige, proficiency and prosperity (Pârlog 1999: 94), in the attempt to spur the revitalisation of Romanian and the elimination of the effects of the decade-long impact of the “wooden language” (see Stoica 2016: 102–103). In contemporary Romanian, loans from English have permeated terminologies in various spheres, and by looking at them, we can actually tell which domains of public space have been affected by globalisation the most: economy, advertising, cinema, music, the mass media, fashion, health, beauty, sports, IT and other scientific domains (Stoichițoiu Ichim 2006: 230; see also Aldea 2017). At the same time, English has also exerted influence on everyday Romanian language, as a result of the development of the means of virtual communication and the

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transference of specific words/phrases from this slang into language used in informal situations of communication in general, intermediated or not (see Stipiuc 2016: 111–134). Thus, the globalisation undergone by contemporary Romanian is simultaneously an instance of localisation of English in the aforementioned language, not in the shape of “fusing with indigenous language input to yield new dialects suitable for the expression of local people’s hearts and minds” (Schneider 2011: 229), but as borrowings in everyday language. These loans are liminal in nature: they are neither native, nor are they apprehended as pertaining to a foreign language. This does not entail that we perceive English as a universal language, a superior entity, unalterable and unshakeable, a sort of conlang existing outside time and space. According to Pennycook (2007: 101–102), At the very least, we need to understand how English is involved in global flows of culture and knowledge, how English is used and appropriated by users of English round the world, how English colludes with multiple domains of globalisation, from popular culture to unpopular politics, from international capital to local transaction, from ostensible diplomacy to purported peace-keeping, from religious proselytising to secular resistance. The incessant invocation of “English as an international language” avoids the obligation to deal with the complexity of English in relation to globalisation while simultaneously reiterating the existence of English as being in the world.

From such a perspective, two language contact situations can be identified in the relationship between English and Romanian: the “distant non-bilingual setting” and the “distant but institutional setting” (Loveday 1996: 13, 19). Both frameworks imply the existence of geographical distance between the communities of the source and target languages. Whereas the former commonly consists of “small scale lexical borrowing with varying degrees of change on phonological and semantic levels” (Loveday 1996: 18), usually introduced by means of cultural products, the latter refers to the foreign-language elements acquired in schools and universities. According to Loveday (1996: 19), “the institutionally taught ‘foreign language’ tends to be regarded as an end or product in itself

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rather than as a vehicle to achieve communicative goals”. Both types of language contact vary in time as regards the scope of their effects. While in educational settings “the input of English need not be constant from one year of formal education to another, as it depends on a great number of variables concerning both the environment in which the act of learning takes place and the agents involved (teachers and students, in a simplified equation)” (Bugheșiu 2015: 11–12; see also Loveday 1996: 19), in the case of the “distant non-bilingual setting” contact “may start, increase, decrease, or terminate during certain periods” (Loveday 1996: 17). A proof in this latter respect is the advocation of the use of Romanian in contexts related to traditional values (for instance, in rural tourism).

3 Names of Street Food Vendors in Romanian Space as Markers of Liminality The presence of globalisation and localisation is pronounced in the field of onomastics in Romania, and the category of trade names is highly illustrative from this viewpoint. More often than not, names of businesses, products and brands in Romanian public space are “if not of English origin, then at least English-like/-sounding” (Bugheșiu 2015: 14). As such, they are sociocultural markers of globalisation and localisation, and they testify to the multiculturalism of Romanian public space and, implicitly, of its linguistic landscape. In the last few years, a new niche has begun to develop in the food market in Romanian public space: street food. Nevertheless, it should be noted that we refer to gourmet street food, channelling Western models, as regular fixed or itinerant food stalls have been common in Romanian public landscape even before present-day globalisation. The differences are manifold. Gourmet street food is normally produced in food trucks, which are decked suggestively and invitingly, so as to capture customers’ attention and ensure the products are sold (often despite the price). The businesses operate independently and within specialised festivals. On the other hand, non-gourmet street food is designed with a more practical

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essential aim in mind: it is meant to achieve the satisfaction of a basic need in an efficient manner time- and money-wise. Some non-gourmet street food businesses do not even bear names—for example, popcorn or cotton-candy stalls in parks. They usually focus on one product or several varieties of one product distinguished according to straightforward categories of flavour or packaging, indicated by means of appellatives (e.g. small/large, salty/caramel etc.). Therefore, the product itself is what the customers use to identify the stall, and the appellative designating the product is contextually employed to designate the vendor. The onomastic anonymity of non-gourmet street food vendors is under no circumstance a hindrance to the businesses’ success. No mediator is required to establish a connection between seller and buyer, as the products and the context in which they are sold connote values on a supradimensional level. By having existed for a long time, such street food stalls are part of the public space in an almost natural, necessary way. By contrast, gourmet street food vendors bear significant names, which are key elements in the communicative link between business and customer. As a matter of fact, in what concerns the interpretation of names of gourmet street food vendors in the context of this chapter, two interdependent frameworks of analysis can be delineated: 1. The wider sociocultural context (macro-framework): street food festivals. Although it has already been pointed out that gourmet food vendors operate independently, it is of greater interest to investigate them in the context of festivals dedicated to this industry, which is burgeoning in contemporary Romanian public space. Such events are either sponsored by international retailers or they are a part of local celebrations where food trucks provide various culinary experiences, ranging from traditional cuisine (for instance, Romanian, Hungarian, Spanish, Italian, Chinese and Thai) to globally recognisable fast-food dishes (hamburgers, chips, pizza, sandwiches). Despite the rather limited range of categories of products, diversity is present on the hypocategorial level. Street food festivals are artificial microcosms, similar to settings in controlled experiments. Participants in these events are defined by high predictability, as specific behaviours are elicited from vendors and customers alike: they are there to sell and buy food,

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respectively. To this end, as regards potential customers, most external variables that could affect the choice of food (time of preparation and of waiting in line, price variety, spatial efficiency etc.) are removed, and the chief purpose of the commercial act is personal enjoyment. 2. The brand personality of street food vendors (micro-framework): the brand identity, that is, how the vendors want their businesses to be perceived, and brand image, that is, how the businesses are actually seen by the customers (see Corbu 2009: 64). Several concepts are simultaneously at play in the construction of brand identity and brand image: the design of the food stalls, the products they sell (their appearance, taste, smell, perhaps tactile and aural impact as well), the name of the street food vendors and of the products, the advertising slogan and even the strategies employed by vendors in various communication situations. Thus, the creation of brand identity and brand image is a multimodal (see Sjöblom 2008: 351) and multisensory (see Hua et  al. 2017: 386), sometimes multilingual, phenomenon. This multitiered architecture is aimed at establishing the favourable premises for the commercial act to take place. The sine qua non condition of its accomplishment is that the customers have access to “the semiotic and other cultural resources essential to act in their social world on their own behalf and for their benefit” (Kress 2010 :18). For instance, in the case of a food vendor like The CodFather,1 in addition to the quality of the food products themselves, the customers’ attention is captured, first and foremost, by the appearance of the food truck shaped as a fish. The particularity of the design, however, is in agreement with the connotations conveyed on the linguistic level through the name of the business (The CodFather, a portmanteau coinage, a pun on The Godfather, the name of the famous film trilogy directed by Francis Ford Coppola) and of the products, all of which bear similar cultural references: Don Codleone’s (portmanteau coinage from cod + Corleone), The Codfather, The Goodfellas (borrowed from the name of the 1990 film directed by Martin Scorsese), Don Ciobani (a pun based on the phonetic similarity between the Italian first name  See, for example, https://www.facebook.com/thecodfatherromania/photos/274422899857942 (accessed in June 2020). 1

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Giovanni and the Romanian appellative cioban ‘shepherd’; the name could refer to a notorious, controversial figure in Romanian public space, a former shepherd who has earned a fortune after the fall of Communism). The business’ logo and name appear on the “uniform” worn by the seller too. Moreover, the phrase uber fish is written on the cooker hood, which is probably the associative meaning that the name of the vendor and the designations of the products aim to convey.2 Linguistic diversity is obtained through the use of several languages (English, Italian, German, Romanian) in naming the products and the business, in addition to the description of the ingredients, which is written mainly in Romanian. When analysing names of street food vendors, both aforementioned frameworks have to be taken into consideration. The employment of various elements and levels in the construction of brand identity and brand image depends directly on the sociocultural context—in the present chapter, the setting of street food festivals. This microcosm is a liminal space, resulting from the contact of multiple cultures and languages (see Oțoiu 2003: 92). Here identity is flexible, constantly negotiated between globality and locality, multiculturalism and monoculturalism, multilingualism and monolingualism. Therefore, inhabiting such a space is both a globally minded pursuit and a venture to preserve tradition. This duality is conspicuous if one pays attention to the type of food sold and the languages used in the business and product names. In some cases, the names of food vendors alone are suggestive of these aspects, based on the connection that can be established with any of the following business particularities: • food product: Arrosticini (Italian street food), Éclairs, Famous Waffles, German Wurst Wagen, Hot Dog Factory, La Strada Gyros, The Magical Pancakes, Mr. Cannoli, Mr. Cârnățescu (< Romanian cârnaț ‘sausage’ + suffix -escu, very common in family names), Kooltoș (portmanteau coinage from cool + Kürtőskalács, the name of a Hungarian spit cake),  See, for example, https://www.facebook.com/StreetFoodFestivalRomania/photos/113909047628 1643 (accessed in June 2020).

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Pleșcavița Van (‘pljeskavica’), Shanghai Chinese Food, Sushi Point, Taco Mania, Thaice Cream (portmanteau coinage from Thai + ice), Vice Cream (portmanteau coinage from vice + ice), Waffle Bee, Wrap’n’Roll; preparation method: Brothers Barbecue, Flameburgers (flame + burgers), Grillmobil (‘mobile grill’, observing the Romanian word order), Satisfry (portmanteau coinage from satisfy + fry), Smokin’ Pig, The Barbecue Joint—SMKD (SMKD ‘smoked’); basic ingredient: Casuța cu migdale (‘the little almond house’), Chicken Cone (with the slogan Nice to eat you!), Cimbru Food Truck (Romanian cimbru ‘thyme’), Drunken Squid, Flying Pig (reminiscent of the phrase when pigs fly, also common in Romanian), Fromagerie (French fromage ‘cheese’ + suffix -erie, French or Romanian, used in nouns that denote a shop where something is sold), Meat Busters (suggestive of the television programme Mythbusters), Naked Potato, Red Angus Steakhouse, Squad Porket, Taverna Racilor Herăstrău (‘Herăstrău crab tavern’); business venue: Atelierul Gurmanzilor (‘gourmet-lovers’ workshop’), Camionetta (pizza truck), Food Truck Bistro del Puerto, Green Light Kitchen, Le Camion Délicieux (French, ‘the delicious truck’); business owner: La nu știu cine (Romanian, ‘at I-don’t-know-whose-­ place’), Tom Cooks, Two Chefs; targeted effect on the customers or references to brand identity: Gastro Rock, Mnom-mnom (‘yum-yum’), Papa bun (Romanian, ‘good food’), Urban (with the slogan (M)Eat the flavour), Șugubăț (Romanian, ‘fun, playful’).

4 Conclusion Similar interdisciplinary analyses could be conducted for other street food vendors participating in dedicated events. Any approach that does not bear in mind the interplay of multiple factors in the existence of street food, in general, and gourmet street food, in particular, would not ensure a comprehensive account of the phenomenon under investigation. According to Hua et al. (2017: 385), “People engage in everyday activities by drawing on various multilingual, multimodal and multisensory

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resources available in their local environments. In doing so, they draw attention not only to linguistic and personal relations, but also to artifacts, spatial organization, gender, ethnicity and other multimodal, sensory and spatiotemporal properties”. The predominance of English in names of street food vendors can be accounted for by the fact that street food, as described in this chapter, is a new industry in Romanian public space. Due to this sociocultural novelty, which is an instance of globalisation (by virtue of the types of products sold, the design of the business venue etc.), the use of English feels natural. Not only does it favour the borrowing of terminology into Romanian, but it also mediates the introduction of unfamiliar or less known concepts into Romanian culture (see Stojković 2005: 106). At the same time, it is precisely the significant presence of English that creates the contrast with Romanian names, and facilitates the identification of instances in which vendors wish to promote local values. Put differently, in the setting of street food festivals, distinctiveness is represented by names in Romanian (onyms in other languages except English are also vehicles of globalisation). However, one does not come across the two phenomena in isolation; upon examining the macro- and micro-­ frameworks, it becomes obvious that globalisation, localisation and locality/localism are intertwined. This complex relationship enables us to construe names of street food vendors as markers of liminal multicultural and multilingual spaces.

References Aldea, Maria. 2017. Cuvinte de origine engleză în DEX 2016. Studiu de caz: anglicismele [Words of English Origin in the 2016 Edition of the Comprehensive Dictionary of the Romanian Language. Case Study: Anglicisms]. In Cercetări lingvistice. Omagiu doamnei profesoare Adriana Stoichițoiu Ichim, ed. Dragoș Vlad Topală, 7–12. Craiova: Sitech. Bugheșiu, Alina. 2015. Trade Names in Contemporary Romanian Public Space. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Corbu, Nicoleta. 2009. Brandurile globale. O cercetare cros-culturală [Global Brands. Cross-cultural Research]. Bucharest: Tritonic.

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Facebook. n.d. Street Food Festival. https://www.facebook.com/ StreetFoodFestivalRomania. Accessed August 2020. Hua, Zhu, Emi Otsuji, and Alastair Pennycook. 2017. Multilingual, Multisensory and Multimodal Repertoires in Corner Shops, Streets and Markets: Introduction. Social Semiotics 27 (4): 383–393. Kress, Gunther. 2010. Multimodality. A Social Semiotic Approach to Contemporary Communication. New York: Routledge. Loveday, L.J. 1996. Language Contact in Japan: A Sociolinguistic History. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Oţoiu, A. 2003. An Exercise in Fictional Liminality: The Postcolonial, the Postcommunist, and Romania’s Threshold Generation. Comparative Studies of South Asia, African and the Middle East 23 (1&2): 87–105. http://www. cssaame.com/issues/23/15.pdf. Accessed 20 February 2013. Pârlog, Hortensia. 1971. Termeni de origine engleză în publicistica română contemporană [English Terms in Contemporary Romanian Written Press]. Analele Universiății din Timișoara, Științe Filologice IX (1): 55–68. ———. 1999. The Anglo-Fashion. In Seventy Years of English and American Studies in Bulgaria. Papers of the International Conference Held in Sofia, 1–3 October 1998, ed. Z. Catalan, C. Stamenov, and E. Pancheva, 93–99. Sofia: St. Kliment Ohridski University Press. Pennycook, Alastair. 2007. The Myth of English as an International Language. In Disinventing and Reconstituting Languages, ed. Sinfree Makoni and Alastair Pennycook, 90–115. Clevedon, Buffalo, Toronto: Multilingual Matters. Schneider, E.W. 2011. English Around the World: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sjöblom, P. 2008. Multimodality of Company Names. Onoma 43: 351–380. Stipiuc, Andrei Sebastian. 2016. Cum scriem pe Facebook. Limba textelor produse de utilizatorii români ai rețelei sociale [How We Write on Facebook. The Language of Texts Written by Romanian Users of the Social Network]. Iași: Editura Universității “Alexandru Ioan Cuza”. Stoica, Dan S. 2016. On Wooden Language and Manipulation. Argumentum. Journal of the Seminar of Discursive Logic, Argumentation Theory and Rhetoric 14 (1): 102–120. Stoichițoiu Ichim, Adriana. 2006. Aspecte ale influenţei engleze în româna actuală [Aspects of the Influence of English in Contemporary Romanian]. Bucharest: Editura Universităţii din Bucureşti. Stojković, N. 2005. The Influence of English as a Global Language—The Example of Serbian—and the Emergence of New Forms of Identity. Romanian Journal of English Studies 2: 106–111.

25 The Contribution of the Greek Catholic Church to the Multicultural Diversification of Transylvanian Anthroponymy Daiana Felecan and Nicolae Felecan

1 Introduction. Brief History of the Greek Catholic Church The beginning of the Greek Catholic Church in Transylvania in 1697–1701 is directly connected with social and political factors. The social factors are related, first and foremost, to the harsh living conditions of the Romanians, who were bereft of all rights. The political factor was manifested through the desire of the House of Austria, of Catholic faith, to win over a significant number of the Romanian population, in the context of the pressures exerted by the newly emerged confessions, Lutheranism and Calvinism, which sought to gain believers among the Romanians. Thus, emperor Leopold issued a decree on 23 August 1692,

D. Felecan (*) • N. Felecan (Deceased) Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Centre of Baia Mare, Baia Mare, Romania © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_25

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by means of which “priests and followers of the Greek church may unite with the Catholic Church if they wish to enjoy its privileges” (Ploscaru 1998: 61, orig. Romanian). Subsequently, in the year 1697, a general synod was called to expose “the harsh conditions and oppression of the Romanian people, as the very existence of the nation is threatened. He also informed the participants about the reasons behind the union with Rome and the great denominational similarity between the two Churches, as opposed to the considerable differences promoted by Calvinism”. Finally, “the synod record in writing the confession of faith through which they undertake to accept the four points separating East from West […] and demand that the Romanians have the same rights as the other faiths in Transylvania” (Ploscaru 1998: 62, orig. Romanian). The sudden death of bishop Theophilus determined Atanasie Anghel, the newly elected hierarch, to call another general synod in 1698. On this occasion, a manifest is written to sanction the union with Rome. The two Diploma Leopoldinum followed, one issued in February 1699, the other, known as Secunda leopoldina, in March 1701. These documents provide that “the United Church and its clergy be given the same rights and immunity as the Roman Catholic priests”, whereas “the third article states that the members of the United Church, priests and believers alike, even laypeople, be regarded as equals and enjoy all the rights established by the laws of the country, not as tolerated individuals, as they used to be regarded until now (1701), but as citizens with equal rights as all the children of the land” (Săiceanu and Buzași 1993: 32, orig. Romanian). Plots schemed by the Calvinists—the persecution of Romanian priests and their imprisonment, threatening their families, destroying their property as well as the property of the churches and belfries and so on— determined Atanasie to call a new synod in 1700, “which restates the confession of faith unto four aspects: Papal Primacy, Filioque, the Purgatory and the ritual of communion using sacramental bread” (Ploscaru 1998: 65, orig. Romanian). The United Greek Catholic Church put into practice the decisions of the 1439 Council of Ferrara-Florence. It re-established the connection with the Romanian’s primary church, whose nearly millennial history ensured as linguistic inheritance the “fundamentally” Christian terminology: biserică (‘church’), Dumnezeu (‘God’), sânt (‘saint’, only in

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compounds with saints’ names: Sântilie ‘Saint Elijah’, Sântio(a)n ‘Saint John’, Sânziene < ‘Saint John’), zău/zeu ‘god, divinity’, “nowadays only as an interjection, to emphasise an affirmative or negative utterance” (Felecan, N. 2011a: 217–218, orig. Romanian). The signification of the aforementioned inherited words referring to faith, celebrations, religious life, veneration of the dead, sin, fasting and so on, accounts for the existence and persistence of Christianity ever since the age of the formation of the Romanian language and people. The United Church followed its objectives steadfastly and devotedly. Thus, it had a flourishing development, to the benefit of the Romanian nation. The ideas it promoted stirred the Romanians’ consciousness, and prompted them to fight for emancipation in all fields: politics, society and culture. In a speech delivered before the Romanian Parliament in 1881, Ion C. Brătianu claimed: “‘You must know that our national awakening came from beyond the Carpathians, through those Romanians who were sent to Rome where they learned to be Romanian’” (cited in Pantea 1968: 101, orig. Romanian). This also accounts for the political actions of the great events which took place in the years 1848, 1874, 1892–1894 and 1918,1 and changed the course of the history of the Romanians for the better. The period after the Great Union of 1 December 1918 was beneficial to the Greek Catholic Church. In September 1918, the Vatican was the first state to salute the unification of Romania, a Christian Latin state. Before the Paris Peace Conference ended, the Holy See gave back to the Bishopric of Oradea 83 United Romanian parishes, which had been annexed in 1912 to the Hungarian Greek Catholic Diocese of Hajdúdorog. In 1925 the Holy See transferred the Catholic parishes in Bessarabia from the Tiraspol jurisdiction to that of Iași, and included them in the unitary organisation of the Catholic Church in Romania. In 1927 the Concordat between the State of Romania and Vatican was signed. It was ratified two years later, in 1929 (cf. Știrban and Știrban 2000: 27).  We refer to the Revolution of 1848, the 1874 peasants’ uprising led by Horea, Cloșca and Crișan, the 1892 Memorandum with the Transylvanian Romanians’ petition (sent to Franz Joseph I and culminating with the Trial as a result of which the signers of the Memorandum were sentenced to prison), and the Great Union of 1 December 1918. 1

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Only 30 years after the Great Union, the Greek Catholic Church was annulled by means of Decree 358 of 1 December 1948, by the Communist authorities seated with the help of the Soviet power. It is worth noting that, from its creation to the devastating decree, the United Church was led by nine bishops, six metropolitans (including Alexandru Rusu, not acknowledged by the Communist authorities) and two bishops with the rank of Apostolic Administrator (between the years 1941 and 1948). For 41 years, between 1948 and 1989, the Church functioned clandestinely, and it was monitored by the state authorities (the “Securitate”). Officially, the Church was considered to have disappeared, as the clergy and laypeople were supposed to have returned to Orthodoxy. In 1989, as a result of the events that led to the fall of the Communist regime, the new power established in Bucharest rehabilitated the Greek Catholic Church, but it did not return the property that was confiscated in 1948. An exception in this respect was the Metropolitan of the Banat which, through Metropolitan Nicolae Corneanu, returned in extenso all the former property: churches, chapels, liturgical books, parishes and other material goods.2 On the administrative level, the metropolitan see of Blaj was occupied by Alexandru Todea between the years 1990 and 1994, who became a cardinal in 1991. As of 1994, the see was taken over by Lucian Mureșan, who was designated major archbishop in 2005, and cardinal and member of the Congregation for the Oriental Churches in 2012 (see Bădiliță and Stanciu 2019: 22–23). An interesting aspect is that the bishops and metropolitans who led the Greek Catholic Church came from various areas of Transylvania: Alba (Teofil Seremi, Atanasie Anghel, Petru Pavel Aron, Alexandru Șterca-­ Șuluțiu), Brașov (Vasile Suciu), Cluj (Ioan Giurgiu Patachi, Ioan Bob, Ioan Lemeni), Harghita (Alexandru Nicolescu), Maramureș (Atanasie Rednic, Ioan Vancea, Victor Mihaly de Apșa, Lucian Mureșan), Mureș (Alexandru Rusu, Alexandru Todea), Sătmar (Grigore Maior). Other regions, especially those in which the United Church had many  The restoration of churches and other material goods (although not numerous) from other dioceses occurred after prolonged trials. 2

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followers, stand out due to elites who helped establish and consolidate certain branches of Romanian science and culture. From these leaders and from scholars educated by the Greek Catholic Church, we preserve the “country plan which holds true even nowadays: the Westernisation of civilisation, culture and spirituality” (Bădiliță and Stanciu 2019: 9, orig. Romanian).

2 Modernisation of the Greek Catholic Church In this chapter, we look at the role of the Greek Catholic Church in the introduction and consolidation of the Romanian language in writing, the modernisation of the vocabulary and liturgical books, as well as the multicultural diversification of Transylvanian anthroponymy. These aspects pertained to a more extended programme aimed at the better training of the clergy, the consolidation of faith and the prosperity of the Romanians. To achieve the aforementioned aspects regarding modernisation, the Latin alphabet and the use of the Romanian language were introduced in all liturgical types and in all kinds of writing. Other means by which modernisation was achieved included establishing Romanian schools, proving the Latin lineage of the Romanian language and people, as well as their being related to the other Romance languages and peoples, rejuvenating and developing the vocabulary in all the areas of social life by means of original writings and translations, manifesting genuine ecumenism, and grounding all actions in the ideas of truth and freedom. The materialisation of the aforementioned measures implied effort, devotion and sacrifice. After several hundred years of Slavonic being the language of administration, the United Church strove to expedite the translation of holy books into Romanian. This accounts for the publication of the Liturgikon by Petru Pavel Aron (1756), the Bible by Samuil Micu (1795) and Carte de rogaciuni pentru evlavia homului chrestin [Prayer book for the piety of the Christian individual] (1779), the first Romanian work written in the Latin alphabet.

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The complete success of the activities illustrated above depended on founding a Romanian school. Therefore, on 21 October 1754, Bishop Petru Pavel Aron establishes in Blaj a grammar school for Romanians in Transylvania offering two-year courses and the United Greek Catholic Seminar which in the 1780s will contribute to the beginning of theological higher education. In 1755, “the students in Blaj, with the help of their teachers, put on the first academic performance in Romanian (recorded in official documents), consisting of folk and religious elements” (Bordeianu and Vladcovschi 1979: 39, orig. Romanian). The peak of this endeavour is reached between the year 1784 and 1794, when Gheorghe Șincai was the general headmaster of primary education in Transylvania. In this period the number of Romanian schools amounts to more than 300 institutions. In these schools, students are familiarised with the Latin alphabet and the Latin origin of the Romanian language. In and by means of the Latin alphabet, the Romanian language could rediscover its forgotten, one might even say lost identity.3 As Titu Maiorescu (1874: 77, orig. Romanian) pointed out, “the Slavonic alphabet, which concealed rather than promoted the Romanian language, was employed as a result of mere external coincidence. […] This rejuvenation is a natural outcome of the Latin origin of our people. Thus, we do not have to account for the use of the Latin alphabet in writing, but our opponents should explain why we are forced to borrow a foreign alphabet, despite having our own”. Such accounts were representative of the mentality of most Romanian intellectuals of the age, who, according to Lazăr Șăineanu (1895: 37, orig. Romanian), “revealed an unknown Romance language before a surprised, puzzled and sceptic world”. On the other hand, liturgical books were also aimed at the rejuvenation of the lexis they comprised. Anton Goția, a teacher and priest, in the book Continuitate și Modernizare [Continuity and modernisation] (2006), compared several editions of the Liturgikon, from that published  “During the Renaissance period, many classical given names from Rome and Greece were revived, especially among the learned professions and in the upper classes. In Italy, these names had never really gone out of fashion, and as Italian Culture and style became popular in England and France in connection with the humanist movement, influences from antiquity are perceptible in these countries” (Leibring 2016: 204–205). 3

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by Petru Pavel Aron in 1756 to the 1905 edition. He showed the ways in which the Church modernised the vocabulary in agreement with linguistic reality. The comparative analysis of the aforementioned editions proves the gradual extension of lexical rejuvenation. The 1775 and 1807 editions include mostly graphical, phonetic and morphological changes: dirept > drept (‘right’), jărtfă > jertfă (‘sacrifice’), pre > pe (‘on’) and so on. The 1870 edition is completely different from previous editions, reflecting the modernisation of the lexis in the sense of the massive use of neologisms and the replacement of old words (mostly Slavonic ones) with modern terminology: blagoslovi  – binecuvânta (‘to bless’), izbăvi  – mântui (‘to redeem’), sluji – celebra (‘to celebrate’), slavă – mărire (‘praise’) and so on (see Goția 2006: 75–86). The new words created synonymic relations which exist even nowadays: Hristos – Cristos, duh – spirit, milă – îndurare, rob – serv and so on. In such pairs, the former element is specific to the Orthodox Church, whereas the latter, to the Greek Catholic Church.4 Some words generated complex synonymic series, such as cinstit/onest, onorat, prețios, venerat (‘honest, honoured, precious, venerated’). Others were “unique phonetic variants created for the text of the Liturgikon”, but employed in all writings: încarna (‘to incarnate’), paradis (‘paradise’), profet (‘prophet’) and so on (see Goția 2006: 78–79). Most aforementioned words are in use even today. As regards the lexical “replacements” illustrated, we consider Samuil Klein’s perspective of the period is interesting: “in the cases in which our Romanian language is wanting and there are no words to designate objects, especially in academic or scientific fields, we may proceed judiciously, reservedly and borrow words from Greek, as the most learned of languages, or from Latin, as our mother tongue” (Micu 1799: 58, orig. Romanian).5 This idea was also supported by Petru Maior, but in a wider context: “Just as the Greek are allowed to borrow words from Ancient  Certain crossovers occur nowadays: the Roman Catholic Church uses the word duh (‘ghost’), whereas the Greek Catholic Church takes over the Slavonic word Hristos (‘Christ’). 5  This thought was advocated by Ion Heliade Rădulescu in the Foreword to Gramatica românească [Romanian grammar] (Sibiu 1828: XXVII, orig. Romanian): “We do not borrow, we bravely take from our mother our inheritance and from our sisters what is rightfully ours”. 4

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Greek when their language wants in vocabulary, or the Serbians and Russians borrow words Slavonic, we are fully in the right to seek help in the literary Latin language or in our sister languages—Italian, French and Spanish” (LB: 72–73, orig. Romanian).

3 Multiculturalism in Anthroponymy In this context, the contribution of the Greek Catholic Church to the development of the system of onomastics needs to be pointed out. “The input of the leaders of the Transylvanian School and of the Greek Catholic Church played a decisive part in the rejuvenation of the Romanian vocabulary and stock of first names” (Felecan, O. 2013: 44, orig. Romanian). In addition to religious names in particular, inspired by the church calendar and borrowed from Hebrew and Greek, the first records also mention, since as early as the eighteenth century, the first Romanian and Romance given names influenced by Latin literature and the Catholic calendar. Our research is based on several documents: the census conducted by Bishop Ioan Inochentie Micu Klein in 1733, Registrum universorum in Transylvania sacerdotum et incolarum Valachicorum,6 the version published in the journal Arhiva Someșană [Someș archives] 28 (1940: 18–24), which focused on 21 communes on the Someș Valley and 2 communes of the Șieu Valley; the 1750 church survey Tabella ad Conscriptiones – Districtus Valachis, Bistritza, pagi Hordo deserviens, carried out in 1750 and published by Constantin Roco Catalano in the volume Hordou—Coșbuc (2005: 81); the 1870 church survey for the settlements Hordou (in Catalano 2005: 106–117) and Telciu (in Onofreiu et al. 2015: 65–539). The Table in the journal Arhiva Someșană includes 82 anthroponymic occurrences which indicate that the system of bipartite personal names (first name + family names) was not fully established at the time (in  According to the census, “there are entire villages and districts inhabited by Romanians, who are more numerous than the other nationalities and pour large amounts of money into the treasury of the state” (Pervain 1971: 11, orig. Romanian). 6

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1733). In addition to examples consisting of two elements (these are the most numerous: Dumitru Herțu, Gheorghe Andrieș, Toader Grigoraș etc.), there are many instances consisting of a single component, that is, the first name (Atanasiu, Chifor, George etc.). At the same time, the table contains phrases with the genitive form popii (‘priest’s’) preceded by the genitival article al (‘of ’) or with the article a lui (‘of ’) followed by the father’s name in the nominative (Mihail al popii Ilarion, Gherasim al popii Avram; George a lui Echim etc.). In the latter case, the genitive popii does not have an onymic use, but an appellative use exclusively. The phrase is indicative of an initial, folk variant employed to distinguish among individuals. On the other hand, of the 82 occurrences in the table, 32 lexical units are first names. These include 30 religious anthroponyms (theophoric names, hagionyms, calendar-related names) which appear in the Orthodox calendar: Andrei, Arsinte, Atanasiu, Chifor, Constantin, Dumitru, Filimon, Filip, Gavril, Gheorghe, Gherasim, Grigore, Iacob, Iftenie, Ioan, Ionașcu, Istrate, Lazăr, Matei, Mihail, Moise, Nicolae, Pahomie, Partenie, Petru, Pinte, Ștefan, Timoftei, Toader, Vasile (Vasilie). There are only two secular names: Flore, a Romanian creation, the masculine form of Floare (< floare ‘flower’); Nelivaica (uncertain etymology). Thus, religious names add up to 93.75% of the first names under investigation, whereas secular names make up 6.25%. From the viewpoint of origin, 28 of the religious first names are from Greek and Hebrew, borrowed in Romanian anthroponymy via Slavic intermediaries. Two names, Constantin and Petru, are from Latin. Both are saints’ names that appear in the Orthodox and Catholic calendar. The names in the Table are illustrative of three situations, which are similar with respect to the number of occurrences: 1. Recording of the first name alone. This proves that in small settlements the priest was well known by his first name. 2. Using the father’s first name, preceded by the genitival article al / a lui (‘of ’), like in folk language: Dumitru al popii Gavril, George a lui Echim. 3. Using phrases consisting of two elements, first name + family name (a new, official structure of naming): Andrei George, Andrei Neamț, Constantin Rus, Dumitru Herțu, Dumitru Hrișca.

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In the first two situations, two first names appear: of the name bearer himself and of the bearer’s father. This entails an increase in the number of first names—and of religious names implicitly. As a matter of fact, upon analysing fathers’ first names, 30 such occurrences,7 we identify 17 more religious names, 6 of which are new: Avram, Cosma, Echim, Eremie, Ilarion, Simion. As regards the system of bipartite official names, the matter is more complex, as family names can be grouped into various categories: • religious names: Dănilă, Miron; • derivatives and hypocoristics: Andrieș, Grigoraș (both formed with the suffix -aș); Mihoc (< Mihu (< Mihai) + -oc); Oniga (< Onu (< Ion) + -igă); Pantea (< Pantilimon); Pintilie (< Pintea + Ilie); Precup (< Procopie); Vălean (< vale ‘valley’ + -an); • ethnic names: Neamț (‘German’), Rus (‘Russian’); • Hungarian names: Balaș (< Balázs), Herța (DOR: XLVI); • Ukrainian names: Galan; • Greek names: Canțu (Greek Kantsos, Kantsu, cf. Iordan 1983: 98), Zinvel (Zinveliu < Greek Zembilis, cf. Iordan 1983: 499; DOR: 468); • nicknames (mostly derived from appellatives): Butaci (< butac(u) ‘ox with short and thick horns (called butace)’, cf. Iordan 1983: 91, or from the noun butac: buta (< Hungarian buta ‘rounded, worn; stupid’, cf. DOR: 225) + -ac), Cute (< cute ‘scythe stone’), Fâsu (< fâs, interjection), Hrișcă (< hrișcă ‘buckwheat’, cf. Iordan 1983: 248), Mâțu (< mâț ‘cat’). If we refer to names of Greek Catholic hierarchs of the age, we notice the same preference for religious first names, from Bishop Teofil to Atanasie Anghel, Ioan Giurgiu Patachi, Ioan Inochentie Micu Klein, Petru Pavel Aron, Atanasie Rednic, Grigore Maior and Ioan Bob. The name Inochentie, “scarcely used in Romanian […], reiterates the Latin name Innocentius (from the adjective innocens, -entis ‘which does not cause  Of these names, 25 refer to priests and 5 to other people, namely to peasants. This means that priests and peasants equally wished their children would become members of the clergy, in hope of having better living conditions. 7

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harm’) recorded in Latin sources of the Christian age” (DO: 221–222, orig. Romanian).8 The situation is almost identical in the church survey carried out in 1750 for the village Hordou. We find the same system of naming, folk and official, and the same origins of first names. The difference lies in the fact that female first names occur on this occasion. Of the new first names, of Latin origin, borrowed from literary texts and the Catholic calendar, worth noting are Crăciun (‘Christmas’), Inocențiu, Longin (Login), Maxim, Natu, Titiana (cf. Catalano 2005: 81). The censuses conducted in the nineteenth century, in the year 1870, in the same area, reveal significant anthroponymic and ethnic diversification. Statistical data confirm this statement. Of the first names recorded in Hordou, 102  in total, 53 have Latin and Romance origins: Ancel, Anton, Augustin, Aurelian, Casian, Clement, Constantin, Cornilă, Cosma, Ignat, Iostin, Iuliu, Leon, Leonte, Luca, Marcu, Marțian, Oprea, Roman, Sebastian, Sever, Terente, Valer(iu), Victor (male names), and Aghistina, Agripina, Amalia, Anghela, Anghelina, Angilina, Cristina, Elisabeta, Fi(i) ca, Fioara, Gaftina, Grapina, Iosefa, Iuvila, Luciana, Ludovica (Lodovica, Rodovica), Matrona, Melania, Saveta, Saviuca, Saftinia, Sânziana, Silvia, Sofia, Trifilia, Veronica, Victoria (female names). In other words, 51.96% as opposed to merely 6.66% in the past century. The variations of certain first names (ending in -(i)us, -(i)u or a consonant: Augustin, Iulius/Iuliu, Severius/Sever, Sebastianu/Sebastian, Valeriu/ Valer etc.) are indicative of the increasing contiguity with the Latin system. Al. Cristureanu (1999: 37)9 shows that the influence is not external, as it is usually the case with onomastic models, but internal, as a result of the actions and advocacy of the great scholars of the Transylvanian School. With respect to frequency, we can see that the first ten names are religious. Thus, according to Oliviu Felecan (2011b: 397, orig. Romanian), “the faithful preservation of old names […] is a factor that contributes to  This name is testimony to the influence of Latin on the Catholic Church in Transylvania. Sometimes the first name is mentioned, in the same document, with the form Inochentie, which is closer to the Slavic and Greek variant Innokentios. 9  Nicolae Iorga also pointed out that “the choice of Romance names mirrors the wish of Romanians in Transylvania to preserve their national specificity in the field of onomastics as well” (1934: 16, orig. Romanian). 8

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the cohesion of the community. The specificity of anthroponymic patterns should be linked to the unifying function that reunites the bearers of classical, traditional first names within the village or family milieu. The rejection of autochthonous first names was equal to treason or an unbalance in the linguistic behaviour of the age, especially in naming newborns”. In this concept we should also include “embracing foreigners”, that is, the peaceful coexistence of several ethnicities in a given space, promoted by the United Church. An example in this respect is provided by vicar Ioan Marian (1796–1846) of Năsăud, where the border regiment used to exist between the years 1762 and 1851. In a sermon held on 21 May 1837, Ioan Marian stated: “[…] the priest must be virtuous, as a representative of God; he must not be proud, tempestuous, angry, quarrelsome or abusive, love to drink or obtain unseemly profit, but he should show love towards foreigners10 and be wise, righteous, lawful, chaste, a keeper of the words of faith and teachings” (AS 1928: 81, orig. Romanian, our italics). Beginning with the year 1851, when the border regiment was dissolved, the population of the area increased with the addition of members from other ethnic groups, mostly craftspeople. These were Germans, Hungarians and Poles who decided not to leave their homes and settled in Năsăud: “builders, carpenters and woodcutters Johann Goldschidt, Andreas Gross, Gottfried Sekira, Székely Istvan și Steinbac; cooper Emil Gerstenberger; wheelwright Marton Sándor; locksmith Gustav Geiger; blacksmith Gustav Wagner; shoemakers and cobblers Paul Brandsch and Weiss; tailors Rogonici, Bayer, Zeller and tanner Fogarassi György” (Șotropa 1936: 11, orig. Romanian). On the other hand, the area also became a home for Jews and Armenians. According to Șotropa (1936: 11, orig. Romanian), “until the Revolution of 1849 they were forbidden to spend more than 12 hours or the night in the military controlled areas”. The census carried in the year 1870 mentions several names of the aforementioned ethnicities especially in Telciu, where the 10th company  Cf. also the advice of Bishop Iuliu Hossu to his priests and followers on the day before his arrest: “Love and peace be with you all, but never trade your faith for anything in the world” (Prunduș et al. 1995: 210, orig. Romanian). 10

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of the regiment was stationed: Adam, Efraem, Ezechil, Frimet, Han, Heinrich, Hendel, Hene, Herch, Iohann, Iov, Isac, Isachil, Isef, Izig, Ludvig, Moses, Noe, Ofilat, Osias, Riben, Roman, Ruhel, Samson, Samuel, Scharil, Schmil, Wolf, Zelenger, Zindel (male first names), and Caterina, Fraida, Frimet, Gitela, Gitelda, Glicheria, Golda, Luise, Mafta, Matilda, Mina, Mindela, Raisa, Rifca, Ruhala (female first names).

4 Concluding Remarks To summarise our observations, we can point out that the Greek Catholic Church, aware of the importance of education, founded the first Romanian schools, sent the brightest youth to study abroad, reintroduced the Latin alphabet (which became compulsory in all Romanian provinces beginning with the year 1860), and introduced Latin as a school subject. Due to the gift of these scholars, who advocated ethnic, linguistic and religious consciousness, the movement called “Transylvanian School” emerged in Transylvania. Its representatives established the grounds for the study of language, history and philosophy, in national, Romance and European contexts. According to G. Ibrăileanu (1909: 9, orig. Romanian), through them “Transylvania was suddenly at the top of Romanian culture and laid the foundation of modern Romanian culture”. This rejuvenating spirit was manifested by “priests, proofreaders, teachers, clerks, doctors, all the intelligentsia of the nation participated in this movement and was nourished by it. The revitalising ideas are finally flowing through the veins of the Romanian people at home and beyond” (Iorga 1933: 8, orig. Romanian). On the occasion of the bicentennial of the schools in Blaj, celebrated in 1954, Mircea Eliade stated: “The torch lit in Blaj 200 years ago could not be quenched, nor will it ever be extinguished. […] Once the consciousness of our Latin origin has been awoken, no one and nothing can silence it; for generations it has been part of our consciousness as Romanians. Modern Romanian language, literature and culture bear the seal forged in Blaj – in tears, blood and genius, the extent of which is known only by the historian who devoted his/her life to research into this heroic age” (cited in Săiceanu and Buzași 1993: 27, orig. Romanian).

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Therefore, we agree with Cristian Bădiliță’s account: “The Greek Catholic Church is not one of the Christian churches of Romania. The Greek Catholic Church is the institution that has had a decisive contribution to the awakening of the national Romanian feeling first in Transylvania and subsequently in the Kingdom of Romania. The existence of this church asserted the Europeanness of the Romanians as a matter of self-evidence” (Bădiliță and Stanciu 2019: 13, orig. Romanian). As opposed to the claims in the Chronicle by Grigore, Ureche claims (“We are the descendants of Rome”, orig. Romanian) and in that by Dimitrie Cantemir, the work of the Transylvanian Greek Catholics is “systematic and obsessive” (Bădiliță and Stanciu 2019: 13, orig. Romanian): Beginning with the Greek Catholics, Romanianness becomes a confession of faith, a religion. Transylvanian Romanianness, as a political and philosophical topic, is born along with the Greek Catholic Church. […] Since the beginning of the eighteenth century, the Transylvanian School established the direction for the development of the Romanian nation in the nearby and distant future. By proving the Latin origin of the Romanian people and its language, the leading representatives of the Transylvanian School proclaimed the legitimacy of the historical rights of the Romanians in Transylvania and their European identity. The Romanian nation, marginalised by the three privileged nations of the Archduchy, advocated ses lettres de noblesse through the historical, linguistic and spiritual (religious) relationship with great Western peoples: Italian, French and Spanish. The Latin origin of the Romanians and their language becomes a political tool. By claiming this origin, the Romanians implicitly and openly declare their Europeanness. An ideological movement will actually be based on the Romanian’s Latin origin.

From the viewpoint of onomastics, the Greek Catholic Church contributed to the re-Romanisation of anthroponymy in Transylvania and the entire Romanian onomasticon. This should be construed as an endeavour to recover the Latin identity and to proclaim the connection between the Eastern and Western Roman world. From the synonymic clash between the names borrowed “in Romanian from Slavonic and

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Greek, on the one hand, and Latin-Romance names, on the other, the latter prevailed as they corresponded better to the structure of the Romanian language and the mentality aimed at rejuvenating Romanian life in all fields” (Felecan, O. 2013: 44, orig. Romanian). This phenomenon correlates with the current state of affairs; in the context of increasingly prominent globalisation, the Romanian anthroponymic stock is enriched with the import of names particularly from Italian, Spanish and French, as well as from Germanic languages.

References AS = Arhiva Someșană [Someș Archives]. 1924–1940. Bădiliță, Cristian, and Laura Stanciu. 2019. Geniul Greco-Catolic Românesc [Romanian Greek Catholic Genius]. Bucharest: Editura Vremea. Bordeianu, Mihai and Petru Vladcovschi. 1979. Învățământul românesc în date [Romanian Education in Statistical Data]. Iași: Editura Junimea. Catalano, Constantin Roco. 2005. Hordou—Coșbuc. Studiu monographic [Hordou—Coșbuc. Monograph]. Bucharest: Tipografia Pegasus. Cristureanu, Al. 1999. Opiniile lui Anastasie Marienescu și George Barițiu referitoare la prezența prenumelor latine livrești în antroponimia românească [Opinions of Anastasie Marienescu and George Barițiu on the Presence of Scholarly Latin First Names in Romanian Anthroponymy]. Studii și cercetări de onomastică (SCO) 4: 37–50. DO = Ionescu, Cristian. 2001. Dicționar de onomastică [Onomastics Dictionary]. Bucharest: Elion. DOR = Constantinescu, N.A. 1963. Dicționar onomastic românesc [Dictionary of Romanian Onomastics]. Bucharest: Editura Academiei. Felecan, N. 2011a. Între lingvistică și filologie [Between Linguistics and Philology]. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Felecan, O. 2011b. Antroponimia maramureșeană—între tradiție și modernitate [Anthroponymy in Maramureș—between Tradition and Modernity]. In Confluențe lingvistice și filologice, ed. Oliviu Felecan and Daiana Felecan, 395–410. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. ———. 2013. Un excurs onomastic în spațiul public românesc actual [An Onomastic Excursion into Contemporary Romanian Public Space]. ­Cluj-Napoca: Mega, Argonaut.

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Goția, Anton. 2006. Continuitate și modernizare, De la Petru Pavel Aron la T. Cipariu, Studiu lingvistic și istorico-liturgic [Continuity and Modernisation. From Petru Pavel Aron to T.  Cipariu. Linguistic and Historical-Liturgical Study]. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Napoca Star. Heliade Rădulescu, Ion. 1828. Gramatica românească [Romanian Grammar]. Sibiu: n.p. Ibrăileanu, G. 1909. Spiritul critic în cultura românească [Spirit of Critique in Romanian Culture]. Iași: Editura revistei “Viața Românească”. Iordan, I. 1983. Dicționar al numelor de familie românești [Dictionary of Romanian surnames]. Bucharest: Editura Științifică și Enciclopedică. Iorga, Nicolae. 1933. Nume de botez la români [Given Names of the Romanians]. Bucharest: Institutul Sud-Est European. ———. 1934. Istoria literaturii române în secolul al XVIII-lea (1688–1821) [History of Romanian Literature in the Eighteenth Century (1688–1821)], vol. I. Bucharest: Editura Didactică și Pedagogică (Vol. II: 1969). LB = Micu, Samuil, et  al. 1820. Lexiconul românesc-latinesc-unguresc-nemțesc [Romanian-Latin-Hungarian-German Lexicon]. Buda: n.p. Leibring, Katharina. 2016. Given Names in European Naming Systems. In The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, ed. C. Hough with D. Izdebska, 199–213. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Maiorescu, Titu. 1874. Despre scrierea limbii române [On Writing in Romanian]. In Critice, 71–275. Bucharest: Editura Librăriei Socescu & Comp. Micu, Samuil. 1799. Logica [Logics]. Buda: n.p. (Completed in 1787). Onofreiu, Adrian, Ioan Bolovan, and Mircea Chira. 2015. Familiile din Telciu în anul 1869. Perspective demografice și socio-economice [Families in Telciu in 1869. Demographic and Socioeconomic Perspectives]. Cluj-­ Napoca: Argonaut. Pantea, N.V. 1968 [1934]. Legea strămoșească văzută și descrisă de istoricii români cei mai de seamă și de profesorii de la Facultățile de Teologie ortodoxă [Ancestral Law as Seen and Described by the Most Remarkable Romanian Historians and Professors at the Faculties of Orthodox Theology]. Rome: n.p. Pervain, Iosif. 1971. Studii de literatură română [Studies on Romanian Literature]. Cluj: Editura Dacia. Ploscaru, Ioan. 1998. Scurtă istorie a Bisericii române [Brief History of the Romanian Church]. 4th ed. Timișoara: Editura Helicon.

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Prunduș, Silvestru Aug, Clemente Plăianu, Alexandru Nicula, and Ioan M. Bota. 1995. Cardinalul Iuliu Hossu [Cardinal Iuliu Hossu]. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Unitas. Săiceanu, Teodor, and Ioan Buzași. 1993. Blajul. O istorie în texte [Blaj. A Textual History]. Bucharest: Editura Demiurg. Șăineanu, Lazăr. 1895. Istoria filologiei române [History of Romanian Philology]. 2nd ed. Bucharest: n.p. Șotropa, Virgil. 1936. Năsăudul de altădată [The Năsăud of Old]. Arhiva Someșană 19: 1–39. Știrban, Codruța Maria, and Marcel Știrban. 2000. Din istoria Bisericii Române Unite (1945–1989) [From the History of the Romanian United Church (1945–1989)]. Satu Mare: Editura Muzeului Sătmărean.

26 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in Russian Toponymy Vladislav Alpatov

1 Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages1 One could illustrate the term multiculturalism in a chapter like this simply by enumerating the various ethnicities that still populate or once populated the territory of what is or has been Russia. In terms of current official statistics, the most recent census returned 193 ethnic affiliations with multiple sub-groups—for instance, among Russians themselves, there are at least 29 territorial or religious identities and among Tatars, there are at least 12.2 Ukraine, which occupies a large part of the former Old Rus and then the Russian Empire, is home to 18 major nationalities counting over 31,000 people each.3 Belorussia counted over 130 residing

 I cordially  thank Dr John Baker from  the  University of  Nottingham  and Prof. Charles Lock from the University of Copenhagen for advice on and correction of the language of this text. 2  http://www.gks.ru/free_doc/new_site/perepis2010/croc/perepis_itogi1612.htm (accessed in July 2019). 3  http://2001.ukrcensus.gov.ua/rus/results/general/nationality/ (accessed in July 2019). 1

V. Alpatov (*) Moscow City Pedagogical University, Moscow, Russia © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_26

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nationalities in its recent census.4 Most of these presumably once coined a place name, even if just a minor one; therefore when setting out to describe multicultural aspects of place names and naming in Russia, one first needs to set the boundaries. In this chapter, we have to restrict ourselves to the territory of European Russia considering the Urals as its Eastern limit and occasionally including the lands of the Russian Empire in Ukraine and Belorussia to meet historical criteria for consistency. Unfortunately, we have almost totally to omit the Caucusus due to its especially rich ethnic and linguistic situation. Even so, it remains a formidable task to account for this jig-saw of global toponymy, so one has to bear this in mind and accept this outline’s sketchy nature. The early mentions of the Eastern European plain in Herodotos (fifth century BC) and other Ancient Greek geographical works refer to the Northern Circum-Pontic region where Tauri, Kimmerians, Scythians and Sarmatians are described as the contemporary or historical local inhabitants. The Tauri, still not a clearly identified ethnicity, left their name in Таврия, Таврида, Таврика (Tauria, Tavrida, Taurica), which became an ancient name of Northern Crimea, later began to refer to the whole of the Crimean peninsula and the adjacent region in the reign of Catherine the Great, though now only in poetic contexts. Another poetic name for South-Eastern Crimea is Киммерия (Kimmeria), land of Kimmerians, a dark yet allegedly Iranian ethnos. A Greek colony of sixth century BC called Κιμμερικόν was excavated by Soviet archaeologists in the twentieth century. To Scythians, an Iranian Indo-European tribal union of sixth century BC–third century AD, are traditionally ascribed Russia’s oldest surviving toponyms—river names Дон (Don) and Днепр (Dnepr, Dnieper) that allegedly stem from an Iranian stem dānu- ‘trickling water’ (Fasmer 2004: 528) and cognate with Дунай (Danube). They also appear in Herodotos as Tanais and Boristhenis (Τάναϊς, Βορυσθενης), the latter appears later as Δάναπρις in the Ravenna Cosmography (Strizhak et al. 1985: 55).

 https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Население_Белоруссии#Национальный_состав (accessed in July 2019). 4

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Apart from Iranian Indo-Europeans, the Eastern European plain in the first millennium BC bears archaeological traces of another Indo-European migration—proto-Balts or Balto-Slavs whose toponymic reminder from that time might be the oikonym Курск (Kursk, first attested 1053) in Central Russia, which Alexander Loma hypothesises to be the Aristotelian Kariska of a Baltic-Slavic tribe of Boudinians (Loma 2010). The Crimea and the adjacent Northern Circum-Pontic areas afford an especially good example of the ancient and medieval mixing of cultures, having been home to Scythian states, ancient and medieval Greek colonies, the Hellenic Bosporan Kingdom, later affiliated to Rome, land of Goths and Khazars, nomadic territory for Polovets and Pechenegs, an Old Russian province, a province of the Mongol empire, Genovese and Armenian colonies, a Crimean Tatar vassal state of the Ottoman Empire and then a region of the Russian Empire. Most of these left a greater or lesser toponymic legacy; sometimes the legacies are considerably intertwined. The depth of entanglement of linguistic influences is seen in the different names of one city now called Феодосия (Feodosia). An old name of Feodosia Ardavda < *Αβδάρδα is etymologised from Iranian words related to modern Ossetian avd ‘seven’ and Avestan ard(vi) ‘deity’. It was probably left by Touran (Eastern Iranian) tribes: early Sarmatians from 1200-800 BC, or Tsar Scythians of the fifth century BC, or later tribes of the same macro-group (Shaposhnikov 2005: 114, 117). In the sixth century BC this place was colonised by Greeks and assumed the Greek colonial name of Θεοδοσία homonymous to the respective personal name meaning ‘God-given’. In the Medieval period, it was called Kefé by Turks and appears as the Greek Καφά, possibly stemming from a Balto-Slavic word meaning ‘mound’ (Shaposhnikov 2005: 118), and regained its Greek form under Catherine the Great. Another example is the ancient name of the modern Керчь (Kerch) that appears as Greek Pantikapei/Pantikapaeon ‘colony by the river Pantikapa’, sixth–fourth centuries BC, and is the name of the capital of the Bosporus kingdom—etymologised as ‘town by the river Pantikapis’ (now river Primorskaya) which in its turn is allegedly Scythian with a still obscure etymology (Shaposhnikov 2008: 24). Kerch itself has a Tatar phonetic form but it appears as Кърчевъ (Kъrchevъ) in the Old Russian

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chronicles and is possibly related to the ancient Corakanda on the eastern side of the strait, perhaps ultimately stemming from a Scythian (or other IE) word meaning ‘throat’ (cf. Slavic *kъrkъ) (Shaposhnikov 2008: 23–24). Whether or not it is etymologically related to Тмутаракань (Tmutarakan’), a Greek-Khazar-Russian-Genovese town on the tip of the Taman peninsula opposite Kerch, remains unclear. A long and permanent Greek presence in the Crimea is evidenced in such names as the mountains Ай-Петри (Ay-Petri) < Άγιος Πέτρος from a church dedication to St Peter, Паная (Panaya) < Πανάγια from a church dedication to Our Lady, and a promontory Меганом (Meganom) < μέγα νομή ‘big grassland/district’ (Shaposhnikov 2005: 119–120). The toponymic evidence of the Genovese colonial presence of the fourteenth– fifteenth century was largely erased by later Tatar renaming, but can be traced in isolated examples, for example, the name of the mountain Касал-кишла (Kasal-kishla) < MLat. casale ‘countryside manor’. Some Armenian place names survive from the fourteenth–fifteenth century, for instance Surb-Stepanos monastery (‘St Stephan’) and the river name Arpat (< Surb-Urpat ‘St Paraskeva’), perhaps from a church or monastery. Most older names come in a Turkic phonetic form due to a long rule over these lands first by Khazars (sixth–tenth centuries), then Mongols (thirteenth–fifteenth centuries) and then the Ottoman Empire (fifteenth–eighteenth centuries). Naturally, there is also a large number of properly Turkic (Turkish and Tatar) names, such as Казантип (Kazantip) ‘Cauldron bottom’, a promontory, Karadag ‘Black mountain’ and Ayudag ‘Bear mountain’ (Shaposhnikov 2005: 119–120). This Crimean example is a good model in miniature of how a polyethnic toponymic palimpsest works—an ethnicity leaves substrate place names on a larger area and then its descendants continue coining names on their present territory. If we now go back and regard the Eastern European plain in the first millennium AD before the advent of Eastern Slavs, we will find three major cultural influences that shaped the toponymy of this land: Baltic tribes in the North-West, West and Centre, Finno-Ugric tribes in the whole of the North, Centre and East, and Turkic tribes in the East, South and South-East (Vasilyev 2015: 173). These influences survive in substrate toponymy, as well as in the later toponymy of those regions where their descendants are still living.

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The Baltic substrate has its ultimate roots in Balto-Slavic, which sometimes makes it difficult to tell apart Baltic and Slavic roots. However, in its most reliable cases it shows itself mainly in hydronymy and is well researched by now (see the literature in Vasilyev 2015). It can be illustrated by the river names Волхов, Ловать, Жиздра, Нара, Истра, Ромен, perhaps even Ока and Волга—Central Russia’s biggest rivers (Volkhov, Lovat’, Zhizdra, Nara, Istra, Romen, Oka, Volga). Some of these later become bases for oikonyms, for instance Истра, Ромен, Ромны (Istra, Moscow region; Romen, Romny, Sumy region, Ukraine), the best-­ known name probably being Минск (Minsk) in Belorussia < Balto-Slavic river name Меня, Менка (Menya, Menka) < IE *moi-n-/-mei-n- ‘pass by, progress’ or from IE *men- ‘small’ (Neroznak 1983: 118). The Finno-Ugric substrate was the first one detected by toponymists and the one that receives most scholarly attention in Russia. Aleksey Matveyev distinguishes three areal groups of these languages: Northern (Balto-Finnic, Saami, Lapp, possibly Meryan), Eastern (Perm) and Southern (Mordva and Mari) (Matveev 2007: 14, 26). Northern and Central Russian hydronymy, again, contains good examples of this substrate, among them names ending in -sha, -ksa, -ga, -gir, for example, Колокша, Молокша, Выкса, Пинега, Ладога, Селигер (Koloksha, Moloksha, Vyksa, Pinega, Ladoga, Seliger). Among the older oikonyms is Муром (Murom, Vladimir region, first recorded for the year 862 in a later chronicle) preserving a tribal ethnonym Muroma (Neroznak 1983: 116). Now there are several Russian regions with a sizeable Finno-Ugric population and therefore a living Finno-Ugric toponymy: the national republics of Mordovia, Mariyskaya, Udmurtia, Komi and Karelia with adjacent regions, also the Arkhangelsk region, Murmansk region, Perm region and Nenets region. Finally, the Turkic element begins with Khazars and Bulgars as fragments of a bigger Turkic Khaganate—the former in the Caucasus, the Northern Circum-Caspian and Circum-Pontic region, and the latter in the middle Volga, the modern Tatarstan. From the former we have the archaic name of the Volga: Итиль (Itil); from the latter a town name Болгар (Bolgar, alias Spassk) on the site of an ancient Bulgarian settlement Bulgar. The name of the Old Russian city of Тьмутаракань (Tmutarakan mentioned for the year 988 but with prior records in other

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forms) is etymologised from a Turkic title tamantarqan with an unknown signification (Neroznak 1983: 171), the first part of which obviously gave rise to the oikonym Тамань (Taman’), roughly on the site of the ancient Tmutarakan.5 At the turn of the millennium Turkic nomads such as Polovets and Pechenegs continued to dominate the Great Steppe, part of which was the territory between the Danube and the Caspian Sea. Now the Russian regions with Turkic populations and the respective toponymy include Tatarstan, Chuvashia, Bashkiria with adjacent regions.

2 Middle Ages and Early Modern The Slavic tribes spread to the Eastern European plain, supposedly from the Vistula-Oder region, in the eighth and ninth centuries. After tribal distinctions fade away in the tenth century, we see a vast Russian state with three capital cities with Slavic names and suffixes: Новгород in the North (Novgorod < nov ‘new’, gorod ‘town, city’), Полоцк in the West (Polotsk < Pra-Slavonic *pol-t- and oikonymic suffix -esk, cf. Baltic pal, palt-, cf. Lithuanian palios, Latvian paļi, paļas ‘shallow lake, swamp’; see Neroznak 1983: 139) and Киев (Kiev), the main one, in the South (personal name Kiy and patronymic suffix -ev). However, tribal and then kinship distinctions inevitably continue in place names in a small way, in the collective patronymic suffix of -ичи (-ichy) in the West and South-West, especially numerous in Belorussia though there are examples in the East, for example, Белыничи, Луховицы (Belynichi, Lukhovitsi, Ryazan region), Боровичи, Тервиничи (Borovichi, Tervinichi, Novgorod region), Свитничи (Svitnichi, Vladimir region). This suffix is etymologically related to Germanic -ic, and functionally—to Germanic -ingas as a marker of a group of people united either by kinship or common territory.  Interestingly, now the name Тьмутаракань has passed from the pages of school history textbooks into colloquial usage in the meaning ‘back of beyond’, ‘in the middle of nowhere’, due to homonymy with the words тьма (t’ma, ‘darkness’ or ‘plenty of ’) and таракан (tarakan, ‘cockroach’). 5

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The Old Rus becomes acclaimed for the number of its cities in the twelfth-century Scandinavian name Garðaríki ‘state of towns’. This land had close ties and multiple relations with the Vikings: military, economic and migrational. Indeed, one of the hypotheses about the contested etymology of the ethnonym Rus itself claims it to be Scandinavian. The two Russian capitals—Novgorod and Kiev—are cities on a historic trade route ‘From Varangians to the Greeks’. Traces of Vikings’ presence are retained in some place names of the Novgorod region in the North-West: Варяжская часть (Varyazhskaya chast ‘Varangians’ part’, an urban district of Old Novgorod); the village of Варяжский Ям (Varyazhskiy Yam ‘Varangians’ Yam [place name]’)—both from the Russian adaptation of Väringer ‘Viking’; the village name Колбеги (Kolbegi < kolbyag < kylfingr, the name of one of the Viking tribes) (Selischev 2003: 455). For all its vastness and then feudal fragmentation, the Old Rus is well connected, as we see from the chronicles, and internal Russian migration causes name transfer, mainly from the South to the North-East. For instance, there are three cities called Переславль or Переяславль (Pereslavl or Pereyaslavl): the oldest one in the Middle Dnieper in the South, now Переяслав/Pereyaslav, one in the North-East princedom of Rostov—Переяславль Залесский (Pereyaslavl Zalesskiy, literally ‘beyond the woods’) and one in the Central princedom of Ryazan— Переяславль Рязанский (Pereyaslavl Ryazanskiy, now Ryazan)—and all of them on rivers called Трубеж (Trubezh) (Nikonov 2011: 115).6 Much of the hydronymy of the Ryazan Russia along the Oka echoes that of Northern Belorussia (Nikonov 2011: 115). Various later Russian migrations to the East and North are marked by distinctive suffixes of several waves: -ov, -ka, -iha, -ichi, -ovtsy, -iki, -ane, -yata and so on (Nikonov 2011: 68ff). The next major ethnic influence of the Middle Ages that causes a de facto demise of the fragmented Old Russian state, as well as relocation of population and shifting of resources from the South to the North, is the Mongol-Tatar invasion in the 1240s. However, the Mongols physically  Tracking the origins of this place name further back in history takes us to Prince Svyatoslav’s town of Pereyaslavets (Prislav until 1950, now Nufăru in the Tulcea county in Romania), newly founded in 967, which he apparently named with reference to a rich city of Preslav in Bulgaria (Herzen 2018: 48). 6

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remained in (by then) traditional Turkic areas: the Great Steppe and the old Bulgar up the river Volga in what is now Tatarstan. Their capital was Sarai in the Volgan delta (the Turkic word borrowed from the Iranian languages meant ‘palace’),7 and its ruins were dug up next to the village of Selitrennoye in the Astrakhan region. The presence of Mongols caused a proliferation of Turkic place names in the fringes of the Eastern European plain: in the Crimea, in the Circum-Caucasian region and along the Volga. Noteworthy among them are the thirteenth- to fourteenth-century names of capitals of two big regions of modern Russia: Астрахань (Astrakhan’ < Astarakan’ with unclear etymology) and Казань (Kazan’ < kazan ‘cauldron’). In Russian place names, Mongol-Tatars become visible through their relatively minor and sparse settlements and through possessions of people with Turkic names. For example, there are such villages in the Moscow region:  Ордынцы (Ordyntsy ‘Horde-people’, that is, Mongol-Tatars), Баскаки, Баскаково (Baskaki, Baskakovo < baskak ‘Mongol tax collector’) (Selischev 2003: 444–445), Татарское, Татариново (Tatarskoye, Tatarinovo, self-explanatory), Гиреево, Шигалеево (Gireyevo < Girey, Shigaleyevo < Shigaley, both Tatar personal names) (Selischev 2003: 453). In the cities, urban toponymy sometimes contains references to the Tatars, for example, the street name Ордынка (Ordynka < Orda ‘Horde’) in Moscow remains from a settlement of Tatars. Another prominent reminder of the Mongol-Tatar Yoke in toponymy has to do with the rather fast and effective postal service they introduced, contributing to Russian the appellative ям (yam ‘postal station’), hence the many settlement names with this word along the old and then new routes, for example, Ям (Yam, Moscow region), Гаврилов Ям (Gavrilov Yam, Yaroslavl region). From the period of the Muscovite Rus (from the fourteenth century onwards), we come across toponymic evidence of various other individual and group migrations or relict enclave settlements of Finno-Ugric or Turkic ethnicities. For example, individual nicknames that are sometimes indicators of the person’s origin are preserved in place names in the  Again, there is probably a cultural context reflecting Russians’ attitude to Mongols in that this word was appellativised into сарай (sarai, ‘a shed’), or borrowed from the appellative word-stock. 7

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Moscow region such as Литвиново (Litvinovo < Litvin ‘Lithuanian, Western Russian’), Немчиново (Nemchinovo < Nemchin ‘German’ or just ‘foreigner’), Фрязино (Fryazino < Fryazin ‘Italian’) (Selischev 2003: 445), Ляхово (Lyakhovo < lyakh ‘Pole’), Чудиново (Chudinovo < Chudin ‘Chud man’, Vologda region), cf. also a later microtoponym Панской стан (Panskoy stan ‘Polish camp’ < nickname pan ‘Pole’) in the Vologda region (Berezovich 2010: 189–194). These give us a picture of migrants from the countries that become important in the international relations for the Moscovite Rus of the fourteenth–sixteenth centuries: the Great Duchy of Lithuania, Poland, the Holy Roman Empire and Italy. The villages Меря and Мещера (Merya, Meschera, both Finno-Ugric tribal ethnonyms) apparently point to ethnic enclaves (Selischev 2003: 453). Place names of this latter kind naturally proliferate as we move to the North, East and South, away from the Centre, and approach Russian regions with the presence of Finno-Ugric and Turkic nations. Consider, for example, village names with Finno-Ugric tribal ethnonyms such as Весь (Ves’ ‘Veps’, Leningrad region), Корелка (Korelka < korel ‘Karelian’, Tver region), Лопари (Lopary ‘Lapps’, Vyatka region), Чудь (Chud, a Finno-Ugric ethnic group, Vladimir region), Черемисы (Cheremisy < plural of cheremis, a Turkic ethnic group). Also consider these names in the North: lake Чудское (Chudskoye < Chud) and streams Мордвинка and Татарка (Mordvinka < mordvin ‘Mordva man’, Tatarka < Tatar). Elena Berezovich provides and analyses an extensive list of such Northern Russian place names related to different epochs and derived from ethnonyms in the Arkhangelsk and Vologda regions (Berezovich 2010: 189–194). She shows that some of these are perceived as referring to either former enclaves of these ethnicities—which is quite plausible in the case of Tatars and Finno-Ugric nations—or memorable individuals who founded the place and lived there. However, she points out that the images of Tatars and Chud’—a collective name Russians used indiscriminately for several Finno-Ugric tribes—become diffused and sometimes come to mean just ‘foreigners’. An alternative motivation for some place names relating to Poles or Tatars is given by folklore narratives of battles against their troops.

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The struggle of Central Russian princedoms, led by Moscow, against the Mongols, and gradual unification of efforts in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries bore fruit, so much so that Moscow’s rulers of the sixteenth century feel that they are powerful enough to go onto the attack against the remaining fragments of the Mongol state to eliminate the threat to their lands. Tsar Ivan Grozniy (the Terrible) routs both Turkic khanates of Kazan and Astrakhan, which opens the way to migration by Russians to the Volga and beyond—to Siberia, carrying along Russian place names. The mixed population in the Volga region is especially vividly illustrated by later ethnic affixes that differentiate between neighbouring villages with the same name by referring to the predominance of distinct ethnicities, for example, the eighteenth-century settlements Русские Липяги, Мордовские Липяги, Чувашские Липяги (Russkiye Lipyagi, Mordovskiye Lipyagi, Chuvashskiye Lipyagi in the Samara region) where Lipyagi is the village name while the affixes point to Russians, Mordva and Chuvash (Nikonov 2011: 35). Similar complexes appear elsewhere, too, and they carry the memory of the relevant migrations and incursions. For example, these ones in Southern Central regions are the echoes of the growing interest of Poles in the events in Central Russia at the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the emerging identity of Cossacks or Southern Russians: Русская Гвоздевка and Панская Гвоздевка (Russkaya Gvozdevka, Panskaya Gvozdevka; the latter from pan ‘Pole’, Voronezh region), Русская Конопелка and Черкасская Конопелка (Russkaya Konopelka, Cherkasskaya Konopelka, the latter apparently from cherkasy ‘Cossacks’) (Nikonov 2011: 38). Another token of multicultural ties in mixed populations are the instances of Russian folk etymology and the rethinking of motivation in opaque place names from other languages, for example: a Finno-Ugric river name Вертенга (Vertenga) in the Kaluga region > Вертенка (Vertenka associated with Russian vertet’ ‘twirl’), village name Карабай in Tataria (Karabai < Tatar kara bai ‘black rich man’) > Караваево (Karavayevo associated with Russian karavay ‘round bread’), river name Вашелей in Mordovia (Vasheley < Mordva ley ‘river’) > Вышелей (Vysheley associated with Russian words ‘higher’ and imperative ‘pour’) (Nikonov 2011: 130).

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Calques are an important part of toponymy in mixed populations, and there are cases of translation in both directions—from other languages into Russian and back, for example, Topoy-niemi, Piridoy-niemi, Tarala in Karelia mean respectively ‘Stepan’s meadow (or village on it)’, ‘Spiridon’s meadow (or village on it)’ and ‘Taras’s village’, all three with Russian personal names but Karelian geographical terms (Nikonov 2011: 142).

3 Modern and Contemporary Periods Since the late seventeenth century, Russia has almost continually been under one or another Western European cultural influence and has seen successive waves of German and French fashions in the eighteenth–nineteenth centuries, German and English in the twentieth century. While pre-eighteenth century toponymy mostly appears through ‘natural nomination’, in the eighteenth century it becomes common for Russian rulers and elites to coin new names for new settlements or rename the already existing ones (‘artificial nomination’), and here the culturally dominating fashion shows itself in most curious borrowings and patterns. In Emperor Peter’s reign, Swedish, Dutch and German place-name models become popular, and from that time we have Санкт Петербург (Sankt Peterburg, 1703)—Peter’s new capital, Ораниенбаум (Oranienbaum, 1714) and Петергоф (Peterhof, 1711)—Peter’s retreat palaces in the vicinity of St Petersburg, Ранненбург (Rannenburg < Oranienburg, Tambov region)—Peter’s friend Menshikov’s manor, Кронштадт (Kronstadt)—Peter’s marine fortress to protect St Petersburg, Шлиссельбург (< Schlüsselburg)—a ‘key town’ to St Petersburg. Later some other names of this kind appear, such as Оренбург (Orenburg, 1735) in the South-East (Selischev 2003: 483). German names appear in the South of Russia in another wave when Empress Catherine the Great issues a decree in 1763 inviting foreigners to colonise the territories along the Volga. Many colonists arrive and found settlements, such as, for instance, Sarepta (Сарепта, with a Protestant missionary background), Zürich (now Зоркино/Zorkino), Basel (now Васильевка/Vasilyevka)—with modern Russian equivalents often phonetically adapted from the German names. These areas were

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quite densely populated by Germans until the mid-twentieth century (Pospelov 2000: 27). In Catherine’s reign (from the 70s of the eighteenth century), when the ideas of liberation from the Ottoman occupation gain momentum among Slavs and Greeks in the Balkans, people in Russia become inspired by the idea of Slavic—and, still wider, Orthodox Christian—unity, and so Slavic and Greek fashions appear, among other things, in the naming of new cities founded by the Empress in Malorossia (now Ukraine) on the lands captured from the Crimean Khanate, which was a vassal of the Ottoman Empire. This influence is shown in oikonyms with the Southern Slavic root -град (-grad ‘town’), for example, Павлоград, Екатериноград (Pavlograd, Ekaterinograd), also Екатеринослав (Ekaterinoslav < Russian слава/slava ‘glory’, now Dnepropetrovsk) (Nikonov 2011: 33), as well as the Greek element -поль/-pol (< πόλις ‘city’) that is used for stylisation in such names as Ставрополь (Stavropol < Greek Σταυρός ‘cross’), Григориополь (Grigoriopol, named after Catherine’s lover Grigoriy Potemkin in 1792, now Herson), Севастополь (Sevastopol < Greek σεβαστος ‘royal, glorious’). The name of Одесса (Odessa, 1794) was to remind of the ancient town Odessos, once on the same shore, and Herson— of the ancient Hersonissos in the Crimea (Selischev 2003: 483; Nikonov 2011: 33). Other influences are not so marked, though we can point out occasional Gallicisms in the nineteenth century, such as the manor names Монплезир (Monplaisir < French ‘my pleasure’, Poltava region, Ukraine; a park in Peterhof etc.) (Selischev 2003: 461), Монрепо (Mon Repos < French ‘my rest’, Leningrad region). A separate paper would be needed to discuss the exciting and extensive topic of transferred names from other countries as an echo of multiculturalism. For instance, participants in wars against Turkey brought back and planted on the map of Russia Balkan and Mediterranean names associated with Russian victories, such as Троицкое-Кайнарджи/Troitskoye-­ Kainarji, Кагул/Kagoul, Сады-Чесменка/ Sady-Chesmenka (Pospelov 2000: 21). In the nineteenth century, landowners would give fancy names to their manors, such as Мыс Доброй Надежды (Mys Dobroy Nadezhdy, ‘Cape of Good Hope’, Ryazan region), Персия (Persia, Dnepropetrovsk

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region), Дамаск (Damask, Poltava region) (Selischev 2003: 461), while villages and rural microtoponyms bear transferred names for a lot of metaphoric or metonymic reasons, for example, a former village Варшава (Varshava/ Warsaw), wood Вавилон (Vavilon/Babylon), field Ерусалим (Jerusalem), all in the Vologda region (Berezovich 2010: 190). Finally, we need to say a few words about the tectonic shifts in Russian toponymy after the Revolution of 1917 when new ideologies begin to permeate the conceptosphere of the country. Re-naming and new naming in the twentieth century is mostly represented by oikonyms and urban toponymy due to active urbanisation. Names become carriers of the new social ideas and values, so, for example, in the 1920s, the onomasticon reflects the focus on the poorer strata of society (e.g. улица Деревенской Бедноты/ ulitsa Derevenskoy Bednoty ‘Street of the village poor’) who had recently gained rights and freedom from capitalist exploitation (township Свобода/Svoboda ‘Liberty’), and also on the ideas of revolution and rebellion as the means of achieving this (площадь Борьбы/Bor’by ‘Struggle square’, площадь Восстания/Vosstania ‘Rebellion square’). Especially celebrated is the October Revolution, its agents and symbols, for example, in the repetitive oikonyms Октябрьский/Octyabrskiy (‘October’, Moscow region), Красная Звезда/Krasnaya Zvezda (‘Red Star’), Большевик/ Bolshevik (Vladimir region) and those with Lenin’s name in it, for example, Leningrad. Throughout the epoch, prominent among social values stands respect for and encouragement of honest common labour, hence the abundance of words related to work and workers (ubiquitous улица Труда/Truda ‘Labour street’, улица Строителей/Stroiteley ‘Builders’ street’), as well as the very principle of naming a town by the industry: Магнитогорск/Magnitogorsk ‘Magnet-mountain [town]’, Текстильщик/Tekstilschik ‘textile worker’ (Selischev 2003: 485). The ideas of revolution and communism were imported to Russia from France and Germany, and place names are a vivid illustration of this, with references to the French Revolution and German thinkers: streets Равенства/Ravenstva ‘(of ) Equality’, Братства/Bratstva ‘(of ) Fraternity’, village name Парижская Коммуна/Parizhskaya Kommuna

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‘Paris Commune’ (Ukraine), townships Энгельс/ Engels, Карла Маркса/Karla Marksa, Фрайдорф/Freidorf < German ‘Free village’ (Crimea). International collaboration with socialist states, as well as the promotion of peace in general in the period of the Cold War, is referred to in names such as the town name Коминтерн/Komintern (abbreviation of ‘Communist International’), urban place names площадь Джавахарлала Неру/Javaharlal Nehru square, набережная Мориса Тореза/quay of Maurice Torez, проспект Мира/Peace avenue. After the return of Russia to capitalism in the 1990s, new naming mostly concerns new residential quarters and townships sprawling around major cities. Like in the other countries of the Eastern Bloc, new place names bear the reflection of globalisation, in most cases implying ‘westernisation’, which was seen as the prestigious and desired socio-economic standard. The names of new townships with relatively expensive houses copy or include existing Western European names in Cyrillic or refer to them as part of wordplay, for example, Нормандия ‘Normandy’, Шотландия ‘Scotland’, Кембридж ‘Cambridge’, Ричмонд ‘Richmond’, ФорестКлаб/ForestClub, Английские дачи/Angliyskiye dachi ‘English dachas’, Монаково/Monakovo and Маленькая Европа/Malen’kaya Evropa ‘Little Europe’. Some are intentionally spelled in Latin or in a mixture of Cyrillic and Latin: Bosco Villaggio (implying a village in the forest), VillaNova, ArtVillage, Optima Family, Smartville Дмитровка/ Smartville Dmitrovka. In theoretical and methodological retrospect, therefore, this chapter has attempted to outline the major multicultural influences and tendencies in names and naming in the European part of Russia and has looked at the following aspects: 1. names given by various ethnicities that survive on the modern map or in literature (e.g. the Don, Tavrida); 2. name change with ethnic change (e.g. Feodosia); 3. names reflecting multicultural coexistence such as name complexes and calques;

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4. names mentioning other ethnic groups (e.g. Meschera) or individuals (e.g. Litvinovo); 5. influences of international ‘fashions’ in name-giving (e.g. St Petersburg) and name transfer (e.g. Kagoul). Unfortunately, it would make a long list if we tried to enumerate which aspects have been omitted, religious influences chief among them. However, this brief chapter might become an inspiration to investigate this topic in more detail.

References Berezovich, E.L. 2010. Russkaja toponimija v ètnolingvističeskom aspekte: mifopoètičeskij obraz prostranstva [Russian Toponymy in the Ethnolinguistic Aspect: Mythopoetic Image of Space]. Moscow: Komkniga. Fasmer, M. 2004. Ètimologičeskij slovar′ russkogo jazyka. T.1 [Etymological Dictionary of the Russian Language, vol. 1]. Moscow: AST. Herzen, А.А. 2018. Istoriko-geografičeskij kontekst perenesënnyh toponimov [Historic-Geographical Context of Transferred Toponyms]. In Aktual′nye problemy toponimiki, ed. V.M. Kotljakov i dr. (red.). Moscow: Kodeks. Loma, А. 2010. Iz toponimii drevnej Skifii—v poiskah strany budinov [Looking for the Land of the Boudinoi. A Toponomastic Research in Ancient Scythia]. Voprosy onomastiki 1 (8): 5–17. Matveev, A.K. 2007. K probleme klassifikacii jazykov substratnoj toponimii Russkogo Severa [On the Problem of the Russian North Substrate Toponymy Language Classification]. Voprosy onomastiki 4: 14–27. Neroznak, V.P. 1983. Nazvanija drevnerusskih gorodov [Names of Old Russian Towns]. Moscow: Nauka. Nikonov, V.A. 2011. Vvedenie v toponimiku [Introduction to Toponymics]. Moscow: LKI/URSS. Pospelov, E.M. 2000. Istoriko-toponimičeskij slovar′ Rossii [Historical-Toponymic Dictionary of Russia]. Moscow: Profizdat. Selischev, A.M. 2003. Trudy po russkomu jazyku. T.1 [Works on the Russian Language, vol. 1]. Moscow: JaKM. Shaposhnikov, A.K. 2005. Drevnejšaja onomastika Tavričeskogo poluostrova. 1. Surožskaja zemlja [The Oldest Onomastics of the Tavrichesky (Crimea)

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Peninsula: Surozhskaya zemlya (the Surozh Land)]. Voprosy onomastiki 2: 111–125. ———. 2008. Drevnejšaja onomastika Tavričeskogo poluostrova. Bospor Kimmerijskij (evropejskaja čast′) [The Oldest Names of the Tauria peninsula. Kimmerian Bosporus (The European Sector)]. Voprosy onomastiki 2 (6): 18–57. Strizhak, O.S., I.M. Zhelezniyak i dr. 1985. Ètimologičnij slovnik litopisnih geografičnih nazv Pivdennij Rusї [Etymological Dictionary of Chronicle Geographical Names of Southern Russia]. Kyiv: Naukova dumka. Vasilyev, V.L. 2015. Problematika izučenija gidronimii baltijskogo proishoždenija na territorii Rossii [Problems of Studying Hydronymy of Baltic Origin on the Territory of Russia]. In Linguistica LV. Slovanski jeziki v stiku z neslovanskimi: diahroni onomastični pogled, ed. S. Torkar, 173–186. Ljubljana: Univerza v Ljubljani, Filozofska fakulteta.

27 Multicultural Aspects of Name and Naming in African Cultures: The Case of Kenya and Zimbabwe Tendai Mangena and Solomon Waliaula

1 Introduction: Focus and Methodology In this chapter we examine the multicultural aspects of names and naming in African cultures using examples from Kenya and Zimbabwe. The study makes the assumption that names are key indicators of identity and that identification works as a dynamic sociocultural process. Names could thus also be read as part of the archival resources in the study of the interaction, confluence and fluidity of cultural histories and geographies. In this light, we focus on cross-linguistic naming in Zimbabwe and selected Sabaot names of Bukusu places in Kenya. In the Kenyan

T. Mangena (*) Great Zimbabwe University, Masvingo, Zimbabwe University of the Free State, Bloemfontein, South Africa S. Waliaula Maasai Mara University, Narok, Kenya University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_27

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example, we argue that some toponyms are repositories of a shared historical and sociocultural experience between neighbouring ethnic communities. In the Zimbabwean context we use the case of the Shona and Ndebele to examine the intercultural exchange and influence of linguistic contact zones on the creation of fluid linguistic boundaries. Our study is ethnographic. We use observation and interview methods, and also tap on our real-life experiences as members of the Shona and Bukusu ethnic communities, respectively. In the Shona-Ndebele example, the study benefits from the familiarity of one of us with the Mangena family genealogy, to which she pertains, to examine how family names portray the dynamic play of ethnic identity. This autobiographical example is a rich research material that in the word of Saunders (2008: 7) “is not a personal story that folds onto itself; it’s not about navel gazing, it’s really about trying to look at historical and social process and one’s own formation as a window onto social and historical processes, as an example of them”.

2 Hybridised Names-Cum-Identities: Fluid Linguistic, Cultural and Ethnic Boundaries In this part of the chapter, we argue that the link between naming and ethnicity is complex. In this section, we refer to the various (dis)connections between linguistic groups in Zimbabwe and demonstrate using Mangena’s family among other examples. The family lives on the border between Mberengwa and Mwenezi, an area that has been described as one of the linguistic bastardised regions of Zimbabwe, in which especially Ndebele and Shona are in constant contact. The term contact zone was developed by Pratt to describe social spaces where “disparate cultures meet, clash and grapple with each other, often in highly asymmetrical relations of dominance and subordination” (Pratt 1992 cited in Ashcroft et al. 2007: 48). Zimbabwe has many ethnic groups, including the Shona, Ndebele, Venda, Tsonga and Kalanga. The Ndebele and Shona ethnic groups constitute the majority. The ethnic discourse in Zimbabwe suggests that

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ethnic boundaries are clear, but we deploy anthroponyms to argue that linguistic and ethnic boundaries are fluid. What is termed Shona is a composition of different sub-ethnicities whose languages and cultures have varying levels of mutual intelligibility. The Ndebele ethnic identity, in particular, lacks stability, given that what is termed Ndebele today “does not refer to a single ethnic group but to a multiethnic nation built through assimilation” (Ranger 1999: 100; see also Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2009). This argument makes sense in the context of the complex historical processes in the making of the Zimbabwean Ndebele identity. Across linguistic communities in Zimbabwe, most anthroponyms have similar meanings and are often given to individuals in almost similar contexts. A few examples are recorded below (Table 27.1): In addition to these connected anthroponymic meanings, the Zimbabwean linguistic communities have influenced each other through borrowing names across linguistic boundaries. One of our informants revealed that the VaTsonga are comfortable giving their children first names from other ethnic groups; for instance, such names of Shona origin include Chipo Baloyi, Tendai Hlungwani, Sheunesu Matsilele, Kudakwashe Mbiza, Ratidzo Chauke and Kudzai Khosa. Baloyi, Hlungwani, Matsilele, Mbiza, Chauke and Khosa are Tsonga surnames, while Chipo, Tendai, Sheunesu, Kudakwashe, Ratidzo and Kudzai are Shona first names. The VaTsonga and Ndebele also borrow names from Table 27.1  Names with similar semantic values across linguistics groups Name meaning

Ndebele names

‘Show gratitude’ Bongani ‘Be happy’ Jabulani/ Thokozani ‘Praise God’ Dumisani ‘Poverty’ ‘Happiness’ ‘Prayer’ ‘Blessing’ ‘Miracle’ ‘We have been given’

Tsonga Shona names names

Venda names

Tendai Farai

Khesani Tsakani

Livhuwani Takalani

Dzunisani

Hulisani

Vusiwana Ntsako

Thambulo Dakalo

Mukhongelo Nkateko Singita Nyikiwe

Thabelo Mpho Tshingamidzo Rofhiwa

Rumbidzai/ Kudzai Mhlupheki Nhamo Njabulo Mufaro/ Rufaro Nomuthandazo Munamato Sipho Chipo Simangaliso Shamiso Siphiwe/ Tapiwa Sinikiwe

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neighbouring South Africa and examples include Bonang (Tswana), Lerato (Tswana), Vuyo, Vuyiso (Vuyiso and Vuyo are Xhosa) and Owami (South African IsiNdebele). Our study established that though it is rare for the Shona to name their children using Ndebele names, some Shona couples give their children Ndebele names even if they have no Ndebele social connections. One of our Shona informants with a Ndebele first name explained that her mother once stayed in an area mainly occupied by Ndebele people, and that interaction could have influenced the mother’s choice for the name. Such cross-linguistic naming has resulted in what we call here hybrid names-cum-identities as is shown in the Tsonga examples. The first names are taken from the Shona linguistic group, yet the family names are Tsonga. According to Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin, hybridity is “one of the most widely employed and most disputed terms in postcolonial theory, hybridity commonly refers to the creation of new transcultural forms within the contact zone produced by colonisation” (2007: 108). As shown in this study, the context of hybridity goes beyond the colonial experience. It privileges border-crossing, and thus in this case “subverts identity politics such as ethnic or other claims to purity and authenticity. If modernity stands for an ethos of order and neat separation by tight boundaries, hybridisation reflects a postmodern sensibility of cut’n’mix, transgression, subversion” (Pieterse 2015: 53). The dominant form of anthroponymic hybridity on the African continent involves persons with English first names and indigenous African family names. In the case of Zimbabwe, this has been imagined in a number of literary texts. A good example, among the many, is Petina Gappah’s In the Matter Between Goto and Goto (2016; see also Agyekum 2006), where we have Immaculate Vila Chatidonhe, Naboth Goto and Benevolence Mhlanga as central characters in the narrative. These characters have English first names and Shona surnames. The name Benevolence is a good example of English name in most African communities, which, however, is not considered to be a proper name in English cultures (see Neethling 2005). In some extreme cases, Shona families were given English family names. A typical example is Sixpence which is a common surname in Zimbabwe. Such names speak of cultural mixing of English and indigenous cultures. This mixture is commonplace in Zimbabwe and other parts of the continent.

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Significantly, while most Africans borrowed and continue to borrow names from the English cultures, not many from the West, even those who spend most of their lives on the continent, use(d) indigenous African names for their children. This is a paradox that Thesen highlights in the question: “I have two names—African and English names. But how many English people have African names—why?” (Thesen 1997: 498; see also Neethling 2005: 90). Our research shows that there are some whites who use(d) indigenous African names for their children. Bertie Neethling, an internationally recognised South African onomastician, dedicates his book Naming among the Xhosa of South Africa (2005) to his wife Vicky and three sons Konrad (uNtsikelelo), Renier (uPhindile) and Gustav (uSipho). From this dedication, we take it that Neethling used Xhosa names Ntsikelelo, Phindile and Sipho to name his children. The names Konrad Ntsikelelo Neethling, Renier Phindile Neethling and Gustav Sipho Neethling read as hybridised anthroponyms. There is also a well-­ known white Catholic priest in the diocese of Gweru of Zimbabwe who adopted a Shona surname, Mhazi, and is popularly known as Baba/Father Mhazi. In addition to that, Father Mhazi embraces his Shona identity by claiming that his home area is Chirumhanzu (where most of the Mhazi people are found). His real name, Felix Gabriel, is rarely used. One of our informants also told us a story about a Swiss doctor who once worked in Zimbabwe and gave one of his children a Shona name. These few examples of whites who gave their children indigenous African names arguably have no colonial hang-ups that stopped them from borrowing names from the linguistic groups that were othered in colonial discourse. Otherwise the main reason that stops or stopped many whites from using indigenous African names, although they encountered these for a long time, has to do with colonial attitudes. Even if most refused to be affected by indigenous African cultures, many in the context of Zimbabwe had indigenous names imposed on them. These were mainly in the form of nicknames. We take these to be imposed names because “recipients rarely generate their own nicknames, even if the nickname subsequently ‘sticks’ and the recipient begins self-referring by the new name” (Aceto 2002: 582). Examples of nicknames given particularly to white farmers include Muponda (‘one who murders’), Madhubure (‘one who shoots with a gun’) and Umabulalehleka (‘one who enjoys killing’) (Masaka et  al. 2012).

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Examples invoked here are derogatory nicknames that Masaka et al. took to represent “resistance alluding to unacceptable behavioural traits of the said White farmers” (2012: 489). The Mangena family history speaks of intercultural encounters that were triggered by the establishment of what in the time of Mzilikazi was known as the Ndebele Kingdom. The great grandfather of the family, Muvisi, was Shona and a soldier in Mzilikazi’s army where he and other soldiers earned the Ndebele nickname Mangena that his family continue to use as the family name. The name was based on the narrative that Mzilikazi’s army could get into closed entries, bangena kuvaliwe. In other words, Mangena is a family name that started off as a nickname (see also Aceto 2002: 586). Although the family uses Mangena as a family name, in some instances they are addressed by the Shona version Chipinda. Their praise poems are basically Shona narratives. For instance, a part of their praises is ‘Maita VeChipinda. Vamakaure. Pakaminama motwasanudza. Vanopinda pakavharwa. Maita Chipinda’. In the praises, Mangena is invoked in its Shona version Chipinda. Muvisi’s place of origin is Chief Charumbira’s area, which is now popularly known as Morgenster. Muvisi’s only son was Rungano. His full name was another hybrid, Rungano Mangena. Rungano’s nickname was Jona Mthakati. Rungano reportedly called all the people that he interacted with umthakatilo! (Ndebele word for ‘this witch’), and from that he earned his nickname, Jona Mthakati. One of Rungano’s sons explained that the name Rungano meant that since he was born without siblings, he was alive to tell the story of his existence. Rungano grew up in Fidyo (in Zvishavane), in his mother’s family. He got married to three wives. The first wife was Shona, and the other two were sisters and Ndebele. He then decided to find a new home for his family. He and another family migrated to Pambe (Chazinge), a place which is right at the border of Mwenezi and Mberengwa. The people in this area are mainly Shona but they are in constant interaction with the Ndebele who occupy the nearby areas of Mberengwa. The area that the Mangena family occupies is popularly known as KumaDinga among the locals. This is Ndebele from amadingandawo (‘those who look for a place to stay’). In searching for a place to stay, Rungano and his friend would say, in Ndebele, ‘sidingindawo yokuhlala’, and Madinga was adapted from that statement.

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While most of Rungano’s children still use Mangena as the inherited family name, others have resorted to using Rungano as their new family name. The names in the Mangena extended family are evidence to how the family’s original ethnic identity continues to be shrouded in ambiguity. As stated earlier, Muvisi Mangena and Rungano Mangena are hybrids. Most of the children in the Mangena family have been given Shona names. These include Rufaro, Rudo, Shamiso, Taurai, Tavonga, Tendai, Munashe, Sarudzai, Fungai, Harunashe and Garikai. Others have been given English first names: for example, Isaac, Enet, Charles, Albert, Josiah, Fidelis, Donald, Lot, Eveness, Theresa, Elizabeth, Brave, End, Givemore, Edmore, Chrismore and Casper. And of course, some Ndebele names were given as well: Thembinkosi, Khathazo, Sibusisiwe, Sithabile, Thandiwe, Sithokozile, Thembanani and Senzeni. We found this family history and the use of names as an interesting context in which we can talk about the complex relationship between names and ethnic identities. In this case, the surname Mangena bestows a Ndebele ethnic group to an otherwise Shona family. Ndebele first names coupled with a Ndebele surname make these individuals purely Ndebele, while the Shona first names give the impression of a hybrid ethnic identity. Most of the family members speak Ndebele, which in a way seals the imposed Ndebele identity, especially for those that also have Ndebele first names. But at home, what the family speaks is a Shona corrupted by Ndebele, in which the boundaries between the two languages are invisible and difficult to mark. If we agree with Windt-Val’s observation that language is “an important function as a carrier of culture and identity” (2012: 275), then the language spoken by the Mangena family, and others in their area, speaks into their hybridised selves. While Mangena in this case is a Ndebele family name that was imposed on an originally Shona family, historically, in Zimbabwe some Shona families Ndebele-lised their surnames as a manner of assimilating into the Ndebele state. Ndlovu-Gatsheni notes that “Ngwabi Bhebe, a historian, has shown that a number of people of Shona origin who were assimilated into the Ndebele state tended to Ndebele-lise their Shona surnames. Examples included Shiri becoming Tshili, Mhofu becoming Mpofu, Zhou becoming Ndlovu, Hungwe becoming Nyoni” (2008: 33).

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3 Sabaot Names in Bukusu Geography: History and Ethnography Most place names in Bungoma County, which is dominated by the Bukusu sub-ethnic community of the larger Bantu affiliated Luhya ethnic group, have their origin in the Sabaot language. The Sabaot are a neighbouring community residing at the foot of Mount Elgon, a mix of smaller sub-ethnic communities, namely the Bok, Kon, Bongomek and Sebei (see also Lynch 2011) and belong to the larger Kalenjin ethnic group. It is significant that the Bukusu and Sabaot belong to two very distinct cultural groups, namely the Bantu and Nilotes, respectively. The Bantu languages are very distinct from the Nilotic languages. In this light, it is very remarkable that Sabaot names would be fully accommodated in and mark the geographical space of Bukusuland. We explore this apparent paradox in the context of multiculturalism but with a particular focus on the specific historical and sociocultural narratives behind these names. Although we have sampled ten place names in Bukusuland for this study, it is a mere representation of a very dominant phenomenon. We also explore some patterns of adaptation that followed the adoption of some of the names (Table 27.2). Table 27.2  Bukusu-Sabaot name adaptations Bukusu place name 1.

2.

Sabaot root word

Sociocultural adaptation

Mung’oma (a person that Bangomek (sub-­ Bungoma (a town, later lived near the town— group of the the headquarters while the prefix mu- stands larger Sabaot and also name of for the person, the prefix sub-ethnic group the county and bu- stands for ‘place of’) of the larger major homeland of Kalenjin ethnic the Bukusu) community) Chepyuk (a hill, one Chebukwa (later associated to Chebukwa (a hilly a forested area with region to the North of the slopes of Kimiandanda indigenous Mount Elgon) East of Bungoma tress, one of the regions that town, once had massive forts) inhabited by the Sabaot) (continued)

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Table 27.2 (continued) Bukusu place name

Sabaot root word

Sociocultural adaptation

3.

Chesamisi

A sacred region, due to its closeness to Mount Elgon, which the Bukusu believed was the abode of their gods

4.

Kapkilongo

Chesamis (in Sabaot, it roughly translates to ‘something that smells badly’) Kapkilong

5.

Kabuchai

6.

Kibabii

7.

Kikwechi

Kikwech (‘leprosy, or pertaining to skin disease’)

8.

Kimilili

9.

Kimukung’i

Kimilil (A place inhabited by leopards) Kimkung (‘disability’)

10. Malakisi

Kapchai (in Sabaot, a sacred swamp where initiation rites of male circumcision are performed) Kibab

Molokis

Silongo (a salt lick area and swampy. Also sacred space where some rituals are performed) Like Kapkilongo, a flat swampy grassland is also a sacred place for the performance of rituals of male circumcision. Other names used include sitosi and sitabicha Mixed topography with hilly and rich soils for farming but also open grassland that attracted pastoralists. Adapted in the Bukusu folklore to mean ‘a cattle kraal’ and renown for forts Known as a place with rich savanna grassland and good for grazing and renown for forts Also regarded as a sacred place by the Bukusu because it lies at the foot of Mount Elgon It is also a hilly and rocky place adjacent to flat grassland. The Bukusu later associated it to—and created a myth around—a certain individual known as Kimkung that had a missing finger and believed to have magical powers It is an open grassland with a permanent river flowing through it. The Bukusu associate the place to a man known as Mulaku and is renowned for forts

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4 Brief History of the Names As is shown above, the names are all of Sabaot origin but have been adapted to the Bantu phonology because they are used in what is now recognised as Bukusuland. As a result, they are all made to end in vowel sounds, thus opening up the closed final syllables, which is a common feature of Nilotic languages. There are also other finer differences in vowel quality between Sabaot and lubukusu languages that are reflected in the adaptation. Whereas some of the names are easily intelligible to contemporary Sabaot speakers, who can still tell their literal meanings in Sabaot, some of them seem to have been older forms of dialects by sub-ethnic communities of the larger Sabaot community and are apparently out of use (Kapkilong, Kibab, Molokis). However, as we shall demonstrate later, through a process of historical coincidence and the dynamics of sociocultural experience, the names have developed a set of images and narratives around them that emphasise and/or deviate from their initial signification. Our ethnography also established that each of the above-mentioned places was previously occupied by one of the Sabaot sub-ethnic communities but were later joined by the Bukusu, who are historically said to have been among the last wave of Eastern Bantu to get into this region from the North-Western direction of Mount Elgon (see also Scully 1969). This set them against the groups that had already settled there, as has been observed by Scully (1969: 105): The major migrations of Bukusu into the region took place by way of what is now Mbale and Tororo pass. They settled as sedentary farmers and herdsmen, encroaching upon and eventually displacing Ngoma, Logo and other small groups of Kalenjin peoples before them.

It is worth noting that Scully’s wider research was based on a unique settlement pattern among the Bukusu that are known as forts, and most aforementioned places comprised remains of these forts. Scully (1969: 105) describes them as follows:

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To hold the land and to protect themselves and their cattle, the Bukusu in many cases had […] large settlements encircled by high permanent walls of murram and stone. The result was an extensive network of villages, each like a miniature armed fortress, inhabited by one clan or closely related lineages who shared the surrounding farmland.

This is an important detail because it allows us to note that the Sabaot names in the apparent Bukusu geography are historically related to an actual close interaction of the two communities, and, as it is evident, that interaction was also defined by conflict. Nevertheless, this did not prevent the two communities’ cultures, in this case naming cultures, to impact on each other. It is also worth noting that the names were not merely adopted, but also made to bear other local significations, some of which we will explore shortly. Secondly, we learnt from a key informant in the study that the Bukusu and Sabaot had very different values towards the toponyms. He observed (personal communication): It happens that we, the Bukusu, do not name places; a place is seen as an extension of the people that live there. Thus, we normally name a place after the most prominent person in the neighbourhood. When that person dies the name gradually dies too. But the Sabaot are fond of naming places. It is particularly important to them because they were somewhat nomadic. Like the Maasai, they could leave some of their people behind when they moved, and to help them locate them when they returned, they named the place.

In this scenario where one community loosely identified places by individuals, effectively using finite individuals to mark infinite space, the other community marked space by symbolic naming to help create a sense of continuity. Indeed, as it has been observed by Lynch (2011: 392), the prevalent post-independent conflicts between the Sabaot and the Bukusu around Mount Elgon have been occasioned by an ambivalent sense of autochthony in the region. One could argue that this may be in part due to the different values and practice of place-naming. The Sabaot could claim to be the ‘original inhabitants’ of a place because it evidently

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bears their name, but the Bukusu could also claim to be the original inhabitants, because they have always lived there. We now focus on narratives to which some of the names allude and examine their historical and cultural significance.

5 Images and Narratives Behind the Names Perhaps the most significant name is Bungoma, which designates the county—Bungoma County—that in the contemporary administrative configuration of Kenya is believed to be the ‘authentic homeland’ of the Bukusu. As mentioned earlier, Bungoma is derived from the Sabaot Bangomek, the name of one of the sub-ethnic groups of the Sabaot community. But according to an account from an informant, the Bangomek moved from that region at the dawn of colonialism to the North East and left behind only a few of their own. A Bukusu clan called babichachi moved there, and their leader was called Mungoma. The neighbouring clans started referring to the place as Bungoma, the bu- prefix having replaced mu- to turn the word from the name of someone to ‘the place of someone’ and the standard way of naming places in the Bukusu language (we have such names as Bumula, Busakala, Bunangwe and so on, in the region). As it has already been mentioned, Chesamis literally means ‘a smelly thing’ in Sabaot, but it is also one of the regions considered sacred to the Bukusu because there are a series of big caves and gigantic rocky formations rising towards the neighbouring Mount Elgon. Most of the community’s prophets are believed to have gone on pilgrimage to these caves, and indeed some of them believed not to have died but merely to have disappeared in those caves (see also Scully 1970: 96–102). According to our informants, in that region there also grow unique shrubs locally known in Bukusu as chimbunyabubi, literally translating to ‘those that smell bad’. Note that, as stated earlier, the Sabaot also use Chesamis to refer to ‘bad smell’, but while they regarded the place as ordinary, the Bukusu saw in the complex of the shrubs, rocks and caves a transcendental geography. In the names Bungoma and Chesamisi, we can argue that the Sabaot and Bukusu interaction led to naming and re-naming which

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re-assert autochthony and, in the process, assign a new sociocultural signification, administrative and cultural capital to the two spaces. Among these names one also finds examples that could be considered socioculturally convergent: Kabuchai and Kapkilongo. These two are related to the shared cultural practice of male circumcision. Kabuchai and Kapkilong in Sabaot literally mean ‘the ritual journey from sacred swamp towards circumcision’. It is not a place but an experience. Nevertheless, Kabuchai and Kapkilong are used to designate two places that were characterised by flat and swampy topography. The Bukusu have other names that are relative equivalents to these terms, namely sitabicha/sitosi and silongo, respectively. Kimilili is a significant name as well. Originally a Sabaot noun, Kimalel (‘a leopard’) was probably directly related to the geography of the place, a forested region sloping towards Mount Elgon with two permanent rivers flowing down to the lowlands; leopards inhabited the riverine forest. For the Bukusu, most clans held the leopard as their totem animal, and leopard skin was—and still is—used in many ritual performances. Chebukwa and Malakisi are two names with a deep history of inter-ethnic warfare between the Sabaot and the Bukusu in the pre-colonial era. Chebukwa is a type of indigenous tree whose name in Bukusu is kumwandanda. It is a rich grassland that attracted the farmers and pastoralists from both communities and also caused a lot of conflict. Commenting on this Scully (1969: 110) has observed: Another set of clusters of settlement ruins lies north east of Bungoma in the vicinity of Chebukwa Hills and Makotelo Market. To the South, Mabanga Agricultural Training School occupies a large stretch of land which had once been a battle ground. Warfare has been so frequent in this section and bloodshed so great that the land was cursed and remained uncultivated by the Bukusu people until the training school was established.

Kimkung’i and Kikwechi are related to body deformity and the cultural values attached to it. A Sabaot informant told us that Kimkung’i referred to a disabled person. A Bukusu informant told us of the story of man called Kimkung’i that lived near that place, who had a missing finger, known as sikhumbu in Bukusu. We were not able to establish whether or not the Sabaot original use of the name was related to the man, but from

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our running argument it may well be that the Sabaot used the name in a symbolic sense, and the Bukusu used it in anaphoric reference to the specific individual with a missing finger. Our Sabaot informant told us that Kikwech refers to skin diseases in general but a Bukusu informant said Kikwechi was associated with chicken pox.

6 Conclusion The chapter has focused on names as metaphors of cross-cultural contact and confluence. The Zimbabwe example examines how this phenomenon plays out in personal names between the Shona and the Ndebele. Linguistic fluidities that are highlighted in this chapter are a result of cultural contact. In the history of most African cultures, emphasis is often put on the colonial contact, yet as we have demonstrated through a study of both place and personal names in Kenya and Zimbabwe, there are other various internal contacts that we can talk about. We have used the Zimbabwean Shona-Ndebele example to examine the influence of post-­ colonial hybridity on the evolution of family names, particularly for those families that live on the border of the so-called Shona and Ndebele homelands in southern Zimbabwe. We have used the example of the Mangena family as a microcosmic representation of the hybrid anthroponymy cultures and how they insert themselves in and re-define ‘pure family naming cultures’. On the other hand, we used the Bukusu-Sabaot cross-ethnic toponyms to reveal a complex shared history and sociocultural experience between the two communities. If the Shona-Ndebele anthroponymy reveals an ever-present hybridity on geographical borderlines of ethnic identification, the Bukusu-Sabaot example of ethnically misplaced naming sheds light on the contested autochthony in cross-border geographies. The notion of certain ethnic groups mapping their identity on certain geographies is complicated by the monologic perception of ethnic identification and space. Our research has revealed that the Bukusu and Sabaot have always interacted and that the experience has not always been peaceful, as is evident in the physical presence of the forts, metonymic evidence of earlier inter-ethnic interaction and competition over

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natural resources. Moreover, we have shown how the Sabaot names also acquired a life of their own that thrived on the various images and narratives. It is in this sense that an ethnographic study on the meaning of the names was far from a scientific inquiry into the literal and associated meanings; it consisted in an engagement with the wide gamut of the history, society and culture of the Bukusu in particular and the nature of their interaction with their neighbours.

References Aceto, M. 2002. Ethnic Personal Names and Multiple Identities in Anglophone Caribbean Speech Communities in Latin America. Language in Society 31 (4): 577–608. Agyekum, K. 2006. The Sociolinguistic of Akan Personal Names. Nordic Journal of African Studies 15 (2): 206–235. Ashcroft, B., G. Griffiths, and H. Tiffin. 2007. Post-Colonial Studies: The Key Concepts. 2nd ed. London: Routledge. Gappah, G. 2016. Rotten Row. Harare: Weaver Press. Lynch, G. 2011. The Wars of Who Belongs Where: The Unstable Politics of Autochthony on Kenya’s Mt. Elgon. Ethnopolitics 10 (3–4): 391–310. Masaka, D., E.T. Gwaravanda, and J. Mukusha, (2012). Nicknaming as a Mode of Black Resistance: Reflections on Black Indigenous People’s Nicknaming of Colonial White Farmers in Zimbabwe. Journal of Black Studies 43 (5): 479–504. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S.J. 2008. Nation Building in Zimbabwe and the Challenges of Ndebele Particularism. African Journal on Conflict Resolution 8 (3): 27–56. ———. 2009. Do “Zimbabweans” Exist? Trajectories of Nationalism, National Identity Formation and Crisis in a Postcolonial State. New York: Peter Lang. Neethling, B. 2005. Naming among the Xhosa of South Africa. New York: Mellen Press. Pieterse, J.N. 2015. Globalization and Culture: Global Mélange. New  York: Rowman & Littlefield. Ranger, T. 1999. Voices from the Rocks: Nature, Culture and History in the Matopos Hills of Zimbabwe. New York: Indiana University Press. Saunders, M. 2008. Life-Writing, Cultural Memory, and Literary Studies. In Cultural Memory Studies: An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook, ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning, in collaboration with Sara B. Young, 321–331. Berlin: De Gruyter.

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Scully, R.T. 1969. Fort Sites of East Bukusu, Kenya. Azania: Journal of the British Institute in East Africa 4 (1): 103–114. ———. 1970. The Bantu “Prophets” of Mount Elgon. Ethnos 35 (1–4): 96–102. Thesen, L. 1997. Voices, Discourse, and Transition: In Search of New Categories in EAP. TESOL Quarterly 31 (3): 487–511. Windt-Val, B. 2012. Personal Names and Identity in Literary Contexts. Oslo Studies in Language 4 (2): 273–284.

28 Multicultural Aspects of Name and Naming in Nigeria: A Sociolinguistic Study Idowu Odebode

1 Introduction Nigeria is the most populous country in Africa. It is a heterogeneous country that comprises about 450 ethnolinguistic speech communities. These are divided into thirty-six states and three major linguistic groups: Hausa in the north, Yoruba in the west and Igbo in the east. It derived its name from (the river) ‘Niger Area’, a term coined by Miss Flora Shaw (1852–1929), a Briton who in 1902 married Lord Lugard, the Governor-­ General to the Colony of Nigeria (1914–1919). She felt that the initial name Royal Niger Company Territories given to the colony was long and inefficient. The nation has produced fourteen rulers since independence from Britain in 1960 (see Appendix 2). Due to its ethnic diversity, cross-­ cultural contacts with the trans-Saharan trade of the eighth century as well as colonisation, the Nigerian naming system received an impetus of

I. Odebode (*) Redeemer’s University, Ede, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_28

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assimilating lots of foreign items into its lexicon. This study considers such multicultural names with the aim of pointing out their sociolinguistic significations.

2 Multilingualism and Naming According to Deumert (2018: 264), multilingualism ranges from the “knowledge of a few words to full competency in more than one language”. But Bloomer et al. (2005: 268) initially distinguish bilingualism (control of two languages) from multilingualism (control of many languages) before concluding that despite theoretical discussion about the differences, “these terms are often used interchangeably”. As discovered in this research, during naming in Nigeria, new words are added to the existing language, and old words acquire new meanings based on the experiences of the name givers. This process of combining different languages in anthroponymic (personal-name) formation is regarded in this study as multilingualism.

3 Theoretical Frameworks That language is the vehicle or roadmap of culture is a non-issue among scholars. The totality of a speech community’s culture is summed up in its language. That is why Halliday’s socio-semiotic variable is apt as one of the theoretical constructs for the present study. Halliday and Hassan (1989) echo the fact that the nuances of a text (that is, bits of language) can be dissected through the instrumentality of context (that is, the environment and its culture). Contributing to the issue of situational context, Nilsen and Nilsen (2006) argue further that our linguistic choice within a situational context will be conditioned by the VARIES model since there are various ways of saying the same thing, and saliences differ. The VARIES model as a theory governs the sociolinguistic indices inherent in bits of language. The model, according to Nilsen and Nilsen, is based on the acronym which includes Vocational jargons, Age-related language, Region/religious language, Informality/formality, Ethnic language,

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Sex-­related language. In the same vein, Giles and Baker (2008: 645) in communication accommodation theory (CAT) argue that in “interpersonal situations, language can be used to convey information about one’s personality, temperament, social status, group belonging, and so forth”. These theories are adopted for the present study because a name in Africa functions as linguistic text and social DNA. It carries an incredible amount of grammatical and discursive information which elucidate their meanings in context. Thus, from a single word (name), it is possible to determine a bearer’s gender, education level, social status, language, religious affiliation, nationality, age and history (circumstance behind the birth and choice of name). This is why Soyinka (1988: 50) states that naming is a critical business in traditional African society because names comprise meaning and history apart from being intimations of hope and affirmations of origins.

4 Literature Review Several works have been written on onomastics and bi/multilingualism. For example, He (1989) studies the art of naming in China and translating Western names into Chinese. The study exposes the rigorous process and methodology of translating Chinese into English. One aspect praised by the researcher, which is closely related to the present study, is that the Chinese names reflect local colour. This is because each province is given an abbreviation, such as Sui, Hu and Jing for Guangzhou, Shanghai and Beijing, respectively. Therefore, a name such as “Suisheng tells you this person was born in Guangzhou, Husheng must have been born in Shanghai, and Jingsheng in Beijing” (He 1989: 49). It should be noted that certain aspects of Hausa names in the present study are also toponymic in nature. Thus, we have names like Bafarawa, Kangiwa, Sokoto, Kano and Shagari as place names that notable people bear in Nigeria. The study updates our knowledge of other cultures different from African. Booker et al. (1992) research on place-name identification and multilingualism in the sixteenth-century south-east. The work reviews the exploit of the Spanish explorer Juan Pardo (1566–1568), among others.

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The study indicates that the linguistic map of the south-east must be redrawn. The work also points out that two major chiefdoms (Cofitachequi and Coosa) discovered by the explorers were multilingual. The work is related to the present study in the aspect of multilingualism. It is, however, different because it is historical and does not deal directly with onomastics, as this chapter does. A related study that is apt is Bagwasi (2012) who overlooks the semantic aspect of naming to unravel the effects of multilingualism, history, education and Christianity on the Bakalanga (Southern African) naming practices and identity formation. She discovers that the names used by the Bakalanga ethnic group are drawn from various languages (Ikalanga, Setswana, Shona, Ndebele, English) and reflect various sociocultural and religious practices found in the region. The study indicates that multilingualism leads to dynamism in naming. Apart from the fact that the names tell both individual and collective stories, they serve as “evidence or as a map of the community’s historical, social, cultural and linguistic course” and function as barometers of the people’s lives (Bagwasi 2012: 128). The study is related to the present research in theme and focus. They are, however, different in data, setting and contexts. While Bagwasi’s study was carried out in Botswana, a southern part of Africa, the present study is based in Nigeria, West Africa. Odebode (2013) studies abiku names as represented on Facebook. He discovers that abiku names are face-threatening, and the bearers are ashamed of being called by them; hence, they devised a means of addressing this face-threatening act through anglicisms. The work is similar to the present chapter with respect to a certain aspect regarding data. It is different both in theoretical framework and in overall data. Bore (2019) considers the effect of the English language and Kiswahili over the remaining forty-two languages and ethnic groups in Kenya, East Africa, where both English and Kiswahili are given the status of official and national languages, respectively. The ability to master the two languages gives the bilingual an upper edge among other Kenyans in the country. Thus, a good mastery of languages confers deference. The researcher discovers that the emphasis on the two languages is leading to attrition as far as other indigenous languages are concerned. The local languages are not only dying out; they have become less important, and

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Kenyan children cannot comprehend them. Bore (2019), therefore, recommends that there is the need to teach the indigenous languages in schools to preserve the sanctity of African culture and tradition. The work serves as an update on the importance of the indigenous languages in a bi/multilingual society. It is different because the present study is focused on onomastics and not just on theoretical multilingualism. Möller (2019) works on toponyms in South Africa from a multilingual perspective and discovers that the place names reflect the diversity of languages spoken by the locals. The work indicates the interconnectivity of multilingual contexts and language elements that survived in naming geographical locations in the region. The work is related to the present study in theory but different in data and focus. While this study is based on anthroponyms (personal names) in Nigeria, West Africa, Möller’s research is based on place names in South Africa.

5 Naming Systems in Nigeria Generally, the naming system in Nigeria is ethnically defined. Officially, an average Nigerian has three names (first name, middle name and family name/surname). Each ethnic group defines its code and ethos of naming a child. However, this study highlights the naming systems in the three dominant cultures in the country, that is, Hausa, Yoruba and Igbo.

5.1 Yoruba Naming System Traditionally, the Yoruba naming system is patterned after the Jewish culture of naming. A Yoruba boy is named on a ninth day, while a girl is christened on the seventh day. This is probably based on the Yoruba myth that a girl child has seven bones, while a male child possesses nine. But a set of twins is named on the eighth day regardless of their sex. This is because the twins are deified by the Yoruba (see Odebode 2010). Furthermore, the child is given names based on certain indices. These include the name givers’ religion, profession, educational level and the

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child’s birth circumstance (Odebode 2019). Thus, a child with the name Omitoyin (‘the river goddess is worthy of praise’) indicates that the parents are devotees of the river goddess. Similarly, a child who bears the name Sangofunmi (‘the god of thunder gave me this child’) attests to the belief of his/her parents in the thunder god. Alternatively, if a child bears the name Odebode (‘the hunter/warrior arrives safely’), it entails that the child hails from a hunter/warrior’s lineage. Similarly, a child with Agbegbemi (‘farming profits me’) as a name is from a professional farmer’s family. But due to the influence of Christianity and civilisation, the Yoruba occasionally substitute the name of the Lord (Jesus Christ) for their traditional gods and goddesses’ names. Thus, instead of Sangofunmi or Ogunfunmi (‘the god of iron gave me this’), we have Oluwafunmi or Olufunmi (‘the Lord Jesus Christ gave me this’). An average Yoruba bears at least three names: oruko amutorunwa (circumstantial name), oruko abiso (given name or first name) and oruko baba or oruko ebi (father’s name or family name). For instance, the researcher’s first name, Idowu, is a circumstantial name which denotes s/ he was born after a set of twins; then the middle name or a given name Olusola means ‘the Lord Jesus Christ enriches me’, and finally there is the father’s name, Odebode. The Yoruba also have one oriki (a secret name which traces the ancestry/history of the bearer and which is sung like a poem or panegyric). It is possible that a child is born normally and not circumstantially. In such a situation, the child will have one given name, one middle name and the family name. However, every child will have oriki (secret praise name), which is usually given by the grandparents. It should be noted, however, that due to civilisation and the influence of Christianity and Islam, the naming system of the Yoruba has totally changed, particularly in the colonial and post-colonial era. An average Yoruba (Christian in particular) has a baptismal or English name which is optional (but preferable in most cases) to be used officially. The preponderant naming pattern now is: [given name + foreign (religious/baptismal) name + family name]. Thus, there are the name phrases Obafemi Jeremiah Awolowo and Ladoke Samuel Akintola which were borne by former Premieres of the defunct Western Region (1955–1966). See Appendix 1 for further information (Table 28.1).

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5.2 Igbo Naming Culture Like members of the other tribes, an average Igbo has three names: first name, middle name and family name. As in Yoruba culture, there are additional names depending on the family and various situations. Traditionally, the circumcision of a child takes place on the eighth day, but the naming ceremony is slated for seven native weeks, where a week is four days. Thus, it lasts for around thirty days. At the expiration of the seven native weeks, the woman will visit the market for the first time when her purification will be over, and she returns home with gifts from the market. The Orthodox church performs the naming ceremony and baptism of the child in three months, but the Pentecostal churches do the naming ceremony on the eighth day. In the old Igbo culture, special names were given to pagans who were not joined by the church. Examples in this respect are Onyewalu (‘a person of this world cannot marry this’), which presupposes that only a spirit can marry the bearer, and Okoroagwu (‘son of agwu [god of insanity] or a male child dedicated to the god agwu’). The Igbo rarely have circumstantial names such as the Yoruba names Taiwo (‘s/he was born first’) and Kehinde (‘s/he was born second’) (see Odebode 2010 for names of twins). This is because they frown upon twinning and premature (seven-month pregnancy) birth. The twins were put inside a native oku pot and then thrown into the sacred bush to die. This practice was in vogue in south-eastern part of Nigeria until Mary Slessor (1848–1915), a female missionary from Scotland, stopped it in Calabar. Nevertheless, the culture persisted until 1941 in Igboland before it was overrun by modern Christianity. Similarly, a child who comes out of the womb with two feet first or born with teeth or ten fingers are all taboos in Igbo land, whereas they are deified, pampered and given special names in Yorubaland.

5.3 Hausa Naming Pattern The Hausa predominantly dominate the northern parts of Nigeria. They occupy almost ten out of the fourteen northern states of Nigeria and are

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the least educated in the country. Despite this, the remaining minority groups still have Hausa as their language of interaction and local trade. Islam is the major religion in the northern region. This is attributable to the trans-Saharan trade and the efforts of the Islamic scholar Uthman Dan Fodiyo. As typical Nigerians, the Hausa have a three-component naming pattern: first name, middle name and family name. The first name usually consists of the name of a prophet or the prophet’s companion. The middle name is the real traditional Hausa name, while the last name is the family name. This incidentally can be the name of a prophet again. However, in some cases, they are toponyms, that is, the name of a town/community. For instance, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa (the first and only Prime Minister in Nigeria), Usman Sheu Shagari (the first executive president of Nigeria), Hassan Katsina (a prominent military administrator) and Malam Aminu Kano (a former northern politician), all have a prophet’s name as their first name and a town’s name as a surname. Due to their level of education, a good number of Hausas are unaware that the names thought to be of Arabian origin are not Arabic. They are rather Jewish in origin and etymology and have no separate Arabic meaning. Such names include Musa (Moses), Nuhu (Noah), Dauda/Dahood/Dawud (David), Isah/Yisah (Jesus), Hana (Hannah), Maryam (Mary), Samu (Samuel), Yohana (John) and Ibrahim (Abraham).

6 Discussion and Findings This study has indicated that Nigerian names stem from a good number of multicultural factors. First is marriage. A woman who is married into another culture tends to swap her maiden surname for her husband’s. Thus, we have names like Kaona Maryam Okedinachi and Somtochukwu Favour Ogunbunmi. In the first name, Kaona is a Hausa word for ‘love’; Mary is an Anglo-Jewish word standing for rebellion, while Okedinachi is an Igbo expression for ‘destiny lies with the Almighty’. In this situation, Kaona is a Christian girl from the northern part of Nigeria. This is decipherable cataphorically from the middle name (Mary), and she is married to an Igbo man, Mr Okedinachi.

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It should be noted that people bear the name Mary in Africa not because of the meaning, but because Mary is the Biblical mother of Jesus Christ. Therefore, the bearer’s name has the trilingual potential of Hausa, English and Igbo. Similarly, in the second name, Somtochukwu is an Igbo expression which means ‘join me in praising God’. Favour is an English word for ‘benevolence’, and Ogunbunmi is a Yoruba expression meaning ‘the god of iron gave me this child’. Contextually, the bearer of this name is an Igbo girl who is married to Mr Ogunbunmi. Therefore, her name is multilingual in nature: Igbo (Somtochukwu), English (Favour) and Yoruba (Ogunbunmi). Her present surname is significant to this study. It reveals that the husband hails from the traditional worshipper family whose profession has to do with an iron instrument (see Odebode 2019). Furthermore, this research reveals that in Nigeria, multilingualism in naming is a product of religion. Prior to independence from the British and even up to the post-independence era, Nigerians have imbibed the culture of adopting a baptismal name after conversion. Hardly is there anybody within the age bracket of one to fifty without any Christian baptismal or Islamic religious name. Hence, we find notable name(s) like Yakubu Jack Gowon (1966–1975), Olusegun Matthew Obasanjo (1976–1979 and 1999–2007), Umar Musa YarAdua (2007–2009) and Ebele Goodluck Jonathan (2009–2014) which refer to former rulers of Nigeria. It is insightful to note that all the names contain at least one foreign element. Yakubu is a Hausa form of rendering Jacob, but it combines with Jack, an English word, presumably from the Union Jack. Olusegun (Yoruba expression for ‘God wins’) combines with Matthew and Obasanjo (‘God repays/rewards my past deed’); YarAdua (Hausa expression for ‘the child of prayer’) combines with Umar, an Arabic element, and Musa (Hausa sound modification for Moses). Even the name of the incumbent president, Muhamadu Buhari (2014–to date), combines an adapted Islamic/Arabic name (Mohamed) with the local Hausa/ Fulani name. At the same time, colonisation cum trans-Sahara trade is another factor responsible for multilingualism in naming. For instance, the Portuguese and the British first arrived in Nigeria via the Atlantic Coast, and they settled in the Southern Protectorate where they established schools and churches in conjunction with the missionaries. This is why

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Christianity, as well as Western education, is viable in the south, and English names are preponderant, for example, Johnson Thomas Umunakwe Aguyi-Ironsi, an army General who ruled Nigeria in 1966. He was an Igbo man from the south-eastern part of Nigeria. He combined two English names (Johnson and Thomas) with one local name (Umunakwe), and his family name Aguyi-Ironsi. In the same vein, Dr Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, who ruled Nigeria between 2009 and 2014, has an English element (good luck) as his first name, a local Ijaw word (Ebele) as his middle name and Jonathan as his surname/family name. Other rulers from the south-west include Earnest Shonekan (1993) and Olusegun Matthew Obasanjo (see Appendix 2 for details). Correspondingly, notable footballers from the south also bear English names. These include Austin Okocha, Daniel Amokachi and Taribo West, Mikel Obi and Emmanuel Amunike. Noteworthy is the fact that some colonial masters added their names to that of their black servants as a symbol of identity during the slave trade era. Even after the emancipation proclamation of 1 January 1863, such families did not change the identity. Thus, we find names like Atanda Fatai Williams (a former chief justice of the federation), Olikoye Ransome Kuti (former minister of Health in Nigeria and his siblings, except Fela Ransome Kuti, a popular African singer who later changed his middle name Ransome to Anikulapo ‘he who pockets death’, because he wanted to erase the white identity from his name). Similarly, the Arabs who came through the north via the trans-Sahara trade route introduced the Islamic religion and Arabic names into the northern part of Nigeria. That is why we have Umar Musa YarAdua, Muhammadu Buhari, Murtala Ramat Mohammed, Ibrahim Babangida (1985–1993), Sanni Abacha (1993–1998) as some notable names of rulers from the northern part of the country. It should be pointed out that their first and middle names largely transmit Arabic identities apart from the surnames which bear the rich Hausa/Fulani culture. Based on the above, Giles et al. (1991: 2) state that in communication accommodation theory (CAT), “accommodation strategies can characterise wholesale realignment of patterns of code of language selection […], beliefs, attitudes and sociocultural conditions”.

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In addition, bi/multilingualism and bi/culturalism became the features of Nigerian naming system due to social prestige. Therefore, possession of Western education, ability to communicate in English as well as having an English name conferred on the bearer deference. Thus, it was discovered on the occasion of this research that some Nigerians simply adopt any name so far as it is English. For example, trending names like Elizabeth, Harry, Henry, William as well as biblical names such as Ezekiel, Daniel, Joel and Jeremiah are in vogue. As a corollary, two closely related factors responsible for multilingualism were identified in this chapter: identity reclaiming and colonial mentality (the belief that everything by the white man is the best). The former has to do with the need to rewrite some circumstantial names which are face-threatening such as the abiku (‘born to die’) names. The Africans believe that abiku (bizo in Hausa, ogbanje in Igbo) children have been destined to die at a particular time. Therefore, as they keep reincarnating, their parents decided to give them special names which befit their traits. Such names among the Yoruba, which can refer to the animal world or to vegetation, include Aja (‘dog’), Anta (‘giant lizard’), Igbokoyi (‘bush rejects this’), Kusanu (‘death has mercy’), Babatunde (‘father reincarnates’), Yetunde (‘mother reincarnates’), Folorunso (‘I gave God to watch over’). These names are symbolic among the Yoruba, particularly the animal names. A dog sleeps outside; a giant lizard stays in the bush and is useless. However, because the names are face-threatening, the bearers devise a means of revitalising them through anglicisms. Thus, we have Ajah (Aja), Antar (anta), Koy (as in joy for Igbokoyi), Kusan (as in Susan for Kusanu), Babs or Teddy (for Babatunde), Yetty (Yetunde) and Folly (Folorunso). These aspects are summarised in Odebode (2013). The Hausa also share a similar culture with the Yoruba on the abiku phenomenon. This is why they give the name Bizo (Hausa word for ‘dump’) to a male child who was born to a family where they have lost his predecessors. Such children are said to be dumped in the bush or a hip-­ dump to see whether they survive. Those who do not pass through this ritual are called Barau (‘the sole survivor of a family’), after the saying “A barshi a gani ko ya tsaya” [Leave him and watch if he lives] (see Nairaland

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2019). The latter expression is also used for the abiku child in Yoruba as Kasimawo. This is the middle name of Moshood Kasimawo Abiola, the presumed winner of the presidential election on 12 June 1993, which was annulled by the military in Nigeria. The name symbolises three cultures: Moshood (Arabic/Hausa), Kasimawo (Yoruba/abiku) and Abiola (Yoruba expression for ‘born to wealth’). Bizo is also being anglicised through sound modification in variants like Bizor, Bozor and Bizorrh. The Igbo people believe that the abiku phenomenon is a taboo. Therefore, they only give them the general name ogbanje and deny them the official name which other children have. Apart from abiku names, college students introduced bi/multilingualism into naming in Nigeria by anglicising their names, particularly on branded shirts, Facebook and other synchronous media. Thus, we have Funmilayo (‘give me joy’) with the following potential variants: Funmie, Funmy, Fun me, Phunmi, Phunmie, Phunmmy; and Sola (‘give me wealth’) as sholar, solar, sholly, shollie. This emanated from colonial mentality. Meanwhile, migration is also responsible for multilingualism in naming. This is peculiar to the children of soldiers and policemen who received names based on their parents’ duty post at a particular time. For instance, a name like Promise Bamidele Chiagozim (a combination of English, Yoruba and Igbo) is given by an Igbo uniformed man to his child, and Joy Madugu Bolarinwa (a combination of English, Hausa and Yoruba) by a Yoruba counterpart. The two middle names are significant. Although they are Yoruba and Hausa words, respectively, their lexico-­ semantic potential presupposes that the bearers were born in a foreign land. This why Rassool (2012: 64) states that “migration almost always impacts on a person’s sense of who they are, and this often involves some realignment between language and identity”. Additionally, there exists the pattern of imitative naming. Nigerians, due to their beliefs, name their children after a charismatic leader, a public official or a public figure regardless of their origin or ethnicity. They believe that the child will take after the original bearer. For instance, a name like Daniel Kumuyi Anagu is apt. Daniel, an Anglo-Jewish name, is patterned after the Biblical Daniel. Kumuyi, a Yoruba name, is patterned

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after Pastor William Folorunso Kumuyi who is a world-renowned holiness evangelist and the founder of the largest single congregation in Nigeria, the Deeper Life Bible Church. The last name, Anagu, an Igbo name denoting ‘the land of a lion’, is the bearer’s family name. Similarly, a popular musician’s (nick)name is Naira Marley (naira is the national currency, and Marley is patterned after the late Jamaican singer Bob Marley, 1945–1981). Moreover, multilingualism in naming is practised in Nigeria to perpetuate and validate history. A respondent who is a prince and a Muslim bearing an Arabic name and a local name revealed that his father gave him a middle name, Parker, in remembrance of the Parker pen which a white man donated to the father when he paid him a courtesy visit. The middle name, therefore, conferred on him not only multilingualism but also multiculturalism. The name also validates and perpetuates historical fact.

7 Conclusion This study has indicated that naming is one of the indices of language contact, and a name is a social DNA with multilingual/multicultural undertones. From the combination of words, it is possible to determine the bearer’s ethnicity, language(s), history, gender, geography and religion. Nigerian names are deliberately manipulated aesthetically, to give room for a dignified economy of expressions such that significant content related to meaning(s)/language(s) is contained in a single word or in several words. Linguistically, the names analysed indicate a combination of local and international languages; religiously, they symbolise the major religions in Nigeria, namely, Christianity, Islam and animism. Geographically, they overlap with the geopolitical distribution of the country; historically, they affirm origins and aid remembrance. Names, therefore, become instruments of multilingualism, creativity, historicity, ethnicity and memorability.

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Appendix 1 Table 28.1  Namsria 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

First name

Baptismal name (English)

Family name

Olamide Bolanle Taiwo Oluwatobi Adeola Obafemi Kolawole Olufunmi Titilope

Mary Christianah Eucharia Sharon Elizabeth Jeremiah Israel Henry Blessing

Oluwatuyi Famuyiwa Ejigbemi Adediran Ayantayo Awolowo Kudabo Kayode Gboyega

Arabic/ Islamic name

Family name Remarks

10. Kolapo

Buremo*

Osuntoki

11. Okanlawon

Taofiki*

Adegbenga

12. 13. 14. 15.

Lamidi Amusa Kudiratu Naimotu

Jakannde Elegbede Abegunde Arikeuyo

First name

16. 17. 18. 19.

20.

21.

Titiloye Adesola Simisola Ebunlomo

Remarks

*A local rendition of Arabic Ibrahim. Buremo is achieved by means of the sound modification of the original name. This is because there is no consonant cluster in the Yoruba language *(Wabilahi)Taofeek in Arabic is rendered with sound modification as Taofiki in Yoruba *Abdul Hameed *Arabic Hamshi *Arabic Khudrat *Arabic Noimot

First name

Middle name

Family name (foreign) Remarks

Ademola Atanda Kehinde Babatunde

Omobewaji Fatai Adewale Oluranti

Dasylva Williams Coker Kuku*

*The local form of rendering Cook, with sound modification

First name (Yoruba)

Middle name (Igbo)

Family name (Yoruba)

Olamide

Chibuzor

Sogunro

First name (Yoruba)

Middle name (English)

Family name (Igbo)

Olubunmi

Glory

Chiagozim (continued)

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Table 28.1 (continued) First name (Yoruba)

Middle name (Hausa)

Family name (English)

22.

Adeyomola

Godiya

Taylor

First name (Yoruba)

Middle name (Arabic)

Family name (Hausa)

23.

Bukola

Abdulgafar

Saraki

24.

First name (South African)

Middle name (Arabic)

Family name (Hausa)

Zulu

Kelani

Gambari

 ppendix 2: Nigerian Rulers A Since Independence 1. Chief Benjamin Nnamdi Azikiwe (1 October 1963–16 January 1966) 2. Major General Johnson Thomas Umunnakwe Aguiyi Ironsi (17 January 1966–29 July 1966) 3. General Yakubu “Jack” Dan-Yumma Gowon (1 August 1966–29 July 1975) 4. General Murtala Rufai Ramat Muhammed (30 July 1975–13 February 1976) 5. Chief Olusegun Mathew Okikiola Aremu Obasanjo (13 February–30 September 1979) 6. Shehu Usman Aliyu Shagari (1 October 1979–31 December 1983) 7. Major General Muhammadu Buhari (31 December 1983–27 August 1985) 8. General Ibrahim Gbadamosi Babangida (27 August 1985–26 August 1993) 9. Ernest Adegunle Oladeinde Shonekan (26 August 1993–17 November 1993) 10. General Sani Abacha (17 November 1993–8 June 1998) 11. General Abdulsalami Abubakar (9 June 1998–29 May 1999) 12. Chief Olusegun Mathew Okikiola Aremu Obasanjo (29 May 1999–29 May 2007)

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1 3. Umaru Musa Yar’Adua (29 May 2007–5 May 2010) 14. Goodluck Ebele Azikwe Jonathan (5 May 2010–29 May 2015) 15. Major General Muhammadu Buhari (25 May 2015–to date)

References Bagwasi, M. 2012. The Influence of Multilingualism, Christianity and Education in the Formation of Bakalanga Identity. International Journal of English Linguistics 2 (2): 122–131. Bloomer, A., A. Griffiths, and J. Merrison. 2005. Introducing Language in Use: A Coursebook. New York: Routledge. Booker, K., C. Hudson, and R. Rankin. 1992. Place Name Identification and Multilingualism in the Sixteenth-Century Southeast. Ethnohistory 39: 399–451. Bore, S. 2019. Multilingual Education in Kenya: Implications for Culture Preservation and Transmission. In Bilingualism and Bilingual Education: Politics, Policies and Practices in a Globalised Society. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/330366211_Multilingual_ Education_in_Kenya_ Implications_for_Culture_Preservation_and_Transmission/stats. Accessed 23 July 2019. Deumert, A. 2018. Multilingualism. In The Cambridge Handbook of Sociolinguistics, ed. R.  Mesthrie, 261–282. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Giles, H., and S.C. Baker. 2008. Communication Accommodation Theory. In The International Encyclopaedia of Communication, ed. W.  Donsbach, 645–648. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Giles, H., J.  Coupland, and N.  Coupland. 1991. Accommodation Theory: Communication, Context and Consequence. In Contexts of Accommodation, ed. H. Giles, J. Coupland, and N. Coupland, 1–68. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Halliday, M., and R.  Hasan. 1989. Language, Context and Text: Aspect of Language in a Social-Semiotic Perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press. He, H. 1989. The Art of Naming in China and Translating Western Names into Chinese. Literary Onomastics Studies 16 (12): 46–50.

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Möller, L. 2019. Multilingual Place Names in Southern Africa. Names 67 (1): 5–15. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/00277738.2017.141 5536?scroll=top&needAccess=true. Accessed 26 June 2019. Nairaland. 2019. Real Hausa Native Names and Their Meanings. https://www. nairaland.com/4303431/real-­hausa-­native-­names-­meanings. Accessed 26 June 2019. Nilsen, A.P., and D. Nilsen. 2006. Just How Ethnic Is Ethnic Humor. Canadian Ethnic Studies/ Etudes Ethniques au Canada 38 (1): 1–9. Odebode, I. 2010. Twins’ Naming among the Yoruba Nigerians: A Sociolinguistic Study. Onomastica Canadiana 92 (1): 39–52. ———. 2013. A Morpho-Pragmatic Study of Selected Anglicised Abiku Names on Facebook. In Existentialism, Literature and the Humanities in Africa: Essays in Honour of Professor Benedict Mobayode Ibitokun, ed. U.  Chijioke, A. Mosobalaje, and C. Oluwole, 338–350. Göttingen: Cuvillier Verlag. ———. 2019. Theonymy in Anthroponymy: A Sociopragmatic Study of Selected Yoruba African Religious Names. In Onomastics Between Sacred and Profane, ed. Oliviu Felecan, 265–278. Delaware: Vernon Press. Rassool, N. 2012. English and Migration. In The Politics of English: Conflict, Competition and Co-existence, ed. A. Hewing and C. Tagg, 47–77. New York: Routledge. Soyinka, W. 1988. Ethics, Ideology and the Critic. In Criticism and Ideology. Second African Writers’ Conference, Stockholm 1986, ed. K.H. Petersen, 26–54. Uppsala: Scandinavian Institute of African Studies.

29 Multicultural Aspects of Names and Naming in American Literature Alleen Pace Nilsen and Don L. F. Nilsen

In accepting the invitation to explore the naming techniques of American authors who have succeeded in writing popular, high-quality books about characters living in multicultural communities, we chose to write about five books that over the years we have truly loved and appreciated. In alphabetical order, the authors and the books we chose to write about are Sherman Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven (American Indian), Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street (Hispanic), Cynthia Kadahota’s Weedflower (Japanese American), Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club (Chinese American), and Toni Morrison’s Beloved (African American). We quickly discovered that these talented authors relied on the character names they created not only to identify ethnicity, but also to establish time periods and settings and to reveal ethnic values while providing literature that would help readers understand and remember the characters and the ways that they have contributed to the diversity in “American literature”. We also discovered that the authors were surprisingly candid

A. P. Nilsen (*) • D. L. F. Nilsen Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ, USA e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_29

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when they included accounts of humorous events and of people who were “different”. Part of their charm may be that they started writing about their own group before classes in “political correctness” became fashionable.

1 Sherman Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven: 20th Anniversary Issue When Sherman Alexie’s collection of short stories was originally published by Grove Press in 1993 under the title of The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, American adults understood the title much better than did children because between 1933 and 1954, we oldsters had grown up listening to “The Lone Ranger” first on the radio and then between 1949 and 1957, on television. The show was staged in the American West where the Lone Ranger was a sheriff, whose job was to keep the peace. He was always on his horse, which was named Silver, and he always wore a mask over his eyes. On the radio and TV shows, Tonto was The Lone Ranger’s subservient Indian helper, who always rode behind on a smaller horse and did whatever the Lone Ranger told him to do. Those of us who for years had felt sorry for Tonto always being “second best” were thrilled at the idea expressed in the title of Alexie’s 1993 book, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. Now that the two men were going to meet on an equal footing, of course we wanted to read Alexie’s book, and then see the follow-up film. The book contained twenty of Alexie’s short stories, with an additional two stories, plus a “Prologue”, being added to the 20th Anniversary Edition published in 2013. Alexie mostly uses first person in his writing, and he does not hold back when he wants to amuse his readers. One of his funniest anecdotes is about a young boy in the tribe, who truly has something wrong with him. When he finds himself in a large crowd, he suddenly shouts out the most shocking thing he can imagine. The first incident was at a funeral wake for an elderly woman. The boy was only seven or eight, and was

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standing solemnly by her coffin when he suddenly shouted out, “She moved! She moved!” A few years later, he was in the community’s bar (which apparently served as sort of a Community Centre), and a man ran in and shouted that there has been a terrible accident on the nearby Freeway. The boy responded by loudly singing out “Ten Little, Nine Little, Eight Little Indians …” The final event that Alexie reports on is at his own wedding, when just as the final vows are being said, the boy jumps up and starts shouting out an obituary for Sherman. He is so startled by everyone’s reaction that he faints and Sherman and his bride are solemnly declared “Husband and Wife”, with this poor boy laying across their feet. That Alexie would include these incidents (whether they were from real life or from his imagination) show that when he was in creative writing classes in college, he tuned out the lectures that his professors probably gave him on the concept of “political correctness”. Over the years, Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven has become increasingly well known. Last year, we were excited to hear that the largest newspaper in our state (The Arizona Republic, February 22, 2019) devoted more than half-a-page to a story about one of our local high schools having put Alexie’s book on its required reading list for seniors (seventeen- and eighteen year olds). But when we found the article, we were disappointed to read the headline: “Arcadia High students refuse to read author accused of sexual harassment.” Two girls were photographed and interviewed about the situation. They were not complaining about the stories published in The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, but instead about the fact that the author has admitted to being guilty of sexual harassment. A couple of days later, a counter-argument written for the newspaper by a freelance writer, Evonne Avalos, appeared in the same paper under the headline: “Students shouldn’t dismiss work of flawed author.” Avalos argued that while “The protest is well-meaning. It is also wrong-headed and superficial.” She suggested that perhaps the students should read Alexie’s autobiographical book You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, which gives “a better perspective of his life and the perpetuation of alcoholism, abuse, violence and stereotypes he lived and endured every day”. She explained that she was not defending Alexie, but instead wanted to give him credit for admitting the allegations and for apologising to his

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referees. Her closing question was, “So do we forget works by Poe, Carroll, Hemingway, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Cobain, van Gogh, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis Presley, even the Beatles?”

2 Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street The first edition of Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street, a story set in a Hispanic neighbourhood in Chicago, was published by Arte Publico Press in 1984. Then in February of 2009, a Second Vintage Contemporaries Edition was published by a division of Random House. A clearly stated message on the title page reads, “This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.” Today this statement is an expected “part of the world of publishing”, but the book itself is so intimately and “honestly” written that readers are likely to forget all about the idea that it is a work of fiction. The title of the first story is “A House of My Own”, which begins with Cisneros telling about herself in 1980: The young woman in this photograph is me when I was writing The House on Mango Street. She’s in her office, a room that had probably been a child’s bedroom when families lived in the apartment. It has no door and is only slightly wider than the walk-in pantry. But it has great light and sits above the hallway door downstairs, so she can hear her neighbors come and go. She’s posed as if she’s just looked up from her work for a moment, but in real life, she never writes in this office. She writes in the kitchen, the only room with a heater.

At the time the photo was taken, Cisneros had finished her graduate programme at the University of Iowa Poetry Workshop, but she still didn’t think of herself as a “poet”. Perhaps this conflict in her own mind about the nature of a poem versus the nature of a story is responsible for the unusual format of the book, which consists mostly of very short

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pieces with at least a half-page of clean, white space provided for each title. She described the book as “a jar of buttons, like the mismatched embroidered pillowcases and monogrammed napkins” that she searched out at second-hand stores and brought home to her house on Mango Street. Obviously, a jar of buttons cannot be appreciated unless the jar gets opened and the buttons spread out, each with a space of its own. This may be an explanation of the book’s distinctive format in which the title of each entry is printed in the upper half of the first page, with the stories themselves being printed on the bottom half—as well as on the following pages. Cisneros loves to work with people’s names. Twenty of the forty-five titles of her miniature stories include character names, such as “Cathy Queen of Cats”, “Gil’s Furniture Bought & Sold”, “Papa Who Wakes Up Tired in the Dark”, and “Alicia and I talking on Edna’s Steps”. The most moving—or at least the saddest—of her stories named after people in the neighbourhood is “Geraldo No Last Name”. In this story, Cisneros explains that while dance parlours have names and even dances have names, Geraldo had no last name. When Marin met Geraldo at a dance, “She’d be the last one to see him alive. An accident, don’t you know. Hit-­ and-­run.” Cisneros imagines how back home his old associates “never knew about the two-room flats and sleeping rooms he rented”, so that he could send money orders back home. His home is far away “in another country” where the people will wonder and shrug and will sadly remember: “Geraldo—he went north … we never heard from him again.” Irony is often at the root of Cisneros’ humour. Her story “No Speak English” is about Mamacita, who is “the big mama of the man across the street, third-floor front”. Cisneros’ friend Rachel makes a joke about how it would be more accurate to call their neighbour Mamasota (meaning “large mama”), rather than Mamacita (meaning “small mama”). Then she goes on to tell about how Mamacita knows only eight English words. “She knows to say He not here for when the landlord comes, No speak English if anybody else comes” and then for some unknown reason, Cisneros once heard her say “Holy Smokes!” The final irony to the story is about how Mamacita’s heart is broken forever because when her baby boy, who is just learning to talk, sings the Pepsi commercial he heard on

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TV. He sings it in English, which to Mamacita sounds like tin, rather than “the silver” of Spanish.

3 Cynthia Kadohata’s Weedflower Cynthia Kadohata’s Weedflower was published in 2006 by Atheneum Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Simon & Shuster. It is the story of a young Japanese American girl and her little brother, who in the early 1940s lived in southern California. The two children had been adopted by an aunt and uncle after their parents were killed in an automobile accident. The family, which had migrated from Japan, had settled into a good life raising and selling flowers. All went well, until December 7, 1941, when the Japanese Air Force bombed the American Air Base on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and the United States declared war on Japan. This resulted in widespread antagonisms against immigrants from Japan and the quick passage of laws dictating that American families of Japanese descent—at least those living on the West Coast in the States of Washington, Oregon, and California—were to be removed from their homes and confined to “Relocation Camps” so that they would not interfere with what rapidly became World War II. Two of the largest camps were placed in the State of Arizona on American Indian Reservations, one near the California border town of Poston and the other just South of Phoenix on land owned by the Gila River Indian Tribe. At the end of World War II, when the Japanese Americans were released from the camps, some of them decided to stay in Arizona where today they are respected members of several local communities. On November 18, 2018, the Arizona Republic newspaper devoted one-third of its front page to a story and a large full-colour photo of a green desert field backed up against a purple-coloured mountain range. The headline read “Keeping the Water FLOWING”, while the subheading was: “Gila River tribe is key player in bid for a long-term plan.” This allusion to the Gila River tribe made us think immediately of Weedflower, and how at the end of the story, an Indian boy, who had become friends with a Japanese girl confided to her that for the Indians, sharing their reservation with Japanese people hadn’t been “all bad”. He,

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along with some others in the tribe, had now come to appreciate what they had learned from watching as the Japanese began growing, first small patches, and then fields of flowers. Shortly after this news story appeared, the retirement centre where we live announced an upcoming bus trip to the nearby city of Chandler, which had just opened a historical museum with a major part of the display focusing on how the two cultures (the Gila River Japanese Internment Camp and the long-standing Indian Reservation) had cooperated with each other. Sumiko is a twelve-year-old Japanese orphan, who first makes friends with an Indian boy. She is called Weedflower, because on the family farm she was assigned to take care of the stocks, which are the easiest plants to grow and hence the cheapest for people to buy. Another of her jobs was to “bud” the more elite carnations, which means that in the field she would clip off the smaller buds so that the bigger buds would receive more nutrition and grow even bigger. She sorted the harvested carnations into Number 1’s and Number 2’s. The Number 1’s were sold for the most money to the best flower shops, while the Number 2’s, would be sold to sidewalk vendors, grocery stores, and mortuaries. Sometimes, Sumiko would slip a “Number 1” flower into a bouquet going to a mortuary because she felt sorry for the dead people who were always getting “second best”. Frank is the first Indian boy that Sumiko met. Early on, she had snuck into one of the Indian bean fields just to see what it was like. She was almost bitten by a rattle snake, but an Indian boy, Frank, who had been secretly watching her, saves her and they become “distant” friends. Only at the end of the book, when the Japanese are being moved from the camp, does Frank tell her that his real name, that is, his Indian name, is Huulas Butler. Ichiro is one of Sumiko’s cousins, not much older than she is, but because he was born after the family had moved to the United States, his name was on the deed for the family farm in California because Japanese immigrants were not allowed to own land. Jichan is Sumiko’s grandfather, while Hatsumi is Jichan’s son and Sumiko’s uncle. Because both men were educated and had held important positions in their Japanese communities, they were taken to real prisons rather than being allowed to live in one of the desert camps.

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Nikkei is the name given to Japanese Americans, while Issei refers specifically to people born in Japan but moving to the United States. The word first appears in the book on page 14, when Sumiko’s cousin, Ichiro announces at the dinner table :“A friend of mine thinks that the U.S. government may execute all the Nikkei if war with Japan breaks out.” Auntie cut him off with: “No war talk at the dinner table.”

4 Toni Morrison’s Beloved When Beloved was published by Random House in 1987, it received high critical acclaim and was a finalist for the National Book Award and winner of the 1988 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. A decade later, it was made into a movie starring Oprah Winfrey, and in 2006, a New York Times survey of writers and literary critics ranked it as the best work of American fiction created between 1981 and 2006. In the “Foreword”, Morrison explains that in 1983, she decided to drop her part-time editing job and to work full-time on her own writing. One of the nonfiction books she had edited was The Black Book, which included an 1856 newspaper clipping published in the American Baptist under the title, “A Visit to the Slave Mother Who Killed Her Child.” The story was about a woman named Margaret Garner, who had committed the dreadful act of killing her own baby to save it from growing up to become a slave. Morrison has explained that her book, Beloved, was inspired by Garner’s story, but it is not a historical account because she wanted to make the murdered baby her main character and she therefore needed freedom to invent the thoughts and actions of the baby and the mother, as well as of the other individuals whose lives were affected by the event. Morrison pitched her literary tent in what she called “a cemetery inhabited by highly vocal ghosts”. She begins her story in the 1800s, shortly before the Civil War, in a modest grey and white house on the outskirts of Cincinnati, Ohio. It is just across the river from the slave state of Kentucky where one of the lead characters, a Black woman named Baby Suggs, had been a slave for the Garner family. Even though the Garners lived in the Slave State of Kentucky, they were freeing Baby

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Suggs and taking her to live in a vacant house in Ohio (a non-slave state) which was owned by the Bodwin family. In exchange for Baby Suggs living in the Bodwin’s house, she will do occasional light work for them. Earlier in her life, Baby Suggs had been on a chain gang and had broken a hip so that she walked sort of like “a three-legged dog”. However, some of her former owners had taught her to mend and sew, and the fellow slave, who she generally considered to be her husband, had taught her how to make and repair shoes, so she could also be a cobbler. The woman has hardly had time to contemplate the change, which is coming to her life, but then she looks at her hands and breaks out laughing when she realises that she now “owns” these hands. And suddenly, she hears something pounding. It’s her own heart beating, which she had never stopped to think about. When Mr Garner asks her “What’s funny, Jenny?” “She couldn’t stop laughing. “My heart’s beating”, she said. “Mr Garner laughed. “Nothing to be scared of, Jenny. Just keep your same ways, you’ll be all right.” She covered her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. “These people I’m taking you to will give you what help you need. Name of Bodwin. A brother and a sister. Scots. I been knowing them for twenty years or more.” (Morrison 1987: 247)

Family relationships of slaves were often in chaos because women had little or no choice about when, or who, they mated with. Also, Black babies were often not raised by, or even nursed by, the women who gave them birth, because owners found it more efficient to have one woman assigned to nurse and care for two or three babies, so that the other mothers could go back to work. It was these conditions, along with the specific case of Margaret Garner (the real-life woman who had killed her baby to keep it from becoming a slave) that inspired Morrison to imagine an angry baby who as a ghost throws objects around rooms, shatters a mirror, puts her tiny handprints on the edges of cakes, and tips over a kettleful of chickpeas so they lie smoking in a pile on the floor. It’s no wonder that when people pass the house, they whip their horses into a full gallop because they realise that

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the house, which is first identified simply as 124, and then later as 124 Bluestone Road, is somehow located between “the nastiness of life and the meanness of the dead”. Baby Suggs blames herself for the ghost’s anger because when the dead baby was taken for burial in the local cemetery, the preacher had referred to her as “Dearly Beloved”, but Baby Suggs had asked the stonemason to carve on the headstone only the word “Beloved”. For the rest of her life, Baby Suggs is tormented for having made this decision. She is sure that it was what made the baby so resentful that nineteen years after the baby’s burial, she comes back to “get even”.

5 Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club was first published in the United States by G. P. Putnam’s Sons in 1989. It is a complex book as it reflects on the multiple ways that families who migrated from China to the United States brought their original lives with them and were constantly challenged when they tried to fit their early family backgrounds and cultural beliefs into their new family and community relationships. The Joy Luck Club is mostly about four immigrant mothers: Suyuan Woo, An-mei Hau, Lindo Jong, and Ying-ying St. Clair. Their daughters are more Americanised as reflected in their names: Jing-mei “June” Woo, Rose Hsu Jordan, Waverly Jong, and Lena St. Clair. The mothers had all migrated to northern California, and in the late 40s, they met each other at the First Chinese Baptist Church in San Francisco. Chapter 1 opens with one of the adult daughters (Jing-Mei “June” Woo) explaining that her father has asked her to be the fourth corner at the Joy Luck Club. She would be taking the place of her mother who a few weeks earlier had died suddenly from what the doctor called a “cerebral aneurysm”, but what Jing-Mei’s father thought had been a bad idea inside her head that simply “grew too big and burst”. In China, Jing-Mei’s mother had played the complicated game of mah jong with other Chinese women. It had been a weekly refuge from all the horror and the starvation that they were experiencing. Several years after the women were settled in San Francisco, Jung Mei’s mother re-instituted

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the idea of a weekly mah jong celebration, by inviting three other Chinese immigrant women from the Waverly Street Baptist Church to join in a weekly game and a “feast”. The women took turns being hostess and providing a “feast”, no matter if they had to scrimp on the regular food for their families. Later, the women’s husbands were invited to the feast and they added an extra activity of investing in the stock market. The profits were to be shared equally among the four families, so it was possible for everyone to go home happy—not just the winners of the mah jong game. Tan divided her book into four sections, each of which begins with a one-page story written in the format of a legend or an old folk story. The first story, “Feathers from a Thousand Li Away”, tells about an old woman remembering the swan that long ago she had purchased in Shanghai. The man who sold it to her had boasted that it was really a duck, who had been so proud that it stretched its neck in hopes of becoming a goose. But now it was almost useless because instead of becoming a goose, it became a swan, which was so beautiful it couldn’t even be eaten. The old woman disagreed with the vendor and vowed to take the swan as a gift to her daughter in America. Her idea was that when she presented the girl with the swan, the girl would be inspired to become more than expected. For example, she would be so inspired that she would learn to speak perfect English and would therefore be “too full to swallow any sadness!” But what happened was that when the woman arrived in the new country, an immigration official took the swan from her so forcefully that all she managed to hold onto was one feather. Of course, she felt a great sense of disappointment, but she nevertheless vowed that when the time came, she would give it to her daughter while explaining to her in perfect English just what it symbolised. Of course, the longed-for moment never comes and so only the readers know about the woman’s desire. All four of the women keep their mouths closed “so selfish desires would not fall out”, but still they are saddened as, for example, when seeing a daughter sitting by a fancy swimming pool and hearing “only her Sony Walkman, her cordless phone, her big, important husband asking her why they have charcoal and no lighter fluid”. The women take out their frustrations by making fun of their own skills in English and pretending not to know that they are being funny

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when they call social security “so-so security”, and when one of them describes her daughter, who is a successful architect, as being “arty-tecky”.

References Alexie, Sherman. 2013 (1933). The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven: 20th Anniversary Issue. New York: Grove Press. Cisneros, Sandra. 1984. The House on Mango Street. Houston, TX: Arte Publico Press. ———. 2009. The House on Mango Street. New York: Random House. Kadohata, Cynthia. 2006. Weedflower. New York: Atheneum Books for Young Readers, Simon & Shuster. Morrison, Toni. 1987. Beloved. New York: Random House. Tan, Amy. 1989. The Joy Luck Club. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons.

30 Multiculturalism in Shakespeare’s Names Grant W. Smith

1 Introduction For many, Shakespeare epitomises Western culture, and so it may seem odd to suggest that his writings reflect a multicultural perspective. However, to classify his writings as a simple reflection of a dominant culture overlooks (1) the inclusiveness of the names that fill his plays, especially his many coinages and additions to sources, and (2) his profoundly humanistic depiction of specific minorities and marginalised people in selected plays. A careful review of his character names reflects a pattern that is vigorously inclusive of social and ethnic differences, engaged in the quest for justice, and generally progressive in the development of cultural values. Using the list of names compiled in the “Index to the Characters in the Plays” of The Riverside Shakespeare (Shakespeare 1997), I have sorted Shakespeare’s names in terms of five categories: (1) the play settings, (2)

G. W. Smith (*) Eastern Washington University, Cheney, WA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1_30

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the narrative sources, (3) the forms of address—that is, titles, names, coinages or generics, (4) the social classes implied—nobility, lesser gentlefolk, commoners and (5) specific identifications—that is, regional, ethnic or religious. In terms of these categories, Shakespeare’s names prove to be highly varied in most but not all of his plays, and generally, to illustrate a genuine interest in inclusiveness that has become, increasingly, core values for the very culture that he in fact represents. The diversity of the names in Shakespeare’s oeuvre will be illustrated by focusing first on the types of settings. A few specific examples will then be analysed to illustrate the core ingredient of multiculturalism.

2 The Settings and Their Sources In their settings alone, Shakespeare’s plays demonstrate their inclusiveness simply and clearly. The settings are geographically far reaching (from Scotland in the north to Ephesus in Asia Minor), are exceptionally varied compared to other playwrights, and for analytical convenience may be divided into four general types that generally reflect their narrative sources—English, Classical, Italian and French. It seems reasonable to assume that such a range of settings conveyed an awareness of cultural differences within the world at large to the London audiences. A true sense of the human experience emerges precisely because of the diverse mix of names, especially among minor characters.

3 Diversity and Justice as Elements of Multiculturalism The English settings are most numerous, sixteen in all, ten of which are designated as the “HISTORIES” in the First Folio, three others are based on the same historical sources (especially Holinshed 1965) and three more on mixed sources. The thirteen plays based on the well-known history books could be suggested as counterexamples of inclusiveness

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because the names of the central characters were, by necessity, borrowed from a single cultural source. However, the actual inclusiveness of these plays reaches beyond the names that he borrowed from his historical sources, but is reflected instead in his many coinages and other additions to those sources. That is to say, it is in his additions to his historical sources, especially the names of minor characters, that we see Shakespeare’s profound interest in human diversity and the social diversity it entails. Of course, social diversity is not the only or best measure of multiculturalism. A genuine interest in multiculturalism also implies a clear vision of social justice. Therefore, this study will first survey the plays based on the well-known history books as the primary examples of Shakespeare’s inclusiveness, but then a few other plays with other settings will be examined selectively to emphasise Shakespeare’s persistent humanisation of marginalised people. That is to say, many of the coinages, especially Shylock, Othello and Caliban, contributed to their characterisations and to a sense of multiculturalism in Shakespeare’s own time.

4 The Plays Based on English History Shakespeare added many minor characters and/or added names to the existing generic references already in his historical sources, to engage his audience more intimately in their cultural heritage, which was, in fact, riven with ethnic and religious divisions. London was a burgeoning international city, while brutal religious wars swept across the continent. Queen Elizabeth was constantly threatened by various dissenters, and the history plays offered a sense of common purpose within the nation’s past, gave vigorous support to the Tudor dynasty and brought success, thereby, to Shakespeare early in his career. The popularity of these plays did not stem just from their historical facts but at least in part from Shakespeare’s thematic development and coinage of names for minor characters, from the individualising eccentricities and ethnicities displayed thereby and from his use of nicknames for nobles with which the audience might identify.

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Of over 500 names in the history plays (including generics), at least 10% are names of minor characters that Shakespeare added for more inclusive development. An obscure but typical example is the name Peter Thump in Henry VI, Part 2. The word Thump means to “strike or beat heavily, as with a fist” (OED 1971: 3312), and the name Peter would easily suggest the stalwart apostle and first leader of the Church in Rome. The combination of names effectively foreshadows the dramatic action. Edward Hall, one of Shakespeare’s primary sources, mentions an unnamed apprentice who challenged his own master for suggesting that Henry VI was not the rightful monarch Shakespeare names the apprentice. In a trial by combat, the apprentice “strikes him down” (Henry VI, Part 2, 2.3.93) with a resounding blow, as the meaning of the name implies, justifying Thump’s preceding prayers and the king’s sovereignty, and probably eliciting cheers from the many apprentices who stood as groundlings in front of Shakespeare’s stage. The history plays are filled with many descriptive or associative redende Namen that evoked common but varied experience of the time—for example, Shadow, Slender, Silence, Tearsheet, Fang, Snare and, of course, Falstaff. Shakespeare’s deliberate attempt to be inclusive is even clearer in the names he uses for the English soldiers. They describe characters in a way that shows the daily unfairness with which the commoners lived as well as their essential loyalty to their monarch. The corruption of Falstaff, for example, is illustrated when Bullcalf and Mouldy, physically able young men, buy their way out of military service, while at the same time the audience is invited to admire the fervent patriotism of Feeble, the least physically able, as his name symbolically implies, declaring, “No man’s too good to serve ‘s prince, and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next” (Henry IV, Part 2, 3.2.236–238). Also, to portray Henry V as a monarch who understood and had an interest in his people, Shakespeare gives meaningful names to his presumed low-life friends at the Boar’s Head Tavern—Falstaff, Peto, Bardolph, Gadshill and Poins. The patrons of the Boar’s Head Tavern are made colourful and varied by their names, and by an association with the young Prince, the audience is invited to identify with his realistic sense of justice and morality.

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Of course, some of the names are ironic markers of English culture— notably Falstaff. The name may be easily interpreted as a pun for False-­ staff, referring to someone who bears that emblem of honour (the staff of authority) without justification. In Henry IV, Part 1, the name describes his cowardice in the Gads Hill robbery, his feigned death at Shrewsbury and his outrageous “catechism” on honour, calling it “a mere scutcheon” (Henry IV, Part 1, 5.1.140). In The Merry Wives of Windsor, the lexical value of Falstaff’s name also refers to his failures in romance. The second syllable is a phallic metaphor, and the first syllable refers to the comic futility of his sexual fantasies, reinforced, in the end, by his own reference to “the decay of lust” (5.5.143). Thus, his name describes not only the character on stage, but also a knighthood without honour, an enfeebled masculinity and ultimately one of the many absurdities included in Shakespeare’s social landscape. Of course, the most telling examples of Shakespeare’s deliberate inclusiveness in the “HISTORIES” are the ethnic distinctions of the English soldiers. In the siege of Harfleur Shakespeare introduces three captains whose names are obvious ethnic markers: Fluellen is obviously Welsh, Macmorris is obviously Irish and Jamy is obviously Scotch. They argue but are united in their patriotism, especially Fluellen. When Pistol, Falstaff’s degenerate ensign, teases him about wearing a leek, Fluellen forces Pistol (whose name is symbolically associated with a notoriously unreliable weapon) to eat the leek. The raucous ethnic unity portrayed in the English history plays, especially in Henry V, is essentially fictional (Scotland, e.g., was an independent kingdom and usually allied with France and against England), and so the names thereby represent Shakespeare’s creative additions to his historical sources and his deliberate efforts to reflect a multicultural nation. In addition to the “HISTORIES”, three other plays are also based primarily on Shakespeare’s books of English history: Lear, Macbeth and Cymbeline. However, the naming patterns of these plays differ significantly, possibly because they reach back further in time. They are certainly different in dramatic form and purpose, being two tragedies and a romance. Shakespeare added few minor characters to Lear as it existed in Holinshed (1965) or in a previous Leir play. The minor characters are

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ancillary, but Shakespeare made significant changes among the major characters. An obvious example is that the name Cambria in the old Leir play is changed to Albany, giving a Scottish association to the play’s victorious general. Less obvious is the name Cordelia. It may be only slightly changed from its form in the many historical sources (e.g. Cordeilla in Holinshed 1965 and Cordella in the Leir play), but it more clearly expresses the inner sense of her words, that they are truly heartfelt (-lia suggesting such a derivation). Thus, it is all the more fitting that Shakespeare’s Cordelia dies to emphasise the seriousness of her inner truth and Lear’s errors, in contrast to her military triumphs in all previous versions of this story. Shakespeare also added a secondary plot to Lear with significant major characters. The Gloucester plot is one of the most significant secondary plots in dramatic literature. It was borrowed from Sidney’s story of the Paphlagonian King and mirrors Lear’s neglect of Natural Law and the resulting decay of social order. Gloucester disowns his older and loving son, Edgar, just as Lear disowns the truly loving Cordelia. Gloucester’s younger, illegitimate son, Edmund, turns against him after usurping authority, just as Lear’s treacherous daughters, Goneril and Regan, turn against him. None of the Gloucester names comes from either Sidney’s story or from the history books but were coined by Shakespeare in a way that links the ancient Lear story to recent events in Shakespeare’s time. The much-abused “Earl of Gloucester” is never in fact named, but his identifying title could easily suggest sympathetic characters in Shakespeare’s recent “history plays”—that is, Thomas of Woodstock (1354–1397) in Richard II, and Humphrey (1391–1447), the king’s younger brother in Henry V. The name of Gloucester’s elder and virtuous son, Edgar, does not come from the Sidney story but seems likely to have been a nod to King Edgar, son of Malcom III and grandson of Duncan in Scottish history. At the end of Lear, the virtuous Edgar, at Albany’s invitation, is left to rule the united kingdom. The double link to Scotland of the names Edgar and Albany would certainly have pleased the newly crowned King James, who had just come down to England from his threadbare throne in Scotland.

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The name of the wicked son, Edmund, has neither a link to Sidney’s story nor a reasonable analogue elsewhere in history. However, the name could easily have been that of an actor. There are several examples of actors’ names used as speech prefixes in Shakespeare’s plays. For such reasons, the names of two minor characters in this play (and the only two in this play to actually have names) seem likely to be the names of hired actors because they were not common at the time and have no thematic significance beyond their diversity. Curan is a Gælic name, and Oswald is a name commonly associated with Northumbria. Edmund might be an even clearer example of an actor’s name. Edmund was the name of Shakespeare’s youngest brother who acted first as an apprentice and then as a “hired man” for the “King’s Men” after 1596. William’s interest in and support of his brother Edmund (and of Edmund’s illegitimate son) is argued by Duncan-Jones (2001: 199–200) and documented by the record of Edmund’s expensive funeral paid for by William in 1607. Of course, the use of actors’ names reflects no deliberate effort to be culturally inclusive but illustrates a passive inclusiveness simply by its divergence from sources. The multicultural contribution of names in Macbeth lies simply in their focus on Scotland as a distinctive region of the British Isles and the diverse interests of King James. The main plot uses Scottish names from the historical sources with few alterations in spellings and relies heavily on generics in referring to characters on all levels of society. The only exception among minor characters might be the name Seyton. The Seytons were a family of hereditary armour bearers for Scottish kings, which may account for the name, but Shakespeare would have been naturally inclined to use this name for the obvious pun on Satan as Macbeth’s helper. With that one quibble, the focus on sources and the dominant use of generics in Macbeth is similar to that of Henry VIII, which was written in collaboration with other writers, as Macbeth probably was to a lesser extent. Cymbeline was Shakespeare’s next to last play based on his usual sources of English history (only Henry VIII coming a little later), and its names reflect the greatest diversity geographically, socially and ethnically among this group of plays. Cymbeline reaches back to the very earliest time in English history to display a fanciful triumph of true nobility arising from mixed and improbable circumstances.

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Cymbeline has two plots that trace the estrangement and then reunion of Cymbeline’s family. Before the curtain rises, a nobleman named Belarius has been unjustly disgraced, leading him to steal the King’s infant sons in revenge and flee to Wales where he and the two sons live as peasants with new names. A second plot begins in the opening scene as the King’s daughter, Imogen, marries the noble Posthumus Leonatus without her father’s permission, whom the King then exiles to Rome as punishment. The family is reunited when Posthumus returns as a Roman soldier but joins the two lost sons and old Belarius to rescue the King from the Roman army sent to collect taxes. Cymbeline makes peace with the Romans, Imogen proves her faithfulness to Posthumus and the heritage of England is thereby illustrated by a family reunited and carrying British, Welsh and Roman names. If all the characters are included, their names display an ancient England that is broadly multicultural. At least seven names are Latinate, four are Italian, only two are obviously Welsh, Cadwal and Morgan and only two English, Helen (which could be considered classical) and Cymbeline (which follows Spenser’s use of the name, Kimbeline, rather than Holinshed’s Cunebelinus, see Holinshed 1965). This international diversity of names is also reinforced in Shakespeare’s generic references; he specifically includes a “Frenchman”, “Dutchman” and “Spaniard”. Shakespeare also coins names for major characters with thematic meanings to intensify class and ethnic identities. The character Cloten, for example, has noble status being the Queen’s son from a previous marriage, but as his name suggests, he is actually a crude lout, intent on murdering Posthumus, ravishing Imogen and claiming the throne for himself. He is undeserving of his privileged birth. His name describes him as a congealed lump, perhaps of blood but also a “hardened lump of earth” (OED 1971: 441). Guiderius decapitates him and refers to his head as “clotpole” (4.2.184), a derogatory term first used by Shakespeare; in Troilus and Cressida Thersites uses it to deride the treacherous Greeks (2.1.117–119), presumably the mendacious warriors who sacked the noble Trojans, the legendary ancestors of both the British and Romans. By contrast, the coinage of Imogen carries a very positive meaning. Simon Forman watched the play in 1611 and recorded the name repeatedly as Innogen, a homophone of ‘innocent one’, which suggests a

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typesetting mistake in the First Folio of an ‘m’ for a double ‘n’. We see Imogen’s true nobility in her marital faithfulness despite Posthumus’ disbelief; that is, she is innocent of his misbelief. Disguised as a Roman boy named Fidele to symbolise her true innocence, she demands that Jachimo, a tricky Italian, confesses how he stole her ring. He does, and she is then restored to both the King, her father and to her bewildered husband. Posthumus’ name is then revealed as the key to understanding his own dream and its prophecy of Cymbeline’s family’s reunion. As the prophet explains Posthumus’ name, he is “the lion’s whelp… Being Leo-natus” (5.5.443–445), and he has been embraced by the King’s daughter, who in Latin is “Which we call mollis aer” (446), meaning the “tender air” of the prophecy. Furthermore, Cymbeline is himself the “lofty cedar” (453) whose branches are restored by the return of his two sons. Thus, the names reflect the guiding hand of Jupiter and the eventual peace and harmony for Rome and all of Britain.

5 Other Plays with Other Settings The name additions and changes that Shakespeare made in his dramatisations of English history helped to vivify and individualise the characters, and an important effect of this individualisation was to enhance the sense of inclusiveness that runs throughout his plays. It also commonly shows Shakespeare’s interest in social justice and his treatment of ethnic minorities and marginalised people.

5.1 Shylock Shakespeare shows his social interests most clearly in his coinages, which are figurative in meaning. As a figurative expression a name associates or describes a character in terms of something with which the audience is familiar that has thematic relevance. Examples can be found in all of Shakespeare’s plays, some already mentioned, but the name Shylock, the Jewish moneylender in Merchant of Venice, is probably the clearest illustration of his interest in social justice.

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The social context was anti-Semitic. After Jews were expelled by Edward I from England in 1290, contact with Jewish culture was lost, and absurd legends grew about Jewish practices, including cannibalism. Morality plays stereotyped Jews as grotesque villains dressed in black cloaks and horned hats and were accused of all unsolved crimes. The best-­ known Jewish character before Shylock was Barabas, the central character in Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta (1589, 1592, 1594). Marlowe’s play is virulently anti-Semitic and was revived in 1594 specifically to stoke public fervour against Roderigo Lopez—the physician to the Queen and life-­ long Christian, until Essex uncovered his Jewish ancestry and promoted a conspiracy theory to advance his political ambitions. Lopez’s public execution was a gruesome spectacle and gross perversion of justice. In the context of such hysteria, Shakespeare offered a truly progressive view of Jewish character. Shakespeare places his Jewish character in the centre of comedy, a story that must have a happy ending. When Shylock tricks Antonio to pledge a pound of flesh, most other characters are foolishly alarmed, as they always are in comedy, but the audience knows that Portia is the judge in disguise. Unlike the characters, the audience is assured of a happy ending because of Portia’s obvious wisdom. Thus, Shylock is not a demon, like Barabas and as Antonio claims, but a misguided ‘comic block’, a passing hindrance to good fortune, such as we find in all comedies. By making his Jewish character harmless in fact, Shakespeare reduces the social stigma on all Jews significantly. Shakespeare also makes Shylock the first believably human Jew in English literature. “I am a Jew”, he asserts, and then asks in terms anyone can understand, “Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?” (3.1.53–54). On at least one moral issue, Shylock is an exemplar—that is, on marital loyalty. He is distraught by the loss of his wedding ring, and when Bassanio and Gratiano exclaim, “my wife and all the world/Are not with me esteemed above thy [Antonio’s] life” (4.1.280–281), Shylock mocks their Neo-­ Platonic sentiments, “These be the Christian husbands!” (4.1.291). A little later, the Christians give away their wedding rings as tokens of friendship. By comparison, Shylock commands our empathy as a grieving husband who holds dear the memory of Leah and the sanctity of marriage.

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Explicitly and emphatically, Shylock stands for justice and symbolises the tangible injustice suffered by Jews as an ethnic group. He rails about Antonio’s hypocrisy: “He has disgraced me and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies, and what’s his reason? I am a Jew” (3.1.49–53). Thus, Shakespeare makes the injustice experienced by his Jewish character realistic and deeply felt. Of course, Shakespeare’s audience was totally Christian, and Shylock’s shortcomings were therefore obvious. Even though justice is vital to the social contract, love and forgiveness are even more important. Portia repeatedly asks him, “Be merciful:/Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond” (4.1.229–230). However, Shylock refuses to grant Antonio the least measure of forgiveness. He actually scoffs at the idea of mercy, thereby abetting the imposition of his own punishment. He is forced to become a Christian, at least nominally, and to “gift” (4.1.388) his wealth to “Lorenzo and his daughter” (390) upon his death. The simplest analysis of the Shylock name shows a meaning clearly relevant to Shylock’s obstinacy and most readily understood by Shakespeare’s audience. It is a simple compound of two common words, shy and lock. Shy (from OE sceóh) had the meaning then, much as now, of ‘averse to encountering’, and that part of the name functions in a very literal sense as an adjectival modifier of the noun lock. The word lock almost certainly refers metonymically to a popular hairstyle. The most popular coiffure of the time were locks of “hair worn shoulder length and curled with hot irons, which were then called ‘love locks’” (Barfield and Fuller, n.d.) to display the individual’s symbolic dedication to the idea of love. “Love locks” was a phrase in common usage and previously cited on stage, for example, in Lyly’s 1592 play Midas (3.2.18–20), and in the 1599 satire, 2nd Part, Return from Parnassus (3.2.20). By prefacing a reference to ‘love locks’ with the word shy Shakespeare calls attention to Shylock as someone who is ‘averse to the idea of love’. It is phrased as a satiric deficiency of a comic character but not in any sense a sign of depravity. Shakespeare’s use of the name thereby illustrates his genuine concern for the human interests of a maligned minority, a Jewish moneylender, even when those interests are seriously flawed.

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5.2 Othello Shakespeare’s figurative coinage of names varies in form. While Shylock refers to an aristocratic hairstyle as a tangible analogue to the character’s aversion to mercy, Shakespeare’s coinages rely more often on language play, that is, sounds and punning to describe appearances or actions. Othello is a good example of Shakespeare’s verbal play as well as his vital interest in social issues. In 1596 and again in 1601 Queen Elizabeth complained about the “great numbers of Negars and Blackamoors which (as she is informed) are crept into this realm”, defamed them as “infidels, having no understanding of Christ or his Gospel”, and “… authorised their deportation” (Bartels 2006: 305). The Queen’s motives may have been a bit more religious than racist, but the Queen justified her action by citing reports from her citizens, which reflects a populist intolerance within the culture. Shakespeare’s play is a clear answer to this obvious bigotry of his time. It is an adaptation and thematic inversion of a short story, “Un Capitano Moro”, by Giraldi Cinthio from his collection of stories, Hecatommithi, published in 1565. Cinthio’s story is blatantly racist. Its central character is a commoner, uneducated, pagan and unnamed—simply called the Moor. The wife, named Disdemona, regrets her marriage, saying, ‘Italian ladies shouldn’t marry Moors.’ Shakespeare reverses the attributes of the central character, making him a descendent of kings (1.2.22), educated, Christian and thematically named. In Shakespeare’s time, the name was pronounced O-TELL-O because any medial /th/ was spoken as a simple /t/. The first time the name occurs in the play, a Venetian senator asks the central character to explain his courtship of Desdemona: “But, Othello, speak./Did you by indirect and forced courses/Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections?” (1.3.110–112). Othello then answers that he won her affections by telling her “the story of my life” (1.3.129). In twenty-seven subsequent uses, the name can be easily interpreted as a request to speak. That is to say, the name refers to the character on stage at the same time that it requests a verbal response, and it describes the action of the character at the same time that the act of storytelling is shown to be the basis of true love, a love

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that “soul to affordeth” (1.3.114) and transcends outward appearances and racial prejudice. Shakespeare’s version of the story shows how a genuine love can indeed transcend differences in beauty, age and colour. As in Merchant of Venice, justice is important, maybe more so even than kinship as Othello claims: “he that is approv’d in this offense,/Though he had twinn’d with me […] Shall lose me” (2.3.211–213). However, justice is Othello’s tragic strength because he holds to that sword in spite of Desdemona’s “balmy breath” (5.2.16) and his own elemental senses. Desdemona, by contrast, whom he won with stories, affirms their innerward kinship even in her dying words—“Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell!” (5.2.125). Thus, Othello’s name is a play on words that describes the character’s central action and symbolises the psychological basis of a true love tragically sacrificed on the altar of justice.

5.3 Caliban Caliban is probably the most marginalised of all Shakespearean characters, and so any sympathy generated makes him one of the most compelling examples of Shakespeare’s multiculturalism. He is the only native on the deserted island where Prospero and his daughter Miranda have been marooned and where he “first was mine own King” (1.2.342). Because of his naive attempt to ravish Miranda, he has been dispossessed of all that was originally his, excluded from Prospero’s living quarters, reduced to menial labour and controlled by enchantments. Prospero laments that he is “a born devil, on whose nature/Nurture can never stick” (4.1.188–199), illustrating a paternalistic attitude typical of Europeans towards peoples of the New World. To account for Shakespeare’s coinage of this name, it is sometimes argued that Caliban is an anagram for the word cannibal because of parallels between Gonzalo’s description of an idealistic government (2.1.143 ff) and Montaigne’s praise of the Tupi tribe in his essay “Of Cannibals”. It is sometimes added that the word cannibal is itself derived from Caribe, the name of a fierce Caribbean tribe and from which the toponym

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Caribbean is derived (Davis and Frankforter 2004: 75). However, Shakespeare never hints at any cannibalism in Caliban’s behaviour. Furthermore, if Shakespeare intended any sort of Caribbean association, it is not at all reflected anywhere in the plot of this play. Caliban’s island is clearly in the Mediterranean, somewhere between Naples and the northern coast of Africa, from which Alonso and his party are returning, and from which Sycorax was banished when pregnant with Caliban. The simplest explanation of Caliban’s name is that Shakespeare avoided any specific equivalency but sought unique sounds to place him (as well as Sycorax, echoing the Greek words for ‘sow’ and ‘raven’) unmistakably outside social norms, ungroomed by custom or art. He is a child of nature, knowledgeable of “The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile” of his island (1.2.338), and identified thereby with the rawness of nature. When Prospero’s enemies are tossed ashore in the magical storm, Caliban is viewed as bestial and the least worthy of humans in a drama that is very much about the relative merits of Art and Nature. The ignominious servants refer to him repeatedly as monster, and he becomes oppressed most by those who are otherwise lowest within the social order. The playful unconventionality of the name helps to identify Caliban as one of Shakespeare’s most marginalised characters. Shakespeare’s multicultural vision is thereby made clearer by the sympathy we naturally feel for those oppressed. As The Tempest ends, Caliban elicits as much sympathy as any other character. Caliban, in stark contrast to the courtly wise, admits his foolishness: “What a thrice-double ass/Was I to take this drunkard for a god” (5.1.296–297). Although he may be a “demi-devil” (5.1.272), we sympathise most where redemption is greatest: “I’ll be wise hereafter,/And seek for grace” (5.1.295–296). Prospero seems to have Shakespeare’s own voice in the affirmation of what he once enslaved, “this thing of darkness I/Acknowledge mine” (5.1.275–276). It is an affirmation of all marginalised people.

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References Barfield, L., and T. Fuller. n.d.. Hairstyles of the Elizabethan Period. http:// www2.springfield.k12.il.us/schools/springfield/eliz/hairstyles.html. Accessed 7 January 2015. Bartels, Emily C. 2006. Too Many Blackamoors: Deportation, Discrimination, and Elizabeth I. SEL 46 (2): 305–322. Davis, J.  Madison, and Daniel A.  Frankforter. 2004. The Shakespeare Name Dictionary. New York: Routledge. Duncan-Jones, Katherine. 2001. Ungentle Shakespeare. London: The Arden Shakespeare. Holinshed, Raphael. 1965. Holinshed’s Chronicles England, Scotland, and Ireland. Ed. Vernon F. Snow, vol. 6. New York: AMS. Shakespeare, William. 1997. The Riverside Shakespeare. Ed. G. Blakemore Evans, 2nd ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). 1971. New York: Oxford University Press.

Author Index1

A

C

Abu Hatab, W., 268–270 Alexie, S., 455–458 Alsa’ati, S., 265

Caffarelli, E., 219n4, 221, 221n7 Casanova, E., 302 Cisneros, S., 455, 458–460 Clasberry, E. U., 230n8, 231n10, 234, 235 Comenetz, J., 14, 15, 17–19 Coromines, J., 295–312 Cotticelli Kurras, P., 365 Crowder, G., 10 Czopek-Kopciuch, B., 332, 336, 338

B

Bădiliță, C., 390, 391, 400 Berezovich, E. L., 413, 417 Bergien, A., 349 B. Gergely, P., 170, 187–189 Bölcskei, A., 150 Bourhis, R.Y., 74 Brylla, E., 158 Bugheșiu, A., 380

D

David, J., 318, 319, 321, 323–325

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1

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484 

Author Index

F

M

Farkas, T., 155, 155n4, 168–170, 173–177, 189 Felecan, N., 389 Felecan, O., 108, 138, 150, 153, 155, 156n7, 157n10, 158, 159, 217n2, 220n5, 220n6, 221, 222, 222n8, 394, 397, 401

Mangena, T., 422, 426, 427, 434 Matsyuk, H., 58 Matúšová, J., 316–319, 322, 323 Morrison, T., 455, 462–464 N

G

Golomidova, M., 107 H

Hajdú, M., 169, 170, 183–192 J

Jiang, Y., 278, 283, 284, 286 Jordan, P., 5, 47, 74, 262, 267, 269–273 Joseph, J.E., 74, 345

Neethling, B., 244, 245, 250, 255, 424, 425 Neroznak, V.P., 409, 410 N. Fodor, J., 155, 173, 185 Nikonov, V.A., 411, 414–416 Nilsen, A.P, 438 Nilsen, D.L.F., 438 Nuessel, F., 14–18, 20 Nyström, S., 197, 199, 200 O

Odebode, I., 440–443, 445, 447

K

Kálmán, B., 182–186 Kiss, J., 182 Klemensová, T., 319, 324, 325 L

Landry, R., 74 Leibring, K., 158, 392n3 Lieberson, S., 261, 348, 349 Loveday, L.J., 379, 380

P

Pedersen, A.-K., 206 Pennycook, A., 379 Piller, I., 74, 349, 356 Puzey, G., 74 R

Rieger, M.A., 229

  Author Index 

485

S

T

Saarelma-Maunumaa, M., 230, 230n10, 232–234, 232n14, 238 Schochenmaier, E., see Shokhenmayer, E. Selischev, A.M., 411–413, 415–417 Shakespeare, W., 171, 346, 467–480 Shaposhnikov, A.K., 407, 408 Shohamy, E., 42, 74 Shokhenmayer, E., 134 Sjöblom, P., 346, 382 Slíz, M., 167–170, 172, 175–177, 182–187, 189, 190, 192 Solà, J., 296, 297 Stanciu, L., 390, 391, 400 Stolz, Th., 228, 236n25 Sutton, L., 34

Tanabe, K., 278, 280, 288, 290, 291 Tomescu, D., 134, 152–154 Tort, J., 305 U

Untermann, J., 303, 305 Uspenskij, F.B., 94n3, 97n11, 103n23 W

Wahlberg, M., 201, 207, 209 Walkowiak, J.B., 46, 54 Warnke, I.H., 228, 236n25 Woodman, P., 150 Z

Zawawi, S.M., 229–233, 231n12

Subject Index1

A

C

Anthroponym(s)/anthroponymy/ anthroponymic, see Personal name(s)

Catholic(ism), 4, 57–69, 91, 149, 150, 150n1, 152, 154, 157, 159, 169, 170, 175, 177, 181–193, 232, 264, 387–401, 425 Character name(s)/names of character(s), 101, 154, 455, 459, 467 Chrematonym(s)/chrematonymy, 5, 42, 53–54, 319–322, 324, 326 Coinage(s/name), 382–384, 467–469, 474, 475, 478, 479 Commercial name(s), 4, 5, 366–368, 371 Conventional (name), 192

B

Bilingual/bilingualism, 5, 43, 45, 47–53, 78, 83, 84, 166, 183, 198, 210, 244, 250, 320, 326, 350, 438, 440 Borrowing(s), 109, 138, 153, 201, 249, 251, 268, 378, 379, 385, 415, 423, 425 Brand name(s), 5, 54, 76, 345, 346, 348–353, 355–357, 361–375 Byname(s), 142, 152, 153, 155, 158, 159, 173, 174, 182, 244, 247, 249  Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Felecan, A. Bugheșiu (eds.), Names and Naming, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-73186-1

487

488 

Subject Index

D

I

Diachronic/diachrony, 5, 43–44, 47, 151, 165, 217 Diversity (linguistic), 10, 77, 80, 85, 108, 150, 151, 201, 228, 297, 346, 348–353, 378, 381, 383, 437

Identity/identities (cultural), 73, 144, 147, 222n8

F

Family name(s)/last name(s)/ surname(s), 3, 5, 11–22, 30, 44–46, 93, 95–97, 101, 113–115, 121, 124, 125, 126n6, 128n7, 133–147, 135n1, 135n2, 151, 152, 154–160, 155n4, 156n6, 166, 172–177, 182, 184, 222, 244, 250, 251, 262, 270, 366, 383, 394, 396, 422–427, 434, 441–446, 449, 459 First name(s)/forename(s)/given name(s), 11–15, 20, 21, 93, 95–97, 100, 101, 103, 137–140, 142–145, 147, 152, 166–173, 175–177, 181, 182, 185–193, 231n12, 262, 334, 336, 392n3, 394, 441, 442 Foreign name(s), 93, 155, 167, 168, 177, 225, 267–269, 332, 339, 346 G

Globalisation, 3, 54, 73, 92, 154, 158, 168, 228, 229, 375, 377–380, 385, 401, 418 Greek Catholic, 4, 57–69, 149, 150, 154, 159, 387–401

L

Language/linguistic contact(s), 1, 3, 6, 18, 34, 42, 43, 45–47, 49, 58, 74, 94, 108, 111, 137, 143, 150–152, 165–167, 181–186, 197, 198, 200, 201, 203–207, 220–222, 231, 233n18, 234, 243–244, 247, 277–280, 295, 296, 316, 317, 322, 331, 332, 348, 349, 361–368, 374–375, 377, 378, 389, 391, 409, 412, 414, 415, 422, 423, 427, 438, 478 Linguistic landscape (LL), 5, 42, 51, 74, 78, 324, 354, 380 Localisation, 352, 377, 379, 380, 385 M

Majority, 4, 6, 10, 46, 48, 50, 82, 83, 140, 141, 166, 174, 193, 205, 208, 209, 228, 244, 252, 348, 354, 355, 422 Minority/minorities, 6, 44–53, 159, 166, 170–171, 174, 190, 192, 193, 206–208, 210, 214–216, 220, 228, 282, 318, 319, 336, 340–342, 348, 350, 353–357, 444, 467, 475, 477 Monolingual/monolingualism, 5, 28, 42, 83, 166, 353, 356, 366, 383

  Subject Index 

Motivation (naming), 41, 82, 110, 115, 125n4, 166, 168–174, 183, 191, 346, 413, 414 Multicultural/multiculturalism/ multiculturality, 1, 3–6, 9–22, 27–38, 41–54, 57–69, 73–87, 91–103, 107–128, 133–147, 151, 154, 158, 160, 165–177, 181–193, 197–210, 213–225, 243–259, 261–274, 277–292, 331–342, 345–357, 361–375, 380, 383, 385, 387–401, 414, 421–435, 437–452, 455–480 Multiethnic/multiethnicity, 3, 73, 74, 151, 157, 160, 165–168, 172, 173, 332, 342, 423 Multilingual/multilingualism, 438–441, 445, 447–449

489

Nickname(s)/nicknaming, 3, 5, 13, 94, 99n17, 101, 107–129, 111n1, 125n4, 126n6, 128n7, 139, 142, 145, 151–153, 155, 158–160, 244, 263, 319, 396, 412, 413, 425, 426, 469 O

Official name(s), 77, 93, 96n10, 157, 173, 174, 177, 198–201, 208, 324, 396, 448 Oikonym(s)/oikonymy/oikonymic, 5, 319, 320, 322, 332, 333, 337, 339, 407, 409, 410, 416, 417 Orthodox(y), 4, 57, 58, 60–67, 69, 79, 91–103, 137, 138, 142, 149, 150, 152, 157, 169, 174, 336, 390, 393, 395, 416, 443

N

Name bearer(s), 4, 156, 166, 168, 173, 175, 184, 230, 396 Name change(s), 13, 43, 47, 173, 174, 177, 183, 252–259, 274, 418 Name giver(s), 54, 101, 151, 176, 246, 438, 441 Name-giving/naming, 143, 144, 146, 147, 152, 159, 165, 168–170, 182–186, 191, 419 Name/naming pattern(s), 46, 47, 134, 136–137, 144, 146, 147, 193, 229, 392n3, 394, 442–444, 455–466, 471 Name user(s), 200, 201 Naming practice(s), 81, 86, 142, 182–193, 228, 231, 235, 236, 261, 262, 265–270, 273, 440

P

Pagan(ism), see Secular Patronym(s)/patronymic(s), 45, 46, 93, 95–97, 97n11, 101, 112, 133–147, 174, 175, 410 Personal name(s), 3–5, 11, 13, 42–47, 54, 92, 93, 95–103, 107–109, 114, 124n3, 134, 138, 141, 147, 149–160, 165–177, 181–186, 193, 199, 213–225, 219n4, 228–235, 237, 244–251, 262, 269, 270, 319, 322, 351, 387–401, 407, 410, 412, 415, 423–425, 434, 438, 441 Place name(s), see Toponym(s)/ toponymy/toponymic

490 

Subject Index

Policy/policies (language/linguistic/ naming), 2–5, 10, 12, 22, 41–54, 58, 62, 64, 69, 74–77, 80, 83–86, 190, 220, 235, 236, 277, 292, 317, 363, 368, 374 Postcolonial(ism), 227–239, 424 Pseudonym(s), 91–103, 319 R

Religious (name), 4, 6, 9, 10, 57–61, 63, 66–69, 81, 91, 92, 94, 96, 97, 99, 152–154, 157, 158, 165, 166, 168–171, 175–177, 181, 182, 186–193, 220, 222n8, 231, 232, 250, 262, 263, 265–270, 282, 378, 379, 389, 392, 394–397, 399, 400, 405, 419, 438–440, 442, 445, 468, 469, 478 Renaming(s), 38, 43, 44, 47, 237, 258, 259, 271, 273, 319, 322, 324–326, 408, 432 Rural (area/space/toponymy), 5, 157, 209, 265, 268, 332, 380, 417

Shop name(s)/names of shops, 277–292, 349 Street name(s), 412 Synchronic/synchrony, 5, 43, 45–53, 107 System(s/naming), 43, 45, 60, 91, 93, 111–114, 126, 134, 142, 151, 152, 154, 172–175, 177, 182, 221, 229, 230, 234, 236, 238, 252, 256, 258, 271, 278–280, 318, 332, 333, 336, 338, 339, 350, 352, 353, 394, 396, 397, 437, 441–444 T

Toponym(s)/toponymy/toponymic, 3–5, 21, 22, 32, 42, 43, 46–53, 74–78, 80, 82, 84–86, 151n2, 152, 172, 174, 175, 197–210, 236n25, 243–259, 262, 271–274, 301, 303–306, 308, 315–326, 331–342, 348, 371, 405–419, 411n6, 422, 428, 431, 434, 439, 441, 444, 479 Transfer (name), 62, 168, 201, 246, 355, 411, 419 Transonymisation, 101, 110, 319

S

Saints’ names/name(s) of saint(s), 58–68, 93, 170, 171, 175, 187, 389, 395 Secular, 6, 58–61, 63, 67, 92, 96–103, 96n10, 100n18, 143, 152, 154, 157, 169, 175, 181–185, 189, 193, 379, 395, 443, 478 Settlement name(s), 5, 175, 176, 182, 316–320, 322, 323, 412

U

Unconventional (name), 107, 108, 111, 152, 159, 272 Unofficial name(s), 198, 199 Urban (area/space/toponymy), 5, 74, 75, 78, 80–82, 84, 86, 157, 198–201, 229n6, 253, 268, 318, 332, 384, 411, 412, 417, 418