Collected Essays 6: The Joy of Etymological Research

By Kim Dong-ryul · Original publication: January 23, 2025

English translation · Original: https://gujoron.com/xe/notice/1674948

The Indo-European language family was discovered by someone studying Sanskrit as a hobby. Yet simply comparing English and Sanskrit words gives an ordinary person no sense of their resemblance. Turn your perspective slightly and a pattern appears.

“Fire burns fiercely”: hwal-hwal → hwa (火, fire), tanda → tan (炭, charcoal). Ordinary linguistic intuition misses the connection between the Korean phrase and Chinese characters. “The wind blows bung-bung”: connect it with pung (風, wind) and a pattern emerges. Bung-bung → bulda, to blow → bureum → baram, wind. You recognize bung-bung → wing-wing → wind.

William Jones, who discovered Indo-European, had exceptional linguistic intuition. Our Sino-Korean vocabulary reflects Middle Chinese. Chinese pronunciation changed considerably under Qing Jurchen rule, but traces of Middle Chinese remain in Hakka and can be followed.

I, “tooth,” does not refer only to human teeth; anything pointed, such as a saw tooth, is an i. Mushrooms, resembling ears, are also called i (茸). Gwi (耳), i, “ear,” and chi (齒), “teeth,” share an origin. These connections show Korean, English, and Sino-Korean beginning from common roots.

People remain unconvinced because straightforward comparisons of Korean and English do not reveal the pattern. I want to show their broad commonality with Sino-Korean. This concerns how language arises. Trace the genealogy to its end and something becomes visible.

We are seeking the principles by which language is formed. Indo-European genealogy is known: the intermediate route from Punjab to London can be seen. The family has divided into four hundred languages used by 2.5 billion people.

In eomma and appa, the m and p follow the opening vowel. Koreans place the vocative a after a name—“Cheol-a”—while Chinese places it before: “Ah Cheol.” Hence Ah Q in The True Story of Ah Q. Hong Kong films provide many examples: Chow Yun-fat becomes Ah Fat, Stephen Chow Ah Sing. The a in appa was a prefix.

Taking this into account, Korean, English, and Chinese eomma, appa, mom, papa, 媽媽, and 爸爸 are identical. Pronunciation varies greatly even within China, making the difference from Korean small. Japanese words for mother and father, however, show no resemblance.

This matters because many supposedly imported Sino-Korean words were already shared five thousand years ago. The similar sound of mal, “horse,” and ma (馬) does not establish that mal was borrowed from Chinese. Mongolian also has mol.

English has mare. Horse carries the sense of a mount, seemingly a gelding used in battle. If there were a hundred such shared Korean–Chinese–English words, that would be unsurprising: languages influence each other that much. Even a thousand might seem unremarkable.

But the picture changes once we recognize how many derivatives language creates. Consider teum, tteum, jjam, cham (saecham), ttieom, ttuium, deumun, ttaem, ttaeum, ttem, tomak, doma, dom, domi, dume, jeom (to mark), and jeom (to divine). Dig deeper and the number multiplies.

These seventeen words share a T+M pattern. Remove the final M, as in tteoreojida, “fall,” or ttareuda, “follow,” or remove the initial T, and many more appear—too many to list. If a hundred words resemble one another, a thousand may actually share roots.

Why is this important? An action lies hidden at the root of language, because all language begins in bodily signs. One action generates hundreds or thousands of words. There are seed words from which language evolves. Find a hundred root words and their derivatives become thousands or tens of thousands.

What unites no (勞, labor), no (老, old), no (櫓, oar), nap (拉, pull), and ryeop (獵, hunt)? An action, lab: repeated flapping or movement, as in nabullada. It resembles “lever” and connects with “rudder.” Using a lever or rowing repeats an action.

What is labor? A robber snatches in the same motion as 拉 and 獵. A robe is formal clothing, but it was originally Roman clothing snatched by Germanic people, who had no clothes of their own. A Roman toga had no sleeves, so it could be stripped off.

Lawn; ragged leather; raw; ruffle, neopeul, and nabul, flapping; rug and rag; rabbit, gnawing or snatching; rat, catching; rash, ragged; razor and its untidy shavings; rub and lint: the common element is bending an arm to snatch something.

The no (勞) of labor is the simple repeated bending of an arm while rowing. A laborer rowing an oar (櫓) develops the bent back of an old person (老). Nop, a hired worker; neulkda, grow old; nalkda, wear out; nakkda, hook or catch; and robot arise from repetitive bending like rowing.

Gul, a cave; hyeol (穴); and hole are the same. Hall and hell are derivatives. There is a G→H pattern. As camera, a small chamber, leads to home, gumeong becomes gum, hom, and um. Gul/hole + m, gathering, gives gum, gumeong, hom → um, a dugout dwelling, and heum, a dent. Gamchuda, conceal, and humchida, steal, share this root.

It extends to gama, a cauldron or palanquin; geomeongi, soot; geomjeong and geomda, black; gom, bear; gama-uji, cormorant; gaemi, ant; geomi, spider; and geomeori, leech. Then gumbengi, grub; galmuri, storing; and gam, material, as in firewood or prey, meaning something stored in a hole. Gomda, fester, and kamkam, kkamkkam, and kkeomkkeom, dark, continue the series.

Search a Korean dictionary and hundreds more may appear. This merits a lifetime of study, if one has the time. My work on Gujoron leaves me none. William Jones was already highly proficient in foreign languages.

Home, camera (small hole), chimney, camp, cave (a widened hole; an enclosed cave is home), house, hut, horn, civil, city, hump, hip, and hang (肛, anus): the last is a dung hole. Gungdungi, buttocks, becomes gumeongdungi → eongdeongi. Gumeong → umeong and gumjip → umjip drop the initial g.

Gaeng (坑) is a hole, like hang (肛) and gong (孔). This proves Korean, Sino-Korean, and English share roots. Japanese resembles Korean grammatically but has different roots. One, two, and three differ. Examine basic words such as mother, father, and numerals.

Early people could count only one, two, three. These correspond to hana, dul, set. Japanese and Chinese numerals differ from English; Korean is special. The first three agree, then four onward differ. This shows a move from base three to base twelve and finally base ten.

It means our ancestors moved to the peninsula at the transition from base three to base ten. What does decimal counting imply? Trade. Korean identity formed when commerce first arose, thousands of years ago.

Do, gae, geol, yut, and mo in the game yutnori are pig, dog, goat, ox, and horse. Goat connects with gang (羌); the Qiang were shepherds. Jiang Wei in the Three Kingdoms belonged to a shepherd tribe. Gang and yang originally sounded alike before g was dropped. The Jie (羯), a branch of the Qiang, originally had the same pronunciation.

Through patterns like Viet Nam → Wollam, Buddha → Bulta, and but → pil, goat becomes geol, and the goat people become Qiang and Jie. There were originally no woolly sheep, only mountain goats. A mountain goat is goral; goral connects to gorani, water deer. The route of sound change can be traced: goat → 羌 → geol → gorani.

All question words come from how and ha (何). Before them came call: an early person's loud cry of danger, warning, or summons. A call receives a kka? in response. The que- of question is this kka; quest connects with kkapchida, pressing or pestering.

A quest repeatedly asks kka? to demand something. Quo vadis? is quo/kka? + vadis/where. The cause in because is a scolding; repeating kka? is to scold. Kka? → kkujitda → kkujung/cause → kkujiram: all are responses to the root call.

Soften kka? and it becomes how, cross-checked by 何. Soften further and w is added: who, when, where, what, why, all inflections of how. Turkish interrogatives add n: n+who = nugu, “who.” Eonje, “when,” is when + ttae, time. Agglutinative languages append place or time.

Eodi/eode, “where,” is where + de, place. Eodiseo is where + de + so, with so the seo in geuraeseo, “therefore.” Mueoseul is mu + what; what is wh- + at. At becomes Korean's particle -e, as in “at school” or “at home.” Eolma is how much. Eojji, eotteon, and eottae append elements to eo/wh-.

I have found only a few patterns; much undiscovered treasure remains. Recovering Old Chinese, Hindi, and Persian pronunciations would yield results. If a hundred words derive from each root, finding a hundred roots reveals ten thousand words.

Above all, it is fun. Once you see a pattern, words come up in strings like sweet potatoes pulled from a vine. What could someone fluent in Turkish, Persian, Hindi, and Sino-Korean do? Had a linguistic genius like William Jones been born in Korea, something would have come of it.

Academia has abandoned Ural-Altaic and suddenly classifies Korean as an isolate. This makes no sense. Notice that Japanese resembles Korean grammatically but differs in vocabulary. Abandon the assumption that vocabulary follows grammar.

Grammar arose much later than we imagine. A cyclical theory proposes that languages move from inflectional to isolating to agglutinative and back. The claim is absurd, but reflects the historical fact that grammar has changed repeatedly.

Our ancestors interacted with Indo-European-speaking groups north of China. They shared vocabulary while speaking a primitive language without grammar, then adopted Turkish grammar as they moved east. They were probably pushed eastward when Turkic peoples moved that way.

Chinese has no grammar. When it needs grammar, it creates a word to do the job. Assuming every language necessarily has grammar is prejudice. Languages can share grammar alone or vocabulary alone. Pidgin is a new language in which Chinese speakers borrowed English vocabulary alone.

Common roots became unrecognizable because early words were very short. Ga, hae, seo, wa, nwa, jwo, and pae—go, do, stand, come, leave, give, strike—gain the imperative ra/let in an agglutinative language: gara, haera, seora, wara, nwara, jwora, paera.

Modern people give complex commands such as “go and come back”; early people simply said “Go!” Chinese has not entirely abandoned that tradition. English too originally had monosyllabic words. Comparing modern words after they have lengthened is the wrong approach.

Language evolves from seeds: actions or imitative sounds. A single action can create a thousand words. English words beginning with P especially tend to share roots. P indicates adjustment of strength or quantity, producing many words for differences of degree.

Understand how language forms and another world opens. That 2.5 billion people speak Indo-European means they generated vast vocabulary. At that point Chinese civilization had not yet emerged, and the lower Yellow River was sea, without inhabitants.

We should therefore investigate whether much Korean vocabulary came from the Indo-European languages used by 2.5 billion people. Our people did not spring from the peninsula. North China's plains were sea and sparsely inhabited; northern China lay near the Indo-European homeland.

We need a Rosetta Stone for language formation. Chinese preserves primitive forms without agglutination or inflection. Korean retains pre-agglutinative traces too. Agreement among Korean, Chinese, and Indo-European supplies a Rosetta Stone for language evolution.

One Hundred Shared Korean–Chinese–English Words: Cross-Checking

The Korean forms and Chinese characters below are retained because their sounds and written forms are the objects of the author's comparisons. English glosses explain the Korean examples; arrows and juxtapositions retain his proposed connections.

강 羌, 양 羊 — goat, goral, 고라니 (water deer).

갈 羯 — goat, goral, 고라니, 걸 (geol).

광 光 — color, 깔 (color).

결 潔 — 갠 (clear), clean, 개운 (fresh), 깨끗 (clean).

갑 甲 — cover, 껍질 (shell).

구 鉤 — 갈고리 (hook), hawk, 할퀴다 (claw).

각 刻 — 깎다 (cut), cut, carve, 긁다 (scratch), write; g drops; 긁음 → cream.

이 耳 — ear, 귀 (ear).

고 高 — 혹/high, 꼭대기 (top), 꼭지 (tip), 꼬다리 (end), 혹/hump, hill, heel, hop, hope.

구 鷗 — gulls, 갈매기 (gull).

곡 穀 — grain, gram, 깨 (sesame), 콩 (bean).

관 貫 — can, 꺼내 (take out), know, 꿰는 (threading), gun, center.

공 孔 — hole, 굴 (cave), 구멍 (hole).

갱 坑 — hole, 굴, hall, hell.

혈 穴 — hole, 굴, horn, home, house, hut.

거 去 — go, 가다 (go).

구 構 — get, grab, catch, 꿰다 (thread), 잡다 (catch), 갖다 (have).

결 結 — 끝 (end), quit; 꺼지다 = quit+just; 고요/quiet; 끄다/quench.

나 裸 — naked, nude; 나와/new; 나왔어/nose; 나왔다/nude; 낳다/nature.

내 內 — in, 안 (inside).

노 怒 — roar, 으르릉대다 (growl), 외치다 (cry out).

녹 綠 — red; iron rust/red and copper rust/綠; 녹다 (melt).

노 勞 — labor, lever, row, oar, 놉 (hired worker), 늙다 (age), 낡다 (wear out), 나불대는/너풀 (flapping).

노 老 — labor, 늙다, 낡다, 늘어지다 (droop).

납 拉 — kidnap, rapid, robber, 날치기 (snatching), 낚다 (hook).

렵 獵 — rapid, robber, 낚다.

노 櫓 — row, oar, 노 젓는 노 (a rowing oar).

녀 女 — -ne, -n, 년 (woman), 언니 (older sister), 어머니 (mother), Athena, anemone.

타 打 — 때리다 (hit), take, 당기다 (pull).

달 撻 — 때리다, touch, 닿다 (touch).

돌 突 — tor, tail, tall.

독 毒 — toxin, tetrodotoxin (pufferfish poison), botulinum toxin (Botox).

동 東 — 동/dawn, the dawning east; 동, a unit for counting loads.

락 酪 — lac, latte, 타락죽 (milk porridge); galaxy is the Milky Way.

만 滿 — many, 몰려/more, 몽땅/most, 묵직/much, 매우/may: overflowing abundance.

만 萬 — many, more, most, much, may: overflowing water or grain.

모 母 — mom, 엄마 (mother).

마 媽 — 마마 媽媽, 엄마, mom.

말 末 — 막내 (youngest), 맞이 (meeting), 마디 (joint), meet, 막다/막히다 (block/be blocked).

모 模 — model, made, make; 모양 (shape), 모서리 (edge), 모퉁이 (corner), 모습 (appearance), 맵시 (style).

모 矛 — 모서리 (edge), model, made, 모퉁이 (corner).

미 未 — miss, 못 (cannot).

문 蚊 — mosquito, 모기.

박 舶 — 배 (boat), bowl.

발 鉢 — bowl, 배 (船, boat).

번 番 — -ble, -ple, double, triple; 한 벌, 두 벌 (one set, two sets).

배 倍 — bicycle, bike; bi- is balance, 배 (multiple).

복 複 — -ble, -ple, 반복 (repetition), 배 (multiple).

발 跋 — 밟다 (step on), foot.

발 發 — 필 (blooming), flower, powder, flirt, flavor.

발 髮 — 발발이 (shaggy little dog), brow, beard, bouquet, broom.

발 拔 — pull up, pull out, 뽑다 (pull out).

박 拍 — butt, 박다 (drive into), 박수 (clapping), 박치기 (headbutt).

복 福 — back, beauty, 배 (belly), 뺨 (cheek), 볼 (cheek), 볼록 (convex).

복 腹 — bubble, 볼록, back, beauty, baby, boy.

배 背 — back, 볼록, 볼.

백 白 — 벚나무 (cherry tree), blue, blind, 빨다 (wash), 바래다 (fade), beluga, Belarus (White Russia).

풍 風 — 윙/wind, 붕붕 (whirring), 바람 (wind).

보 步 — foot, 발.

부 父 — papa, 아빠.

봉 蜂 — bee, 벌.

벽 壁 — big, 대들보 (beam), 뻗다 (extend), 바람벽 (wall), 벌 (Seorabeol = city wall), 벼랑 (cliff), borough, burh.

보 洑 — bar, 뻗다, 대들보.

석 石 — stone, 서다 (stand), 심다 (plant), 씨앗/seed.

사 射 — 살/shot, 살, 삿, 삿대, 화살 (arrow), 쏘다 (shoot).

식 植 — 심다 (plant), seed.

식 息 — sit, 쉬다 (rest).

석 席 — seat, 심다, set, 씨/seed.

사 絲 — 실/thread, 비단실/silks, 실.

사 思 — 생각 (thought), think, thought, sting.

상 想 — 생각, think.

산 算 — 쏘다/shot, 살, 설, 삿, 삿대, 살대 (rods).

약 弱 — weak, 꺾다 (bend/break), 휙: the abruptly bending point is weak.

외 外 — out, 바깥 = by+out.

연 連 — near, 이웃/neighbor, 이은 (connected).

우 右 — right, 위/우: pointing with the lips; “right” points with the tongue.

임 任 — aim, 어림 (estimate).

의 衣 — oyster (a shellfish is 옷, clothing + stone), 옷.

엽 葉 — lip, 잎/leaf, 잎/ivy.

입 入 — lip, 입 (mouth).

직 直 — 찍/jet, just, -ject.

죄 罪 — 지다 (bear), 진/sin.

점 占 — term, time.

점 點 — term, time.

짓 — did, 작 作.

집 執 — capture, 잡다 (catch).

조 照 — 쪼이다 (shine on), scene, shine, sun.

찰 刹 — 절 (temple), tele-.

착 榨 — 찍/jet, 짜다 (squeeze).

치 齒 — teeth, 이.

촉 鏃 — high, 혹 (bump), 꼭지/heel, hill, heel, hop, hope.

파 爸 — 파파 爸爸, 아빠, papa; 탄 炭 — -tan, 타다 (burn).

폭 瀑 — 폭/fall, 펄펄 (fluttering or falling).

호 虎 — cat, 고, 괴, 고양이 (cat).

화 火 — 불/fire, 활활 (blazing).

합 合 — have, 합치다 (combine).

화 華 — white, 희다.

호 弧 — bow, 팔 (arm), 활 (bow).

항 肛 — hole, 구멍, 굼/home, 궁, 궁둥이 (buttocks).

함 函 — home, 함지박 (wooden basin), camera, house.

I took a little time to extract just a hundred words. Bring in specialists and it becomes a different game. Comparing isolated vocabulary is pointless. Apply language evolution and compare related groups; then you see how language is formed.

For example, I cannot be sure about 내 內, in, 안. But compare 외 外, out, 바깥/by+out, and “about” comes along too. Derivatives can be pursued one after another.

거 去, go, 가다 is basic vocabulary, so we can be confident. 독 毒, toxin, 독 was technical vocabulary by ancient standards, also giving confidence. 녹 綠 is copper rust and red is iron rust; rust was pigment, so again we can be confident. This is how regularities are found.

Words consist of prefix, root, and suffix, causing confusion. Korean verbs especially have a final -da that misleads us. The bare root no longer conveys its meaning intuitively. Gather derivatives and examine the pattern.

About is at+by+out. Looking at “about” alone does not reveal its hidden at and by. You must train your eyes. Out means an end. Unless you see the ultra hidden in out, you will never recognize it. Kkeut, “end,” has an initial g prefix.

Kkeut is gwi + ult-, the end of a corner. The ttungi in gwitungi and motungi, “corner,” is ult-. Hidden at the end, it escapes notice. Discovering the true meaning of our words is a wonderful thing.

Bat + jwi = bakjwi, 복 蝠. Folk stories claiming the bat was called “bright-eyed mouse” because it sees well at night are all nonsense. The truth is simple. If an explanation sounds too plausible, it is a fabrication.