Etymology as a Psychological Practice

Every word has an etymology—even etymology itself. Derived from the Ancient Greek etymologíā, our modern word has its roots in étymon and logos, meaning “true sense” and “the study of” respectively. In other words, “etymology” as we know it is the study of the true sense of words.

In modern etymological practice, finding the true sense of a word often entails going back to its origins. Usually this is done for historical purposes: a word’s etymology tells of its history, allowing us to trace its development throughout time. This gives us insight into where the current meaning of a given word came from. For instance, our word “school” is derived from the Ancient Greek scholē, which translates to “rest” or “leisure”, pointing towards the Greek practice of using leisure time for contemplation and learning. Today, of course, “school” refers more to an institution than it does a philosophical practice. The point here is not that our word is false; rather, I simply wish to point out that as society changes, so do words. And as words change—even though they gain new definitions—they move further from their etymologíā: their true meaning.

It follows that the study of words leads us closer to the word’s essence. By tracing a word’s origins, we do not just learn about the word itself, but we also learn something about the persons who created the word. Etymology, then, is also a way of understanding the direct experience that led to the formation of a word. It penetrates into the very nature of things, uncovering new iterations with each age of humanity. By studying etymology, we recover the lived experience of our ancestors. We relive their truth. Etymology, in this sense, is more of a psychological practice than it is a discipline of linguistics or history.

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Etymology as psychological practice is actually quite intuitive. When we look at the origins of a word, not only does our understanding of the literal word-as-vocabulary change, but the word changes our understanding of the thing it points to. Let us return to the word “school”. Knowing that “school” has its roots in the use of leisure time for contemplation, does your understanding of school change? Perhaps even your conception of leisure time? Most likely, yes. In going back to the word’s etymology, we have seen through its modern iteration back into its essence.

At this point a philosophical problem arises. If etymology has to do with the true nature of a word—the word’s étymon—the implication is that words have an inherent truth to them. We then are faced with the problem of “truth”: a word with many etymologies. In Ancient Greece, “truth” was alētheia—a process of uncovering reality, bringing it out of concealment—while the Ancient Romans saw truth as veritas, an unveiling of fact and sincerity. In Roman mythology, Veritas the goddess is often depicted nude—nuda veritas, the naked truth. She is often found at the bottom of a well, hinting to us that truth is found only in the depths of things. We must go to the bottom to find truth. And by going down the well of history, this is precisely what etymology does.

Truth in this sense is both alētheia and veritas; both the process of uncovering and the naked truth itself. Through alētheia (the process of revealing truth) we arrive at the veritas (the embodied truth) of a word, thereby getting closer to the essence hidden in the linguistic. The keyword here is closer—etymology, in its quest for truth, gives us the root word, but spares us the essence itself; after all, a word’s essence is more like a Platonic idea or archetype than a thing-in-itself. The word brings us closer to these unknowable forms, but can never quite capture Veritas herself at the bottom of the well.

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So perhaps etymology as psychological practice has less to do with finding the truth of a thing, and more to do with recovering the imaginal element of the word itself: the word’s soul. Uncovering the origins of words return them to the realm of myth and imagination, thereby bringing us closer to the soul’s mode of experiencing. The soul has no interest in etymology as an academic discipline; it wants to experience the myth in the word, not the word’s dry history or linguistic complexity. We gain more from seeing through the word than looking at its literal roots. The more we keep words in the airy domain of the imagination, the closer we get to the study of their truth—their etymologíā.