Names are probably the single most important component of language for me.  I don't have a particularly good reason for this: I just see names as important, powerful, rich with symbology and altogether fascinating. Take, for instance, the idea of the surname.  In Western culture – I don't understand much about the Eastern tradition – the surname has to do mainly with your status. Only the nobles actually had interesting names. The surname of the middleclassman is something like Smith or Cooper.  What are those, might you wonder?  Professions.  Alex Cooper is short for Alex the Cooper, barrel-maker. And then there's the family of -sons.  Johnson, Jackson, Jacobson: they mean son of John, son of Jack, son of Jacob.  Though it reveals something about the culture (there's no Johndaughter or Jillson; it also points out that the lineage is the most important part of their identity), it's not particularly interesting otherwise.  And another thing to notice: Odysseus of the Odyssey doesn't have a last name.  Neither do any of the other characters in the entirety of the epic, even the gods (who are all related by blood); any other references to their identity are either descriptive ("bright-eyed Athena"), secondary ("the fair nymph"), or lineal ("son of Laertes").

With first names, however, comes a whole new barrel of monkeys. One nice moment in the Lord of the Rings was near the very end, where Samwise discusses with Frodo what to name his daughter.  It provides an insight into how the hobbits name their girl-children (after flowers).  Frodo selects "Elanor", a golden, star-shaped flower found in Lothlórien, land of dreams.  True to form, she grows to become Elanor the Fair, often mistaken for an elf (who are beauty unmarred).  First names, or familiar names, typically mean something.  More often than not, they're a word in the language of the people (a fact Americans would be blind to, since the melting pot of cultures has distorted the significance of some words that originally came from non-Germanic, non-Latin places.)  Take my own name, Michael.  It comes from Hebrew, and though I have never been able to recall the exact wording in Hebrew, I know it means "who is like God(?)".  I know that it's the name of one of the few named angels, an archangel called the "prince who protects your people" (Daniel 12:1 NIV).  And thusly, I have been shaped as someone who protects those I consider my people, though I would choose the manner of that protection; and I had a long stretch of time where I did not hesitate to say, albeit with a trace of sardonicism, that I am God.

A name shapes an identity.  In writing fiction, I have striven to choose a name that fits the character as best as possible.  So important is this that the latest character I have made remains unnamed despite the fact that I have already woven her into the story to which I contribute.  The Kabalarians (kabalarians.com) have created a psychological analysis based purely upon your first name and your gender.  Consider the name of Odysseus.  His name gave birth to the word "odyssey", which has become synonymous with a long, perhaps arduous, but always adventure-filled voyage.  Whether it meant such a thing in original Greek, I do not know, but would not be surprised to hear it.  I am under the impression that Catholic Christians name their children after saints (which is where you get names like John, James, Nathan, and Patrick); would that be a form of hope that their children will be saintly?  The name John comes originally from the Hebrew Yochanan meaning "YAHWEH is gracious"; James is a form of Jacob, or Ya'aqob, meaning "holder of the heel".  In addition, the Old Testament is rife with instances of naming.  And in most cases, the parent names the child based on the trials they went through to have it.  Rachel, in Genesis 30, names her first child Dan, which means "He [God] has vindicated", because she was vindicated by this birth.  Thus are children defined by the trials of the parents, a tradition that continues in this day and age.

While studying Chinese, I realized that a number of characters for mundane words sounded suspiciously similar to common Oriental names.  When I checked the characters, I realized that, while my Chinese vocabulary simply wasn't broad enough to make some kind of hypothesis, there was nonetheless some sort of correlation.  More so, in learning how characters are constructed, I've realized that some characters probably depict specific regions.  This leads me to believe that these characters that form the surnames of Chinese (and likely other Oriental cultures) are meant as an identifying mark stating the origin of the name-bearer.  And considering the fascinating history of the Chinese people, it's no wonder that certain names have gained dominance: everybody not from those particular areas were likely conquered or otherwise defeated.  It brings to mind a few questions worth pursuing: how are the characters for Qing and Han constructed?  What are the names (and the associated meanings) of the names of royal persons, sons and daughters of the emperor?  My own Chinese name means 'poetry' or 'high language', an insight into my interests.

This is the trouble inherent in my quest as a world-creator: you can't name people until you know what those names will mean, and you won't know what those names will mean without a language, and a language needs a culture.  The name of the Chinese nation is, when literally translated, Center State, because the Chinese people believed (as most ancient superpowers did) that they were quite literally the center of the world.  Ignoring all Eurocentric atlases and those areas, you would see that China is indeed the center of a number of satellite nations, though none of them have really declared allegiance the way the Slavic nations did to the U.S.S.R.  This is yet another point to be made.  The name of a country defines the identity of its people.  The Chinese believe they are the Center.  England is the Land of Angles; France is of the Franks.  The U.S.S.R. was a group of nations united by Socialism.  America is, in truth, the United States of America.  A body of fifty states united under a single banner within the Americas.

Linguists posit that language defines identity just as identity defines language.  And I say that names are the most important component of language, and thus, the most important component of identity.  Even the nameless hold honorifics that are as much a part of their identity as can be, though many would be called soulless.  The naming convention of a language determines what deserves specific mention: a tribe that did not care for the beauty of flowers would have few names differentiating between different flowers, indeed, may only have a single word for weeds we do not kill.  Indeed, as the hobbits who passed the names of flowers onto their beautiful daughters, the naming of people becomes the backbone of a society's culture.  How do the Old Testament characters name their children?  God is gracious to give me a son, and so he shall be named John.  Not because it's a nice name – parents today utilize that criterion, and we see children growing up attempting to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible – but because the parent wants his or her child to remember the graciousness of God that brought him into this world.  His identity solidifies that, and reminds his parents and friends how he came to be.  Name someone Hector in old Greece and tears may come to the eyes of the compassionate, remembering that brave prince who championed the Ilium until Achilles sought his blood.  Name someone David in old Israel and they will remember the boy who slew a giant and ruled the nation as a wise king, a writer of psalms.  Name someone Joan in France and they will remember the teenager that won a war.

Names are power.  Names are identity.  My name is Michael.  F33r me.