When a learner of Polish gets to the terms that Poles use to refer to other nationalities, the majority are pretty easy to learn. The Polish names for the French (Francuz), British (Brytyjczyk) or Russian (Rosjanin) are very similar to the terms these nationalities use themselves. However, there are three countries that get special treatment in the Polish language, three countries whose Polish names are strikingly different and that a learner has to make an effort to learn. I’ve always been curious why.
The first is Germany. In Polish, why is Germany called Niemcy? English borrowed Germania from Latin to make Germany, while the French use the term Allemange from the Germanic tribe Alemanni. But there was no tribe called the Niemenni, so what influenced the first Poles to call their western neighbours Niemcy?
One day I found the answer… and it’s hilarious!
I learned that it comes from the Polish word niemy meaning ‘dumb’ or ‘mute’. It made perfect sense. Niemcy comes from niemy. How else to refer to the group of people who don’t speak your language? When the first Poles encountered a tribe of barbarians on the other side of the Oder/Odra river, they probably tried to start a conversation. But these strangers didn’t understand a single word and their own language was completely incomprehensible. No wonder the first Poles christened them ‘the dummies’.
And grammatically the words for Germany and Germans are strange. Why is the Polish word for Germany (Niemcy) and Germans (Niemcy) the same? Is it because, rather than talking about the geographical country, Poles are simply referring to the inhabitants? You know, the bunch of dummies next door?
And then there’s the question why one German is Niemiec and Poles, when they are traveling to Hamburg or Frankfurt, say Jadę do Niemiec... as if they were going to visit one particular German? And when they come back, a Pole will then say Byłem w Niemczech. Niem-czech… are the Czechs dummies too?
All in all, the way that the Polish language refers to its western neighbour is rather odd.
The next country that is a special case is Italy. Most languages refer to this country as Italia, Italiano etc. Why do the Poles call the country Włochy and call Italians Włosi? I looked for a similar pattern to the Germans. Perhaps the name comes from a Polish adjective? The closest I could find was włochaty meaning ‘fluffy’. Are Italians known for their fluffiness? Do Poles refer to them as Fluffarians? Probably not, so it remains a mystery.
And the third country that gets special treatment are the Hungarians, who are not called Huns or Magyars but Węgrzy. A woman from Hungary is a Węgierka, which is also a type of plum. Is there a connection? Perhaps to Poles, Attila the Hun was only a fruit salesman? Whatever the reason, there seems to be a very special relationship between Poles and Hungarians – I even heard a Polish rhyme about it – Polak, Węgier, dwa bratanki, i do szabli, i do szklanki (lit. Pole, Hungarian, two brothers, with the sword, and with the glass). Basically, Poles and Hungarians are great friends who get drunk together after beating up the Dummies or the Fluffarians.
So the process of learning the terms for nationalities raises lots of questions for a Polish language learner. And it gets worse when it comes to idioms.
Take for instance, the Polish expression meaning ‘once in a blue moon’ which is raz na ruski rok (lit. once a Russian year). I use this expression completely blindly. I know what it means, but I don’t know what it implies? Why is it raz na ruski rok rather than raz na szwedzki rok? When I use it am I ignorantly perpetuating some negative stereotype against the Russians?
You see, it is hard to work out whether this idiom might be offensive. According to NASA, a blue moon occurs every 2.7 years. So how long is a Russian year according to Poles? 2.7 years, 5 years, 10 years? And what is implied if one suggests that a Russian year is a lot longer than a normal one? For all I know, raz na ruski rok could be grossly insulting.
Another one I’m worried about is czeski błąd. If I make a typo, is it okay to refer to it as a czeski błąd or should I stick to błąd drukarski? Why, in the Polish language, is a typo connected to the Czechs? Are they prone to making typos? Are they too lazy to double-check what they’ve written? Or is it that they type with one hand while holding a glass of strong Czech lager in the other?
And then there’s a Polish idiom that describes people from the British Isles: wyjść po angielsku (lit. leave in an English style) which means to leave a social gathering without saying goodbye. In the UK it is acceptable to discreetly sneak out of a party without making a fuss (most British habits and customs are designed to avoid making a fuss). But I wasn’t aware that this behaviour isn’t entirely normal until I came across this Polish idiom. Oh, I thought, Poles have a idiom for this! You mean it’s a bit weird to leave without saying goodbye?
The problem for me is that I’m Scottish, and we Scots can get offended if others call us English. So now I make a special effort to say goodbye to everyone when leaving a party in case anyone dares claim that I left po angielsku!
To be on the safe side, perhaps I should just avoid using Polish idioms that refer to other nationalities completely? Just in case I am reinforcing some negative stereotype.
But then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so sensitive.
Maybe I’m being too fussy? Maybe I should just use these Polish idioms freely and not worry if I’m perpetuating stereotypes nor insulting anyone?
I mean… linguistically … I don’t want to come across like a francuski piesek!
*francuski piesek, (lit. french dog), over-sensitive, fussy.
Polisher 
It’s just a history of linguistics, som historical phrases which don’t mean Poles think this way. the meaning disappeared over the centuries and is just words now. The text written this way is quite offensive, implying that we want to insult our neighbors. Maybe so, a few centuries ago but, as a modern language user, I am not responsible for the terms born in the other language reality. In fact, these phrases now have no meaning and just sound right when spoken. The same as “once in a blue moon doesn’t necessarily refer to the colour.
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Thanks for the comments, Agata. No offense intended. This blog is about the humorous side of language learning. However, I would like to address one of your comments – ‘I am not responsible for the terms born in the other language reality’. British people used to call Native Americans ‘red Indians’. We don’t anymore. There are some cases (and I’m not suggesting that Niemcy is one of them) in which we should take responsibility as modern language users.
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“Włochy” comes from the name of Celtic tribe of Volcae (PL. Wolków) inhabiting southern Europe. And it has migrated to Polish from German. Quite same mechanism as Allemagne in French.
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It’s funnier when you realize, that “włochy” alone could mean “hair”, it’s and emphasised form of “włosy” and is used when you refer to some really hairy hair like when they are overgrown and gross. And “włochaty” actually means hairy, not fluffy.
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maybe the Volcae tribe were a bit hairy?
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That’s quite popular folk etymology of hairy Italians, but surprisingly the root of Włochy is indeed an import from a Germanic language, where Walhaz meant strangers, and furthermore it shares etymology with such names as Wales, Cornwall, Belgian Wallonia, Wallachia – pol. Wołoszczyzna (southern Romania), all being places where Germanic tribes met Celtic people.
The term Niemcy is shared among all Slavic people. Meanwhile Węgrzy is Slavic transformation of original name Onogur – various local forms of it are shared among northern Slavs and Lithuanians.
Regarding ruski rok – it might have originated from the times, when Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had switched to Gregorian calendar, while modified Julian one was still in use in Russian Orthodox church, and in Muscovy. The two calendars diverged by many days, when Gregorian was adopted. That’s a personal guess though.
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Thanks for the insights. It’s fascinating that wherever Germanic tribes met Celtic ones, the Celts were labelled ‘strangers’.
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When I was a student, I was at a lecture, when a series of students was leaving the room during the lecture, one by one, each one saying “Do widzenia” when leaving (I don’t remember why, maybe there was some important event in the evening). The lecturer got a little annoyed, so she said “Moglibyście to zrobić po angielsku” (“You know, you could do it English-style”).
The next person leaving the room said “good bye” in English 🙂
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That’s absolutely hilarious 🙂 What a brilliant anecdote… on so many levels!
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It’s just a personal guess but maybe “czeski błąd” comes from the fact that Czech is so similar to Polish? Some words in Czech look like misspelled Polish words. 🙂
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I do not agree that niemy means dumb, to me it has always had the second meaning you gave – mute. Maybe you confused it with niemota (dumb, helpless person, close to pierdoła).
Czeski błąd does not mean any typo, but a typo where you put two neighboring letters in the reverse order. Some Czech words sound to us like if somebody made a czeski błąd: we say karp, they – kapr, we say pułk, they – pluk.
Great blog by the way.
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Hi! I just discovered your blog and reading it post by post, it’s worth leaving my work out! 🙂 A word of explainig about “ruski rok” – this expression dates back in the period when Poland was partitioned and did not exist as a country. A large part od today’s Poland (Warsaw as well) was under Russian rule and jurisdiction. At the time, a Pole condemned by the Russian court to, let’s say, three years in prison, usually didn’t come back after three years, but after much more time, if at all. Hence the expression “ruski rok” meaning “much more than a year” or “a lot of time”.
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Thank you for the explanation. It makes perfect sense and it’s fascinating to hear the historical context. 🙂
It also reminds me of a joke:
One day a new prisoner arrives in the Gulag. Another prisoner asks how long his sentence is. The newly arrived prisoner says:
“Ten years”
‘Oh, ten years! What did you do?’
“Nothing! says the newly-arrived prisoner.
“Nothing? Surely, there’s been some misacrriage of justice!”
“You’re damn right there’s been a miscarriage of justice! In the Russian Empire the maximum sentence for doing nothing is only three years!”
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A good one. Actually I think that he would have condemned himself to more than ten years by talking about “miscarriage of justice” in the Country of Working People. 🙂
Talking about Polish expressions, there are some with roots even more grim than “ruski rok”: have you ever heard someone say “pal sześć”?
I love your blog, have read all of it since last night and can’t wait for new posts.
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Thanks Jacek. That was some effort – to read all the posts in one day!
‘pal sześć’ – is it when you are so stressed you want to ‘smoke six’ ciagarettes one after another?
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