Narkamaŭka vs. Taraškievica: A Tale of Two Spellings

Imagine opening a dictionary today and finding two completely different ways to spell the name of your capital city. Now, imagine that choosing one spelling over the other could signal your political allegiance, your view on history, and your vision for your country’s future. This is not a hypothetical scenario from a dystopian novel; this is the linguistic reality of Belarus.

In the world of linguistics, standardization is usually the end goal. We have the Oxford English Dictionary or the Académie Française to tell us what is “correct.” But in Belarus, the language is split by a deep schism between two orthographies: the official state standard, known colloquially as Narkamaŭka, and the classical standard, known as Taraškievica.

To the untrained eye, the differences might look like minor typos. To a linguist or a native speaker, they represent a century-long struggle between Russification and national identity. Let’s dive into this tale of two spellings.

The Origins: The Classical Standard (Taraškievica)

To understand the divide, we must travel back to 1918. Following the collapse of the Russian Empire, the Belarusian national movement was gaining momentum. However, the language lacked a codified grammar. Enter Branislaŭ Taraškievič, a linguist and politician who published the “Belarusian Grammar for Schools.”

Taraškievič’s work was foundational. He codified the phonetic principles of the language, paying close attention to how Belarusians actually spoke. His system emphasized the unique features that distinguished Belarusian from its neighbors, particularly Russian and Polish. This system included specific rules regarding:

• Softening of consonants: Reflecting the soft pronunciation of certain consonant clusters.
• Loanwords: Adopting Western European loanwords in a way that preserved their original sound (often closer to Latin or German) rather than filtering them through Russian pronunciation.

For nearly two decades, this was the standard. It fostered a blooming of Belarusian literature and culture in the 1920s. Today, this classical orthography is named Taraškievica in honor of its creator.

1933: The Reform and the Birth of Narkamaŭka

The turning point—and the source of today’s conflict—arrived in 1933. Belarus was then part of the Soviet Union. As Stalin’s grip tightened, the policy of “Belarusization” (promoting local culture) was abruptly replaced by a drive toward centralization and Russification.

Soviet authorities viewed Taraškievica as “artificial” and a tool of “bourgeois nationalists” to pull Belarus away from Russia. In a hurried reform that bypassed genuine linguistic debate, the Soviet government introduced a new orthography.

This new system was dubbed Narkamaŭka. The name is derived from the abbreviation of the body that issued it: the Narkamat (People’s Commissariat). The primary goal of the 1933 reform was not necessarily linguistic improvement, but political alignment. The reforms artificially brought Belarusian spelling and grammar closer to Russian.

Branislaŭ Taraškievič himself was arrested by the NKVD and eventually executed during the Great Purge, adding a tragic layer of martyrdom to the classical spelling he created.

Spot the Difference: Linguistic Variations

What does this divide look like on paper? If you are learning the language, the differences can be jarring. Both use the Cyrillic alphabet, but the rules governing the letters differ significantly.

1. The Soft Sign (ь)

One of the most visual differences is the use of the soft sign. Taraškievica represents “assimilative softness.” If a designated hard consonant is followed by a soft consonant, the first one softens phonetically. Taraškievica writes this down; Narkamaŭka usually does not.

• English: Snow
• Narkamaŭka: с нег (snieh)
• Taraškievica: сьнег (s‘nieh)

In Taraškievica, that extra soft sign signals the reader that the ‘s’ is soft, a distinctive feature of the Belarusian accent.

2. Foreign Loanwords and Greek/Latin Roots

This is perhaps the most politically charged linguistic marker. Narkamaŭka adopted the Russian method of transliterating Greek and Latin words, while Taraškievica maintained a more direct European link.

Example: The “Th” Sound
Greek “Theta” (θ) became “F” in Russian (and subsequently Narkamaŭka), but remained “T” in Taraškievica (similar to Polish or Latin).

• English: Rhythm
• Narkamaŭka: рыфма (ryfma) – mirroring Russian rifma.
• Taraškievica: рытма (rytma) – closer to European roots.

Example: The “L” Sound
In classical Belarusian, the “L” in Western loanwords is usually soft (like the German or French L), whereas in Russian, it is often hard.

• English: Lamp
• Narkamaŭka: лямпа (lampa) – Hard L.
• Taraškievica: лямпа (liampa) – Soft L.

3. Proper Names

The most famous example involves the capital city itself. In the official spelling (Narkamaŭka), it is Minsk. In the classical spelling (Taraškievica), reflecting the historical pronunciation, it is Miensk.

The Internet Age: A Schism in Code

In most languages, the internet brings standardization. In Belarus, it solidified the divide. If you navigate to Wikipedia to read about Belarus in Belarusian, you are faced with a choice. There isn’t just one Belarusian Wikipedia; there are two.

1. be.wikipedia.org: Based on the official Narkamaŭka academic standard.
2. be-tarask.wikipedia.org: Based on the Taraškievica classical standard.

This digital fork ensures that the two orthographies continue to evolve independently, possessing different terminologies for modern concepts like “interface”, “browser”, and “software.”

Orthography as Identity

Why does this matter today? Why hasn’t one simply won out?

The persistence of Taraškievica is a testament to cultural resistance. In the 1990s, following Belarus’s independence, there was a brief resurgence of the classical script in schools and media. However, under the presidency of Alexander Lukashenko, the state reverted strictly to Narkamaŭka (and largely to the Russian language in general).

Consequently, the choice of spelling became a shibboleth.

• Narkamaŭka is the language of the state, the bureaucracy, official textbooks, and government newspapers. It is pragmatic and universally understood by those educated in the state system.
• Taraškievica is the chosen script of the opposition, the intelligentsia, independent musicians, the diaspora, and private publishing houses. Using it is widely interpreted as a statement: a rejection of Soviet Russification and an embrace of Belarus’s European heritage.

When a band releases an album with the tracklist written in Taraškievica, or a writer publishes a novel using “Miensk” instead of “Minsk”, they are signalling their cultural values before the reader even finishes the first sentence.

Conclusion

For linguists and language learners, the Belarusian situation provides a fascinating case study in language planning and policy. It highlights that orthography is rarely just about assigning letters to create sounds. It is about history, power, and belonging.

While Narkamaŭka remains the mandatory standard for official communication, Taraškievica survives as a vibrant, defiant “people’s standard”, kept alive by those who view the 1933 reforms as a colonial scar. Ultimately, both scripts tell the story of a nation situated on the fault line between East and West, trying to write its own future—literally and metaphorically.