What makes diaspora groups such as the Armenians, Jews, etc. so successful? Did the diaspora itself have some marked impact on the culture and trajectories of these groups or is it something else entirely?

A socially marginalised group will not have access to the normal institutional advantages of members of the host society—connections, class privilege, leisure time, cultural familiarity etc. etc. Members of that group will be more highly driven to succeed, to redress those disadvantages.

They will be more strongly motivated to succeed, if they see exemplars of success around them—if some members of the diaspora have already succeeded despite social marginalisation, or if they are intermixed with the host society (not ghettoised), so that they are exposed to paradigms of success from within the host society.

If OTOH they’re ghettoised, and if the diaspora society is insular, so that they are not exposed to paradigms of success—then, not so much. There is less incentive to succeed, if the only experience you have is of failure.

And if the diaspora knows what success looks like, they will use whatever levers the host society does not expressly or implicitly block them from using. Such as public education.

That, btw, is why I did not know any Greeks in Australia doing linguistics when I went to uni. That’s a luxury of established ethnicities. I only started seeing Greeks in linguistics classes when I was lecturing.

Which gorgeous English unisex name means”Royal Castle in a forest clearing”?

… Another episode of Quora Jeopardy!

A clearing is a lea.

A court can be a royal Castle.

… Courtleigh?

EDIT: Kimberly (given name)

Why are Australians hostile towards anything American?

Fear.

An entirely intelligible response to a hegemonic culture with substantial overlap with your own: fear that your culture will be assimilated into the hegemon, that the country will become unrecognisable to you, that the virtues you are familiar with and have come to cherish will be eroded. That you will cease being you, and start being the Other.

In the panoply of worldwide reactions to hegemony, this one’s rather on the benign side. It’s not Trumpism. It’s not Sinophobia. It’s mostly jocular. And I’m sure it’s exactly what happens in Canada too—except that Canadians are much more polite about it than Aussies are.

(Except possibly for the Québécois, câlisse!)

You might wonder why Australians weren’t as overtly hostile about their former hegemon Britain. But there were flareups, even back in the unenlightened days before Gough Whitlam. The Bodyline tactics in cricket in 1932, leading to Australians boycotting UK products. The strain of Australian nationalism of the 1880s and 1890s, hosted by The Bulletin. The class and sectarian war behind the idolisation of Bushrangers.

Oh, and Why don’t Australians celebrate Halloween? BECAUSE IT’S A SEPPO HOLIDAY!!!

(Psst.

Psst!

C’m ’ere.

Yeah, you.

Some of my best friends are Seppos. But don’t tell anyone, OK?)

Why do English-speaking people often have strange first names?

The respondents so far have not given a satisfactory answer. How’s it feel when your culture is exoticised, eh?

I share Anon’s attitude towards Anglo nomenclature. Let’s try to unpack it.

Traditional societies have traditional approaches to naming people. If you’re a Roman, there’s only a dozen praenomina, some clan names, and a nickname cognomen that ends up being a surname itself. If you’re Ancient Greek or a Germanic tribesperson, there’s a fixed pattern of compounds. If you’re a Christian in Europe up until a century ago, there’s a fixed repertoire of saint names.

That’s not primarily about religion and books of fairy tales. That’s about having roots and a community and a cultural context.

One respondent found that horrifying. You know what I find horrifying? Running out and getting a random name for your kid just because. Saddling someone with Dweezil or Thursday. Dweezil dealt with it, sure (EDIT: he insisted on making it official when he was 5); but Dweezil was born in the Anglosphere.

(EDIT: And he was 5.)

And here’s the thing. The outlier isn’t OP, with his distaste of creative nomenclature. The outlier is the Anglosphere. Coming up with names with unfettered creativity, without any attention to community norms, is not the normal course of affairs.

And it wasn’t the normal course of affairs in the Anglosphere either, until the 20th century. There are fads and perturbations from the ’20s on, but the massive shakeup in most popular names in the US seems to date from the 1970s: Top 10 Baby Names by Decade

What changed around then? More and more individualism. Less sway of traditional structures, including religion and extended families. Hippie stuff. Social mobility. After that, it just snowballs in those particular communities: if noone calls their kid John or Mary any more, you don’t either. (In fact, Mary’s now are a retro thing.)

But that’s started as an Anglosphere thing. It’s been much slower to happen in Europe, and in fact parents wanting to emulate Anglosphere name creativity often bump into legal barriers.

The legal barriers aren’t to kill your buzz, man. They’re codifications of what was long presumed to be the normal way of doing things.

… And yes, were I to have kids, this would be a major issue of contention in our household…

Would a language borrow from another language a word with which it already has homophonous words in itself?

Yes, it would.

I’m not going to bother with examples other than grave (Germanic: tomb; French: serious).

It is a common perception that language change is driven by trying to avoid ambiguity. In fact, language has an astounding tolerance for ambiguity, because context usually takes care of it. Instances where words change in order to avoid ambiguity (eg French hui > aujourd’hui ) are actually pretty rare.

Did people in the first century have last names?

Romans had nomen and cognomen, which were inherited names like surnames. Greeks and Jews, like contemporary Icelanders, just had patronymics: John son of Zebedee. (See also the list of high priests of Israel.)

Less often, they had nicknames indicating jobs or characteristics: Simon the Zealot, Judas of Kerioth, Jesus the Nazarene. In narratives, those distinctions would only have been used when felt necessary.

Do onomatopoeias have etymologies?

It’s a very insightful question, OP. If an onomatopoeia is a completely transparent mapping of natural sound to human language, then it is an inevitability, and there’s no point attributing it to one coiner or another, one language or another: the onomatopoeia is just there, a sound ready for humans to imitate, and humans will keep imitating it over and over in the same way.

… Except, well, no. The mapping of natural sound to human language is not inevitable: if the sound isn’t articulated by a human mouth as communicative language, then there’s no single deterministic way of representing it in language. Different languages can come up with different ways of mapping it. See the renditions in diverse languages of cock-a-doodle-doo – Wiktionary.

(And I strongly suspect Middle English had a different version of “cock a doodle doo”, Andrew Dunbar, but I can’t find it: Chaucer’s Nun’s Priest’s Tale has just “Cok! cok!”)

And onomatopoeias can be borrowed between languages too. The Turkish onomatopoeia for sneezing is hapşuu. The Greek onomatopoeia is apsu. Which is exactly what you’d get if you borrowed the Turkish onomatopoeia into Greek as a normal word, and accommodated it to Greek phonology.

I enjoy listening to languages that I don’t understand like French and Arabic. Do you know why?

  • You have an aesthetic appreciation of different phonetics and phonologies. You like those particular sounds.
  • You have positive cultural associations in your mind with those languages.
  • You already know a little of those languages (as OP has indicated), and you enjoy the mental challenge of working out what is being said.

Should primary and ESL teachers use an English alphabet that has the 44 or so phonemes that the language has?

“44 or so”.

And there’s your problem.

English phonology

trap bath palm lot cloth thought

The vowels in Received Pronunciation group as:

(tɹæp) (bɑːθ pɑːm) (lɒt klɒθ) (θɔːt)

They group the same way in Australian English, though as

(tɹæp) (bɐːθ pɐːm) (lɔt klɔθ) (θoːt)

The vowels in General American, however, group as:

(tɹæp bæθ) (pɑːm lɑːt) (klɔːθ θɔːt)

You can do that, and teach the phonology of only one dialect—but at the expense of having to reteach them an intradialectal phonology later; in effect, you’d be reinventing English spelling.

What are some famous Greek sayings?

Some highlights from List of Greek phrases. See the Wikipedia page for more detail and other phrases.

  • ἀγεωμέτρητος μηδεὶς εἰσίτω. Ageōmétrētos mēdeìs eisítō. “Let no one untrained in geometry enter.”
  • ἀεὶ ὁ θεὸς γεωμετρεῖ. Aei ho theos geōmetreî. “God always geometrizes”
  • αἰὲν ἀριστεύειν. aièn aristeúein. “Ever to Excel”
  • γηράσκω δ᾽ αἰεὶ πολλὰ διδασκόμενος. Gēraskō d’ aíeí pollâ didaskómenos. “I grow old always learning many things.”
  • γνῶθι σεαυτόν. Gnôthi seautón. “Know thyself”
  • δῶς μοι πᾶ στῶ καὶ τὰν γᾶν κινάσω. Dôs moi pâ stô, kaì tàn gân kīnā́sō. “Give me somewhere to stand, and I will move the earth”.
  • εἷς οἰωνὸς ἄριστος, ἀμύνεσθαι περὶ πάτρης. Heîs oiōnòs áristos, amýnesthai perì pátrēs. “There is only one omen, to fight for one’s country”
  • ἓν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Hèn oîda hóti oudèn oîda. “I know one thing, that I know nothing”
  • εὕρηκα! Heúrēka! “I have found [it]!”
  • ἢ τὰν ἢ ἐπὶ τᾶς. Ḕ tā̀n ḕ epì tâs. “Either [with] it [your shield], or on it”
  • θάλασσα καὶ πῦρ καὶ γυνή, κακὰ τρία. Thálassa kaì pŷr kaì gynḗ, kakà tría. “Sea and fire and woman, three evils.”
  • ἰατρέ, θεράπευσον σεαυτόν. Iatré, therápeuson seautón. “Physician, take care of yourself!”
  • Κρῆτες ἀεὶ ψεῦσται. Krêtes aeì pseûstai. “Cretans always lie”
  • κτῆμα ἐς ἀεί. ktêma es aeí. “possession for eternity”
  • μέτρον ἄριστον. Métron áriston. “Moderation is best”
  • μὴ μοῦ τοὺς κύκλους τάραττε. Mḕ moû toùs kúklous táratte. “Do not disturb my circles.”
  • μηδὲν ἄγαν. Mēdèn ágan. “Nothing in excess”
  • μολὼν λαβέ! Molṑn labé! “Come take [them]!”
  • νενικήκαμεν. Nenikḗkamen. “We have won.”
  • οὐκ ἂν λάβοις παρὰ τοῦ μὴ ἔχοντος. Ouk àn labois parà toû mē ekhontos. “You can’t get blood out of a stone.” (Literally, “You can’t take from one who doesn’t have.”)
  • Πάντα ῥεῖ. Panta rhei. “All is flux; everything flows” –
  • ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς. Rhododáktylos Ēṓs. “Rosy-fingered Dawn.”
  • σπεῦδε βραδέως. Speûde bradéōs. “Hasten slowly; less haste, more speed”.
  • σὺν Ἀθηνᾷ καὶ χεῖρα κίνει. Sỳn Athēnâi kaì kheîra kinei. “Along with Athena, move also your hand” — cf. the English “God helps those who help themselves.”
  • Ὦ ξεῖν’, ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε / κείμεθα τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι. Ô xeîn’, angéllein Lakedaimoníois hóti têide / keímetha toîs keínōn rhḗmasi peithómenoi. “Stranger, tell the Spartans that here we lie, obedient to their laws.”