Written by Andreas Stalidis.
[the same article in Greek]
We Greeks can read Homer from 800 B.C. in the original and recognize between 25% to even 60% of the words. The percentage depends on our level of education, the evolution of words over the centuries, and our ability to recognize the roots of compound words. Even if we need help understanding the full meaning, the linguistic connection remains alive. We’re talking about a continuity of nearly 2,800 years, and the level of comprehension across such a vast period is truly impressive.
But let’s take a look at our neighbors.
The Turks adopted the Latin alphabet in 1928. This abrupt break with the past deprived Turks of direct access to their old literature, creating a void. The inspiration for this article came from a recent comment on social media, which highlighted with sadness the fact that modern Turks cannot read texts written in the Ottoman script, based on Arabic. As a result, they cannot read the writings of their great-grandfathers!
The Albanians formalized their language and alphabet in 1912. Between 1750–1900, Albanian was written using 11 different alphabets! The first two books in the Albanian language were written in 1555 (“Missal” by Buzuku) and in 1592 (“Christian Doctrine” by Matrenga), both by Catholic priests aiming to bring Albanians into Catholicism. The second was a translation by a Spanish Jesuit. Both were written in the Latin alphabet. Therefore, not only do Albanians struggle to read the writings of their ancestors, but there also aren’t many such texts to read. [A side point: apparently there is no connection to Illyrian, despite what their wishes]
The people of Skopje (Vardarska) formed their language only in 1944. Tito took the Bulgarian alphabet, removed six letters, added four from Serbian, and invented three new ones. He also altered some syllables in common words to differentiate them from Bulgarian. So, although they may have texts from their great-grandfathers, these are written in another language: old Bulgarian!
The deep connection of the Greek people to their language and written tradition — unbroken to this day — is not merely a matter of cultural pride; it is a rare case of historical continuity. Unlike neighboring peoples who were either forced to abandon their old scripts or recently constructed their linguistic identities, we Greeks have the ability to “converse” with our ancestors through the same linguistic body.
Perhaps this sense of loss — or even existential unease — is a less obvious source of the hostility often shown toward us. The silence of one’s ancestors is an absence that weighs heavily.
The sad thing for us is that, even though we possess this unique linguistic continuity from Homer to the present, many young Greeks today struggle to read Papadiamantis and Greek texts from the 19th century. We still can, but we are drifting away.
This is exactly why it is critical that this heritage not be lost by future generations of Greeks —because this advantage is neither guaranteed nor eternal.