Let me start by saying I don’t judge people for the choices they make in life. Love who you want, as long as everyone’s consenting and no one’s getting hurt, but if you’re going to go all-in on a lifestyle, please don’t go halfway on the language.
Case in point: many years ago, a friend and his significant other joined the polyamory community. More power to them, but “polyamory” — a word that tries to be sexy, inclusive and open — instead gave me mild lexical whiplash. Poly is Greek. Amory is Latin. That’s linguistic bed-hopping. If we’re going to be open, let’s be honest, you can’t just pick roots from different ancient civilizations and pretend like the word doesn’t have commitment issues.
If you want to go all Greek: Polyphilia. Elegant. Nerdy. Socratic. All Latin? Try Multiamore. Sounds like a perfume or a decadent Roman holiday. Either way, at least the roots aren’t arguing about syntax behind your back.
The Dire Wolf: Even Scientists Aren’t Innocent
This root salad came bubbling back to the surface when I was writing about the de-extinction of the dire wolf. Yes, that’s a real thing and you can read about it here. No, they don’t look like the ones from Game of Thrones. Those were more fantasy bear-dogs than anything else.
But here’s the kicker: the dire wolf’s scientific name is Aenocyon dirus. Let’s unpack that:
- Aenocyon comes from Greek ainós (dreadful) and kyōn (dog).
- Dirus is straight-up Latin for “fearsome”.
We get it. It’s scary. But you’ve just created a chimera of roots — a mutt, if you will — that would make both Homer and Virgil roll over in their respective graves. In different city-states.
Other Crimes Against Etymology
This kind of root-mixing happens all the time and somehow we’ve allowed it to slide like mismatched socks at a toga party.
- Television = Greek tele (far) + Latin vision (seeing).
Why not teleopsis? Or longascope? (Okay, maybe not that last one. That sounds like a painful Victorian medical device.) - Automobile = Greek auto (self) + Latin mobilis (movable).
You’re literally driving a linguistic contradiction every day. - Homosexual = Greek homo (same) + Latin sexualis (pertaining to sex).
A classic case of a mismatched couple and one that never filed for etymological marriage counseling. - Sociology = French soci (social) + Greek logy (study).
A textbook example of a Franco-Hellenic hybrid, the poster child for linguistic indecision. - Biotechnology = Greek bios (life) + Latin tekhne (art or craft or practical skill) + Greek logy (study).
Because nothing says “cutting-edge science” like a Greco-Roman-Greco identity crisis, proof that mixing ancient languages can still mess with modern genetics.
But… Why Do We Do This?
Because we’re lazy. And flexible. And English is a Frankenstein language that long ago gave up on consistency in favor of creativity. It’s the magpie of tongues, borrowing shiny bits from Greek, Latin, French, German and whatever else it found lying around in the linguistic yard sale.
Let’s be honest: nobody wants to say “multiamorous relationship”. It sounds like a medieval medical condition. And polyphilia? That might get you flagged on a search filter.
So we shrug, say “meh”, and keep using our Greek-Latin smoothies. Does it make purists twitch? Yes. Does anyone else care? Not really. And that’s probably okay. Unless you’re a purist, that is. That might be therapy that I need.
Final Thoughts from the Word Police
The next time you’re inventing a new identity, a new creature or a new tech startup (looking at you, Theranos), spare a thought for your ancient linguistic ancestors. They conquered empires, wrote epic poems and categorized plants with surgical precision. They deserve better than a mashup menu of etymological fast food. Let’s be mindful of our language and respect the roots of our words. Whether you’re a scientist, a linguist or simply a word enthusiast, we can all do our part to preserve the sanctity of language.
If you must mix roots, at least be bold about it. Own it. Call it Greco-Latin fusion, like tapas with a side of tzatziki. But don’t pretend it’s pure.
Bonus hybrid
Remember, the dire wolf might be coming back, but the sanctity of classical languages? That bus sailed when someone named their Wi-Fi “Wīrlēas Fides”.
Wi-Fi is short for Wireless Fidelity, which in itself is a horrible linguistic mess. Old English wīr, of Germanic origin, probably from the base of Latin viere, meaning ‘plait’ or ‘weave’ + the English suffix “-less” meaning “without” or “lacking”, stemming from Old English “-lēas”, which meant “free from” + late Middle English “fidelity” from Old French fidelite or Latin fidelitas, from fidelis ‘faithful’, from fides ‘faith’. So really, your Wi-Fi is “Plait Lacking Faith”.
Language is hard. Please don’t make it any more difficult than it needs to be.
