Indo-Europeans: The Surprising Connections Revealed by Our Proto-Language 

What is a proto-language? 

While European philologists of the past may have believed many things we would find unconvincing today (such as that Hebrew was the world’s first-ever language, bestowed upon Adam and Eve by God), they couldn’t help noticing the similarities between the languages they encountered.

As societies advanced and people were able to cover ever-greater distances, the geographical spread of these similarities – from Iceland to China – astounded travellers. 

By the 18th century, philologists had collected enough evidence to establish the Indo-European language family, and with it, the theory of the Proto-Indo-European language: a hypothetical common tongue that eventually spread through all of Europe and parts of Asia and morphed into the ancient languages we have all heard of, such as Latin and Greek in Europe and Sanskrit on the Indian subcontinent. 

Next, they did some good old data processing: comparing words and grammar from hundreds of living and extinct Indo-European languages, they attempted to distil the similarities into the proto-words which would have been used by the original Proto-Indo-Europeans. This work continues to the present day. 

Thus, some say it’s the proto-word *mhem that is responsible for the helpful similarities in the words for mother across so many modern languages1. Convenient for us, but is this proto-language ‘real’? If you are sceptical, you are not alone! Many argue that 10,000-4,000 years is too far back to make this exercise anything but fanciful.   

But the temptation to compare and draw conclusions persists. And of course, a proto-language invites ideas about the proto-society that spoke it.  

What were the Proto-Indo-Europeans like? 

The proto-words reconstructed by linguists allow us to make assumptions about the Proto-Indo-European world and its people. 

For instance, it’s fairly safe to assume that the Proto-Indo-Europeans were warlike and bloodthirsty, as linguists have reconstructed at least seven proto-words for ‘strike’ (one of which, *slak, gives rise to the English slay). 

On the other hand, there is also strong evidence to suggest they were a settled civilisation, such as the abundance of proto-words for ‘homestead’, ‘home’, and the like: *dōm is responsible for the Polish dom (‘house’), as well as the English adjective domestic. 

Anarchists and egalitarians will be disappointed: the proto-root *hregs (‘ruler’, ‘king’) is well-attested, giving us the Latin rex and the Hindi raaja (both meaning ‘king’). So will feminists: the PIE word for ‘marry’ (whence stems the modern English wed) is related to ved-, the Russian root meaning ‘to lead’, ‘to manage’. 

We know the Proto-Indo-Europeans liked their food, especially dairy, as there is an impressive number of proto-words referring to all kinds of dairy products, among them *hmelg, which English-speakers may recognise as milk.    

When they weren’t busy fighting to the death, they used ploughs and wheeled vehicles to cultivate land: *rotho is related to the Spanish rueda (‘wheel’) and the English rotate. After work, however, they did not mind indulging in some beer: *haelut is the proto-ancestor of the English ale and the Latvian alus.   

Where did the Proto-Indo-Europeans live? 

One thing we certainly don’t know, and probably never will, is where Proto-Indo-European came from. While the area of its influence is so vast that it almost certainly spread from a smaller territory, its geographical location is practically impossible to establish.  

Scholars have tried to use the proto-language’s plant and animal words for to connect its flora and fauna to a real place. The problem is that the proto-word for ‘birch’ (*bhehgos), or the one for ‘horse’ (*hekwos, an ancestor of equine), may well have changed its meaning over millenia! All the reconstructed words point to are general concepts, not precise species of trees or animals. 

So the homeland of the Proto-Indo-Europeans has been tentatively traced to a variety of places, from northern India to the Baltics, but all such proposals are scientifically unconvincing. It looks like the geographical origin of the proto-language is destined to remain a mystery – and just as well, as it means nobody can get on their high *hekwos and claim direct lineage. 

Open your eyes/ojos/oczy!

How Proto-Indo-European can help you with learning a language 

Discovering the existence of Proto-Indo-European can be rewarding for a language-learner. The Indo-European language family today is full of relationships to uncover. 

We all make associations in our mind that help us remember new vocabulary in a foreign language. For instance, if you are learning German, you may draw a parallel between the German word Leim (‘glue’) and the English slime: both are gooey and sticky. You may guess that the two are related, since both German and English are in the Indo-European family’s Germanic branch.  

But when you find out that both come from the proto-word *(s)lei, which is also responsible for the likes of the Russian sljuna (‘saliva’), that opens your eyes to a whole new dimension of relatedness. 

Some modern similarities can take us on a dizzying journey through Eurasia: the proto-word *morwi gives rise to the Latin vermis (‘worm’) and English worm, but also to the Italian formica, the Modern Greek myrmínki, and the Persian moorcheh (all three meaning ‘ant’). If you are studying Italian, the link between formica and worm is hardly obvious, but once you’re aware of it, the word becomes that much more memorable! 

If you are learning a foreign language in the Indo-European family, trust your intuition and let your mind wander through associations: chances are, the parallels you draw to aid your memory are not entirely accidental, so don’t be afraid to look for new ones.  

Numbers in Indo-European languages tend to show many similarities.

How many can you spot in the table below? 

The spirit of discovery 

I once wondered whether the English words yeast and Easter were related in origin: one is what makes bread rise; the other is the celebration of Christ rising from the dead. A quick Google search revealed I was mistaken: Easter is associated with the Proto-Indo-European root for ‘sunrise’, while yeast has a rather less romantic origin, in the proto-root meaning boil.  

The amusement afforded by this sort of theorising is, to me, at the heart of what makes language so enjoyable. To be learning a language means to be curious, and brave: you have to be prepared for the unexpected, and you must always be prepared to be wrong. You will also continue to have many questions – answering one never fails to bring about another. But you open will open up for yourself a world of connections beyond your wildest imagination.