alternatehistory.com
The End of Cultures
The most knowledgeable inquirer after the Paleohesperian languages of recent times was Mantikon Uvsevio Kapotis. While mostly remembered in the present time as a renowned Nymphegetian Phylakes he was also powerfully invested in obscure Hesperian arkaioteria, including the Paleohesperian corpus. By the age of 34 Kapotis had already completed a full exploration of the extant literary Paleohesperian texts, in many cases authoring new translations entirely. His interest and expertise in the subject would only continue to multiply. He scoured other literary corpuses for references to Paleohesperian-speaking peoples, and used the resulting information to comb Hesperia for Paleohesperian epigraphy, ostrakon pieces, and fragmentary remains of previously undiscovered Paleohesperian literary texts. This was a task that occupied the rest of Kapotis’ life, almost to the same extent of his vows to the Redeemer.
In the process of these wanderings Kapotis also had cause to interact with a great deal of ordinary Hesperians. Through these interactions he became increasingly familiar with dialects considered rustic, even barbarous, by the ‘proper’ sort of various regions. After years of such interactions he became aware of numerous words in these dialects that in fact originated from Paleohesperian speech. It had been acknowledged that both Varvarine and Hellenic language in Hesperia had retained a few, occasionally esoteric Paleohesperian borrowings, but the thesis of greater preponderance of a substrate had been completely ignored through a general bias against ‘rude’ patterns of speech that had endured for centuries. It was through these realisations that Kapotis began to theorise about the survival of relict Paleohesperian-speaking populations beyond the disappearance of textual material. In particular he identified the most rural parts of Marukia, numerous areas in Oroia, and the Kavdine passes as playing host to Paleohesperian speaking populations decades or centuries after their literary tradition had disappeared.
In Kapotis’ final work before his death, Paleohesperia Volume 4, he said “It is an inescapable conclusion that had the speakers of Paleohesperian languages been granted even a modicum of courtesy, the slightest respite from overwhelming hostility, that Paleohesperian speakers would walk among us today, for even in such circumstances it is likely that the last native speaker of Sauniti outlived the last scion of the Brontosardi. That these communities, possessed of an indigenous literary culture and the riches of their heritage, were relentlessly hounded out of existence should be regarded as nothing less than an avoidable tragedy as worthy of grief and regret as the collapse of Tyrsenian as a living language.” In the decades since Kapotis’ death these words have rang loud, both inspiring those inclined to agree and drawing censure from those who regard such notions as an incitement towards barbarism.
Take for example the Ikthroy. They were not without some rudiments of civilization, displaying a certain inclination towards beautified architecture, an interest in acquiring a literary tradition, an awareness of some form of constitutional theory. But such concepts had been transmitted to them via the medium of direct contact with the Tinians in their archaic era, Hellenes, even the traders of Karkesh, and had often been understood clumsily and reproduced crudely even after generations of such contact and engagement. Theirs was, ultimately, a borrowed glimmer of civilization that could not and did not succeed in uplifting the more barbaric tendencies and condition of the Ikthroy. This was a barbarism that could only be ended by their synoikism into the body of the Hellenes, the ultimate censure of Ikthroy cultural existence being that true civilization could only be introduced via bringing that existence to a complete end. What few beneficial characteristics could be identified were thus rendered into a form suitable for a civilized life.
Had, by the eyes of all the Gods, theirs been a culture destined for greatness or even notability then in a contest between their customs and those of the Hellenes they would have prevailed. As it is, they did not, and we can confidently state that there was no chance of any kind that the Ikthroy could ever have been a protagonist of the movements of history and civilizations. Their sole notable achievements were the brief period of their chief city of Rome functioning an effective vassal of the Amavadatids in Hesperia, the martial success of their auxiliaries under the aigis of the Tinian Empire, their development of the Arkhaioitalic script, and what elements of mystical insight could be extracted from their religious practices that were otherwise dominated by primitive repetition of concepts from the Hellenic and Tinian pantheons. Should one’s preference be for tales of hardfought cultivation of a region, the winning of lands from the barbaric and the undeserving, then the Ikthroy could maybe considered to be an enjoyable antagonist in the accounts of Hesperia’s history where, at last, their barrier to civilization is removed and katharsis is achieved. Besides these, history has forgotten the Ikthroy and one can only conclude that this obscurity is entirely deserved.
It was over these several days that one of my long-held assumptions about the Ordanian coast was fatally challenged. Along with many of my compatriots I had, for as long as I could remember, assumed that the transmission of the Phoine language into the present times equated to a wholesale identification of the indigenous Ordani with their linguistic progenitors, thus making the Ordani the last of the Phoiniki, a miraculous albeit isolated survival of something ancient into modern times. At dinner I presented this question to our host the esteemed Volet, shortly after the lamb with orange had been served. I was swiftly, and eloquently, presented with holes in this neat picture. The Volet explained that, whilst the Ordani were fully aware that their tongue largely descended from that distinguished ancient people it was nonetheless also strongly influenced by Hellenic and Iberian precursors likewise, and that the Ordani peoples in the same way could not be said to be the successor to any one of their forebears but to all of them, combining their past parts into something novel. This was to my astonishment, as this was the first time I had encountered the notion that the Ordani saw themselves in this manner. The gregarious Mlaki concurred, and furthermore suggested that the distinctiveness of Ordani culture was seen in such an exotic manner by such great parts of Europa that it made picturing them as some relict survival of ancient times particularly easy, adding to the conviction by which foreigners such as myself saw them as ‘the last Phoiniki. I could not deny the strength of this argument as I recalled how swiftly I had characterised Ordani dress in this manner upon reaching this fair country.
I did, at this stage in the conversation, recall the example of King Ashmuna as quoted in our histories. The Volet looked somewhat amused, explaining that Ashmuna was given a significantly inflated status in foreign histories compared to his reputation within his homeland, likely because of his lively foreign correspondences and his gift for self promotion. Having personally been acquainted with many similar incidents involving colourful characters of my homeland’s recent history I did not find this suggestion difficult to believe. Mlaki offered an addendum, which was that Ashmuna in particular, along with a certain set patronised by him, had become somewhat culturally insecure as to the conceived impurity of classical influences within Ordani culture, and had looked to emphasising Phoiniki heritage in much the same way as other cultures claimed to be the foremost torchbearers of Hellenic heritage, Tyrsenian, or even Persian. He concluded by saying that although they did not speak Phoine tongues the peoples of the Morika and Afrika had more cause to consider themselves the descendants of the Phoiniki, and that in the eyes of most Ordani this was not a particularly troubling conclusion.
The conversation continued through the rest of dinner, but it was these earliest exchanges that were to come back to mind later. As I lay down to rest one might have assumed that an excellent dinner, wine, and conversation would have left me relaxed and content. In a physical sense I was, having been looked after well by my generous hosts. However, I found myself feeling increasingly distraught at the realization that had come over me in the wake of our earlier conversation; the Phoinikes were truly an extinct culture. Their legacy remained very much alive in matters of language, art, and literature, so that their memory was very much alive, but as a living community and identity the notion of being Phoinike was genuinely extinguished. Perhaps some grandiose potentate somewhere among the myriad Mesogeic realms might claim to be Phoinike, but these gestures were matters of political manoeuvre and cultural posturing, not the taking up of one’s grandsires and their existence. The Ordani were the only people commonly associated with a continued and genuine Phoinike lineage in my homeland, among numerous other countries. But having been disavowed of this notion, I had to grapple with the reality that at some point in the grand tapestry of history the Phoinike weave had slowly petered out before disappearing entirely.
It seemed wrong that such a people, of such grand achievement and magnified reputation, could have come to an end, just as eventually the Tinians had done. A strong and particular insight into the world had been lost, though I was grateful that so much of that perspective had been recorded for all time, however insufficient that corpus could be in encapsulating an entire mode of living and body politic. If the teeming cultures of the world were like candles in the dark, it was as though I had realised that one of those candles had gone out permanently, although many other candles around it had been designed in its likeness. In the truest Olikan sense, of course, the Phoinike culture’s most vital aspect still lived in the form of continued proper worship and rites associated with their deities. But I found myself wondering once again about the nature of appointing oneself the guardian of a vanished culture’s intimate beliefs and rituals, and the executor of their legacy. For those of us party to a living community we may celebrate connection and diversity with every credibility and yet possess personal traditions and special knowledge we consider precious. Proper context for many of our most personal practices would not be easily reconstructed in our absence, and one would be free to imagine different meaning and significance to many of our practices without the existence of our community to correct them.
Were the Ordani to vanish the next day, how many would have considered them the last gasp of the Phoinikes and viewed the entirety of their way of life through that lens, simply through the existing momentum of that idea in so many of our homelands? Rather than engaging with the complex reality it would have been almost seductive to continue to propagate that incorrect understanding. Evidence to the contrary, already considered obscure, would simply be ignored or explained away, and it would be left to chance for someone to discover the error and become motivated to correct it. Once again I became aware of just how many times this process had repeated itself through human history, and once again the idea brought me to a cold sweat, for if those of us in the present time did not fight against such things then the same thing would one day happen to ourselves. We would not be seen as what we are but what others wished to see, and if we fit insufficiently within that mould then we would be discarded altogether, as has so often happened to ancient peoples that do not conform to our somewhat capricious sensibilities. The notion that the Ordanian people were solely of interest because of their perceived relationship with the Phoinikes, in that moment, brought me anger on their behalf, along with anger at myself for allowing that notion to exist unchallenged in my mind. In that moment I recalled how calm and polite my hosts had been in response to this line of inquiry, and it seemed marvellous to me at how patiently they had dealt with the matter. I hoped in that moment that I would prove worthy of the kindness that had been shown.
Μηδίζω! THE WORLD OF ACHAEMENID HELLAS
CHAPTER 8: KAKIA or ZURA
Esoteria: The Study of Paleohesperia by Oraziu Orinokis *1429 CE
Kapotis
CHAPTER 8: KAKIA or ZURA
PALEOHESPERIAN, the Paleohesperian languages: An extinct array of dialects once spoken by numerous connatural peoples across Hesperia, later displaced by the increased dominance of Varvarine and Hellenic speakers and last directly attested in the *5th century CE. Paleohesperian is most famously associated with classical Hesperian peoples such as the Latini, the Sauniti, the Piceni, the Osoni, the Ombri, and the Oski. Not to be confused with the Tyrsenian language, although the two did often co-exist in numerous regions of Hesperia, and borrowings from the other are common to both. The two best attested Paleohesperian dialects are those of Rome and Kales due to an overwhelming bias of surviving textual material towards those two poleis. The precise geographic extent to which these languages were spoken in the Hesperia is not well attested. A distinct Paleohesperian literary tradition gave rise to what has been termed Arkhaio-Italic, a modified version of Tyrsenian script, from which the modern Italic alphabet derives.
Esoteria: The Study of Paleohesperia by Oraziu Orinokis *1429 CE
Kapotis
The most knowledgeable inquirer after the Paleohesperian languages of recent times was Mantikon Uvsevio Kapotis. While mostly remembered in the present time as a renowned Nymphegetian Phylakes he was also powerfully invested in obscure Hesperian arkaioteria, including the Paleohesperian corpus. By the age of 34 Kapotis had already completed a full exploration of the extant literary Paleohesperian texts, in many cases authoring new translations entirely. His interest and expertise in the subject would only continue to multiply. He scoured other literary corpuses for references to Paleohesperian-speaking peoples, and used the resulting information to comb Hesperia for Paleohesperian epigraphy, ostrakon pieces, and fragmentary remains of previously undiscovered Paleohesperian literary texts. This was a task that occupied the rest of Kapotis’ life, almost to the same extent of his vows to the Redeemer.
In the process of these wanderings Kapotis also had cause to interact with a great deal of ordinary Hesperians. Through these interactions he became increasingly familiar with dialects considered rustic, even barbarous, by the ‘proper’ sort of various regions. After years of such interactions he became aware of numerous words in these dialects that in fact originated from Paleohesperian speech. It had been acknowledged that both Varvarine and Hellenic language in Hesperia had retained a few, occasionally esoteric Paleohesperian borrowings, but the thesis of greater preponderance of a substrate had been completely ignored through a general bias against ‘rude’ patterns of speech that had endured for centuries. It was through these realisations that Kapotis began to theorise about the survival of relict Paleohesperian-speaking populations beyond the disappearance of textual material. In particular he identified the most rural parts of Marukia, numerous areas in Oroia, and the Kavdine passes as playing host to Paleohesperian speaking populations decades or centuries after their literary tradition had disappeared.
In Kapotis’ final work before his death, Paleohesperia Volume 4, he said “It is an inescapable conclusion that had the speakers of Paleohesperian languages been granted even a modicum of courtesy, the slightest respite from overwhelming hostility, that Paleohesperian speakers would walk among us today, for even in such circumstances it is likely that the last native speaker of Sauniti outlived the last scion of the Brontosardi. That these communities, possessed of an indigenous literary culture and the riches of their heritage, were relentlessly hounded out of existence should be regarded as nothing less than an avoidable tragedy as worthy of grief and regret as the collapse of Tyrsenian as a living language.” In the decades since Kapotis’ death these words have rang loud, both inspiring those inclined to agree and drawing censure from those who regard such notions as an incitement towards barbarism.
The Arc of History by Irmion Thurtisonn *1456 CE
The Ikthroy
The Ikthroy
Take for example the Ikthroy. They were not without some rudiments of civilization, displaying a certain inclination towards beautified architecture, an interest in acquiring a literary tradition, an awareness of some form of constitutional theory. But such concepts had been transmitted to them via the medium of direct contact with the Tinians in their archaic era, Hellenes, even the traders of Karkesh, and had often been understood clumsily and reproduced crudely even after generations of such contact and engagement. Theirs was, ultimately, a borrowed glimmer of civilization that could not and did not succeed in uplifting the more barbaric tendencies and condition of the Ikthroy. This was a barbarism that could only be ended by their synoikism into the body of the Hellenes, the ultimate censure of Ikthroy cultural existence being that true civilization could only be introduced via bringing that existence to a complete end. What few beneficial characteristics could be identified were thus rendered into a form suitable for a civilized life.
Had, by the eyes of all the Gods, theirs been a culture destined for greatness or even notability then in a contest between their customs and those of the Hellenes they would have prevailed. As it is, they did not, and we can confidently state that there was no chance of any kind that the Ikthroy could ever have been a protagonist of the movements of history and civilizations. Their sole notable achievements were the brief period of their chief city of Rome functioning an effective vassal of the Amavadatids in Hesperia, the martial success of their auxiliaries under the aigis of the Tinian Empire, their development of the Arkhaioitalic script, and what elements of mystical insight could be extracted from their religious practices that were otherwise dominated by primitive repetition of concepts from the Hellenic and Tinian pantheons. Should one’s preference be for tales of hardfought cultivation of a region, the winning of lands from the barbaric and the undeserving, then the Ikthroy could maybe considered to be an enjoyable antagonist in the accounts of Hesperia’s history where, at last, their barrier to civilization is removed and katharsis is achieved. Besides these, history has forgotten the Ikthroy and one can only conclude that this obscurity is entirely deserved.
IKTHROY, the Ikthroy: An alternative name for the extinct people otherwise known as the Paleohesperians or Eteohesperians, often used pejoratively. The usage originates from Early Koine ikhthros, used generically for non-Hellenic peoples subject to the Hellenic Koinon, particularly those perceived as resisting the Olikan faith. Its plural form developed into a general term for ‘barbarian’ peoples across much of the Hellenic world by the *5th century CE, but seemingly vanished by the *10th century. Its modern usage to pejoratively refer to Paleohesperian peoples is the result of an early *13th century scholarly revival of the term. Ultimately from Old Hellenic ekhthros, meaning something hostile, hated, or an enemy.
A Year in Iberia by Sodir Fasennad *1603 CE
Extract from Chapter V: The Ordanian Littoral
A Year in Iberia by Sodir Fasennad *1603 CE
Extract from Chapter V: The Ordanian Littoral
It was over these several days that one of my long-held assumptions about the Ordanian coast was fatally challenged. Along with many of my compatriots I had, for as long as I could remember, assumed that the transmission of the Phoine language into the present times equated to a wholesale identification of the indigenous Ordani with their linguistic progenitors, thus making the Ordani the last of the Phoiniki, a miraculous albeit isolated survival of something ancient into modern times. At dinner I presented this question to our host the esteemed Volet, shortly after the lamb with orange had been served. I was swiftly, and eloquently, presented with holes in this neat picture. The Volet explained that, whilst the Ordani were fully aware that their tongue largely descended from that distinguished ancient people it was nonetheless also strongly influenced by Hellenic and Iberian precursors likewise, and that the Ordani peoples in the same way could not be said to be the successor to any one of their forebears but to all of them, combining their past parts into something novel. This was to my astonishment, as this was the first time I had encountered the notion that the Ordani saw themselves in this manner. The gregarious Mlaki concurred, and furthermore suggested that the distinctiveness of Ordani culture was seen in such an exotic manner by such great parts of Europa that it made picturing them as some relict survival of ancient times particularly easy, adding to the conviction by which foreigners such as myself saw them as ‘the last Phoiniki. I could not deny the strength of this argument as I recalled how swiftly I had characterised Ordani dress in this manner upon reaching this fair country.
I did, at this stage in the conversation, recall the example of King Ashmuna as quoted in our histories. The Volet looked somewhat amused, explaining that Ashmuna was given a significantly inflated status in foreign histories compared to his reputation within his homeland, likely because of his lively foreign correspondences and his gift for self promotion. Having personally been acquainted with many similar incidents involving colourful characters of my homeland’s recent history I did not find this suggestion difficult to believe. Mlaki offered an addendum, which was that Ashmuna in particular, along with a certain set patronised by him, had become somewhat culturally insecure as to the conceived impurity of classical influences within Ordani culture, and had looked to emphasising Phoiniki heritage in much the same way as other cultures claimed to be the foremost torchbearers of Hellenic heritage, Tyrsenian, or even Persian. He concluded by saying that although they did not speak Phoine tongues the peoples of the Morika and Afrika had more cause to consider themselves the descendants of the Phoiniki, and that in the eyes of most Ordani this was not a particularly troubling conclusion.
The conversation continued through the rest of dinner, but it was these earliest exchanges that were to come back to mind later. As I lay down to rest one might have assumed that an excellent dinner, wine, and conversation would have left me relaxed and content. In a physical sense I was, having been looked after well by my generous hosts. However, I found myself feeling increasingly distraught at the realization that had come over me in the wake of our earlier conversation; the Phoinikes were truly an extinct culture. Their legacy remained very much alive in matters of language, art, and literature, so that their memory was very much alive, but as a living community and identity the notion of being Phoinike was genuinely extinguished. Perhaps some grandiose potentate somewhere among the myriad Mesogeic realms might claim to be Phoinike, but these gestures were matters of political manoeuvre and cultural posturing, not the taking up of one’s grandsires and their existence. The Ordani were the only people commonly associated with a continued and genuine Phoinike lineage in my homeland, among numerous other countries. But having been disavowed of this notion, I had to grapple with the reality that at some point in the grand tapestry of history the Phoinike weave had slowly petered out before disappearing entirely.
It seemed wrong that such a people, of such grand achievement and magnified reputation, could have come to an end, just as eventually the Tinians had done. A strong and particular insight into the world had been lost, though I was grateful that so much of that perspective had been recorded for all time, however insufficient that corpus could be in encapsulating an entire mode of living and body politic. If the teeming cultures of the world were like candles in the dark, it was as though I had realised that one of those candles had gone out permanently, although many other candles around it had been designed in its likeness. In the truest Olikan sense, of course, the Phoinike culture’s most vital aspect still lived in the form of continued proper worship and rites associated with their deities. But I found myself wondering once again about the nature of appointing oneself the guardian of a vanished culture’s intimate beliefs and rituals, and the executor of their legacy. For those of us party to a living community we may celebrate connection and diversity with every credibility and yet possess personal traditions and special knowledge we consider precious. Proper context for many of our most personal practices would not be easily reconstructed in our absence, and one would be free to imagine different meaning and significance to many of our practices without the existence of our community to correct them.
Were the Ordani to vanish the next day, how many would have considered them the last gasp of the Phoinikes and viewed the entirety of their way of life through that lens, simply through the existing momentum of that idea in so many of our homelands? Rather than engaging with the complex reality it would have been almost seductive to continue to propagate that incorrect understanding. Evidence to the contrary, already considered obscure, would simply be ignored or explained away, and it would be left to chance for someone to discover the error and become motivated to correct it. Once again I became aware of just how many times this process had repeated itself through human history, and once again the idea brought me to a cold sweat, for if those of us in the present time did not fight against such things then the same thing would one day happen to ourselves. We would not be seen as what we are but what others wished to see, and if we fit insufficiently within that mould then we would be discarded altogether, as has so often happened to ancient peoples that do not conform to our somewhat capricious sensibilities. The notion that the Ordanian people were solely of interest because of their perceived relationship with the Phoinikes, in that moment, brought me anger on their behalf, along with anger at myself for allowing that notion to exist unchallenged in my mind. In that moment I recalled how calm and polite my hosts had been in response to this line of inquiry, and it seemed marvellous to me at how patiently they had dealt with the matter. I hoped in that moment that I would prove worthy of the kindness that had been shown.
- Daeres
- Word Count: 2.4k