Intense but irregular NWIE and Indo-Iranian contacts show Uralic disintegrated in the West


Open access PhD thesis Indo-Iranian borrowings in Uralic: Critical overview of sound substitutions and distribution criterion, by Sampsa Holopainen, University of Helsinki (2019), under the supervision of Forsberg, Saarikivi, and Kallio.

Interesting excerpts (emphasis mine):

The gap between Russian and Western scholarship

Many scholars in the Soviet Union and later the Russian Federation also have researched this topic over the last five decades. Notably the eminent Eugene Helimski dealt with this topic in several articles: his 1992 article (republished in Helimski 2000) on the emergence of Uralic consonantal stems used Indo-Iranian and other Indo-European loans as key evidence, and it was one of the first serious attempts to stratify the loanwords, paying attention to the non-initial syllables as well. Helimski (1997b) discusses Indo-Iranian loanwords more generally, but it is especially notable for the introduction of the “Andronovo Aryan” idea: Helimski argues that some loanwords in Ob-Ugric and Permic are derived from an unattested, third branch of Indo-Iranian. Helimski’s idea has been supported by at least Mikhail Zhivlov in a 2013 article, but otherwise it has not received wide acceptance. Helimski was also known for his criticism (see especially Helimski 2001) of Jorma Koivulehto’s etymological work: although the main targets of Helimski’s criticism were Koivulehto’s writings on Proto-Indo-European and Germanic borrowings (which fitted poorly with Helimski’s ideas of the Nostratic roots of Proto-Uralic and his other theories on Uralic linguistic prehistory), also some of his Indo-Iranian ideas received unnecessarily sharp criticism in Helimski (2001).

Vladimir Napol’skikh is another important Russian scholar who has written on several occasions about Indo-Iranian–Uralic contacts. His 2014 article is notable for its criticism on Helimski’s Andronovo Aryan theory and his arguments in favour of Indo-Aryan loanwords. Napol’skikh also considered some of the traditional Indo-Iranian loanwords to be borrowings from Tocharian (see below) in some of his earlier works, an idea which has been criticized by Kallio (2004) and Widmer (2002) and which Napol’skikh himself has since dropped in later publications (2010, 2014), where many of these alleged Tocharian loans are again considered Indo-Iranian.

Some of the main characteristics of Russian research is that the earliest Indo-European loanwords are usually considered to represent an inheritance from the Nostratic proto-language (Helimski [2001]; Kassian, Zhivlov & Starostin [2015]), an idea which is not widely accepted by scholars of Uralic in the West. Although this often does not concern the Indo-Iranian loanwords at all, or it concerns only a part of them, the works of Jorma Koivulehto, who dealt with both earlier Indo-European and Indo-Iranian loans, receive so much criticism from the Russian scholars that his important ideas are often totally rejected or left unmentioned in Russian research.

This kind of rejection of central etymological research literature can be considered one of the most pressing problems in Uralic loanword studies, and it leaves a regrettable gap between Russian and Western European scholars in this perspective.




Among the Indo-Iranian loanwords in Uralic, one can easily mention examples that follow the classification of semantic change as described above. For widening or generalization, vasara ‘hammer’ is a good example: the Indo-Iranian original denotes ‘the weapon of the god Indra’ in Indic and ‘the weapon of the god Mithra’ in Avestan, whereas Finnish ‘hammer’ (and the Mordvin meaning ‘axe’) are more general meanings of tools. Fi huhta is a good example of narrowing: Iranian *tsuxta- means simply ‘burned’, whereas in Finnic huhta means specifically ‘a burned patch used in slash-and-burn agriculture’. Metonomy has taken place in Mordvin, where čuvto denotes simply ‘tree’; this probably developed through the meaning ‘wood burned for agriculture’. Khanty (South) wǟrəs denotes ‘horse’s mane’, but its Iranian original probably had a more general meaning of hair (cf. Avestan varəsa- ‘hair of human and animal, mostly hair of the head’).

An interesting example of degeneration is the etymology of Finnic orja ‘slave’, probably borrowed from the Indo-Iranian ethnonym *(H)ārya- ‘Aryan’ (for the original semantics of this word, see the entry *orja in Chapter 2). A similar development is seen in English slave which is etymologically connected to the ethnonym Slav.

Distribution as a criterion in the dating of loanwords

(…) some of the Indo-Iranian loans seem to have a wide distribution, but upon a closer look it becomes clear that they include phonological irregularities, which can only be explained by assuming that they are parallel loans. The ability to recognize parallel borrowings is extremely important in Uralic loanword studies, and it has been developed with success in the research of Germanic and Baltic loanwords (see Junttila 2015).

Interestingly, K. Häkkinen (1983: 207) argues that although words disappear from languages, the most basic words often remain stable and are maintained for longer periods. Although this is probably true, here the notion of “basicness” is something that is open to different interpretations. Many central concepts in culture and livelihoods are often described with prestige words that are borrowed, and these central words can be very easily replaced. In determining the age of the loanwords one has to always keep in mind that a reflex of a very early cultural borrowing from Indo-Iranian to Proto-Uralic/Proto- West Uralic etc. can easily have been lost in some daughter language, if a later prestige loan for the same concept has been borrowed from some later contact language (such as from some form of Germanic or Baltic into Finnic or from some Turkic language into Udmurt, Mari or Mordvin).

In Uralic linguistics the common loanword layers shared by some intermediary proto-language have often been seen as giving support to the reconstruction of these stages, but K. Häkkinen (100–108) considers this problematic. It should also be noted that the distribution of Indo-Iranian loanwords very rarely matches the assumed taxonomic divisions: there are some loanwords confined to the Finno-Permic, Finno-Volgaic or Ugric languages, but very few loanwords that would be Finno-Permic, Finno-Volgaic or Ugric in the way that the word is found in all the languages that belong to the branch.



There are only very few possible examples of a consonantal substitution of the word-initial laryngeal. It seems probable that the word-initial laryngeal, if it was retained, was not substituted in any way in Uralic. *karšV (> Fi karhu), an uncertain etymology, is the only possible example.

(…) Even if *k was a result of laryngeal hardening, the development would probably be earlier than Proto-Indo-Iranian, meaning that by the time the word was borrowed, the Indo-Iranian word simply had the stop *k that was regularly substituted by Uralic *k.

Evidence for Andronovo Aryan and Indo-Aryan loanwords?

None of the loanwords have to be considered as Andronovo Aryan or Proto-Indo-Aryan based on the criteria that were presented in the Introduction. The Uralic palatal affricate *ć or sibilant *ś can in all cases be explained from Proto-Indo-Iranian *ć, and there is no need to assume that it should reflect Andronovo Aryan *ć or PIA *ś. In the etymological material of this study, no further positive evidence was found for the distinction of PU *ś and *ć as substitutions of the Proto-Indo-Iranian affricates. This means that at least in word-initial position there probably was no difference between *ć and *ś, and even though we do not know what this sound was phonetically, it is safe to assume that Uralic words showing *ś reflect a sound substitution of Indo-Iranian *ć and *Ʒ́.

Regarding the distribution of the etymologies within Indo-Iranian, all the loanwords which cannot be from Iranian because of the lack of attested Iranian cognates have a more or less secure Proto-Indo-Iranian etymology, and nothing prevents us from assuming that these words reflect Proto-Indo-Iranian borrowings. It is also possible that some words with solid Proto-Indo-Iranian etymologies were present in Iranian but were lost before the first Old Iranian texts were composed.



List of Indo-European and Indo-Iranian Etymologies


*ertä ‘side’, *kekrä ‘wheel’, *kečrä ‘spindle’, *mekši ‘bee’, (*meti ‘honey’), *ońća ‘part’, (*orpa ‘orphan’), *peijas ‘feast’, *pejmä ‘milk’, Pre-P *pertä ‘wing’, *repä ‘fox’, *rećmä ‘rope’, *sejti ‘bridge’


*aćtara ‘whip’, *anti/onta, *ora ‘awl’, *orja ‘slave; south’, (*orpa ‘orphan’), *pośi ‘penis’, *śaŋka ‘handle’, Pre-Md *śaγa ‘goat’, *śarwi ‘horn’, *śaδa- ‘to rain’, śara- ‘shit’, *śi̮ta ‘hundred’, Pre-P *śVta ‘hundred’, *śasra ‘thousand’, *śišta ‘wax’, *śoma- ‘sad’, *waćara ‘hammer’, *woraći ‘boar’

Ambiguous early loans (can be either from PII or PI)

*ajša ‘shaft’, *asVra ‘lord’, *iha ‘yearning. passion’, *ihta ‘lust’, *jama ‘twin’, *jawi/jowa (> Mo juv) ‘awn’, *jawi (> PS *jäə̑) ‘flour’, *ji̮ni ‘way, path’, *juma ‘god’, *kana- ‘to dig’, *kara- ‘to dig’, *kata- ‘to graze’, *kertä- ‘to bind’, *ki̮ntaw ‘tree stump’, *kürtńV ‘iron’, PKh *kǟrtV ‘iron’, *kärtä ‘iron’, *martas ‘dead’, *ńātV- ‘to help’, *pakas ‘god’, *para ‘good’, Kh pĕnt ‘way’, PMs *pē̮ńtV ‘brother-in-law’, *pora ‘old’, *poči- ‘to boil’, Pre-P *porta ‘vessel’, *puntaksi ‘bottom’, Pre-Ma *pänti- ‘to bind’, PMa *pärća ‘ear of corn’, *pätäri- ‘to flee’, *saγi- ‘to get, obtain’, *sampas ‘pillar’, *saŋka ‘old’, *sara ‘lake’, *sasara ‘sister’, *säptä ‘seven’, *tajwas ‘sky’, *takra ‘piece of flesh’, *tarna ‘grass’, *tojwV ‘wish’, *toraksi ‘through’, *tora- ‘to fight’, *täjV ‘milk’, *täjinV ‘cow’, *täši, *uška ‘bull’, *wakša- (> PS *wåtå-) ‘to grow’, *wajna- ‘to see’, *wojna- ‘to see’, *wiša ‘venom’, *wi̮rna ‘wool’, *wärkä ‘kidney’, PS *wǝ̑rkǝ̑ ‘wolf’, *wirtV- ‘to hold, raise’, *äŋkärä ‘coal’

List of uncertain Indo-Iranian etymologies

PFi *aiwa (← Germanic ?), Ma *arša ‘mane’, PMs *ǟrV ‘fire’, *aštira ‘barren earth’, POug *ćakV ‘hammer’, *ćara- ‘brown; ? to dawn’, *ćero ‘hill-top’, *ćerti ‘group’, *itä- ‘to appear’, Pre-Fi *karšV ‘bear’, PMs *kīrV ‘iron’, *kota ‘chum’, Pre-Sa *kupa ‘pit’, PFi *kärsä ‘snout’, *maksa- ‘to pay’, PFi *mana-, PUg ? *mańći, Ma marij ‘Mari; man; husband’, *mē̮ja ‘wedding’, *mykkä ‘dumb’, PP *oč ‘corn’, *orpV ‘relative’, PFi *paksu ‘thick’, *peji- ‘to milk’, *pi̮ŋka ‘psychedelic mushroom’ POUg *porV ‘phratry’, Pre-Sa *poti ‘against’, Pre-Fi *šatas ‘germ’, *sentü- ‘to be born’, *šerä- ‘to wake up’, Ms šVšwǝŋ ‘hare’, PUg *śeŋkV ‘nail’, Pre-Sa *soma/sami ‘some’, PP *sur ‘beer’, PFi *süte- ‘to hit’ (< ? *sewči-), Hu szekér ‘wagon’, Kh ʌīkər ‘Narte’ PUg *taja- ‘secret’, Pre-Fi *terni ‘young’, *terwV ‘healthy’, ? *towkV ‘spring’, PWU *utarV ‘udder’ (← Germanic ?; Mari *waδar ← II), *waŋka ‘hook’, Mo E v́eŕges, M vərǵas ‘wolf’

Etymologies that were probably borrowed from another Indo-European source (PIE, PBSl, Germanic, Baltic)

*aisa ‘shaft’ ← Balto-Slavic, PFi *aiwa (← Germanic ?), *apV ‘help’ ← Germanic, *jewä ‘grain’ ← Balto-Slavic, Ma karaš etc. ‘honeycomb’ ← Baltic, (*meti ‘honey’ ← ? PIE,) Fi *ojas ‘shaft’ ← Slavic, *ola ← Baltic, *oŋki ← Germanic, *porćas ← Balto-Slavic, Pre-Sa *porta ‘vessel’ ← Germanic, *salV ‘salt’ (cannot be reconstructed for PU, various later parallel loans), *śi̮lkaw ← Balto-Slavic, *sammu- ← Germanic, *śuka ← Balto-Slavic, Mari *šŭžar ← Baltic/Balto-Slavic or Slavic, *tejniš ‘pregnant animal’ ← Baltic/Balto-Slavic, PWU *utarV ‘udder’ (? ← Germanic)

Early loans into differentiated branches

Proto-West Uralic

Only in Finnic:

*aćnas ‘voracious’, *iha ‘wish’, *ihta ‘lust’, PFi *isV ‘appetite’, *martas ‘dead’, *očra ‘barley’, *peijas ‘feast’, *pejmä ‘milk’, *pe̮rna ‘spleen’, *sampas ‘pillar’, *sooja ‘shelter’, *tajwas ‘sky’, *takra ‘piece of flesh’, *terwV ‘healthy’, *tojwV ‘wish’

All of these words, with the exception of *sooja ‘shelter’, were clearly borrowed into Early Proto-Finnic (Pre-Finnic) at the latest. Formally most of the loans could be from PII or PI.

Only in Saami:

*kata- ‘to graze’, *kertä- ‘to bind’, *pora ‘old’, *wojna- ‘to see’

All of the loans were acquired before the Saami vowel changes. Formally all could be either from Proto-Indo-Iranian or Proto-Iranian.

Only in Finnic and Saami:

*asma ‘voracious’, *jama ‘twin’, *kekrä ‘wheel’, *mača ‘insect’

*asma ‘voracious’, *jama ‘twin’, *kekrä ‘wheel’, *mača ‘insect’ Of these, *mača from Proto-Iranian and *jama is ambiguous. As the -sm- in asma does not point to Proto-Indo-Iranian *ć, this is probably an Iranian loan too. It is possible that these words were borrowed into Proto-West Uralic, as there is no general support for a Finno-Saamic proto-language today. As the cognates within Finnic and Saami are regular, there is no need to assume parallel borrowings. *kekrä has to be from Proto-Indo-Iranian.

NOTE. Based on the discussion of stages of borrowing from Indo-Iranian, and of the distribution of *kekrä among Uralic dialects in particular, Holopainen probably means Pre-Indo-Iranian for this example.

Only in Mordvin and/or Finnic and/or Saami (can point to a borrowing into Proto-West Uralic):

*ji̮ni ‘way’, *kečrä ‘spindle’, *rećmä ‘rope’, *śaŋka, *waćara ‘hammer’, *warsa ‘foal’, *wasa ‘calf’, *woraći ‘pig’

Based on phonological criteria, these loans do not form a chronologically coherent layer, but probably their modern distribution is accidental (their original distribution can have been wider). *kečrä ‘spindle’ and *rećmä ‘rope’ are from Pre-II, *śaŋka, *waćara and *woraći from PII, *warsa and *wasa from later Iranian (Alanic). *ji̮ni is ambiguous. Also the loans confined to Finnic and Saami mentioned above probably were borrowed into Proto-West Uralic, as it is a more convincing taxonomic entity than Proto-Finno-Saamic.


Only in Mordvin, Finnic and/or Saami and Mari

*juma ‘good’

This loan can be either from PII or PI. As it is obvious that these four branches do not form any taxonomical entity (Salminen 2002; J. Häkkinen 2009), it is only logical that there are no other loanwords with a “Finno-Volgaic” distribution.

Only in Mari:

*kVrtnV ‘metal’ (← PII, PI or later), Pre-Ma *pänti- ‘to bind’, PMa *pärća ‘ear of corn’, *si̮rńa ‘gold’ (← Old Iranian)

Only very few early Indo-Iranian loans can be found in Mari and in no other Uralic language. It is unclear what the reason for this is. It is, of course, possible that some uncertain loanwords like marij ‘man; Mari’ turn out to be correct after all, but even that does not make the number of loans in Mari very high. The situation has to be explained either with loss of vocabulary and replacement by later loans (from Turkic, and also perhaps from Permic) or with Mari’s location on the periphery at the time of the later contacts with the Iranian languages. Agyagási (2019: 254–258) argues that the current area where Mari is spoken was formed only relatively late, after the Mongol invasion in the High Middle Ages. If this is indeed correct, and Mari was spoken in more northern areas before that, it can be assumed that Pre-Mari had only sporadic contacts with the Iranian languages after it split off from Proto-Uralic.

Only in Permic (early loans; for later loans confined to Permic)

*a(č)wa ‘stallion’, PP *ju ‘awn’, *kertä ‘house’, *kärtä ‘metal’, *kada- ~ *gada- ‘to steal’, *karka ‘chicken’, *parśa ~ *barśa ‘mane’, *parta ‘knife’, *pertä ‘wing’, *poči- ‘to boil’, *porta ‘vessel’, *dura ‘long’, *domV ‘to tame’, PP *śumi̮s ‘band’, PP *šud‘luck’, *uška ‘bull’, *wi̮rna ‘wool’, *wirä ‘man, husband’, *äŋkärä ‘coal’

The number of loanwords in Permic is relatively high, and many of these can be considered to be Iranian loanwords. Technically many loans are ambiguous, but as some of the words were borrowed late due to historical reasons (‘iron’), and some were borrowed into a Pre-Permic which already had a phonological system that was different from Proto-Uralic (*šud- has d which cannot reflect PU *δ).

It is probable that the Permic languages were in continuous contact with the Indo-Iranian languages from the time they split from Proto-Uralic until the early mediaeval era.


Only in Khanty and Mansi (regular cases):

POUg *ēräɣ ‘song’, POUg *eträ ‘clear sky’, POug *mɔ̈ŋki ‘forest-spirit’, *ńātV- ‘to help’, *päčäɣ ‘reindeer’

The number of these etymologies is so low that it is very difficult to determine whether these words were borrowed into Proto-Ob-Ugric or some earlier proto-language, such as Proto-Ugric.

Only in Khanty and/or Mansi and/or Hungarian (regular cases):

*säptä ‘seven’ (Khanty + Hungarian regular), *sara ‘lake’

There are so few convincing loanwords with a “Ugric” distribution that they provide very little evidence. Either of these loans could be from Proto-Indo-Iranian or Proto-Iranian, if we assume that *s > *h was a common Iranian sound change. Both loans were acquired

Only in Samoyed:

*jäwi (> PS *jäə̑), PS *pulə̑ ~ *pi̮lə̑ ‘bridge’, *täjki ‘spear’, PS *wǝ̑rkə̑ ‘wolf’, Pre-S *täši (> PS *tät), *wakša- (> PS *wåtå) ‘to grow’

Of these, only *wåtå- has to be a very early loan because of *s > *t. *jäwi (> PS *jäə̑) and PS *wə̑rkə̑ were possibly acquired before the Proto-Samoyed vowel developments, making them probably early loanwords too. Formally all of them could be either from PII or PI. *pulə̑ ~ *pi̮lə̑ could have been borrowed into Proto-Samoyed (with Iranian *u corresponding to Samoyed *u), and because of the *l the word is probably from a relatively late, Middle Iranian language.

The following loanwords have a distribution with a cognate in both Samoyed and some other branch:

*śaδa- ‘to rain’, *tora- ‘to fight’ (also *itä-, which is more uncertain, belongs here)

Pan-Uralic loans

The following loanwords have a distribution with regular cognates with at least one Ugric branch and some other branch, which points to early borrowing. Although formally *kana- and *kara- are ambiguous, they are probably from Proto-Indo-Iranian because of their distribution. The rest of the loans are from Pre-II or PII.

*kana- ‘to dig’, *kara- ‘to dig’, *meti ‘honey’, *mekši ‘bee’, *orpV ‘orphan’, *ora ‘awl’, *peji- ‘to milk’, *pätäri- ‘to flee’, *śara- ‘shit’, *śoma- ‘sad’

The following loanwords are found in at least two non-adjacent branches of Uralic (the ones listed in the above categories are not counted). As there are no widely accepted criteria for a word to be considered “Uralic”, all of these could be considered loanwords into Proto-Uralic, in this case probably from Proto-Indo-Iranian or Pre-Indo-Iranian.

*ajša ‘shaft’, *anti/onta ‘grass’, *ertä ‘side’, *ki̮ntaw ‘tree stump’, *mertä ‘human’, *orja ‘slave’, *para ‘good’, *počaw ‘reindeer’, *puntaksi ‘bottom’, *saγi- ‘to get, obtain’, *repä ‘fox’, *si̮ŋka ‘old’, *sasara ‘sister’, *sejti ‘bridge’, *śišta ‘wax’, *tarna ‘grass’, *toraksi ‘through’, *wiša ‘venom’



Discussion about the distribution and its impact on Uralic taxonomy

(…) there are Proto-Iranian loanwords which were borrowed simultaneously into several early branches of Uralic, making it likely that Uralic had split into several branches by the time of these contacts.

Also the fact that many of the Proto-Indo-Iranian loanwords either show a restricted distribution (such as West Uralic *waćara, *woraći) or irregular correspondences (*asVra, *śasra, *śi̮ta) can point to the conclusion that Proto-Uralic was fragmenting by the time when contacts with Proto-Indo-Iranian took place.

The earlier, Pre-Indo-Iranian loanwords usually show a wider distribution and regular sound correspondences. Although the number of these earliest loans is quite small, based on their distribution and regular correspondences it can be assumed that the Pre-Indo-Iranian stage (after RUKI, *l > *r and the merger of velars and labiovelars but before the merger of non-high vowels) was concurrent with Proto-Uralic, with the changes leading to Proto-Indo-Iranian happening after the dispersal of Proto-Uralic.

The distribution of loanwords reinforces the old idea that Samoyed is a lexical outlier, as only few convincing Indo-Iranian etymologies for Proto-Uralic words (*saδa- ‘to rain’, *tora- ‘to fight’) have a convincing reflex in Samoyed. However, the fact that such etymologies exist means rather that the situation is due to lexical loss in Samoyed, and that the earliest contact occurred before Samoyed split off from Proto-Uralic.

There are very few loanwords that have a Ugric distribution (being found in at least one Ob-Ugric branch and Hungarian), and likewise rather few in Ob-Ugric. The few loans that have a distribution confined to Ugric were borrowed before the change *s > *θ took place. This means that the Ugric distribution does not mean much from the point of view of chronology or taxonomy, as the words were borrowed into a language that was still identical to Proto-Uralic. Even some loans borrowed into Khanty and Mansi have to be so early.

Impacts on dating and the location of the contact zones

Because of the very limited number of convincing etymologies found only in Finnic or Saami, it is probable that there were not (extensive) contacts with Pre-Finnic or Pre-Saami after the split of Proto-West Uralic.

The great number of loanwords of varying ages in Permic inevitably points to the conclusion that the pre-form of the Permic branch had been constantly spoken in an area that was adjacent to the Iranian languages. The different layers of loanwords in Permic clearly point to chronological differences in the donor languages, but it also seems that Permic was in contact with various forms of Iranian and not with different diachronic stages of the same language.

In general, the words that have been borrowed are typical cultural words, and the contacts between Indo-Iranian and Uralic seems to have been a typical contact situation in which a culturally less-advanced language group borrows various cultural terms from a more “advanced” group. The words in various loanword layers related to horse and cattle breeding show obvious cultural influence in the field of domesticated animals, and the borrowing of some names of grains points to agricultural influence from the Indo-Iranians on the speakers of Uralic.

Needless to say, many of the borrowings I listed in A Song of Sheep and Horses suffer from the same ailment attributed to Indo-Europeanists in general:

With slight exaggeration one can agree with the remark by Koivulehto (1999a: 209–210) that the Indo-Europeanists often use outdated sources or are simply uninterested in the topic. The problem is further complicated by the various and often obsolete views expressed in even relatively modern Uralicist works, such as those of Rédei (1986c; 1988) or Katz (2003); (…) Mallory & Adams (2006) adequately refer to the importance of the early loanwords, but they use mostly Rédei’s outdated reconstructions and stratigraphy in support of their theories.

I need to review all related texts with this thesis and the works recently published by Kümmel, as well as the recent book of the Leiden school on Indo-Uralic.

Also, does anyone know the (traditional?) why of the resistance to the Indo-Uralic concept among Uralicists? Maybe it’s a reaction against the Nostraticist and Siberian views of Uralic espoused by the Soviets?


Corded Ware ancestry in North Eurasia and the Uralic expansion


Now that it has become evident that Late Repin (i.e. Yamnaya/Afanasevo) ancestry was associated with the migration of R1b-L23-rich Late Proto-Indo-Europeans from the steppe in the second half of the the 4th millennium BC, there’s still the question of how R1a-rich Uralic speakers of Corded Ware ancestry expanded , and how they spread their languages throughout North Eurasia.

Modern North Eurasians

I have been collecting information from the supplementary data of the latest papers on modern and ancient North Eurasian peoples, including Jeong et al. (2019), Saag et al. (2019), Sikora et al. (2018), or Flegontov et al. (2019), and I have tried to add up their information on ancestral components and their modern and historical distributions.

Fortunately, the current obsession with simplifying ancestry components into three or four general, atemporal groups, and the common use of the same ones across labs, make it very simple to merge data and map them.

Corded Ware ancestry

There is no doubt about the prevalent ancestry among Uralic-speaking peoples. A map isn’t needed to realize that, because ancient and modern data – like those recently summarized in Jeong et al. (2019) – prove it. But maps sure help visualize their intricate relationship better:

Natural neighbor interpolation of Srubnaya ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Srubnaya ancestry among modern populations. See full map

Interestingly, the regions with higher Corded Ware-related ancestry are in great part coincident with (pre)historical Finno-Ugric-speaking territories:

Modern distribution of Uralic languages, with ancient territory (in the Common Era) labelled and delimited by a red line. For more information on the ancient territory see here.

Edit (29/7/2019): Here is the full Steppe_MLBA ancestry map, including Steppe_MLBA (vs. Indus Periphery vs. Onge) in modern South Asian populations from Narasimhan et al. (2018), apart from the ‘Srubnaya component’ in North Eurasian populations. ‘Dummy’ variables (with 0% ancestry) have been included to the south and east of the map to avoid weird interpolations of Steppe_MLBA into Africa and East Asia.

Natural neighbor interpolation of Steppe MLBA-like ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Anatolia Neolithic ancestry

Also interesting are the patterns of non-CWC-related ancestry, in particular the apparent wedge created by expanding East Slavs, which seems to reflect the intrusion of central(-eastern) European ancestry into Finno-Permic territory.

NOTE. Read more on Balto-Slavic hydrotoponymy, on the cradle of Russians as a Finno-Permic hotspot, and about Pre-Slavic languages in North-West Russia.

Natural neighbor interpolation of LBK EN ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of LBK EN ancestry among modern populations. See full map

WHG ancestry

The cline(s) between WHG, EHG, ANE, Nganasan, and Baikal HG are also simplified when some of them excluded, in this case EHG, represented thus in part by WHG, and in part by more eastern ancestries (see below).

Natural neighbor interpolation of WHG ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of WHG ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Arctic, Tundra or Forest-steppe?

Data on Nganasan-related vs. ANE vs. Baikal HG/Ulchi-related ancestry is difficult to map properly, because both ancestry components are usually reported as mutually exclusive, when they are in fact clearly related in an ancestral cline formed by different ancient North Eurasian populations from Siberia.

When it comes to ascertaining the origin of the multiple CWC-related clines among Uralic-speaking peoples, the question is thus how to properly distinguish the proportions of WHG-, EHG-, Nganasan-, ANE or BaikalHG-related ancestral components in North Eurasia, i.e. how did each dialectal group admix with regional groups which formed part of these clines east and west of the Urals.

The truth is, one ought to test specific ancient samples for each “Siberian” ancestry found in the different Uralic dialectal groups, but the simplistic “Siberian” label somehow gets a pass in many papers (see a recent example).

Below qpAdm results with best fits for Ulchi ancestry, Afontova Gora 3 ancestry, and Nganasan ancestry, but some populations show good fits for both and with similar proportions, so selecting one necessarily simplifies the distribution of both.

Ulchi ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Ulchi ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Ulchi ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

ANE ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of ANE ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of ANE ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Nganasan ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Nganasan ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Nganasan ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Iran Chalcolithic

A simplistic Iran Chalcolithic-related ancestry is also seen in the Altaic cline(s) which (like Corded Ware ancestry) expanded from Central Asia into Europe – apart from its historical distribution south of the Caucasus:

Natural neighbor interpolation of Iran Neolithic ancestry among modern populations. See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Iran Chalcolithic ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Other models

The first question I imagine some would like to know is: what about other models? Do they show the same results? Here is the simplistic combination of ancestry components published in Damgaard et al. (2018) for the same or similar populations:

NOTE. As you can see, their selection of EHG vs. WHG vs. Nganasan vs. Natufian vs. Clovis of is of little use, but corroborate the results from other papers, and show some interesting patterns in combination with those above.


Natural neighbor interpolation of EHG ancestry among modern populations, data from Damgaard et al. (2018). See full map.
Kriging interpolation of EHG ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Natufian ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Natufian ancestry among modern populations, data from Damgaard et al. (2018). See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Natufian ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

WHG ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of WHG ancestry among modern populations, data from Damgaard et al. (2018). See full map.
Kriging interpolation of WHG ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Baikal HG ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Baikal hunter-gatherer ancestry among modern populations, data from Damgaard et al. (2018). See full map.
Kriging interpolation of Baikal HG ancestry among modern populations. See full map.

Ancient North Eurasians

Once the modern situation is clear, relevant questions are, for example, whether EHG-, WHG-, ANE, Nganasan-, and/or Baikal HG-related meta-populations expanded or became integrated into Uralic-speaking territories.

When did these admixture/migration events happen?

How did the ancient distribution or expansion of Palaeo-Arctic, Baikalic, and/or Altaic peoples affect the current distribution of the so-called “Siberian” ancestry, and of hg. N1a, in each specific population?

NOTE. A little excursus is necessary, because the calculated repetition of a hypothetic opposition “N1a vs. R1a” doesn’t make this dichotomy real:

  1. There was not a single ethnolinguistic community represented by hg. R1a after the initial expansion of Eastern Corded Ware groups, or by hg. N1a-L392 after its initial expansion in Siberia:
  2. Different subclades became incorporated in different ways into Bronze Age and Iron Age communities, most of which without an ethnolinguistic change. For example, N1a subclades became incorporated into North Eurasian populations of different languages, reaching Uralic- and Indo-European-speaking territories of north-eastern Europe during the late Iron Age, at a time when their ancestral origin or language in Siberia was impossible to ascertain. Just like the mix found among Proto-Germanic peoples (R1b, R1a, and I1)* or among Slavic peoples (I2a, E1b, R1a)*, the mix of many Uralic groups showing specific percentages of R1a, N1a, or Q subclades* reflect more or less recent admixture or acculturation events with little impact on their languages.

*other typically northern and eastern European haplogroups are also represented in early Germanic (N1a, I2, E1b, J, G2), Slavic (I1, G2, J) and Finno-Permic (I1, R1b, J) peoples.

Map of archaeological cultures in north-eastern Europe ca. 8th-3rd centuries BC. [The Mid-Volga Akozino group not depicted] Shaded area represents the Ananino cultural-historical society. Fading purple arrows represent likely stepped movements of subclades of haplogroup N for centuries (e.g. Siberian → Ananino → Akozino → Fennoscandia [N-VL29]; Circum-Arctic → forest-steppe [N1, N2]; etc.). Blue arrows represent eventual expansions of Uralic peoples to the north. Modified image from Vasilyev (2002).

The problem with mapping the ancestry of the available sampling of ancient populations is that we lack proper temporal and regional transects. The maps that follow include cultures roughly divided into either “Bronze Age” or “Iron Age” groups, although the difference between samples may span up to 2,000 years.

NOTE. Rough estimates for more external groups (viz. Sweden Battle Axe/Gotland_A for the NW, Srubna from the North Pontic area for the SW, Arctic/Nganasan for the NE, and Baikal EBA/”Ulchi-like” for the SE) have been included to offer a wider interpolated area using data already known.

Bronze Age

Similar to modern populations, the selection of best fit “Siberian” ancestry between Baikal HG vs. Nganasan, both potentially ± ANE (AG3), is an oversimplification that needs to be addressed in future papers.

Corded Ware ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Srubnaya ancestry among Bronze Age populations. See full map.

Nganasan-like ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Nganasan-like ancestry among Bronze Age populations. See full map.

Baikal HG ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Baikal Hunter-Gatherer ancestry among Bronze Age populations. See full map.

Afontova Gora 3 ancestry

Natural neighbor interpolation of Afontova Gora 3 ancestry among Bronze Age populations. See full map.

Iron Age

Corded Ware ancestry

Interestingly, the moderate expansion of Corded Ware-related ancestry from the south during the Iron Age may be related to the expansion of hg. N1a-VL29 into the chiefdom-based system of north-eastern Europe, including Ananyino/Akozino and later expanding Akozino warrior-traders around the Baltic Sea.

NOTE. The samples from Levänluhta are centuries older than those from Estonia (and Ingria), and those from Chalmny Varre are modern ones, so this region has to be read as a south-west to north-east distribution from the Iron Age to modern times.

Natural neighbor interpolation of Srubnaya ancestry among Iron Age populations. See full map.

Baikal HG-like ancestry

The fact that this Baltic N1a-VL29 branch belongs in a group together with typically Avar N1a-B197 supports the Altaic origin of the parent group, which is possibly related to the expansion of Baikalic ancestry and Iron Age nomads:

Natural neighbor interpolation of Baikal HG ancestry among Iron Age populations. See full map.

Nganasan-like ancestry

The dilution of Nganasan-like ancestry in an Arctic region featuring “Siberian” ancestry and hg. N1a-L392 at least since the Bronze Age supports the integration of hg. N1a-Z1934, sister clade of Ugric N1a-Z1936, into populations west and east of the Urals with the expansion of Uralic languages to the north into the Tundra region (see here).

The integration of N1a-Z1934 lineages into Finnic-speaking peoples after their migration to the north and east, and the displacement or acculturation of Saami from their ancestral homeland, coinciding with known genetic bottlenecks among Finns, is yet another proof of this evolution:

Natural neighbor interpolation of Nganasan ancestry among Iron Age populations. See full map.

WHG ancestry

Similarly, WHG ancestry doesn’t seem to be related to important population movements throughout the Bronze Age, which excludes the multiple North Eurasian populations that will be found along the clines formed by WHG, EHG, ANE, Nganasan, Baikal HG ancestry as forming part of the Uralic ethnogenesis, although they may be relevant to follow later regional movements of specific populations.

Natural neighbor interpolation of WHG ancestry among Iron Age populations. See full map.


It seems natural that people used to look at maps of haplogroup distribution from the 2000s, coupled with modern language distributions, and would try to interpret them in a certain way, reaching thus the wrong conclusions whose consequences are especially visible today when ancient DNA keeps contradicting them.

In hindsight, though, assuming that Balto-Slavs expanded with Corded Ware and hg. R1a, or that Uralians expanded with “Siberian” ancestry and hg. N1a, was as absurd as looking at maps of ancestry and haplogroup distribution of ancient and modern Native Americans, trying to divide them into “Germanic” or “Iberian”…

The evolution of each specific region and cultural group of North Eurasia is far from being clear. However, the general trend speaks clearly in favour of an ancient, Bronze Age distribution of North Eurasian ancestry and haplogroups that have decreased, diluted, or become incorporated into expanding Uralians of Corded Ware ancestry, occasionally spreading with inter-regional expansions of local groups.

Given the relatively recent push of Altaic and Indo-European languages into ancestral Uralic-speaking territories, only the ancient Corded Ware expansion remains compatible with the spread of Uralic languages into their historical distribution.


European hydrotoponymy (IV): tug of war between Balto-Slavic and West Uralic


In his recent paper on Late Proto-Indo-European migrations, when citing Udolph to support his model, Frederik Kortlandt failed to mention that the Old European hydrotoponymy in northern Central-East Europe evolved into Baltic and Slavic layers, and both take part in some Northern European (i.e. Germanic – Balto-Slavic) commonalities.


From Expansion slavischer Stämme aus namenkundlicher und bodenkundlicher sicht, by Udolph, Onomastica (2016), translated into English (emphasis mine):

NOTE. An archived version is available here. The DOI references for Onomastica do not work.

(…) there is a clear center of Slavic names in the area north of the Carpathians. Among them are root words of the Slavic languages such as reka / rzeka, potok u. a. m.

Even more important than this mapping is the question of how the dispersion of ancient Slavic names happened. What is meant by ancient Slavic names? I elaborated on this in this journal years ago (Udolph, 1997):

(1)Ancient suffixes that are no longer productive today.

This clearly includes Slavic *-(j)ava as in Vir-ava, Vod-ava, Il-ava, Glin-iawa, Breg-ava, Ljut-ava, Mor-ava, Orl-java among others. It has clear links to the ancient common Indo-European language (Lupawa, Morava-March-Moravia, Orava, Widawa). They have a center north of the Carpathians.


(2) Unproductive appellatives (water words), which have disappeared from the language, are certain witnesses of ancient Slavic settlements. A nice example of this is Ukr. bahno, Pol. bagno ‘swamp, bog, morass’ etc. The word has long been missing in South Slavic, although it appears in South Slavic names, but only in very specific areas (see Udolph, 1979, pp. 324-336).

(3) Names that go back to different sound shifts. [Examples:]

  • (…) the Slavic clan around Old Sorbian brna ‘feces, earth’, Bulgarian OCS brьnije ‘feces, loam’, OCS brъna ‘feces’, Slovenian brn, ‘river mud’, etc. is solved with the inclusion of onomastic materials (Udolph, 1979, p. 499-514). (…) Toponymic mapping shows important details.
  • bryn-slavic
    Karte 4. brъn < *brŭn und bryn- < *brūn- in slavischen Namen
  • (…)We also have an ablauting *krŭn-:*krūn- in front of us. Map 5 shows the distribution of both variants in Slavic names.
  • The next case is quite similar. It concerns Russ. appellative grjaz’ ‘dirt, feces, mud’, (…) for which an Old Slavic form *gręz exists. Slavic also knows the ablauting variant *grǫz.

    These maps (see Map 6, p. 222) show that a homeland of Slavic tribes can only be inferred north of the Carpathians.

    (4) Place-names formed by Slavic suffixes of Pre-Slavic nature, i.e. derived from Old European hydronyms.

    (a) The largest river in Poland, the Wisła, German Vistula, bears a clearly Pre-Slavic name, no matter how one explains it (Babik, 2001, pp. 311-315; Bijak, 2013, p. 34, Udolph, 1990 , Pp. 303-311).

    (b) With the same suffix are formed Sanok, place on the southwest of Przemyśl; Sanoka, a no longer known waters name, 1448 as fluvium Szanoka, near the place Sanoka and with a diminutive suffix -ok- a tributary of the Sanok, which is called Sanoczek (for details see Udolph, 1990, pp. 264-270; Rymut / Majtan, 1998, p. 222). The San also has a single-language name, but that does not change anything about the right etymology. The suffix variant -očь also includes Liwocz and Liwoczka, river names near Cracow; also a mountain range of the Beskydy is mentioned at Długosz as Lywocz.

    According to the opinion of the “Słownik prasłowiański” (Sławski (red.), 1974, p. 92), the suffix -ok- represents a Proto-Slavic archaism. It appears, for example, in sъvědokъ, snubokъ, vidokъ, edok, igrok, inok among others, but its antiquity also shows, among other things, that it started at archaic athematic tribes.

    Mapping of older and younger East Slavic place-names and translation into settlement evolution.

    Slavonic Urheimat

    If we apply this to the loess distribution in western Ukraine and south-eastern Poland, it is very noticeable that the center of the Old Slavic place names lies in the area where loess dispersal is gradually “frayed out”, i.e. for example, in the area west of Kiev between Krakow in the west and Winnycja and Moldavia in the east. In short, the distribution of good soils coincides with ancient Slavic names. If that is correct, we can expect a homeland in the Pre-Carpathian region, or better, a core landscape of Slavic settlement.

    The existence of Pre-Slavic Indo-European place names and water names whose structure indicates that they originated from an Indo-European basis, but then also developed Slavic peculiarities, can now – as stated above – only be understood to mean that the language group that we call today Slavic emerged in a century-long process from an Indo-European dialectal area.

    Loess areas between Poland and Ukraine. Image from Jary et al. (2018).

    From a genetic point of view, the scarce data published to date show a clear shift of central-east populations from more Corded Ware-like groups in the EBA towards more BBC-derived ancestry in the common era, to the point where ancient DNA samples from East Germany, Poland and Lithuania evolve from clustering between Corded Ware and Sub-Neolithic peoples to clustering close to Bell Beaker-derived groups, such as West Germanic peoples, Tollense samples, etc. (see below)

    Furthermore, sampled Early Slavs show bottlenecks under “Dinaric” I2a-L621 and central-eastern E1b-V13, which – in combination with the known phylogeography of Únětice and Urnfield – is compatible with its late expansion from a central-east European Slavonic homeland, such as the Pomeranian culture, in turn likely derived from Lusatian culture groups.

    This doesn’t preclude a more immediate expansion of Common Slavic in Antiquity closer to the northern Carpathians, which is also supported by the available Early Slavic sampling, apart from samples from the Avar and Hungarian polities.

    Likely Baltic (yellow-green) and Slavic (orange) groups ca. 500 AD on, with Finnic (cyan) and Mordvinic (blue) groups roughly divided through hydrotoponymy line ca. 1000 AD Top Left: Late Iron Age cultures. Top right: PCA of groups from the Iron Age to the Middle Ages. Y-DNA haplogroups during the Germanic migrations (Bottom left) and during the Middle Ages (Bottom right). Notice a majority non-R1a lineages among sampled Early Slavs. See full maps and PCAs.

    Proto-Baltic / Proto-Slavic

    Northern European hydronymy

    From Alteuropäische Hydronymie und urslavische Gewässernamen, by Udolph, Onomastica (1997), translated into English (emphasis mine):

    NOTE. An HTML version is available at Jurgen Udolph’s personal site.

    Because of the already striking similarities as the well-known “-m-case”, the number-words for ‘1000’, ’11’ and ’12’ and so on, J. Grimm had already assumed a close relationship between Germanic and Baltic and Slavic. (…)

    In my own search, I approached this trinity from the nomenclature side. In doing so, I noticed some name groups that can speak for a certain common context:

    1.* bhelgh-, *bholgh-.

    Map 10, p. 64, shows that a root * bhelgh- occurs in the name material of a region from which later Germanic, Baltic and Slavic originated. The Balkans play no role in this.


    2. *dhelbh-, *dholbh-, *dhl̥bh-

    The proof of the three ablauting * dhelbh, * dholbh, * dhl̥bh- within a limited area shows the close relationship that this root has with the Indo-European basis. Again it is significant in which area the names meet (…)


    3. An Indo-European root extension *per-s- with the meaning ‘spray, splash, dust, drop’ is detectable in several languages (…). From a Baltic-Slavic-Germanic peculiarity cannot therefore be spoken from the toponymic point of view. The picture changes, however, if one includes the derived water names.

    4. The root extension *pel-t-, *pol-t-, *pl̥-t- of a tribe widely spread in the Indo-European languages around *pel-, pol- ‘pour, flow, etc.’, whose reflexes are found Armenian through Baltic and Slavic to the Celtic area, is found in the Baltic toponymy, cf. Latv. palts, palte ‘puddle, pool’.

    The dynamics of stylistic changes of the form of the “Trzciniec pot” in the lowland regions of Central Europe, and spreading routes of the Trzciniec package in Central Europe. A good proxy for contacts through the Northern European Plain during the Early Bronze Age. Modified from Czebreszuk (1998).

    Early Balto-Finnic

    In order to properly delimit (geographically and chonologically) the Proto-Baltic and Proto-Slavic expansions, it is necessary to understand where the late Balto-Finnic homeland was located during the Bronze Age. The following are excerpts from the comprehensive hydrotoponymic study by Pauli Rahkonen (2013):

    In any case, Finnic probably had its origin somewhere around the Gulf of Finland. Names of large and central rivers such as Vuoksi (< Finnic vuo ‘stream’) and Neva (< Finnic neva ‘marsh, river’) must be very old and might represent Proto-Finnic hydronyms. In the southern coastal area of Finland, the names Kymi and Nietoo < *Niet|oja (id. later Porvoonjoki) may also be of Finnic origin and derive from, respectively, kymi ‘stream’ (see SSA I s.v. *kymi; see however SPK s.v. Kemijärvi; Rahkonen 2013: 24) and nieto(s) ‘heap of snow’ (SSA II s.v. nietos), in hydronyms probably ‘high (snowy?) banks of a river’. Mustion|joki is clearly a Finnish name < *must|oja ‘black river’. The river name Vantaa remains somewhat obscure, although Nissilä (see SPK s.v. Vantaanjoki) has derived it from the Finnic word vana ‘water route’. In western Finland the names of large rivers, such as Aura and Eura, are supposedly of Germanic origin (Koivulehto 1987).

    In Estonia the names of many of the most important rivers might be of Finnic origin: e.g. Ema|jõgi Est. ema ‘mother’ [Tartu district] (?? cf. the Lake Piiga|ndi < Est. piiga ‘maiden’), Pärnu [Pärnu district] < Est. pärn ‘linden’, Valge|jõgi [Loksa district] < Est. valge ‘white’, Must|jõgi [Võru district] < Est. must ‘black’. It is possible that Emajogi and especially Piigandi are the result of later folk etymologizing of a name with some unknown origin. However, as a naming motif there exist in Finland numerous toponyms with the stems Finnic *emä (e.g. 3 Emäjoki), *neit(V)- ‘maiden’ (e.g. Neitijärvi, Neittävänjoki, Neittävänjärvi) and Saami stems that can be derived from Proto Saami *nejte̮ ‘id’ (GT2000; NA).

    The historical southern boundary of Finnic hydronyms, excluding hydronyms produced by the Karelian refugees of the 17th century.

    These seemingly very old names of relatively large rivers in southern Finland, modern Leningrad oblast and Estonia support the hypothesis that Proto-Finnic was spoken for a long time on both sides of the Gulf of Finland and it thus basically corresponds to the hypothesis of Terho Itkonen (see below). In the Novgorod, Tver or Vologda oblasts of Russia, Finnic names for large rivers cannot be found (Rahkonen 2011: 229). For this reason, it is likely that the Late Proto-Finnic homeland was the area around the Gulf of Finland.

    Beyond the southeastern boundary of the modern or historically known Finnic-speaking area, there exists a toponymic layer belonging to the supposedly non-Finnic Novgorodian Čudes (see Rahkonen 2011). In theory it is possible that Proto-Finnic and Proto-Čudian separated from each other at an early stage or it is even possible that Proto-Čudian was identical with Proto-Finnic. However, this cannot be proven, because there is not enough material available describing what Novgorodian Čudic was like exactly.

    Yakhr-, -khra, yedr-, -dra and yer-/yar, -er(o), -or(o) names of lakes in Central and North Russia and the possible boundary of the proto-language words *jäkra/ä and *järka/ä. Rahkonen (2013)

    A summary of the data is then:

    • The Daugava River and the Gulf of Livonia formed the most stable south-western Balto-Finnic border (up until ca. 1000 AD): the Daugava shows a likely Indo-European etymology, while some of its tributaries are best explained as derived from Uralic.
    • The first layer of “Early Baltic” loans in Early Balto-Finnic are of a non-attested Baltic dialect closest to Proto-Balto-Slavic (read more about this early layer).
    • The latest samples of the Trzciniec culture (or derived Iron Age group) from its easternmost group in Turlojiškė (ca. 1000-800 BC?) show a western shift towards Bell Beaker, although they show a majority of hg. R1a-Z280; while the earliest sample from Gustorzyn (ca. 1900 BC), likely from Trzciniec/Iwno, from the westernmost area of the culture, shows a Corded Ware-like ancestry (and hg. R1a-Z280, likely S24902+) among a BA sampling from Poland clearly derived from Bell Beaker groups.

    One can therefore infer that the expansion of the Trzciniec culture – as the earliest expansion of central-west European peoples into the Baltic after the Bell Beaker period – represented either the whole disintegrating Balto-Slavic community, or at least an Early Baltic-speaking community expanding from the West Baltic area to the east.

    The similarity of Early Slavs and the Trzciniec outlier with the Czech BA cluster, formed by samples from Bohemia (ca. 2200–1700 BC), and the varied haplogroups found among Early Slavs – reminiscent of the variability of the Unetice/Urnfield sampling – may help tentatively connect the early Proto-Slavic homeland more strongly with a Proto-Lusatian community immediately to the south-west of the Iwno/Proto-Trzciniec core.

    Top Left:Likely Baltic, Slavic, and Balto-Finnic-speaking territories (asynchronous), overlaid over Late Bronze Age cultures. Balto-Slavic in green: West(-East?) Baltic (B1), unattested early Baltic (B2), and Slavic (S). Late Balto-Finnic (F) in cyan. In red, Tollense and Turlojiškė sampling. Dashed black line: Balto-Slavic/West Uralic hydrotoponymy border until ca. 1000 AD. Top right: PCA of groups from the Early Bronze Age to the Late Bronze Age. Marked are Iwno/Pre-Trzciniec of Gustorzyn (see below), Late Trzciniec/Iron Age samples from Turlojiškė, and in dashed line approximate extent of Tollense cluster; Y-DNA haplogroups during the Late Bronze Age (Bottom left) and during the Early Iron Age (Bottom right). Notice a majority non-R1a lineages among sampled Early Slavs. See full maps and PCAs.

    Proto-Balto-Slavic homeland

    Disconnected western border: Germanic

    The common Balto-Slavic – Germanic community must necessarily be traced back to the West Baltic. From Udolph’s Namenkundliche Studien zum Germanenproblem, de Gruyter (1994), translated from German (emphasis mine):

    My work [Namenkundliche Studien zum Germanenproblem] has shown how strong the Germanic toponymy is related to the East, less to Slavic, much more to Baltic. It confirms the recent thesis by W.P. Schmid on the special relationship Germanic and Baltic, according to which “the formation of the typical Germanic linguistic characteristics…must have taken place in the neighborhood of Baltic“.

    If one starts from a Germanic core area whose eastern boundary is to be set on the middle Elbe between the Erzgebirge and Altmark, there are little more than 400 km. to the undoubtedly Baltic settlement area east of the Vistula. Stretching the Baltic area westwards over the Vistula (as far as the much-cited Persante), the distance is reduced to less than 300 km. Assuming further that Indo-European tribes between the developing Germanic and the Baltic groups represent the connection between the two language groups, so can one understand well the special relationship proposed by W.P. Schmid between Germanic and Baltic. In an earlier period shared Slavic evidently the same similarities (Baltic-Slavic-Germanic peculiarities).

    Top: Palaeo-Germanic (G2, blue area), Proto-Balto-Slavic/Pre-Baltic (PBSL, green area) and Early Proto-Balto-Finnic (PBF, cyan area) homelands superimposed over Early Bronze Age cultures. Persante hydronym and Gustorzyn ancient DNA sample location marked. Y-DNA haplogroups during the Early Bronze Age (Bottom left) and during the Middle Bronze Age (Bottom right). Notice a mix of R1b-L151 samples from the west and the process of integration of R1a-Z645 lineages from the the north-east. See full maps and PCAs.

    Substrate and immediate eastern border: Early Balto-Finnic

    While Balto-Finnic shows a late Balto-Slavic adstrate, Balto-Slavic has a Balto-Finnic(-like) substrate, also found later in Baltic and Slavic, which implies that Balto-Slavic (and later Baltic and Slavic) replaced the language of peoples who spoke Balto-Finnic(-like) languages, influencing at the same time the language of neighbouring peoples, who still spoke Balto-Finnic (or were directly connected to the Balto-Finnic community).

    For more on this relative chronology in Balto-Slavic – Balto-Finnic contacts, see e.g. the recent posts on Kallio (2003), Olander (2019), or a summary of this substrate.

    While Rahkonen (2013) entertains Parpola’s theory of a West-Uralic-speaking Netted Ware area (ca. 1900-500 BC), due to the Uralic-like hydrotoponymy of its territory, he also supports Itkonen’s idea of the ancient presence of almost exclusively Balto-Finnic place and river names in the Eastern Baltic and the Gulf of Finland since at least the Corded Ware period, due to the lack of Indo-European layers there:

    NOTE. This idea was also recently repeated by Kallio (2015), who can’t find a non-Uralic layer of hydrotoponymy in Balto-Finnic-speaking areas.

    It should be observed that the territory between the historical Finnic and Mordvin-speaking areas matches quite well with the area of the so-called Textile Ceramics [circa 1900–800 BC] (cf. Parpola 2012: 288). The culture of Textile Ceramics could function as a bridge between these two extreme points. Languages that were spoken later in this vast territory between Finland–Estonia and Mordovia seem to derive from Western Uralic (WU) as well. I have called those languages Meryan-Muroma, Eastern and Western Čudian and an unknown “x” language spoken in inland Finland, Karelia and the Lake Region of the Russian North (Rahkonen 2011; 241; 2012a: 19–27; 2013: 5– 43). This might mean that the territory of the Early Textile Ceramics reflects to some extent the area of late Western Uralic.

    The archaeologically problematic area is Estonia, Livonia and Coastal Finland – the area traditionally assumed to have been populated by the late Proto-Finns. The Textile Ceramics culture was absent there. It is very difficult to believe that the Textile Ware population in inland Finland migrated or was even the main factor bringing the Pre- or Early Proto-Finnic language to Estonia or Livonia. There are no archaeological or toponymic signs of it. Therefore, I am forced to believe that Textile Ceramics did not bring Uralic-speaking people to those regions. This makes it possible, but not absolutely proven, to assume that some type of Uralic language was spoken in the region of the Gulf of Finland already before Textile Ceramics spread to the northwest (circa 1900 BC).

    Top Left: Corded Ware culture expansion. Top right: PCA of Corded Ware and Sub-Neolithic groups. Y-DNA haplogroups during the Corded Ware expansion (Bottom left) and during the subsequent Bell Beaker expansion (Bottom right). Notice the rapid population replacement of typical Corded Ware R1a-Z645 lineages by expanding Bell Beakers of hg. R1b-L23 in central-east Europe, while they show continuity in the described ancestral Fennoscandian West-Uralic-speaking territory. See full maps and PCAs.

    The Corded Ware population in Finland is thought to have been NW Indo-European by many scholars (e.g. Koivulehto 2006: 154–155; Carpelan & Parpola 2001: 84). At least, it is probable that the Corded Ware culture was brought to Finland by waves of migration, because the representatives of the former Late Comb Ceramics partially lived at the same time side by side with the Corded Ware population. However, it is possible that the immigrants were a population that spoke Proto-Uralic, who had adopted the Corded Ware culture from their Indo-European neighbors, possibly from the population of the Fatjanovo culture, e.g. in the Valdai region. This was suggested by Terho Itkonen (1997: 251) as well. In that case the population of the Typical and Late Comb Ceramics may have spoken some Paleo European language (see Saarikivi 2004a). In the Early Bronze Age, the Baltic Pre-Finnic language that I have suggested must have been very close to late WU and therefore no substantial linguistic differences existed between the Baltic Pre-Finns and the population of Textile Ceramics in inland Finland. I admit that this model is difficult to prove, but I have presented it primarily in order to offer new models of thinking.16 At least, there is no archaeological or linguistic reason against this idea.

    This dubitative attribution of Proto-Uralic to the expansion of Corded Ware groups in eastern Europe, which is what hydrotoponymic data suggests in combination with archaeology, has to be understood as a consequence of how striking Rahkonen finds the results of his research, despite Itkonen’s previous proposal, in the context of an overwhelming majority of Indo-Europeanists who, until very recently, simplistically associated Corded Ware with the Indo-European expansion.


    Even Kortlandt accepts at this point the identification of expanding East Bell Beakers from the Carpathian Basin as those who left the Alteuropäische layer reaching up to the Baltic. However, he identified Udolph’s data solely with West Indo-European, forgetting to mention the commonly agreed upon western Proto-Balto-Slavic homeland, most likely because it contradicts two of his main tenets:

    1. that Balto-Slavic split from a hypothetical Indo-Slavonic (i.e. Satem) group expanding from the east; and
    2. that laryngeals can be reconstructed for Balto-Slavic – unlike for North-West Indo-European.
    Indo-European hydrotoponymy in Europe and the Middle East (scarce Central Asian data). Baltic data compensated, statistical method RBF: intermediate regions devoid of Indo-European toponyms are inferred to have them; it compensates thus e.g. for the scarce Indo-European hydrotoponyms in Poland by assuming ‘soft’ continuity from West Germany to the Baltic.

    A hypothetic “Pre-Indo-Slavonic” laryngeal Indo-European layer reaching Fennoscandia and the Forest Zone with Corded Ware is fully at odds with all known data:

    • in comparative grammar, since the one feature that characterizes Graeco-Aryan is precisely its set of innovations relative to Northern Indo-European, which presupposes a longer contact (and further laryngeal loss) once Tocharian and North-West Indo-European had separated – hence probably represented by Palaeo-BalkanCatacomb-Poltavka contacts once Afanasevo and Yamna settlers from the Carpathian Basin / East Bell Beakers had become isolated;
    • in hydrotoponymy, because of the prehistoric linguistic areas that can be inferred from (1) the distribution of Old European hydrotoponymy; (2) Udolph’s work on Germanic and the likely non-Indo-European substrate in Scandinavia and land contacts with Balto-Finnic; (3) from the Northern European traits in the Northern European Plain; or (4) from the decreasing proportion of Indo-European place and river names from central Europe towards the east and north.
    • NOTE. An alternative explanation of Old European/Balto-Slavic layers, e.g. by a ‘Centum’ Temematic – even if one obviates the general academic rejection to Holzer’s proposal – couldn’t account for the absolute lack of an ancestral layer of Indo-European hydrotoponymy in North-Eastern Europe (i.e. the longest-lasting Corded Ware territory), in sharp contrast with Western Europe, South-Eastern Europe, and South Asia. All of that contradicts an Eastern Indo-European community, even without a need to recall that the oldest hydrotoponymic layers common to Fennoscandia and the Forest Zone are of Uralic nature.

    • in archaeology, because cultural expansions of the Eastern European Early Bronze Age province since the Bell Beaker period (viz. Mierzanowice, Trzciniec, Lusatian, Pomeranian, West Baltic Culture of Cairns) suggest once and again west-east movements, most (if not all) of which – based on the presence of Indo-European speakers during the common era – were likely associated with Indo-European-speaking communities replacing or displacing previous ones.
    • in palaeogenomics, because of the late and different association of Corded Ware ancestry and haplogroups among Balto-Slavic and Indo-Iranian communities, in turn corresponding to the different satemization processes found in both dialects, which may have actually been related to the Uralic substrate that is found in both (read more on Uralic influences on Balto-Slavic and on Indo-Iranian).

    On the other hand, a careful combination of Uralic and Indo-European comparative grammar, hydrotoponymic data, and population genomics fits perfectly well Itkonen’s and Rahkonen’s association of Corded Ware in Eastern Europe with Uralic languages, as well as the traditional mainstream view of Uralic before Indo-European in Fennoscandia and in the Forest Zone, as I explained in a recent post about genetic continuity in the East Baltic area.

    Population genomics is not the main reason to reject the Indo-European Corded Ware theory – or any other prehistoric ethnolinguistic identification, for that matter. It can’t be. This new field offers just the occasional confirmation of a well-founded theory or, alternatively, another nail in the coffin of fringe theories that were actually never that likely, but seemed impossible to fully dismiss on purely theoretical grounds.

    The problem with Corded Ware was that we couldn’t see how unlikely its association with Indo-European languages was until we had ancient DNA to corroborate archaeological models, because few (if any) Indo-Europeanists really cared about the linguistic prehistory of eastern and northern Europe, or about Uralic languages in general (contrary to the general trend among Uralicists to be well-versed in Indo-European studies). Now they will.


    European hydrotoponymy (III): from Old European to Palaeo-Germanic and the Nordwestblock


    The study of hydrotoponymy shows a prevalent initial Old European layer in central and northern Germany, too, similar to the case in Iberia, France, Italy, and the British Isles.

    The recent paper on Late Proto-Indo-European migrations by Frederik Kortlandt relies precisely on this ancestral layer as described by Jürgen Udolph to support a Danubian expansion of North-West Indo-European with East Bell Beakers, identified as the Alteuropäische (Old European) layer that was succeeded by Germanic in the North European Plain.

    The Proto-Germanic homeland

    The following are excerpts are translated from the German original (emphasis mine) in Udolph’s Namenkundliche Studien zum Germanenproblem, de Gruyter (1994):

    Buy the book at De Gruyter’s site or at Amazon.

    The following is a concise compilation of the investigation into nine points, which will be subsequently discussed: there are Brink (in the north brekk-), -by (on the Elbe), the name of the Elbe itself, germ, haugaz and blaiw, klint, malm / melm, the name of the Rhön, and the place name element -wedel.

    I want to briefly summarize the results:

    1. Brink has toponymically a clear focus in Germany between the Rhine and the Weser; in Schleswig-Holstein and Denmark it is almost completely missing, the Scandinavian place name documents show an accumulation in eastern Sweden. The English Brink names can not be associated with the Scandinavian ones. The “real” Scandinavian variant brekka, brekke, however, also appear on the Shetland and Orkney Islands and in central England.

    2. The Central Elbian –by-place names have nothing to do with the Danish and Scandinavian -by-names.

    3. The name of the Elbe has been carried from south to north and has become an appellative in Scandinavia. This clearly proves that a south-north migration has taken place.

    4. The distribution of haugaz does not support a Nordic origin of the word. K. Bischoff in his thorough investigation never asked whether the reverse path from south to north would be possible. However, in comparison with the results of the study of other toponyms, this second option will be much more likely to be accepted. On the “problem of the gap” in the distribution (between Aller and northern Holstein) see page 910.


    5. Completely missing is the assumption of Nordic origin in the case of hlaiwaz. A look at Map 67 shows this clearly.

    6. Even in the case of klint, Denmark and Scandinavia are only marginally involved in the distribution of names. This contradicts the thesis that the English Klint names are of Nordic origin. On the other hand, Map 68 (Klit- / Klett-) shows how Nordic place names can have an influence on the British Isles.


    7. Even in the case of germ, melm (ablauting malm, mulm), everything speaks for a continental Germanic starting point: here are all ablaut stages in the appellative vocabulary and in the toponymy, which shows together with the name Melmer perhaps the most ancient -r-derivations, which are unknown to the Nordic area, while the Nordic names, in turn, have a distinct tendency to spread to eastern Sweden, towards the Baltic Sea.

    8. The name of the Rhön can only be interpreted with the aid of the Nord Germanic apellative hraun “boulder field, stony ground, lava field”. This does not mean that Nord Germanic peoples have given this name, but that the Common or Proto-Germanic peoples knew the appelative still. The Rhön owes its name to this language stage.

    9. The spread of the fronds names in Germany, classified by E. Schröder as “North Germanic invasion”, can be explained differently: more important than the often younger names north of the Elbe in Schleswig-Holstein (type Wedelboek) are the place names near Braunschweig, Büren (Westphalia), and in the Netherlands, in which case a south-north spread is more convincing than the assumption of a Nordic expansion.


    If you take the similar distribution maps 15 (wik), 31 (fenn), 36 (slk), 39 (büttel), 47 (live), 49 (quem), 50 (thing), 61 (brink) and 66 (haugaz) It can be seen from this (page 72, page 908) that there are parts of Germany which, to a lesser degree, are more heavily involved than others in Old Germanic place name formations: that applies to southern Thuringia, the Area between Werra and Fulda, the Magdeburger Börde and its western foothills to the Weser at the Porta Westfalica). On the other hand, the areas north of the Aller, Hanoverian Wendland and wide areas between the Lower Weser and the Lower Elbe (apart from the area around Osterholz-Scharmbeck as well as Kehdingen and Hadeln) are little and hardly affected.

    There is no question that the reasons for the different dispersion can not lie in the name itself, but have other causes. H. Kuhn has considered the natural conditions of the landscape with the fronds. Comparing the place name expansion outlined here with a bog map of Lower Saxony, as found in numerous publications (Map 73, page 910), solves the problems: even today’s bog distribution of Lower Saxony, diminished through cultivation and drainage (albeit still considerable), reflects the fact that the early colonization and naming of northern Germany has been shaped and, to a certain extent, controlled by settler-friendly and not-settler-friendly conditions.

    Distribution of bogs in Germany. Source: M. Sommer, Institut für Bodenlandschaftsforschung, ZALF, Müncheberg.

    On the location of the Germanic Urheimat

    According to the space briefly outlined by the present study, the Old Germanic settlement area in toponymic terms is roughly to be located between the Erzgebirge, Thüringerwald, Elbe, Aller and an open border in Westphalia, for the following reasons:

    • High proportion of old European names. This is a basic requirement, which of course is also fulfilled by other areas, but not by Schleswig-Holstein, Denmark and Scandinavia. (…)
    • Of particular importance was the discussion about relations with the north (the generally accepted ancient Germanic settlement area, section L, p. 830-917). I believe that the detailed study of the geographical names no longer allows one to assume a Scandinavian homeland of Germanic tribes. Too many arguments speak against it. It is much more likely to start with a northward migration (…).
    Bell Beaker expansion ca. 2600-2200 BC. Top Left: Tentative location of the Pre-Proto-Germanic homeland (earliest stage), in the North European Plain between the Elbe and the the Aller (open border). Top right: PCA of the Bell Beaker period, with Netherlands EBA cluster (population west of the Germanic Urheimat) in red, and Battle Axe/Baltic CWC (population east and north of the Urheimat) in cyan. Bottom left: ADMIXTURE analysis of ancient DNA samples. Bottom right: Y-DNA haplogroup map. See full maps and PCAs.

    Western border: Nordwestblock

    Recently, W. Meid has once more dealt in detail with Kuhn’s thesis. After that, the most important criteria for the approach of this thesis are the following:

    1. -p- (and other shutter sounds) are partly not shifted in North German names;
    2. the existence of a -sí-suffix;
    3. -apa in river names;
    4. the suffix -andr-;
    5. certain words u. Name strains, e.g. Veneter, Belgian.
    6. Above-average relations of the northwestern block to Italic (Latin, Osco-Umbrian).

    W. Meid agrees with Kuhn’s theses, but with limitations: “These evidences seem to indicate that the NW-space did not belong to the original settlement area of ​​the Teutons, but that the Germanization of this area or larger parts of it did not take place until relatively late, namely – as Kuhn thinks – after the Germanic sound shift or during its last phase. According to Kuhn’s own words this “space… appears as a block that has long defied Germanization”.

    Udolph continues explaining why most of these non-Germanic examples are “optic illusions”, since he can explain most of them as from Old European to Old Germanic stages, which is mostly in agreement with the known features of Old European hydrotoponymy. For example, -apa- and -andra-names as Old European; -p- as before the Germanic sound shift; -st- and -s-formations as Northern European; -ithi- also unrelated to a hypothetic “Venetic” substrate.

    I think that the point to discuss should not be the similarity with Old European or the oldest reconstructible Proto-Germanic stage (i.e. the closest to North-West Indo-European), or the appearance of these traits also in neighbouring Germanic territory, but the proportion of “more archaic” features contrasting with the proper Germanic area, and thus differences in frequency with the Germanic core territories.

    Just as Udolph can’t accept the non-Indo-European nature of most cases, one can’t simply accept his preference for a Pre-Proto-Germanic nature either, for the same reason one can’t accept the relationship of Western European “Pre-Celtic” hydrotoponymy with Celtic peoples because of some shared appellatives whose Celtic nature is not proven.

    NOTE. If there is something missing from this huge book is certainly statistical analyses with GIS, which would make this case much easier to discuss in graphical and numerical terms. Let’s hope Udolph can update the data in the near future, because he is still (fortunately) active.

    In any case, the Nordwestblock remains a likely Old European hydrotoponymic area partially shared by Germanic, which doesn’t lie at the core of the spread of Old European place names and has a potential non-Indo-European substrate shared with Northern European groups. Combined with comparative grammar and with results of population genomics supporting the spread of East Bell Beakers of Yamna descent from the Carpathian Basin, this essentially renders interpretations of Old European expansion from Northern Europe devoid of support in linguistics.

    Palaeo-Germanic expansion

    To the north, the settlement movement depends on the location and spread of settlement-deficient areas, such as the moors northeast of Wolfsburg, north of Gifhorn, south of Fallingbostel, etc. As soon as this belt has been breached, the place name frequency in the eastern Lüneburg Heath indicates where more favorable settlement conditions are to be found: the Altmark in Saxony-Anhalt, the Jeetzel lowlands and especially the Ilmenau area near Uelzen, Bevensen and Lüneburg (it is difficult not to recall the name Jastorf here).

    If one combines these findings with the dispersion of ancient Germanic place names, one will find that above all the section of the river east from Hamburg to about Lauenburg was particularly favorable for crossing. The onomastic data speaks in favour of this aspect, e.g. the following names lying north and south of this area.


    1. Delvenau = Elbe-Lübeck Canal.

    2. Neetze north of Lüneburg (-d-/-t-change).

    3. Wipperau north of Lüneburg (-p-/-b- change).

    4. The dispersion of the -wik places (Bardowik), cf. Map 15, p. 106.

    5. The dissemination of the -r formations (Map 24, p. 191).

    6. The -ithi formations Geesthacht, Bleckede u.a. south of the Elbe, Eckede north of the stream (see Map 28, p.272).

    7. Fenn south of the Elbe in the north of Lüneburg (Map 31, p.315).

    8. The distribution of the Hor name (Harburg) and northeast of it in Holstein (Map 32, p.328).

    9. Germ, sik- with clear clusters southeast. and northeastern. from Hamburg (Map 36, p. 409).

    10. Also the -büttel names show a concentration east of Hamburg on the one hand and a second accumulation at the estuary of the Elbe (Brunsbüttel) (map 39, p.438).

    11. Gorleben and other places in Hann. Wendland south of the river (Map 47, p.503).

    12. Werber-names southeast from Hamburg and in eastern Holstein (Map 53, p.742).

    13. The scattering of brink names (Map 61, p. 843).

    The place name distributions also make it possible to track the settlement movement north of the Elbe. It has been repeatedly emphasized that Schleswig-Holstein has little share in old Germanic toponymy. One tries to explain this fact, which reaches into the realm of the Old European hydronyms, by saying that, according to archeology, “large parts of Schleswig-Holstein in the 5th to 7th centuries were sparsely populated”.

    Close contacts in Fennoscandia. The distribution of Scandinavian flint daggers (A) in the east and south Baltic region and possible trends of “down the line” trade (B). Good size and quality flint zone in the south-west Baltic region is hatched (C). According to: Wojciechowski 1976; Olausson 1983, fig. 1; Madsen 1993, 126; Libera 2001; Kriiska & Tvauri 2002, 86. Image modified from Piličiauskas (2010).

    If one summarizes these synoptically (Map 74, p.914) and also takes into account the not-included -leben-names (Map 47, p.503), then it is quite clear that Denmark by no means shares these types of names. The most important points are, in my opinion:

    1. North of today’s German-Danish border, the quantity of old place names drops rapidly and even tends towards zero. West Jutland in particular is rarely involved in the dispersion.
    2. Within Jutland there is a clear orientation to the east. The connection with southern Sweden is established via Funen and Zeeland.
    3. Disputed is in my opinion, whether the spread of toponymy followed a roughly direct line Fehmarn and Lolland/Falster. This is not to be excluded, but the maps of toponymy distribution do not give a clear indication in this direction.

    The synoptic map makes it clear that both western Schleswig-Holstein and western Jutland are not to be regarded as Old Germanic settlement areas. Rather, East Jutland and the Danish islands were reached by Germanic tribes.

    Bronze Age groups ca. 2200-1750 BC. Top Left: Tentative location of (1) the Pre-Proto-Germanic homeland (earliest stage), in the North European Plain between the Elbe and the the Aller (open border), (2) the Pre-Proto-Germanic expansion area, coinciding with the Nordic Dagger Period, and (3) the Pre-Proto-Germanic-like Nord-West-Block. Top right: PCA of European Bronze Age groups. Bottom left: ADMIXTURE analysis of ancient DNA samples. Bottom right: Y-DNA haplogroup map. See full maps and PCAs.

    Absolute chronology and Balto-Finnic

    It is imprecise to estimate the age of settlement movements from toponymic research. I do not want to be involved in speculation, but I think that Klingberg’s estimate could have some arguments in its favor. In the approximate dating, however, it is important to include a fact that has already been briefly mentioned above and should be treated here in more detail: the fact of Germanic-Finnic relations.

    W.P. Schmid has emphatically pointed out the difficulty that arises when one considers the unfolding of Germanic too far from the Baltic Sea settlement areas. Among other things, it draws attention to the fact that a Germanic homeland that were postulated too far west could not explain how Germanic loanwords might appear in the Finnic names of Northern Russia. These will be mentioned with reference to M. Vasmer: Randale to Finn. ranta “beach”, Pel’doza and Nimpel’da to Finn. pelto, Justozero to Finn. juusto “cheese”, Tervozero to Finn. terva “tar” and Rovdina Gora to Finn. rauta “ore”.

    I think it is possible that the clear spread of Old and North Germanic toponyms, as described in the synoptic map 74 (p. 914) and in the already mentioned -ing, -lösa, -by, -sta(d) and -säter-maps (19, 46, 63-65), can offer some help: quite early the Germanic tribes reached the Swedish east coast. It is also clear that there have previously been contacts with Slavic and Finno-Ugric tribes by sea. However, intensive German-Finnic relations can, in my opinion, have come about only through close contacts on the mainland.

    Pre-Indo-European substrate

    In my investigation, I have repeatedly come up with suggestions to explain a hard-to-interpret North Germanic name from a Pre-Germanic, possibly Non-Indo-European substrate. Most of these were views of H. Kuhn, which he also used to support his so-called “Nord-West block”.

    On one point H. Kuhn may have been right with an assumption of a Pre-Germanic substrate that did not provide the basis for further development in Germanic terms: he very clearly argued that Scandinavia too was Pre-Germanic, even Pre-Indo-European A substrate that stands out above all because of the lack of Lautverschiebung : “In the Nordic countries, we have to reckon with non-Germanic, non-Indo-European prehistoric names scarcely less than in the other Germanic languages”. In light of the results of the present work that makes a relatively late Germanization of Scandinavia very likely, this sentence should not be set aside in the future, but carefully examined on the basis of the material.

    Both data, the known long-lasting Palaeo-Germanic – Finno-Samic contacts, and the underresearched presence of non-Indo-European vocabulary in Scandinavia, are likely related to the presence of a West Uralic(-like) substrate in Scandinavia and most likely also in Northern Europe, based on the disputed non-Indo-European components shared through the North European Plain (see above), and on the scarce ancient Indo-European hydrotoponymy in central-east Europe to the north of the Carpathians.

    Population genomics

    Although there is yet scarce genetic data from northern European territories, the haplogroup distribution among sampled peoples from the Germanic migration period and during the Viking expansion suggests a prevalence of R1b-U106 in the North European Plain (also found in Barbed Wire Beakers), and thus a later integration of typically Neolithic (I1) and CWC-related (R1a) subclades to the Germanic-speaking community during the expansion into Southern Scandinavia.

    This is compatible with the described development of maritime elites by Bell Beakers, representing maritime mobility and trade, and an appealing ideology, similar to the prevalence of Athens over Sparta (Corded Ware in this analogy). It is also supported by the bottlenecks under R1b-U106 to the north of Schleswig-Holstein.

    NOTE. Nevertheless, other R1b-L151 may have been part of the Germanic-speaking communities, especially during its earliest stage, and also R1b-U106 (and other R1b-L161) subclades may appear all the way from the Carpathians to Northern Europe, including the Eastern European Early Bronze Age.

    Common Germanic expansions ca. 500 BC on. Top Left: Early Iron Age cultures. Top right: PCA of groups from the Iron Age to the Middle Ages. Y-DNA haplogroups during the Germanic migrations (Bottom left) and during the Middle Ages (Bottom right). Notice a majority of R1b-U106 (practically absent from previous Bronze Age populations of Central Europe) among sampled Germanic tribes. See full maps and PCAs.


    This sudden population bust to the south and predominance of a Southern Scandinavian maritime society in the Nordic circle seems to be also supported by inferences from archaeological data, too. For example, from the recent Human impact and population dynamics in the Neolithic and Bronze Age: Multi-proxy evidence from north-western Central Europe, by Feeser et al. The Holocene (2019):

    The second boom between c. 3000 and 2900 cal. BC relates to increases in the palynological proxy and the binned all site SCDPD curve. From an archaeological point of view, this time reflects the transition from the Funnelbeaker to the Single Grave Culture. The emergence of this new cultural phenomenon is often regarded to have been associated with a shift in subsistence practices, that is, a shift from sedentary agricultural to mobile pastoral subsistence (Hinz, 2015; Hübner, 2005; Iversen, 2013; Sangmeister, 1972).

    Left: Map with pollen sites. Right: Bin sensitivity plots based on summed calibrated date probability distributions (SPD) using different degrees of binning on-site level (h = 0 no binning; h = 1000 high binning) and Kernel density plots (KDE) of available radiocarbon dates from the settlement context (settlement sites). Modified from the paper to include a red arrow showing Corded Ware bust and subsequent boom with the Dagger Period..

    (…) there is palynological evidence for increased importance of cereal cultivation during the Young Neolithic in comparison to the Early Neolithic (Feeser et al., 2012). This, however, does not rule out an increased importance of pastoralism, as grazing on grasslands and extensive cereal cultivation are difficult to distinguish and to disentangle in the palynological record. Generally however, human impact on the environment and population levels, respectively, did not reach Funnelbeaker times maxima values during this boom phase at the beginning of the Younger Neolithic. The similar short-term synchronous developments in both the pollen profiles during 2800–2300 cal. BC could point to large-scale, over-regional uniform development during the Younger Neolithic in our study area (cf. also Feeser et al., 2016).

    Between c. 2400 and 2300 cal. BC, the palynological proxy and the binned all site SCDPD curve show a similar distinct decrease (Figure 6), and we define a second bust phase accordingly. The soil erosion record, however, indicates elevated values at around this time but declines, although not very well defined, to a minimum at around 2200 cal. BC. Due to the generally low number of colluvial deposits recorded for the Younger Neolithic, this is not regarded to contradict our interpretation, as low sample sizes generally minimize the chances of identifying a robust pattern. A strong increase in all the three proxies between 2200 and 2100 cal. BC defines our third boom phase.

    Bronze Age evolution

    Candidate homelands for the succeeding (Palaeo-Germanic) stages of the language are shifted also in archaeology to the south, due to the economic influence of demographically stronger Nordic Bronze Age cultural groups of northern Germany over Southern Scandinavia.

    A good description of societal changes in the Palaeo-Germanic stages is offered by the recent paper Cultural change and population dynamics during the Bronze Age: Integrating archaeological and palaeoenvironmental evidence for Schleswig-Holstein, Northern Germany, by Kneisel et al. The Holocene (2019):

    Qualitative data from material culture and demography in Schleswig-Holstein and Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania. Modified from the original to remark periods of likely demographic decrease (red square) and growth (blue square).

    At each beginning of a boom phase and each end of a bust phase, changes in the material culture could be observed.

    When the pressure on the landscape is at its lowest around 1500 BC and shortly before it rises again, the type of burial changes, hoards and bronzes increase, and monumental burial mounds are erected again. Vice versa, when the pressure on the landscape reaches its maximum value around 1250 BC, tools and hoard depositions decrease again and only the monumental burial and prestige goods are maintained. The ‘elite’ are continuing with their way of burial. The reduction in house surface area and the number of hoards takes place earlier, possibly because of material scarcity as could also be proven in Thy, northern Jutland (Bech and Rasmussen 2018).

    Again, the human impact decreases, and at its lowest point at the beginning of Period IV ca. 1100 BC, the monumental burial custom and the addition of prestige goods also end. The number of hoards and graves begins to rise again, and cooking pits appear. Exchange networks shift with the beginning of Period V, while axes increase again together with a slight decrease in the human impact curve. The appearance of certain artefacts or burial rites at the beginning of such a period of upheaval seems to suggest the role of a trigger. With this analysis, we have defined several likely indicators for social change in the less distinct phases and societal change in the strongly pronounced phases around 1500 BC and 1100 BC and the most important triggers for the Schleswig-Holstein Bronze Age.

    Distribution of burials with Valsømagle, Sögel and Wohlde blades with provenance known to parish. q = Valsømagle blades; s = Wohlde blades (small = one grave with a blade; medium = two graves with a blade); l = Sögel blades (small = one grave with a blade, medium = two graves with a blade, large = three graves with a blade). From Bergerbrant (2007).

    While population movements can’t be really understood without a proper genetic transect proving or disproving archaeological theories, it seems that the intermediate zone of the Nordic circle was subjected to at least two demographic busts and succeeding booms during the Middle and Late Bronze Age periods, which not only affected the hydrotoponymy of Schleswig-Holstein (see above), but probably served as dynamic changes in the linguistic evolution of Palaeo-Germanic-speaking communities up to the Common Germanic expansion.

    Read more on the Northern Early Bronze Age province.


    Baltic Finns in the Bronze Age, of hg. R1a-Z283 and Corded Ware ancestry


    Open access The Arrival of Siberian Ancestry Connecting the Eastern Baltic to Uralic Speakers further East, by Saag et al. Current Biology (2019).

    Interesting excerpts:

    In this study, we present new genomic data from Estonian Late Bronze Age stone-cist graves (1200–400 BC) (EstBA) and Pre-Roman Iron Age tarand cemeteries (800/500 BC–50 AD) (EstIA). The cultural background of stone-cist graves indicates strong connections both to the west and the east [20, 21]. The Iron Age (IA) tarands have been proposed to mirror “houses of the dead” found among Uralic peoples of the Volga-Kama region [22].

    (…) The 33 individuals included 15 from EstBA, 6 from EstIA, 5 from Pre-Roman to Roman Iron Age Ingria (500 BC–450 AD) (IngIA), and 7 from Middle Age Estonia (1200–1600 AD) (EstMA) and yielded endogenous DNA ∼4%–88%, average genomic coverages ∼0.017–0.734×, and contamination estimates <4% (Table S1). We analyzed the data in the context of modern and other ancient individuals, including from Neolithic Estonia [13].

    Archaeological Information, Genetic Sex, mtDNA and Y Chromosome Haplogroups, and Average Coverage of the Individuals of This Study. Modified from the paper to mark distinct Y-DNA haplogroups in the LBA and IA.

    We identified chrY hgs for 30 male individuals (Tables 1 and S2; STAR Methods). All 16 successfully haplogrouped EstBA males belonged to hg R1a, showing no change from the CWC period, when this was also the only chrY lineage detected in the Eastern Baltic [11, 13, 30, 31]. Three EstIA and two IngIA individuals also belonged to hg R1a, but three EstIA males belonged to hg N3a, the earliest so far observed in the Eastern Baltic. Three EstMA individuals belonged to hg N3a, two to hg R1a, and one to hg J2b. ChrY lineages found in the Baltic Sea region before the CWC belong to hgs I, R1b, R1a5, and Q [10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 32]. Thus, it appears that these lineages were substantially replaced in the Eastern Baltic by hg R1a [10, 11, 12, 13], most likely through steppe migrations from the east [30, 31]. (…) Our results enable us to conclude that, although the expansion time for R1a1 and N3a3′5 in Eastern Europe is similar [25], hg N3a likely reached Estonia or at least became comparably frequent to modern Estonia [1] only during the BA-IA transition.

    A clear shift toward West Eurasian hunter-gatherers is visible between European LN and BA (including Baltic CWC) and EstBA individuals, the latter clustering together with Latvian and Lithuanian BA individuals [11]. EstIA, IngIA, and EstMA individuals project between BA individuals and modern Estonians, partially overlapping with both.

    (…) EstBA individuals are clearly distinguishable from Estonian CWC individuals as the former have more of the blue component most frequent in WHGs and less of the brown and yellow components maximized in Caucasus hunter-gatherers and modern Khanty, respectively. The individuals of EstBA, EstIA, IngIA, EstMA, and modern Estonia are quite similar to each other on average, indicating that the relatively high proportion of WHG ancestry in modern Eastern Baltic populations compared to other present-day Europeans [15] traces back to the BA.

    Detail of the PCA, modified from the paper to label populations. Estonian Bronze Age and Iron Age samples cluster close to Early Corded Ware from the Baltic.. Principal-component analysis results of modern West Eurasians with ancient individuals projected onto the first two components (PC1 and PC2). BA, Bronze Age; EF, early farmers; HG, hunter-gatherers; IA, Iron Age; IMA, Iron/Middle Ages; LN, Late Neolithic; LNBA, Late Neolithic/Bronze Age; MA, Middle Ages

    When comparing Estonian CWC and EstBA using autosomal outgroup f3 and Patterson’s D statistics (Table S3), the latter is more similar to other Baltic BA populations, to Baltic IA and Middle Age (MA) populations, and also to populations similar to WHGs and Scandinavian hunter-gatherers (SHGs), but not to Estonian CCC (Figures 2A and S2A; Data S1). The increase in WHG or SHG ancestry could be connected to western influences seen in material culture [20, 21] and facilitated by a decline in local population after the CCC-CWC period [20]. A slight trend of bigger similarity of Estonian CWC to forest or steppe zone populations and of EstBA to European early farmer populations can also be seen.

    (…) When comparing to modern populations, Estonian CWC is slightly more similar to Caucasus individuals but EstBA to Baltic populations and Finnic speakers (Figure 2B; Data S1). Outgroup f3 and D statistics do not reveal apparent differences when comparing EstBA to EstIA, EstIA to IngIA, and EstIA to EstMA (Data S1).

    qpAdm results. Error bars indicate one SE. Central MN, Central European Middle Neolithic; EstBA, Estonian Bronze Age; EstIA, Estonian Iron Age; IngIA, Ingrian Iron Age; EstMA, Estonian Middle Ages; WHG, western hunter-gatherers.

    These results highlight how uniparental and autosomal data can lead to different demographic inferences—the genetic change between CWC and BA not seen in uniparental lineages is clear in autosomal data and the appearance of chrY hg N in the IA is not matched by a clear shift in autosomal profiles.

    EstBA individuals have no Nganasan-related ancestry and EstIA, IngIA, and EstMA individuals on average have 2% or 4% (Figure 3; Data S1). The differentiation remains when using BA or IA Fennoscandian populations [26] instead of Nganasans (Data S1). Notably, the proportion of Nganasan-related ancestry varies between 0% and 12% among sampled EstIA, IngIA, and EstMA individuals (Data S1), which may suggest its relatively recent admixture into the target population. Moreover, two individuals from Kunda (0LS10 and V10) have the highest proportions of Nganasan ancestry among EstIA (6% and 8%), one of them has chrY hg N3a, and isotopic analysis suggests neither individual being born in Kunda [34].

    About these two males from Tarand-graves, ‘foreign’ to Kunda:

    0LS10: Male from tarand III (burial 9; TÜ 1325: L777), age 17–25 years [34]. He had a fragment of a sheep/goat bone and ceramics as grave goods. This burial has two radiocarbon dates: 2430 ± 35 BP (Poz-10801; 760–400 cal BC) and 2530 ± 41 BP (UBA-26114; 800–530 cal BC) [34]. According to the isotopic analysis, the person was not born in the vicinity of Kunda; his place of birth is still unknown (but south-western Finland and Sweden are excluded) [34]. Sampled tooth r P1.

    V10: Male from tarand XI (burial 24; TÜ 1325: L1925), age 25–35 years [34], date 2484 ± 40 BP (UBA-26115; 790–430 cal BC) [34]. He had a few potsherds near the skull. Likewise, this person was not locally born [34]. Sampled tooth l P1.

    Autosomal Analyses’ Results for Gyvakarai1 as the closest available Corded Ware source for Balto-Finnic populations.

    The paper shows thus:

    • Major continuity of ancestry from Corded Ware to modern Estonians, with only slight changes in different periods. In fact, one of the best fits for the Late Bronze Age ancestry is Gyvakarai1, one of the Corded Ware “outliers” described as “closer to Yamna”, which I already said may be closer to Sredni Stog/EHG populations instead. Another interesting take is that the change from Bronze Age to Iron Age corresponds to an increase in Baltic Corded Ware-related ancestry, rather than being driven by Siberian ancestry.
    • pca-mittnik-gyvakarai
      File modified by me from Mittnik et al. (2018) to include the approximate position of the most common ancestral components, and an identification of potential outliers. Zoomed-in version of the European Late Neolithic and Bronze Age samples. “Principal components analysis of 1012 present-day West Eurasians (grey points, modern Baltic populations in dark grey) with 294 projected published ancient and 38 ancient North European samples introduced in this study (marked with a red outline). From Mittnik et al. (2018).
    • A Volosovo-related migration of hg. N1c with Netted Ware into the area seems to be discarded, based on the full replacement of paternal lines and continuity of R1a-Z283. It is only during the Tarand-grave period when a system of chiefdoms (spread from Ananyino/Akozino) brings haplogroup N1c to the Gulf of Finland. During the Iron Age, the proportion of paternal lineages is still clearly in favour of R1a (50% in the coast, 100% in Ostrobothnia), which indicates a gradual replacement led by elites, likely because of the incorporation of Akozino warrior-traders spreading all over the Baltic, bringing the described shared Mordvinic traits in Fennic.
    • finno-ugric-haplogroup-n
      Map of archaeological cultures in north-eastern Europe ca. 8th-3rd centuries BC. [The Mid-Volga Akozino group not depicted] Shaded area represents the Ananino cultural-historical society. Fading purple arrows represent likely stepped movements of subclades of haplogroup N for centuries (e.g. Siberian → Ananino → Akozino → Fennoscandia [N-VL29]; Circum-Arctic → forest-steppe [N1, N2]; etc.). Blue arrows represent eventual expansions of Uralic peoples to the north. Modified image from Vasilyev (2002).
    • The arrival of Akozino warrior-traders (bringing N1c and R1a lineages) was probably linked to this minimal “Nganasan-like” ancestry of some samples in the transition to the Iron Age. This arrival is supported by samples 0LS10 (the earliest hg. N1c) and V10 (of hg. R1a), both dated to ca. 800-400 BC, with V10 showing the highest “Nganasan-like” ancestry with 4.8%, both of them neighbouring samples showing 0%. This variable admixture among local and foreign paternal lineages might support the described social system of family alliances with intermarriages. In fact, a medieval sample, 0LS03_1 (hg. R1a) also shows a recent “Nganasan-like” ancestry, which probably points to the integration of different Arctic-related ancestry components among Modern Estonians, in this case related to Finnish expansions and thus integration of Levänluhta-related ancestry, as per the supplementary data.
    • NOTE. Such minimal proportions of “Nganasan-like” ancestry evidence the process of admixture of Volga Finns in Akozino territory through their close interactions with Permians of Ananyino, who in turn acquired this Palaeo-Arctic admixture most likely during the expansion of the linguistic community to hunter-gatherer territories, to the north of the Cis-Urals. This process of stepped infiltration and expansion without language change is not dissimilar to the one seen among Indo-Iranians and Balto-Slavs of hg. R1b, or Vasconic speakers of hg. I2a, although in the case of Baltic Finns of hg. R1a the process of infiltration and expansion of hg. N1c is much less dramatic, with no radical replacement anywhere before the huge bottlenecks observable in Finns.

    • The expansion of haplogroup N1c among Finnic populations, as we are going to see in samples from the Middle Ages such as Luistari, is the consequence of late founder effects after huge bottlenecks expected based on the analysis of modern populations. The expansion of N1c-VL29 is different in origin from that of N1c-Z1936 among Samic (later integrated into Finnish populations), most likely from the east and originally associated with Lovozero Ware.
    Frequency-Distribution Maps of Individual Subclade N3a3 / N1a1a1a1a1a-CTS2929/VL29, probably initially with Akozino warrior-traders. Map from Ilumäe et al. (2016).

    In spite of all this, the conclusion of the paper is (surprise!) that Siberian ancestry and hg. N heralded the arrival of Finnic to the Gulf of Finland in the Iron Age… However, this conclusion is supposedly* supported, not by their previous papers, but by a recent phylogenetic study by Honkola et al. (2013), which doesn’t actually argue for such a late ‘arrival’: it argues for the split of Balto-Finnic around 1500 BC.

    NOTE. I say ‘supposedly’ because Kristiina Tambets, for example, has been following the link of Uralic with haplogroup N since the 2000s, so this is not some conclusion they just happened to misread from some random paper they Googled. In those initial assessments, she argued that the “ancient homeland” of the Tat C mutation suggested that Finno-Ugrians were in Fennoscandia before Indo-Europeans. Apparently, since haplogroup N appears later and from the east, it is now more important to follow this haplogroup than what is established in archaeology and linguistics.

    Even in the referred paper, this split is considered an in situ development, since the phylogenetic study takes the information – among others – 1) from Parpola and Carpelan, who consider Netted Ware, a culture derived from Fatyanovo/Abashevo and Volosovo, as the culprit of the Finno-Ugric expansion; and 2) from Kallio (2006), who clearly states that Proto-Balto-Finnic (like Proto-Finno-Samic) was spoken around the Gulf of Finland during the Bronze Age. Both of them set the terminus ante quem of the language presence in the Baltic ca. 1900 BC.

    Anyways, as a consequence of geneticists keeping these untenable pre-ancient DNA haplogroup-based arguments today, I expect to see this “Finnic” language expansion also described for the Western Baltic, Scandinavia or northern Europe, when this same proportion of hg. N1c and “Nganasan” ancestry is observed in Iron Age samples around the Baltic Sea. The nativist trends that this domination of “Finns” all over Northern Europe 2,500 years ago will create will be even more fun to read than the current ones…

    EDIT (10 May 2019) How I see the reaction of many to ancient DNA, in keeping their old theories:


    The cradle of Russians, an obvious Finno-Volgaic genetic hotspot


    First look of an accepted manuscript (behind paywall), Genome-wide sequence analyses of ethnic populations across Russia, by Zhernakova et al. Genomics (2019).

    Interesting excerpts:

    There remain ongoing discussions about the origins of the ethnic Russian population. The ancestors of ethnic Russians were among the Slavic tribes that separated from the early Indo-European Group, which included ancestors of modern Slavic, Germanic and Baltic speakers, who appeared in the northeastern part of Europe ca. 1,500 years ago. Slavs were found in the central part of Eastern Europe, where they came in direct contact with (and likely assimilation of) the populations speaking Uralic (Volga-Finnish and Baltic- Finnish), and also Baltic languages [11–13]. In the following centuries, Slavs interacted with the Iranian-Persian, Turkic and Scandinavian peoples, all of which in succession may have contributed to the current pattern of genome diversity across the different parts of Russia. At the end of the Middle Ages and in the early modern period, there occurred a division of the East Slavic unity into Russians, Ukrainians and Belarusians. It was the Russians who drove the colonization movement to the East, although other Slavic, Turkic and Finnish peoples took part in this movement, as the eastward migrations brought them to the Ural Mountains and further into Siberia, the Far East, and Alaska. During that interval, the Russians encountered the Finns, Ugrians, and Samoyeds speakers in the Urals, but also the Turkic, Mongolian and Tungus speakers of Siberia. Finally, in the great expanse between the Altai Mountains on the border with Mongolia, and the Bering Strait, they encountered paleo-Asiatic groups that may be genetically closest to the ancestors of the Native Americans. Today’s complex patchwork of human diversity in Russia has continued to be augmented by modern migrations from the Caucasus, and from Central Asia, as modern economic migrations take shape.

    Sample relatedness based on genotype data. Eurasia: Principal Component plot of 574 modern Russian genomes. Colors reflect geographical regions of collection; shapes reflect the sample source. Red circles show the location of Genome Russia samples.

    In the current study, we annotated whole genome sequences of individuals currently living on the territory of Russia and identifying themselves as ethnic Russian or as members of a named ethnic minority (Fig. 1). We analyzed genetic variation in three modern populations of Russia (ethnic Russians from Pskov and Novgorod regions and ethnic Yakut from the Sakha Republic), and compared them to the recently released genome sequences collected from 52 indigenous Russian populations. The incidence of function-altering mutations was explored by identifying known variants and novel variants and their allele frequencies relative to variation in adjacent European, East Asian and South Asian populations. Genomic variation was further used to estimate genetic distance and relationships, historic gene flow and barriers to gene flow, the extent of population admixture, historic population contractions, and linkage disequilibrium patterns. Lastly, we present demographic models estimating historic founder events within Russia, and a preliminary HapMap of ethnic Russians from the European part of Russia and Yakuts from eastern Siberia.

    Sample relatedness based on genotype data. Western Russia and neighboring countries: Principal Component plot of 574 modern Russian genomes. Colors reflect geographical regions of collection; shapes reflect the sample source. Red circles show the location of Genome Russia samples.

    The collection of identified SNPs was used to inspect quantitative distinctions among 264 individuals from across Eurasia (Fig. 1) using Principal Component Analysis (PCA) (Fig. 2). The first and the second eigenvectors of the PCA plot are associated with longitude and latitude, respectively, of the sample locations and accurately separate Eurasian populations according to geographic origin. East European samples cluster near Pskov and Novgorod samples, which fall between northern Russians, Finno-Ugric peoples (Karelian, Finns, Veps etc.), and other Northeastern European peoples (Swedes, Central Russians, Estonian, Latvians, Lithuanians, and Ukrainians) (Fig. 2b). Yakut individuals map into the Siberian sample cluster as expected (Fig. 2a). To obtain an extended view of population relationships, we performed a maximum likelihood-based estimation of ancestry and population structure using ADMIXTURE [46](Fig. 2c). The Novgorod and Pskov populations show similar profiles with their Northeastern European ancestors while the Yakut ethnic group showed mixed ancestry similar to the Buryat and Mongolian groups.

    Population structure across samples in 178 populations from five major geographic regions (k=5). Samples are pooled across three different studies that covered the territory of Russian Federation (Mallick et al. 2016 [36], Pagani et al. 2016 [37], this study). The optimal k-value was selected by value of cross validation error. Russian samples from all studies (highlighted in bold dark blue) show a slight gradient from Eastern European (Ukrainian, Belorussian, Polish) to North European (Estonian Karelian, Finnish) structures, reflecting population history of northward expansion. Yakut samples from different studies (highlighted in bold red) also show a slight gradient from Mongolian to Siberian people (Evens), as expected from their original admixture and northward expansions. The samples originated from this study are highlighted, and plotted in separated boxes below.

    Possible admixture sources of the Genome Russia populations were addressed more formally by calculating F3 statistics, which is an allele frequency-based measure, allowing to test if a target population can be modeled as a mixture of two source populations [48]. Results showed that Yakut individuals are best modeled as an admixture of Evens or Evenks with various European populations (Supplemental Table S4). Pskov and Novgorod showed admixture of European with Siberian or Finno-Ugric populations, with Lithuanian and Latvian populations being the dominant European sources for Pskov samples.

    The heatmaps of gene flow barriers show for each point at the geographical map the interpolated differences in allele frequencies (AF) between the estimated AF at the point with AFs in the vicinity of this point. The direction of the maximal difference in allele frequencies is coded by colors and arrows.

    So, Russians expanding in the Middle Ages as acculturaded Finno-Volgaic peoples.

    Or maybe the true Germano-Slavonic™-speaking area was in north-eastern Europe, until the recent arrival of Finno-Permians with the totally believable Nganasan-Saami horde, whereas Yamna -> Bell Beaker represented Vasconic-Caucasian expanding all over Europe in the Bronze Age. Because steppe ancestry in Fennoscandia and Modern Basques in Iberia.

    A really hard choice between equally plausible models.


    Corded Ware—Uralic (IV): Hg R1a and N in Finno-Ugric and Samoyedic expansions


    This is the fourth of four posts on the Corded Ware—Uralic identification:

    Let me begin this final post on the Corded Ware—Uralic connection with an assertion that should be obvious to everyone involved in ethnolinguistic identification of prehistoric populations but, for one reason or another, is usually forgotten. In the words of David Reich, in Who We Are and How We Got Here (2018):

    Human history is full of dead ends, and we should not expect the people who lived in any one place in the past to be the direct ancestors of those who live there today.

    Haplogroup N

    Another recurrent argument – apart from “Siberian ancestry” – for the location of the Uralic homeland is “haplogroup N”. This is as serious as saying “haplogroup R1” to refer to Indo-European migrations, but let’s explore this possibility anyway:

    Ancient haplogroups

    We have now a better idea of how many ancient migrations (previously hypothesized to be associated with westward Uralic migrations) look like in genetic terms. From Damgaard et al. (Science 2018):

    These serial changes in the Baikal populations are reflected in Y-chromosome lineages (Fig. SA; figs. S24 to S27, and tables S13 and SI4). MAI carries the R haplogroup, whereas the majority of Baikal_EN males belong to N lineages, which were widely distributed across Northern Eurasia (29), and the Baikal_LNBA males all carry Q haplogroups, as do most of the Okunevo_EMBA as well as some present-day Central Asians and Siberians.

    The only N1c1 sample comes from Ust’Ida Late Neolithic, 180km to the north of Lake Baikal, which – together with the Bronze Age sample from the Kola peninsula, and the medieval sample from Ust’Ida – gives a good idea of the overall expansion of N subclades and Siberian ancestry among the Circum-Arctic peoples of Eurasia, speakers of Palaeo-Siberian languages.

    Geographical location of ancient samples belonging to major clade N of the Y-chromosome.

    Modern haplogroups

    What we should expect from Uralic peoples expanding with haplogroup N – seeing how Yamna expands with R1b-L23, and Corded Ware expands with R1a-Z645 – is to find a common subclade spreading with Uralic populations. Let’s see if it works like that for any N-X subclade, in data from Ilumäe et al. (2016):

    Geographic-Distribution Map of hg N3 / N1c / N1a.

    Within the Eurasian circum-Arctic spread zone, N3 and N2a reveal a well-structured spread pattern where individual sub-clades show very different distributions:

    N1a1-M46 (or N-TAT), formed ca. 13900 BC, TMRCA 9800 BC

       N1a1a2-B187, formed ca. 9800 BC, TMRCA 1050 AD:

    The sub-clade N3b-B187 is specific to southern Siberia and Mongolia, whereas N3a-L708 is spread widely in other regions of northern Eurasia.

         N1a1a1a-L708, formed ca. 6800 BC, TMRCA 5400 BC.

           N1a1a1a2-B211/Y9022, formed ca. 5400 BC, TMRCA 1900 BC:

    The deepest clade within N3a is N3a1-B211, mostly present in the Volga-Uralic region and western Siberian Khanty and Mansi populations.

             N1a1a1a1a-L392/L1026), formed ca. 4400 BC, TMRCA 2800 BC:

    The neighbor clade, N3a3’6-CTS6967, spreads from eastern Siberia to the eastern part of Fennoscandia and the Baltic States

    Frequency-Distribution Maps of Individual Subclade N3a3 / N1a1a1a1a1a-CTS2929/VL29, probably initially with Akozino warrior-traders.

               N1a1a1a1a1a-CTS2929/VL29, formed ca. 2100 BC, TMRCA 1600 BC:

    In Europe, the clade N3a3-VL29 encompasses over a third of the present-day male Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians but is also present among Saami, Karelians, and Finns (Table S2 and Figure 3). Among the Slavic-speaking Belarusians, Ukrainians, and Russians, about three-fourths of their hg N3 Y chromosomes belong to hg N3a3.

    In the post on Finno-Permic expansions, I depicted what seems to me the most likely way of infiltration of N1c-L392 lineages with Akozino warrior-traders into the western Finno-Ugric populations, with an origin around the Barents sea.

    This includes the potential spread of (a minority of) N1c-B211 subclades due to contacts with Anonino on both sides of the Urals, through a northern route of forest and forest-steppe regions (equivalent to the distribution of Cherkaskul compared to Andronovo), given the spread of certain subclades in Ugric populations.

    NOTE. An alternative possibility is the association of certain B211 subclades with a southern route of expansion with Pre-Scythian and Scythian populations, under whose influence the Ananino culture emerged -which would imply a very quick infiltration of certain groups of haplogroup N everywhere among Finno-Ugrics on both sides of the Urals – , and also the expansion of some subclades with Turkic-speaking peoples, who apparently expanded with alliances of different peoples. Both (Scythian and Turkic) populations expanded from East Asia, where haplogroup N (including N1c) was present since the Neolithic. I find this a worse model of expansion for upper clades, but – given the YFull estimates and the presence of this haplogroup among Turkic peoples – it is a possibility for many subclades.

               N1a1a1a1a2-Z1936, formed ca. 2800 BC, TMRCA 2400 BC:

    The only notable exception from the pattern are Russians from northern regions of European Russia, where, in turn, about two-thirds of the hg N3 Y chromosomes belong to the hg N3a4-Z1936—the second west Eurasian clade. Thus, according to the frequency distribution of this clade, these Northern Russians fit better among other non-Slavic populations from northeastern Europe. N3a4 tends to increase in frequency toward the northeastern European regions but is also somewhat unexpectedly a dominant hg N3 lineage among most Turcic-speaking Volga Tatars and South-Ural Bashkirs.

    Frequency-Distribution Maps of Individual Subclade N3a4 / N1a1a1a1a2-Z1936, probably with the Samic (first) and Fennic (later) expansions into Paleo-Lakelandic and Palaeo-Laplandic territories.

    The expansion of N1a-Z1936 in Fennoscandia is most likely associated with the expansion of Saami into asbestos ware-related territory (like the Lovozero culture) during the Late Iron Age – and mixture with its population – , and with the later Fennic expansion to the east and north, replacing their language, as well as with Arctic and forest populations assimilated during Permic, Ugric, and Samoyedic expansions to the north.

               N1a1a1a1a4-M2019 (previously N3a2), formed ca. 4400 BC, TMRCA 1700 BC:

    Sub-hg N3a2-M2118 is one of the two main bifurcating branches in the nested cladistic structure of N3a2’6-M2110. It is predominantly found in populations inhabiting present-day Yakutia (Republic of Sakha) in central Siberia and at lower frequencies in the Khanty and Mansi populations, which exhibit a distinct Y-STR pattern (Table S7) potentially intrinsic to an additional clade inside the sub-hg N3a2

    The second widespread sub-clade of hg N is N2a. (…):

       N1a2b-P43 (B523/FGC10846/Y3184), formed ca. 6800 BC, TMRCA ca. 2700 BC:

    The absolute majority of N2a individuals belong to the second sub-clade, N2a1-B523, which diversified about 4.7 kya (95% CI = 4.0–5.5 kya). Its distribution covers the western and southern parts of Siberia, the Taimyr Peninsula, and the Volga-Uralic region with frequencies ranging from from 10% to 30% and does not extend to eastern Siberia (…)

    Geographic-Distribution Map of hg N2a1 / N1a2b-P43

    The “European” branch suggested earlier from Y-STR patterns turned out to consist of two clades

         N1a2b2a-Y3185/FGC10847, formed ca. 2200 BC, TMRCA 800 BC:

    N2a1-L1419, spread mainly in the northern part of that region.

         N1a2b2b1-B528/Y24382, formed ca. 900 BC, TMRCA ca. 900 BC:

    N2a1-B528, spread in the southern Volga-Uralic region.

    Haplogroup R1a

    We also have a good idea of the distribution of haplogroup R1a-Z645 in ancient samples. Its subclades were associated with the Corded Ware expansion, and some of them fit quite well the early expansion of Finno-Permic, Ugric, and Samoyedic peoples to the east.

    Modified image, from Underhill et al. (2015). Spatial frequency distributions of Z282 (green) and Z93 (blue) affiliated haplogroups.. Notice the potential Finno-Ugric-associated distribution of Z282 (especially R1a-M558, a Z280 subclade), the expansion of R1a-Z2123 subclades with Central Asian forest-steppe groups.

    This is how the modern distribution of R1a among Uralians looks like, from the latest report in Tambets et al. (2018):

    • Among Fennic populations, Estonians and Karelians (ca. 1.1 million) have not suffered the greatest bottleneck of Finns (ca. 6-7 million), and show thus a greater proportion of R1a-Z280 than N1c subclades, which points to the original situation of Fennic peoples before their expansion. To trust Finnish Y-DNA to derive conclusions about the Uralic populations is as useful as relying on the Basque Y-DNA for the language spread by R1b-P312
    • Among Volga-Finnic populations, Mordovians (the closest to the original Uralic cluster, see above) show a majority of R1a lineages (27%).
    • Hungarians (ca. 13-15 million) represent the majority of Ugric (and Finno-Ugric) peoples. They are mainly R1a-Z280, also R1a-Z2123, have little N1c, and lack Siberian ancestry, and represent thus the most likely original situation of Ugric peoples in 4th century AD (read more on Avars and Hungarians).
    • Among Samoyedic peoples, the Selkup, the southernmost ones and latest to expand – that is, those not heavily admixed with Siberian populations – , also have a majority of R1a-Z2123 lineages (see also here for the original Samoyedic haplogroups to the south).

    To understand the relevance of Hungarians for Ugric peoples, as well as Estonians, Karelians, and Mordovians (and northern Russians, Finno-Ugric peoples recently Russified) for Finno-Permic peoples, as opposed to the Circum-Arctic and East Siberian populations, one has to put demographics in perspective. Even a modern map can show the relevance of certain territories in the past:

    Population density (people per km2) map of the world in 1994. From Wikipedia.

    Summary of ancestry + haplogroups

    Fennic and Samic populations seem to be clearly influenced by Palaeo-Laplandic peoples, whereas Volga-Finnic and especially Permic populations may have received gene flow from both, but essentially Palaeo-Siberian influence from the north and east.

    The fact that modern Mansis and Khantys offer the highest variation in N1a subclades, and some of the highest “Siberian ancestry” among non-Nganasans, should have raised a red flag long ago. The fact that Hungarians – supposedly stemming from a source population similar to Mansis – do not offer the same amount of N subclades or Siberian ancestry (not even close), and offer instead more R1a, in common with Estonians (among Finno-Samic peoples) and Mordvins (among Volga-Finnic peoples) should have raised a still bigger red flag. The fact that Nganasans – the model for Siberian ancestry – show completely different N1a2b-P43 lineages should have been a huge genetic red line (on top of the anthropological one) to regard them as the Uralian-type population.

    We know now that ethnolinguistic groups have usually expanded with massive (usually male-biased) migrations, and that neighbouring locals often ‘resurge’ later without changing the language. That is seen in Europe after the spread of Bell Beakers, with the increase of previous ancestry and lineages in Scandinavia during the formation of the Nordic ethnolinguistic community; in Central-West Europe, with the resurgence of Neolithic ancestry (and lineages) during the Bronze Age over steppe ancestry; and in Central-East Europe (with Unetice or East European Bronze Age groups like Mierzanowice, Trzciniec, or Lusatian) showing an increase in steppe ancestry (and resurge of R1a subclades); none of them represented a radical ethnolinguistic change.

    Map of archaeological cultures in north-eastern Europe ca. 8th-3rd centuries BC. [The Mid-Volga Akozino group not depicted] Shaded area represents the Ananino cultural-historical society. Fading purple arrows represent likely stepped movements of subclades of haplogroup N for centuries (e.g. Siberian → Ananino → Akozino → Fennoscandia [N-VL29]; Circum-Arctic → forest-steppe [N1, N2]; etc.). Blue arrows represent eventual expansions of Uralic peoples to the north. Modified image from Vasilyev (2002).

    It is not hard to model the stepped arrival, infiltration, and/or resurge of N subclades and “Siberian ancestries”, as well as their gradual expansion in certain regions, associated with certain migrations first – such as the expansions to the Circum-Arctic region, and later the Scythian- and Turkic-related movements – , as well as limited regional developments, like the known bottleneck in Finns, or the clear late expansion of Ugric and Samoyedic languages to the north among nomadic Palaeo-Siberians due to traditions of exogamy and multilingualism. This fits quite well with the different arrival of N (N1c and xN1c) lineages to the different Uralic-speaking groups, and to the stepped appearance of “Siberian ancestry” in the different regions.

    The aternative

    It is evident that a lot of people were too attached to the idea of Palaeolithic R1b lineages ‘native’ to western Europe speaking Basque languages; of R1a lineages speaking Indo-European and spreading with Yamna; and N lineages ‘native’ to north-eastern Europe and speaking Uralic, and this is causing widespread weeping and gnashing of teeth (instead of the joy of discovering where one’s true patrilineal ancestors come from, and what language they spoke in each given period, which is the supposed objective of genetic genealogy…)

    Since an Indo-Germanic branch (as revived now by some in the Copenhaguen group to fit Kristiansen’s theory of the 1980s with recent genetic data) does not make any sense in linguistics, the finding of R1a in Yamna would not have led where some think it would have, because North-West Indo-European would still be the main Late PIE branch in Europe. Don’t take my word for it; take James P. Mallory’s (2013).

    The levels of Indo-European reconstruction, from Mallory & Adams (2006).

    If an (unlikely) Indo-Slavonic group were posited, though, such a group would still be bound (with Indo-Iranian) to the steppes with East Yamna/Poltavka (admixing with Abashevo migrants, but retaining its language), developing Sintashta/Potapovka → Srubna/Andronovo, and R1a lineages would have equally undergone the known bottlenecks of the steppes where they replaced R1b-Z2103 – which this eastern group shares with Balkan languages, a haplogroup that links therefore together the Graeco-Aryan group.

    As far as I know – and there might be many other similar pet theories out there – there have been proposals of “modern Balto-Slavic-like” populations (in an obvious circular reasoning based on modern populations) in some Scythian clusters of the Iron Age.

    NOTE. I will not enter into “Balto-Slavic-like R1a” of the Late Bronze Age or earlier because no one can seriously believe at this point of development of Population Genetics that autosomal similarity predating 1,500+ years the appearance of Slavs equates to their (ethnolinguistic) ancestral population, without a clear intermediate cultural and genetic trail – something we lack today in the Slavic case even for the late Roman period…

    The Finnic and Saamic separation looks shallower than it actually is. Invisible convergence can be ‘triangulated’ with the help of Germanic layers of mutual loanwords (Häkkinen 2012).

    We also know of R1a-Z280 lineages in Srubna, probably expanding to the west. With that in mind, and knowing that Palaeo-Germanic was in close contact with Finno-Samic while both were already separated but still in contact, and that Palaeo-Germanic was also in contact and closely related to a ‘Temematic’ distinct from Balto-Slavic (and also that early Proto-Baltic and Proto-Slavic from the Roman Iron Age and later were in contact with western Uralic) this will be the linguistic map of the Iron Age if R1a is considered to expand Indo-European from some kind of “patron-client” relationship with west Yamna:

    Eastern European language map during the Late Bronze Age / Iron Age, if R1a spread Indo-European languages and Eastern Yamna spoke Indo-Slavonic. Palaeo-Germanic (i.e. Pre- to Proto-Germanic) needs to be in contact with both the Samic Lovozero population and the Fennic west Circum-Arctic one. Italic and Celtic in contact with Pre-Germanic. Germanic in contact with Temematic. Balto-Slavic in contact with Iranian, and near Fennic to allow for later loanwords. For Germanic and Temematic, see Kortlandt (2018).

    You might think I have some personal or political reason against this kind of proposals. I haven’t. We have been proposing Indo-European to be the language of the European Union for more than 10 years, so to support R1b-Italo-Celtic in the whole Western Europe, R1a-Germanic in Central and Eastern Europe, and R1a-Indo-Slavonic in the steppes (as the Danish group seems to be doing) has nothing inherently bad (or good) for me. If anything, it gives more reason to support the revival of North-West Indo-European in Europe.

    My problem with this proposal is that it is obviously beholden to the notion of the uninterrupted cultural, historic and ethnic continuity in certain territories. This bias is common in historiography (von Falkenhausen 1993), but it extends even more easily into the lesser known prehistory of any territory, and now more than ever some people feel the need to corrupt (pre)history based on their own haplogroups (or the majority haplogroups of their modern countries). However, more than on philosophical grounds, my rejection is based on facts: this picture is not what the combination of linguistic, archaeological, and genetic data shows. Period.

    Nevertheless, if Yamna + Corded Ware represented the “big and early expansion” of Germanic and Italo-Celtic peoples proper of the dream Nazi’s Lebensraum and Fascist’s spazio vitale proposals; Uralians were Siberian hunter-gatherers that controlled the whole eastern and northern Russia, and miraculously managed to push (ethnolinguistically) Neolithic agropastoralists to the west during and after the Iron Age, with gradual (and often minimal) genetic impact; and Balto-Slavic peoples were represented by horse riders from Pokrovka/Srubna, hiding then somewhere around the forest-steppe until after the Scythian expansion, and then spreading their language (without much genetic impact) during the early Middle Ages…so be it.

    See also


    Corded Ware—Uralic (III): “Siberian ancestry” and Ugric-Samoyedic expansions


    This is the third of four posts on the Corded Ware—Uralic identification. See

    An Eastern Uralic group?

    Even though proposals of an Eastern Uralic (or Ugro-Samoyedic) group are in the minority – and those who support it tend to search for an origin of Uralic in Central Asia – , there is nothing wrong in supporting this from the point of view of a western homeland, because the eastward migration of both Proto-Ugric and Pre-Samoyedic peoples may have been coupled with each other at an early stage. It’s like Indo-Slavonic: it just doesn’t fit the linguistic data as well as the alternative, i.e. the expansion of Samoyedic first, different from a Finno-Ugric trunk. But, in case you are wondering about this possibility, here is Häkkinen’s (2012) phonological argument:


    The case of Samoyedic is quite similar to that of Hungarian, although the earliest Palaeo-Siberian contact languages have been lost. There were contacts at least with Tocharian (Kallio 2004), Yukaghir (Rédei 1999) and Turkic (Janhunen 1998). Samoyedic also:

    a) has moved far from the related languages and has been exposed to strong foreign influence

    b) shares a small number of common words with other branches (from Sammallahti 1988: only 123 ‘Uralic’ words, versus 390 ‘Uralic’ + ‘Finno-Ugric’ words found in other branches than Samoyedic = 31,5 %)

    c) derives phonologically from the East Uralic dialect.

    The phonological level is taxonomically more reliable, since it lacks the distortion caused by invisible convergence and false divergence at the lexical level. Thus we can conclude that the traditional taxonomic model, according to which Samoyedic was the first branch to split off from the Proto-Uralic unity, is just as incorrect as the view that Hungarian was the first branch to split off.


    Late Uralic can be traced back to metallurgical cultures thanks to terms like PU *wäśka ‘copper/bronze’ (borrowed from Proto-Samoyedic *wesä into Tocharian); PU *äsa and *olna/*olni, ‘lead’ or ‘tin’, found in *äsa-wäśka ‘tin-bronze’; and e.g. *weŋći ‘knife’, borrowed into Indo-Iranian (through the stage of vocalization of nasals), appearing later as Proto-Indo-Aryan *wāćī ‘knife, awl, axe’.

    It is known that the southern regions of the Abashevo culture developed Proto-Indo-Iranian-speaking Sintashta-Petrovka and Pokrovka (Early Srubna). To the north, however, Abashevo kept its Uralic nature, with continuous contacts allowing for the spread of lexicon – mainly into Finno-Ugric – , and phonetic influence – mainly Uralisms into Proto-Indo-Iranian phonology (read more here).

    The northern part of Abashevo (just like the south) was mainly a metallurgical society, with Abashevo metal prospectors found also side by side with Sintashta pioneers in the Zeravshan Valley, near BMAC, in search of metal ores. About the Seima-Turbino phenomenon, from Parpola (2013):

    From the Urals to the east, the chain of cultures associated with this network consisted principally of the following: the Abashevo culture (extending from the Upper Don to the Mid- and South Trans-Urals, including the important cemeteries of Sejma and Turbino), the Sintashta culture (in the southeast Urals), the Petrovka culture (in the Tobol-Ishim steppe), the Taskovo-Loginovo cultures (on the Mid- and Lower Tobol and the Mid-Irtysh), the Samus’ culture (on the Upper Ob, with the important cemetery of Rostovka), the Krotovo culture (from the forest steppe of the Mid-Irtysh to the Baraba steppe on the Upper Ob, with the important cemetery of Sopka 2), the Elunino culture (on the Upper Ob just west of the Altai mountains) and the Okunevo culture (on the Mid-Yenissei, in the Minusinsk plain, Khakassia and northern Tuva). The Okunevo culture belongs wholly to the Early Bronze Age (c. 2250–1900 BCE), but most of the other cultures apparently to its latter part, being currently dated to the pre-Andronovo horizon of c. 2100–1800 BCE (cf. Parzinger 2006: 244–312 and 336; Koryakova & Epimakhov 2007: 104–105).

    Schematic map of the Middle Bronze Age cultures (steppe and foreststeppe

    The majority of the Sejma-Turbino objects are of the better quality tin-bronze, and while tin is absent in the Urals, the Altai and Sayan mountains are an important source of both copper and tin. Tin is also available in southern Central Asia. Chernykh & Kuz’minykh have accordingly suggested an eastern origin for the Sejma-Turbino network, backing this hypothesis also by the depiction on the Sejma-Turbino knives of mountain sheep and horses characteristic of that area. However, Christian Carpelan has emphasized that the local Afanas’evo and Okunevo metallurgy of the Sayan-Altai area was initially rather primitive, and could not possibly have achieved the advanced and difficult technology of casting socketed spearheads as one piece around a blank. Carpelan points out that the first spearheads of this type appear in the Middle Bronze Age Caucasia c. 2000 BCE, diffusing early on to the Mid-Volga-Kama-southern Urals area, where “it was the experienced Abashevo craftsmen who were able to take up the new techniques and develop and distribute new types of spearheads” (Carpelan & Parpola 2001: 106, cf. 99–106, 110). The animal argument is countered by reference to a dagger from Sejma on the Oka river depicting an elk’s head, with earlier north European prototypes (Carpelan & Parpola 2001: 106–109). Also the metal analysis speaks for the Abashevo origin of the Sejma-Turbino network. Out of 353 artefacts analyzed, 47% were of tin-bronze, 36% of arsenical bronze, and 8.5% of pure copper. Both the arsenical bronze and pure copper are very clearly associated with the Abashevo metallurgy.

    Find spots of artefacts distributed by the Sejma-Turbino intercultural trader network, and the areas of the most important participating cultures: Abashevo, Sintashta, Petrovka. Based on Chernykh 2007: 77.

    The Abashevo metal production was based on the Volga-Kama-Belaya area sandstone ores of pure copper and on the more easterly Urals deposits of arsenical copper (Figure 9). The Abashevo people, expanding from the Don and Mid-Volga to the Urals, first reached the westerly sandstone deposits of pure copper in the Volga and Kama basins, and started developing their metallurgy in this area, before moving on to the eastern side of the Urals to produce harder weapons and tools of arsenical copper. Eventually they moved even further south, to the area richest in copper in the whole Urals region, founding there the very strong and innovative Sintashta culture.

    Regarding the most likely expansion of Eastern Uralic peoples:

    Nataliya L’vovna Chlenova (1929–2009; cf. Korenyako & Ku’zminykh 2011) published in 1981 a detailed study of the Cherkaskul’ pottery. In her carefully prepared maps of 1981 and 1984 (Figure 10), she plotted Cherkaskul’ monuments not only in Bashkiria and the Trans-Urals, but also in thick concentrations on the Upper Irtysh, Upper Ob and Upper Yenissei, close to the Altai and Sayan mountains, precisely where the best experts suppose the homeland of Proto-Samoyed to be.

    Distribution of Srubnaya (Timber Grave, early and late), Andronovo (Alakul’ and Fëdorovo variants) and Cherkaskul’ monuments. After Parpola 1994: 146, fig. 8.15, based on the work of N. L. Chlenova (1984: map facing page 100).


    The Cherkaskul’ culture was transformed into the genetically related Mezhovka culture (c. 1500–1000 BCE), which occupied approximately the same area from the Mid-Kama and Belaya rivers to the Tobol river in western Siberia (cf. Parzinger 2006: 444–448; Koryakova & Epimakhov 2007: 170–175). The Mezhovka culture was in close contact with the neighbouring and probably Proto-Iranian speaking Alekseevka alias Sargary culture (c. 1500–900 BCE) of northern Kazakhstan (Figure 4 no. 8) that had a Fëdorovo and Cherkaskul’ substratum and a roller pottery superstratum (cf. Parzinger 2006: 443–448; Koryakova & Epimakhov 2007: 161–170). Both the Cherkaskul’ and the Mezhovka cultures are thought to have been Proto-Ugric linguistically, on the basis of the agreement of their area with that of Mansi and Khanty speakers, who moreover in their Fëdorovo-like ornamentation have preserved evidence of continuity in material culture (cf. Chlenova 1984; Koryakova & Epimakhov 2007: 159, 175).

    Cultures of the Final Bronze Age of the Urals and western Siberia (steppe
    and forest-steppe zone).

    The Mezhovka culture was succeeded by the genetically related Gamayun culture (c. 1000–700 BCE) (cf. Parzinger 2006: 446; 542–545).

    From the Gamayun culture descend Trans-Urals cultures in close contact with Finno-Permic populations of the Cis-Ural region:

    • [Proto-Mansi] Itkul’ culture (c. 700–200 BCE) distributed along the eastern slope of the Ural Mountains (cf. Parzinger 2006: 552–556). Known from its walled forts, it constituted the principal Trans-Uralian centre of metallurgy in the Iron Age, and was in contact with both the Anan’ino and Akhmylovo cultures (the metallurgical centres of the Mid-Volga and Kama-Belaya region) and the neighbouring Gorokhovo culture.
      • [Proto-Hungarian] via the Vorob’evo Group (c. 700–550 BCE) (cf. Parzinger 2006: 546–549), to the Gorokhovo culture (c. 550–400 BCE) of the Trans-Uralian forest steppe (cf. Parzinger 2006: 549–552). For various reasons the local Gorokhovo people started mobile pastoral herding and became part of the multicomponent pastoralist Sargat culture (c. 500 BCE to 300 CE), which in a broader sense comprized all cultural groups between the Tobol and Irtysh rivers, succeeding here the Sargary culture. The Sargat intercommunity was dominated by steppe nomads belonging to the Iranian-speaking Saka confederation, who in the summer migrated northwards to the forest steppe
    • [Proto-Khanty] Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age cultures related to the Gamayunskoe and Itkul’ cultures that extended up to the Ob: the Nosilovo, Baitovo, Late Irmen’, and Krasnoozero cultures (c. 900–500 BCE). Some were in contact with the Akhmylovo on the Mid-Volga.
    Cultural groups of the Iron Age in the forest-steppe zone of western
    Siberia. (


    Parpola (2012) connects the expansion of Samoyedic with the Cherkaskul variant of Andronovo. As we know, Andronovo was genetically diverse, which speaks in favour of different groups developing similar material cultures in Central Asia.

    Juha Janhunen, author of the etymological dictionary of the Samoyed languages (1977), places the homeland of Proto-Samoyedic in the Minusinsk basin on the Upper Yenissei (cf. Janhunen 2009: 72). Mainly on the basis of Bulghar Turkic loanwords, Janhunen (2007: 224; 2009: 63) dates Proto-Samoyedic to the last centuries BCE. Janhunen thinks that the language of the Tagar culture (c. 800–100 BCE) ought to have been Proto-Samoyedic (cf. Janhunen 1983: 117– 118; 2009: 72; Parzinger 2001: 80 and 2006: 619–631 dates the Tagar culture c. 1000–200 BCE; Svyatko et al. 2009: 256, based on human bone samples, c. 900 BCE to 50 CE). The Tagar culture largely continues the traditions of the Karasuk culture (c. 1400–900 BCE), (…)

    Map showing the location of Chicha-1.

    For the most recent expansions of Samoyedic languages to the north, into Palaeo-Siberian populations, read more about the traditional multilingualism of Siberian populations.


    Siberian ancestry

    The use of a map of “Siberian ancestry” peaking in the arctic to show a supposedly late Uralic population movement (starting in the Iron Age!) seems to be the latest trend in population genomics:

    Frequency map of the so-called ‘Siberian’ component. From Tambets et al. (2018) (see below for ADMIXTURE in specific populations).

    I guess that would make this map of Neolithic farmer ancestry represent an expansion of Indo-European from the south, because Anatolia, Greece, Italy, southern France, and Iberia – where this ancestry peaks in modern populations – are among the oldest territories where Indo-European languages were recorded:

    Modern genome-wide data shows that the primary gradient of farmer ancestry in Europe does not flow southeast-to-northwest but instead in an almost perpendicular direction, a result of a major migration of pastoralists from the east that displaced much of the ancestry of the first farmers.

    Probably not the right interpretation of this kind of simplistic data about modern populations, though…

    The most striking thing about the “Siberian ancestry” white whale is that nobody really knows what it is; just like we did not know what “Yamnaya ancestry” was, until the most recent data is making the picture clearer. Its nature is changing with each new paper, and it can be summed up by “some ancestry we want to find that is common to Uralic-speaking peoples, and should not be CWC-related”. Tambets et al. (2018) explain quite well how they “found it”:

    Overall, and specifically at lower values of K, the genetic makeup of Uralic speakers resembles that of their geographic neighbours. The Saami and (a subset of) the Mansi serve as exceptions to that pattern being more similar to geographically more distant populations (Fig. 3a, Additional file 3: S3). However, starting from K = 9, ADMIXTURE identifies a genetic component (k9, magenta in Fig. 3a, Additional file 3: S3), which is predominantly, although not exclusively, found in Uralic speakers. This component is also well visible on K = 10, which has the best cross-validation index among all tests (Additional file 3: S3B). The spatial distribution of this component (Fig. 3b) shows a frequency peak among Ob-Ugric and Samoyed speakers as well as among neighbouring Kets (Fig. 3a). The proportion of k9 decreases rapidly from West Siberia towards east, south and west, constituting on average 40% of the genetic ancestry of FU speakers in Volga-Ural region (VUR) and 20% in their Turkic-speaking neighbours (Bashkirs, Tatars, Chuvashes; Fig. 3a).

    Population structure of Uralic-speaking populations inferred from ADMIXTURE analysis on autosomal SNPs in Eurasian context. Individual ancestry estimates for populations of interest for selected number of assumed ancestral populations (K3, K6, K9, K11). Ancestry components discussed in a main text (k2, k3, k5, k6, k9, k11) are indicated and have the same colours throughout. The names of the Uralic-speaking populations are indicated with blue (Finno-Ugric) or orange (Samoyedic). Image from Tambets et al. (2018).

    However, this ‘something’ that some people occasionally find in some Uralic populations is also common to other modern and ancient groups, and not so common in some other Uralic peoples. Simply put:

    Image modified from Lamnidis et al. (2018). Red line representing maximum “Siberian admixture” in Eastern European hunter-gatherers. In blue, Uralic-speaking groups. “Plot of ADMIXTURE (K=3) results containing West Eurasian populations and the Nganasan. Ancient individuals from this study are represented by thicker bars.”

    I already said this in the recent publication of Siberian samples, where a renamed and radiocarbon dated Finnish_IA clearly shows that Late Iron Age Saami (ca. 400 AD) had little “Siberian ancestry”, if any at all, representing the most likely Fennic (and Samic) ancestral components before their expansion into central and northern Finland, where they admixed with circum-polar peoples of asbestos ware cultures.

    I will say that again and again, any time they report the so-called “Siberian ancestry” in Uralic samples, no matter how it is defined each time: it does not seem to be that special something people are looking for, but rather (at least in a great part) a quite old ancestral component forming an evident cline with EHG, whose best proximate source are Baikal_EN (and/or Devil’s Gate) at this moment, and thus also East European hunter-gatherers for Western Uralic peoples:

    Image modified from Lazaridis et al. (2018). In red: samples with Baikal_EN ancestry in speculative estimates. In pink: samples with Baikal_EN ancestry in conservative estimates (probably marking a recent arrival of Baikal_En ancestry, see here). Modeling present-day and ancient West-Eurasians. Mixture proportions computed with qpAdm (Supplementary Information section 4). The proportion of ‘Mbuti’ ancestry represents the total of ‘Deep’ ancestry from lineages that split prior to the split of Ust’Ishim, Tianyuan, and West Eurasians and can include both ‘Basal Eurasian’ and other (e.g., Sub-Saharan African) ancestry. (Left) ‘Conservative’ estimates. Each population 367 cannot be modeled with fewer admixture events than shown. (Right) ‘Speculative’ estimates. The highest number of sources (≤5) with admixture estimates within [0,1] are shown for each population. Some of the admixture proportions are not significantly different from 0 (Supplementary Information section 4).

    So either Samara_HG, Karelia_HG, and many other groups from eastern Europe all spoke Uralic according to this ADMIXTURE graphic (and the formation of steppe ancestry in the Volga-Ural region brought the Proto-Indo-European language to the steppes through the CHG/ANE expansion), or a great part of this “Siberian ancestry” found in modern Uralic-speaking populations is not what some people would like to think it is…

    Modern populations

    PCA clines can be looked for to represent expansions of ancient populations. Most recently, Flegontov et al. (2018) are attempting to do this with Asian populations:

    For some Turkic groups in the Urals and the Altai regions and in the Volga basin, a different admixture model fits the data: the same West Eurasian source + Uralic- or Yeniseian-speaking Siberians. Thus, we have revealed an admixture cline between Scythians and the Iranian farmer genetic cluster, and two further clines connecting the former cline to distinct ancestry sources in Siberia. Interestingly, few Wusun-period individuals harbor substantial Uralic/Yeniseian-related Siberian ancestry, in contrast to preceding Scythians and later Turkic groups characterized by the Tungusic/Mongolic-related ancestry. It remains to be elucidated whether this genetic influx reflects contacts with the Xiongnu confederacy. We are currently assembling a collection of samples across the Eurasian steppe for a detailed genetic investigation of the Hunnic confederacies.

    Three distinct East/West Eurasian clines across the continent with some interesting linguistic correlates, as earlier reported by Jeong et al. (2018). Alexander M. Kim.

    There are potential errors with this approach:

    The main one is practical – does a modern cline represent an ancestral language? The answer is: sometimes. It depends on the anthropological context that we have, and especially on the precision of the PCA:

    Genetic structure of the Himalayan region populations from analyses using unlinked SNPs. (A) PCA of the Himalayan and HGDP-CEPH populations. Each dot represents a sample, coded by region as indicated. The Himalayan region samples lie between the HGDP-CEPH East Asian and South Asian samples on the right-hand side of the plot. From Arciero et al. (2018).

    The ‘Europe’, ‘Middle East’, etc. clines of the above PCA do not represent one language, but many. For starters, the PCA includes too many (and modern) populations, its precision is useless for ethnolinguistic groups. Which is the right level? Again, it depends.

    The other error is one of detail of the clines drawn (which, in turn, depends on the precision of the PCA). For example, we can draw two paralell lines (or even one line, as in Flegontov et al. above) in one PCA graphic, but we still don’t have the direction of expansion. How do we know if this supposed “Uralic-speaking cline” goes from one region to the other? For that level of detail, we should examine closely modern Uralic-speaking peoples and Circum-Arctic populations:

    Modified from Tambets et al. (2018). Principal component analysis (PCA) and genetic distances of Uralic-speaking populations. a PCA (PC1 vs PC2) of the Uralic-speaking populations

    The real ancient Uralic cluster (drawn above in blue) is thus probably from a North-East European source (probably formed by Battle Axe / Fatyanovo-Balanovo / Abashevo) to the east into Siberian populations, and to the north into Laplandic populations (see below also on Mezhovska ancestry for the drawn ‘European cline’, which some may a priori wrongly assume to be quite late).

    The fact that the three formed clines point to an admixture of CWC-related populations from North-Eastern Europe, and that variation is greater at the Palaeo-Laplandic and Palaeo-Siberian extremities compared to the CWC-related one, also supports this as the correct interpretation.

    However, judging by the two main clines formed, one could be alternatively inclined to interpret that Palaeo-Laplandic and Palaeo-Siberian populations formed a huge ancestral “Uralic” ghost cluster in Siberia (spanning from the Palaeo-Laplandic to the Palaeo-Siberian one), and from there expanded Finno-Samic on one hand, and “Volga-Ugro-Samoyed” on the other. That poses different problems: an obvious linguistic and archaeological one – which I assume a lot of people do not really care about – , and a not-so-obvious genetic one (see below for ancient samples and for the expansion of haplogroup N).

    To understand the simplest solution better, one can just have a look at the PCA from Bell Beaker samples in Olalde et al. (2018), which (as Reich has already explained many times) expanded directly from Yamna R1b-L23 lineages:

    Image modified from Olalde et al. (2018). PCA of 999 Eurasian individuals. Marked is the Espersted Outlier with the approximate position of Yamna Hungary, probably the source of its admixture. Different Bell Beaker clines have been drawn, to represent approximate source of expansions from Central European sources into the different regions.

    Unlike this PCA with ancient samples, where Bell Beaker clines could be a rough approximation to the real sources for each population, and where a cluster spanning all three depicted Early Bronze Age clusters could give a rough proximate source of European Bell Beakers in Hungary (and where one can even distinguish the Y-DNA bottlenecks in the L23 trunk created by each cline) the PCA of modern Uralic populations is probably not suitable for a good estimate of the ancient situation, which may be found shifted up or down of the drawn “Uralic” cluster along East European groups.

    After all, we already know that the Siberian cline shows probably as much an ancient admixture event – from the original Uralic expansion to the east with Corded Ware ancestry – as another more recent one – a westward migration of Siberian ancestry (or even more than one). While we know with more or less exactitude what happened with the Palaeo-Laplandic admixture by expanding Proto-Finno-Samic populations (see here), the Proto-Ugric and Pre-Samoyedic populations formed probably more than one cline during the different ancient migrations through central Asia.

    Ancient populations

    Apparently, the Corded Ware expansion to the east was not marked by a huge change in ancestry. While the final version of Narasimhan et al. (2018) may show a little more detail about other forest-steppe Seima-Turbino/Andronovo-related migrations (and thus also Eastern Uralic peoples), we have already had enough information for quite some time to get a good idea.

    Principal component analysis. PCA of ancient individuals (according colours see legend) projected on modern West Eurasians (grey). Iron Age Scythians are shown in black; CHG, Caucasus hunter-gatherer; LNBA, late Neolithic/Bronze Age; MN, middle Neolithic; EHG, eastern European huntergatherer; LBK_EN, early Neolithic Linearbandkeramik; HG, hunter-gatherer; EBA, early Bronze Age; IA, Iron Age; LBA, late Bronze Age; WHG, western hunter-gatherer.dataset (grey). Iron Age Scythians are shown in black; CHG, Caucasus hunter-gatherer; LNBA, late Neolithic/Bronze Age; MN, middle Neolithic; EHG, eastern European hunter-gatherer; LBK_EN, early Neolithic Linearbandkeramik; HG, hunter-gatherer; EBA, early Bronze Age; IA, Iron Age; LBA, late Bronze Age; WHG, western hunter-gatherer.

    Mezhovska‘s position is similar to the later Pre-Scythian and Scythian populations. There are some interesting details: apart from haplogroup R1a-Z280 (CTS1211+), there is one R1b-M269 (PF6494+), probably Z2103, and an outlier (out of three) in a similar position to the recently described central/southern Scythian clusters.

    NOTE. The finding of R1b-M269 in the forest-steppe is probably either 1) from an Afanasevo-Okunevo origin, or 2) from an admixture with neighbouring Andronovo-related populations, such as Sargary. A third, maybe less likely option is that this haplogroup admixed with Abashevo directly (as it happened in Sintashta, Potapovka, or Pokrovka) and formed part of early Uralic migrations. In any case, since Mezhovska is a Bronze Age society from the Urals region, its association with R1b-Z2103 – like the association of R1b-Z2103 in Scythian clusters – cannot be attributed to “Thracian peoples”, a link which is (as I already said) too simplistic.

    The drawn “European cline” of Hungarians (see above), leading from ‘west-like’ Mansi to Hungarian populations – and hosting also Finnic and Estonian samples – , cannot therefore be attributed simply to late “Slavic/Balkan-like” admixture.

    Karasuk – located further to the east – is basically also Corded Ware peoples showing clearly a recent admixture with local ANE / Baikal_EN-like populations. In terms of haplogroups it shows haplogroup Q, R1a-Z2124, and R1a-Z2123, later found among early Hungarians, and present also in ancient Samoyedic populations now acculturated.

    The most interesting aspect of both Mezhovska and Karasuk is that they seem to diverge from a point close to Ukraine_Eneolithic, which is the supposed ancestral source of Corded Ware peoples (read more about the formation of “steppe ancestry”). This means that Eastern Uralians derive from a source closer to Middle Dnieper/Abashevo populations, rather than Battle Axe (shifted to Latvian Neolithic), which is more likely the source prevalent in Finno-Permic peoples.

    Their initial admixture with (Palaeo-)Siberian populations is thus seen already starting by this time in Mezhovska and especially in Karasuk, but this process (compared to modern populations) is incomplete:

    Visualization of f-statistics results. f4(Test, LBK; Han, Mbuti) values are plotted on x axis and f4(Test, LBK; EHG, Mbuti) values on y axis, positive deviations from zero show deviations from a clade between Test and LBK. A red dashed line is drawn between Yamnaya from Samara and Ami. Iron Age populations that can be modelled as mixtures of Yamnaya and East Eurasians (like the Ami) are arrayed around this line and appear to be distinct from the main North/South European cline (blue) on the left of the x axis.
    ADMIXTURE results for ancient populations. Red arrows point to the Iron Age Scythian individuals studied. LBK_EN: Early Neolithic Linearbandkeramik; EHG: Eastern European hunter-gatherer; Motala_HG: hunter-gatherer from Motala (Sweden); WHG: western hunter-gatherer; CHG: Caucasus hunter-gatherer; IA: Iron Age; EBA: Early Bronze Age; LBA: Late Bronze Age.

    We know now that Samic peoples expanded during the Late Iron Age into Palaeo-Laplandic populations, admixing with them and creating this modern cline. Finns expanded later to the north (in one of their known genetic bottlenecks), admixing with (and displacing) the Saami in Finland, especially replacing their male lines.

    So how did Ugric and Samoyedic peoples admix with Palaeo-Siberian populations further, to obtain their modern cline? The answer is, logically, with East Asian migrations related to forest-steppe populations of Central Asia after the Mezhovska and Karasuk periods, i.e. during the Iron Age and later. Other groups from the forest-steppe in Central Asia show similar East Asian (“Siberian”) admixture. We know this from Narasimhan et al. (2018):

    (…) we observe samples from multiple sites dated to 1700-1500 BCE (Maitan, Kairan, Oy_Dzhaylau and Zevakinsikiy) that derive up to ~25% of their ancestry from a source related to present-day East Asians and the remainder from Steppe_MLBA. A similar ancestry profile became widespread in the region by the Late Bronze Age, as documented by our time transect from Zevakinsikiy and samples from many sites dating to 1500-1000 BCE, and was ubiquitous by the Scytho-Sarmatian period in the Iron Age.

    We already have some information about these later migrations:

    Very important observation with implication of population turnover is that pre-Turkic Inner Eurasian populations’ Siberian ancestry appears predominantly “Uralic-Yeniseian” in contrast to later dominance of “Tungusic-Mongolic” sort (which does sporadically occur earlier). Alexander M. Kim

    The Ugric-speaking Sargat culture in Western Siberia shows the expected mixture of haplogroups (ca. 500 BC – 500 AD), with 5 samples of hg N and 2 of hg R1a1, in Pilipenko et al. (2017). Although radiocarbon dates and subclades are lacking, N lineages probably spread late, because of the late and gradual admixture of Siberian cultures into the Sargat melting pot.

    The Samoyedic-speaking Tagar culture also shows signs of a genetic turnover in Pilipenko et al. (2018):

    The observed reduction in the genetic distance between the Middle Tagar population and other Scythian like populations of Southern Siberia(Fig 5; S4 Table), in our opinion, is primarily associated with an increase in the role of East Eurasian mtDNA lineages in the gene pool (up to nearly half of the gene pool) and a substantial increase in the joint frequency of haplogroups C and D (from 8.7% in the Early Tagar series to 37.5% in the Middle Tagar series). These features are characteristic of many ancient and modern populations of Southern Siberia and adjacent regions of Central Asia, including the Pazyryk population of the Altai Mountains.

    Before the Iron Age, the Karasuk and Mezhovska population were probably already somehow ‘to the north’ within the ancient Steppe-Altai cline (see image below9 created by expanding Seima-Turbino- and Andronovo-related populations. During the Iron Age, further Siberian contributions with Iranian expansions must have placed Uralians of the Central Asian forest-steppe areas much closer to today’s Palaeo-Siberian cline.

    However, the modern genetic picture was probably fully developed only in historic times, when Samoyedic and Ugric languages expanded to the north, only in part admixing further with Palaeo-Siberian-speaking nomads from the Circum-Arctic region (see here for a recent history of Samoyedic Enets), which justifies their more recent radical ‘northern shift’.

    Modified image from Jeong et al. (2018), supplementary materials. The first two PCs summarizing the genetic structure within 2,077 Eurasian individuals. The two PCs generally mirror geography. PC1 separates western and eastern Eurasian populations, with many inner Eurasians in the middle. PC2 separates eastern Eurasians along the north-south cline and also separates Europeans from West Asians. Ancient individuals (color-filled shapes), including two Botai individuals, are projected onto PCs calculated from present-day individuals.

    This late acquisition of the language by Palaeo-Siberian nomads (without much population replacement) also justifies the wide PCA clusters of very small Siberian populations. See for example in the PCA from Tambets et al. (2018):

    Approximate Ugric and Samoyedic clines (exluding apparent outliers). Modified from Tambets et al. (2018). Principal component analysis (PCA) and genetic distances of Uralic-speaking populations. a PCA (PC1 vs PC2) of the Uralic-speaking populations

    For their relationship with modern Mansi, we have information on Hungarian conqueror populations from Neparáczki et al. (2018):

    Moreover, Y, B and N1a1a1a1a Hg-s have not been detected in Finno-Ugric populations [80–84], implying that the east Eurasian component of the Conquerors and Finno-Ugric people are probably not directly related. The same inference can be drawn from phylogenetic data, as only two Mansi samples appeared in our phylogenetic trees on the side branches (S1 Fig, Networks; 1, 4) suggesting that ancestors of the Mansis separated from Asian ancestors of the Conquerors a long time ago. This inference is also supported by genomic Admixture analysis of Siberian and Northeastern European populations [85], which revealed that Mansis received their eastern Siberian genetic component approximately 5–7 thousand years ago from ancestors of modern Even and Evenki people. Most likely the same explanation applies to the Y-chromosome N-Tat marker which originated from China [86,87] and its subclades are now widespread between various language groups of North Asia and Eastern Europe [88].

    The genetic picture of Hungarians (their formed cline with Mansi and their haplogroups) may be quite useful for the true admixture found originally in Mansi peoples at the beginning of the Iron Age. By now it is clear even from modern populations that Steppe_MLBA ancestry accompanied the Uralic expansion to the east (roughly approximated in the graphic with Afanasievo_EBA + Bichon_LP EasternHG_M):

    Admixture modelling using qpAdm. Maps showing locations and ancestry proportions of ancient (left) and modern (right) groups. From Sikora et al. (2018).

    Continue reading the final post of the series: Corded Ware—Uralic (IV): Haplogroups R1a and N in Finno-Ugric and Samoyedic.

    See also


  • The traditional multilingualism of Siberian populations
  • Iron Age bottleneck of the Proto-Fennic population in Estonia
  • Y-DNA haplogroups of Tuvinian tribes show little effect of the Mongol expansion
  • Corded Ware—Uralic (I): Differences and similarities with Yamna
  • Haplogroup R1a and CWC ancestry predominate in Fennic, Ugric, and Samoyedic groups
  • The Iron Age expansion of Southern Siberian groups and ancestry with Scythians
  • Evolution of Steppe, Neolithic, and Siberian ancestry in Eurasia (ISBA 8, 19th Sep)
  • Mitogenomes from Avar nomadic elite show Inner Asian origin
  • On the origin and spread of haplogroup R1a-Z645 from eastern Europe
  • Oldest N1c1a1a-L392 samples and Siberian ancestry in Bronze Age Fennoscandia
  • Consequences of Damgaard et al. 2018 (III): Proto-Finno-Ugric & Proto-Indo-Iranian in the North Caspian region
  • The concept of “Outlier” in Human Ancestry (III): Late Neolithic samples from the Baltic region and origins of the Corded Ware culture
  • Genetic prehistory of the Baltic Sea region and Y-DNA: Corded Ware and R1a-Z645, Bronze Age and N1c
  • More evidence on the recent arrival of haplogroup N and gradual replacement of R1a lineages in North-Eastern Europe
  • Another hint at the role of Corded Ware peoples in spreading Uralic languages into north-eastern Europe, found in mtDNA analysis of the Finnish population
  • New Ukraine Eneolithic sample from late Sredni Stog, near homeland of the Corded Ware culture