I’ve been reading Jason Kottke’s writings for decades, because he’s had interesting things to say all that time. For example, it was from his newsletter that I recently learned the word solastalgia.
Jason cites the definition of solastaglia as “the pain experienced when there is recognition that the place where one resides and that one loves is under immediate assault.” Nancy Friedman, who wrote about solastalgia back in 2008, defined it as “the depression that results when your local surroundings are changed significantly.”
Solastalgia is particularly associated with changes that result from climate change. However, when the word was invented in 2003 by the philosopher Glenn Albrecht, it was intended to refer to the anxiety produced by any disturbance to one’s environment, which could be from climate change, from a natural disaster, or from changes due to industry (such as mining). Other names for solastalgia are eco-anxiety and eco-grief.
I’m intrigued by how the word solastalgia was put together. The solas part is from a Latin word for “comfort” that gave us the word solace. The algia part is a Greek root, the same one that we see in nostalgia. But whereas nostalgia is about wistfulness, the algia part of solastalgia is truer to the Greek meaning of that root, which means “pain” or “grief.” We see that root also in the word analgesic, for “pain killer,” which combines an (“not”) with algo (“pain”).
(As an aside, the word nostalgia was a medieval invention—not originally an ancient Greek word—on the pattern of the German word Heimweh, which means “home sickness.” A recent word based on the pattern of nostalgia is technostalgia, which is a wistfulness for outdated technology.)
I certainly understand the need for a word like solastalgia. I can’t decide if I actually like the word, though. The roots, if you understand them, pretty much make sense. And its echo of the word nostalgia helps convey part of its meaning. But nothing in the word gets across the idea of “environment.” And while I have no beef with creating words from classical roots, this feels like a concept that would have been clearer if the word was built on more modern roots, like environmental anxiety. However, no one has asked for my vote on this question.
Let’s move to the official origins portion of our week. Last weekend’s broadcast by the Metropolitan Opera was La bohème by Puccini. Since the opera is about artists in Paris in the 1800s, I wondered how the word bohemian came to be associated with a certain lifestyle. Or for that matter, how it came about, period.
The word bohemian is a toponym: it comes from the name Bohemia, which is a region that’s now part of the Czech Republic (more or less). The name of the region came from the name of a Celtic tribe that the Romans referred to as the Boii. The tribe’s reach in the B.C. days extended from northern Italy north and east into present Czech lands and as far as Poland. (The name Bavaria also comes from the name Boi.) Naturally, the Boii eventually got into conflict with the Romans, who were expanding into the tribe’s territories in the 2rd century B.C.[1] The Romans referred to the region as Boiohaemum, which is an interesting combination of the Celtic name of the tribe (Boio) and a Germanic word haimaz, meaning “home.”
So that’s Bohemia. How did that name bohemian come to be associated with a countercultural lifestyle? English got the word from French (bohemién), where it was (is?) used to refer to the Romani or just Roma, the people who for a long time in English were known as gypsies.
Both names—bohemién and gypsy—are mistakes about the origins of the Roma people. The French used bohemién because they thought that the Roma came from Bohemia. The English used gypsy because they thought the Roma came from Egypt. In Spanish, the word gitano likewise reflects the idea that the Roma are from Egypt, and flamenco, an art form associated with the Roma, is from the mistaken notion that they came from Flanders. All of these names are examples of exonyms, which is a name that foreigners give to your people.
The use of bohemién for artists shows that people thought of these countercultural types as exotic and “other,” at least as regards societal norms. From one perspective, you could think of the term as being negative about two groups at the same time: the Roma via an exonym, and artists by treating their lifestyle as foreign. But whether you would find yourself insulted to be called bohemién or bohemian depends on how you feel about being othered, I guess.
Like this? Read all the Friday words.
__________
[1] The Boii had a hard time of it. They were kicked out of Italy by the Romans. Later they moved into what is now southern France, where they were defeated again by Caesar during the Gallic wars. These defeats left space open for Germanic tribes, who replaced the Celts in central Europe. [^]
I think the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows has had more influence on our culture than it should. Where’s my dictionary of obscure joys?