Mares P.W.: Vladimír Hirsch’s Memories of Mars (Op. 101) as an Intermedial Reinterpretation of Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles

Author Note 

This paper arises from a collaborative written dialogue between composer Vladimír Hirsch and writer-semiotician Mares P. W., who together explore the compositional, semiotic, and temporal frameworks underlying Memories of Mars (Op. 101). Their exchange bridges creative practice and critical analysis, reflecting the album’s intermedial ethos—where music and literature, interpretation and composition, converge within a shared architecture of sound. Meta Statement The study treats Hirsch’s Memories of Mars as a case of sound thinking—an experiment in translating temporal and linguistic structures into spectral form, where music functions as temporal literature. It expands the scope of literary analysis beyond language, demonstrating how compositional form can enact narrative cognition through sound. Furthermore, it proposes that Hirsch’s compositional logic operates analogously to cosmological dynamics, where spectral pressure and decay determine whether narrative memory dissipates or crystallizes into form. 

Abstract 

      Vladimír Hirsch’s Memories of Mars (Op. 101), released in 2025 by Epidemie Records, is a chronological sonic reconstruction of Ray Bradbury’s internally dated The Martian Chronicles (1950). Composed between 2021 and 2024, the album comprises sixteen tracks, each aligned with a chapter-year from Bradbury’s timeline. It transforms narrative chronology—an allegory of colonial ambition and existential exile—into auditory architecture, merging dark-ambient, neoclassical, and post-industrial idioms through Hirsch’s integrated techniques.  This study examines the album’s temporal design, semiotic translation, and spectral structure, situating it within frameworks of intermedial theory, cognitive design, and linguistic minimalism. By uniting compositional analysis with semiotic interpretation, it demonstrates how Memories of Mars embodies a new model of editorial composition—a posthuman archive of memory that treats sound not as accompaniment to literature but as a parallel medium of philosophical reflection. 

Keywords: Vladimír Hirsch; Memories of Mars; The Martian Chronicles; intermediality; musical semiotics; temporal composition; post-industrial neoclassicism; posthuman aesthetics. 

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Vladimír Hirsch - Memories Of Mars

1. Introduction — Context, Composer, and Research Questions 

Vladimír Hirsch, a composer based in Czechia, fuses classical structure with industrial and dark ambient sound design. Across more than three decades and over a hundred opus numbers, he has cultivated a distinctive aesthetic uniting metaphysical rigor with technological precision—an approach he terms integrated techniques, where acoustic and electronic timbres, sacred modal inflections, and electroacoustic textures form a single expressive continuum (Hirsch, 2025). Memories of Mars (Op. 101) occupies a singular position in Hirsch’s oeuvre. Unlike his other works, this album adheres to a complete literary chronology, translating the internal timeline of Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles (1950) into a unified sonic architecture. Rather than thematic abstraction, Hirsch allows time itself to dictate musical form, producing a reanimation of Bradbury’s dystopian allegory through sound, structure, and existential atmosphere (Bradbury, 1950). Bradbury’s Mars functions as both utopia and ruin, reflecting mid-century human moral decline. Hirsch’s sixteen-track album—from Epigraph to Reflexion—follows the chronology with ritual precision. However, it does not narrate; it transposes narrative temporality into acoustic space, where silence, resonance, and harmonic decay perform the same mnemonic and rhetorical functions as prose (Smalley, 1997). Hirsch’s reconstruction of The Martian Chronicles can be understood as a cosmological experiment: a sonic universe where every resonance functions like a wave of memory, subject to decay, interference, and emergence. In this sense, composition becomes not only intermedial but cosmogenic — an art of structuring the audible cosmos of human reflection. 

The study addresses several critical questions: 
● What compositional logic drives Hirsch’s strict adherence to Bradbury’s internal dating? 
● Why employ a non-lexical Martian language rather than explicit motifs or quotations? 
● How does the Czech translation of The Million-Year Picnic (Výlet na milion let) influence tonal irony and pacing? 
● Why are The Silent Towns and There Will Come Soft Rains absent from public metadata yet conceptually mapped? 
● What role does Byron’s “So, we’ll go no more a roving” play in reframing Martian ruins? 
● How does Hirsch negotiate authorship in reconstructing another writer’s temporal architecture? These questions frame an inquiry into temporal composition as literary reinterpretation, where music reconstructs not only atmosphere but the epistemic logic of a text (Clüver, 2007; Rajewsky, 2005). 

2. Vladimír Hirsch: Context and Compositional Philosophy 

Trained as a pianist from an early age and later teaching himself the organ, he soon turned away from the role of interpreter of others’ works, driven instead by a lifelong desire to compose. While he studied medicine at Charles University in Prague, his musical development remained self‑taught, shaped by an independent pursuit of composition rather than formal academic study. 

His work integrates contemporary classical composition, dark ambient, and industrial sound design through his “integrated techniques,” merging tonal and atonal, acoustic and electronic, sacred and secular materials. Hirsch describes this as an “alchemical transubstantiation of sound,” where digital 
techniques expand action potential of expression and redefine spatial function. From 1986 to 1996, Hirsch was a member of the post-punk ensemble Der Marabu and later founded Aghiatrias, Skrol, Zygote, and Subpop Squeeze, each exploring facets of acoustic architecture—the construction of sonic structures via harmonic stratification and textural juxtaposition (Hirsch, 2025). Hirsch’s mature aesthetic, fully realized in his solo work, rejects linear narrative in favor of acoustic symbolism. Sound functions as semantic energy, preceding and transcending language. His compositions act as semiotic environments, navigating symbolic tension through timbre, resonance, and tone physicality (Nattiez, 1990; Tarasti, 1994). Prague’s layered architecture—Gothic, Baroque, Cold War—provides both metaphor and method. Hirsch transforms the city’s visible history into audible architecture of memory. In Memories of Mars, this philosophy extends to intermedial terrain: literature becomes sound, fiction becomes environment, and Mars emerges as the locus of human memory and technological melancholy. Hirsch’s approach to Memories of Mars reveals a rare form of mnemonic authorship. Although based on Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles (1950), the album was not composed through direct re-reading or textual study. Hirsch recalls first encountering the novel during adolescence and rereading it only in youth, never again in preparation for the album. Yet the affective impressions—its atmospheres, moral undertones, and metaphysical solitude—remained vividly encoded in his 
memory. The resulting composition thus emerges not as adaptation but as retrieval: a work transcribed from long-term affective memory rather than linguistic recall. This process exemplifies what cognitive semioticians might term affective mnemonics—the capacity of emotional memory to preserve narrative logic independent of textual reproduction (Eco, 1979; Nattiez, 1990). Hirsch’s “remembered” Mars becomes less a setting than a mental architecture reconstructed through 
sound. 

Vladimír Hirsch - Memories Of Mars banner

3. Technical Foundation and Contributors 

Memories of Mars was recorded 2021–2024 at 16-bit/44.1 kHz, released as a limited-edition CD digipak (20 copies) and digitally via Epidemie Records. Hirsch composed and performed electronic, synthesizer, and keyboard elements, using also various electroacoustically manipulated sources of sounds (field recordings et al), integrating ambient, neoclassical, and post-industrial vocabularies. Vocal contributions: Nadya Feir, Dawn Carlyle, Lisa El, and Martina Sanollová perform the invented Martian phonology—non-semantic phonemes functioning as sound-symbols (Jakobson, 1960). Instrumental contributions: Czech Integrated Ensemble (Track 5, Summer Night Concert). Production: Ars Morta Universum. Track 7, And the Moon Be Still As Bright, includes Byron’s poem “So, we’ll go no more a roving”, recited anonymously, embedded within a post-industrial soundscape. Beyond its sonic embedding, the poem—also cited by Bradbury in the source text—carries a central symbolic weight: in simple yet resonant language, it conveys a sense of sadness and nostalgia, the recognition that what was once beautiful has irretrievably ended and cannot be repeated. This intertextual layering enacts a metasemiotic reflection on language decay and cultural memory (Kristeva, 1980; Smalley, 1997). 

4. Methodology 

This study employs an integrated approach combining chronological mapping, semiotic interpretation, 
and spectral analysis to examine Memories of Mars as an intermedial reconstruction of Bradbury’s The 
Martian Chronicles. The methodology rests on three pillars: 

1. Chronological Juxtaposition

Each track is aligned with Bradbury’s internally dated chapters (1999–2026), allowing analysis of temporal translation from literature to sound (Rajewsky, 2005). 

2. Semiotic Reading

Tracks are interpreted according to their symbolic, affective, and narrative correspondences with Bradbury’s themes of colonization, nostalgia, and extinction (Jakobson, 1960; Nattiez, 1990). 

3. Spectral Analysis

Examination of frequency stratification, harmonic density, timbral layering, and spatial diffusion, following Smalley’s (1997) spectromorphology framework (analyzing sound by its shape and texture). Each composition is treated as a soundtext, with meaning merging through interplay of symbolic reference and acoustic phenomenology. The study prioritizes qualitative interpretive rigor over conventional score-based analysis, reflecting Hirsch’s use of integrated techniques, where sound objects themselves convey semiotic, temporal, and narrative information. 

5. Chronological Structure and Interpretive Logic 

Bradbury’s fictional chronology begins in 1999. Memories of Mars follows Bradbury’s internal chronology from Rocket Summer (1999) to The Million-Year Picnic (2026), with each track functioning as a discrete interpretive response rather than illustrative adaptation. Hirsch’s sequencing mirrors the temporal rhythm of Bradbury’s episodes—accelerated colonization, moments of stillness, and cycles of 
reflection—while transposing narrative temporality into acoustic experience. The album becomes an 
editorial reauthoring of literary time, where sound performs memory, atmosphere, and thematic 
resonance (Rajewsky, 2005; Clüver, 2007). 

A detailed mapping of the correspondences between Bradbury’s chapters and Hirsch’s tracks is provided in the Annex: Intermedial Correspondences — Bradbury ↔ Hirsch (see Appendix A). 

Vladimír Hirsch / Memories Of Mars (CD digipak - outer) 

Track Analyses 

1. Epigraph (Rocket Summer) 
A tonal ignition of planetary warmth. Low-frequency oscillations (~40–60 Hz) evoke planetary mass, while high spectral glissandi (>8 kHz) introduce fragile luminosity. The track enacts temporal ignition, translating the rocket-induced melting of winter into harmonic warmth, marking the transition from Earthly past to Martian future (Smalley, 1997). 

2. Mars Is Heaven! 
Bitonal harmonic layering destabilizes nostalgia. Metallic resonance evokes human technology, while 
spectral decay mirrors the ephemeral nature of utopia. Indexical ambiguity allows the listener to 
experience both memory and alien otherness simultaneously (Nattiez, 1990). 

3. Visitors (The Settlers) 
Percussive pulses and suspended chords emulate arrival without permanence. Temporal compression 
mirrors settlers’ transient presence, highlighting colonization as industrial intrusion on Martian space 
(Clüver, 2007). 

4. Telepathic Romance (Ylla) 
Bimodal vocal textures (Feir, El) chant in sustained intervals of one second and a tritone. The invented 
Martian phonology functions as phonosemiosis, conveying presence without semantic meaning. Extended reverb simulates telepathic distance, creating an auditory metaphor for delayed communication across space-time (Jakobson, 1960; Smalley, 1997). 

5. Summer Night Concert (The Summer Night) 
Ensemble strings oscillate between consonant clusters and blurred glissandi over a D minor harmonic field. Spatial diffusion and binaural panning construct a shared dreamscape. Repetition serves mnemonic insistence, paralleling the collectivization of consciousness in Bradbury’s narrative (Rajewsky, 2005). 

6. Deceptive Idyll (The Naming of Names) 
Unstable harmonic intervals critique colonial nomenclature. Overlapping E minor and F minor triads 
produce psychoacoustic tension, simultaneously evoking familiarity and alienation. Low-frequency 
beating (~6–8 Hz) functions as a Martian heartbeat underlying the sonic texture (Schaeffer, 1966). 

7. And the Moon Be Still As Bright 
Intertextual semiotics: Byron’s “So, we’ll go no more a roving” is embedded within post-industrial textures. Deep synthetic resonance (~70 Hz) and slow harmonic beating simulate acoustic interference of memory, situating human words as linguistic fossils in Martian dust (Kristeva, 1980; Smalley, 1997). 

8. Locusts 
Mechanizes migration via staccato bursts that accumulate into a sonic swarm, translating colonization as industrial entropy. The basic sound theme imitates the attacks of insect clouds, with envelope compression and rhythmic iteration producing a visceral, machine-like motion (Clüver, 2007). 

9. Sacred Ruins 
Translates Captain Wilder’s confrontation into spatial hollowness and resonant percussion. Harmonic 
suspension and spectral layering evoke architectural decay, preserving themes of erosion and ethical 
reflection (Bradbury, 1950). 

10. Interim 
A tonal placeholder of arrested time. Narrow spatial imaging and sustained harmonics evoke temporal 
stasis, inviting recursive listening and interpretive engagement (Nattiez, 1990). 

11. Windboats (Way in the Middle of the Air) 
High‑frequency sheens suggest vertical ascension, while cyclic shifts in stereo placement and Doppler‑like phasing create environmental spaciousness. The soundscape evokes Martian winds transporting human remnants—memories of the idyll of original life—represented through the image of airships pulled by birds. This layering transforms outer space into an expressive sonic topology (Morton, 2018). 

12. Usher 2 
Channels Poe through industrial decay and architectural fragmentation. Midrange harmonic density mirrors psychological erosion, while orchestration references Gothic literary aesthetics (Eco, 1979). 

13. Silent Towns 
Conceptually present but deliberately absent from public metadata. Spectral erosion and filtered harmonics embody deserted civilization, extending Bradbury’s thematic irony (Bradbury, 1950). 

14. There Will Come Soft Rains 
Also omitted from public metadata. Granular noise and high‑frequency automation imitate mechanical 
birdsong, gradually decaying into sub‑bass drones (~40 Hz) that symbolize the collapse of 
anthropocentric order (Smalley, 1997). The soundscape reflects the robotic functions that continue to 
serve absent inhabitants, dramatizing the futility of technique in the wake of human extinction and the 
inevitable failure of mechanisms once their purpose has vanished. 

15. Trip of a Lifetime (Výlet na milion let) 
Elongated pacing and tonal distance reflect the irony embedded in the Czech translation. Sparse 
harmonic layers evoke reflective nostalgia and posthuman temporality (Braidotti, 2013). 

16. Reflexion (archaic reflection) 
Closing sequence in mirrored restraint. Hirsch deliberately chooses the archaic spelling Reflexion, 
signaling active reinterpretation rather than passive reflection. Ascending F minor against descending 
C major forms an aural palindrome, with a 12‑second reverb tail enacting Derrida’s différance, folding each sound back into itself. Martian phonemes embody Barthes’ “grain of the voice,” restoring a prelinguistic presence (Barthes, 1977; Derrida, 1967). The symbolic resonance extends beyond sound: echoing Bradbury’s narrative, a man from the human family destroys documents in a fire, the last to burn being a map of the Earth. In the aftermath, he offers his sons a gift in the form of a new world, introducing them to the Martians—revealed as their own reflection in the water. 

6. Literary, Linguistic, and Semiotic Design in Memories of Mars 

Hirsch performs literary reframing rather than musical adaptation. The Martian phonology—non-lexical, affective vocal gestures—preserves opacity and otherness, reflecting the alienation central to Bradbury’s narrative (Jakobson, 1960). These phonemes operate as sound-symbols, carrying meaning through physical articulation rather than semantic content. Intertextual layers, such as Byron’s “So, we’ll go no more a roving” in Track 7, embed human linguistic memory within post-industrial soundscapes, creating linguistic fossils in Martian dust (Kristeva, 1980). Conceptually absent tracks (13 and 14) extend Bradbury’s themes of isolation and automation, demonstrating absence as a semantic instrument. At the semiotic level, sound acts as a signifier both of itself and of literary phenomena. For example, Epigraph uses low-frequency oscillations (~40–60 Hz) to signify planetary mass and high-frequency glissandi (>8 kHz) to evoke light, mirroring the transformation of winter in Rocket Summer. In Ylla, tritone vocal intervals symbolize alien otherness, while sustained reverb simulates telepathic distance (Smalley, 1997; Nattiez, 1990). Summer Night Concert constructs a collective dreamscape, with binaural panning and harmonic layering translating communal consciousness into spatialized sound. And the Moon Be Still As Bright enacts a metasemiotic reflection, embedding Byron’s verse as decayed linguistic matter within the Martian environment (Kristeva, 1980; Smalley, 1997). Thus, Memories of Mars not only transposes text into sound but redefines narration as resonance, 
positioning music as a site where language, space, and emotion converge into post-verbal cognition. 

Vladimír Hirsch / Memories Of Mars (CD digipak - inner)

7. Theoretical Framework: Semiotic and Cognitive Design 

Hirsch’s work functions at the intersection of cognition, semiotics, and perceptual design, encouraging 
recursive listening akin to literary interpretation (Rajewsky, 2005). Each sound object is simultaneously: 
● Poietic: Hirsch’s compositional intention translating literary imagery into sound 
● Neutral: Material sound itself (frequency, texture, dynamics) 
● Esthesic: Listener reconstruction of meaning (Nattiez, 1990) 

The neutral level dominates, allowing acoustic objects themselves to perform narrative. This approach 
situates Memories of Mars within intermediality, where literature is translated into sonic experience without reduction (Clüver, 2007). Philosophically, Hirsch’s soundscape embodies posthuman temporality and dark ecology: Mars becomes an epistemic environment where human emotion coexists with nonhuman ambience (Braidotti, 2013; Morton, 2018). Hirsch’s refusal to reread Bradbury, composing instead from emotional recollection, reinforces this posthuman cognition: his memory itself becomes a medium of transmission, an archive in which human and nonhuman perception merge. 

7.1 Cosmological Analogy of Sound 
The dialogue between Hirsch and Mares P. W. extends this framework toward cosmological semiotics. If the universe possesses an effective pressure, its fluctuations behave as sound—ripples through the 
medium of existence. Hirsch’s spectral logic mirrors this principle: where pressure (β) is low, narrative and memory dissipate into silence; where it intensifies, structures condense into harmonic form. 
This β-analogy redefines Memories of Mars as a microcosm of structure formation: every resonance 
acts as a miniature cosmogenesis, determining whether recollection dissolves or crystallizes into order. 
Composition here is not depiction—it is world-making through resonance, a sonic cosmology of 
persistence. 

8. Spectral, Temporal, and Sonic Design 

8.1 Spectral Stratification 
● Sub-bass (20–60 Hz): Gravitation and planetary mass 
● Midrange (200–800 Hz): Textural interweaving of orchestral and electronic timbres 
● High partials (8–12 kHz): Light, atmospheric thinness 
Bitonal and microtonal juxtapositions (e.g., E minor vs. F minor in Deceptive Idyll) create psychoacoustic tension, low-frequency beating (~6–8 Hz) functions as Martian heartbeat (Schaeffer, 1966; Smalley, 1997). 

8.2 Temporal Translation 
Tracks mirror narrative logic acoustically: 
● Ignition: Epigraph 
● Encounter: Ylla / Telepathic Romance 
● Erosion: Sacred Ruins 
● Automation: There Will Come Soft Rains 
● Reflection: Reflexion 
Phase blurs and staggered attack times simulate collective dream states (Summer Night Concert), while 
Locusts compresses envelopes for mechanized swarm effect (Rajewsky, 2005). 

8.3 Spatialization 
Stereo imaging, spectral diffusion, and binaural panning construct a dense Martian topology. Windboats’ cyclic stereo shifts simulate rotation; Doppler-like phasing conveys Martian winds carrying human remnants (Morton, 2018). 

8.4 Timbral Semiotics 
Early tracks emphasize metallic resonance—symbols of arrival and construction—while later tracks 
dissolve into granular noise (Silent Towns, There Will Come Soft Rains), signaling technological decay 
and the erosion of meaning. 

8.5 Voice as Instrument 
Martian phonology oscillates between liturgical chant and glossolalia. Elongated vowels and sibilants, 
amplified through cathedral‑like reverb (and TrueVerb) spatial delay, transform the voice into a resonant texture that hovers between ritual and abstraction—half human, half mechanical. Detached from syntax, the vocal line becomes a semiotic residue—an imprint of consciousness without language, embodying Barthes’ notion of the “grain of the voice” (Barthes, 1977). 

Editorial Note: In Hirsch’s own terminology, the effect is described as “spacy delay.” While this phrasing is informal, it is retained here to reflect the musician’s vocabulary and aesthetic intent. In technical terms, the process corresponds to spatial delay/reverb. 

8.6 Intertextuality 
Byron’s verse in Track 7 performs a metasemiotic gesture, embedding human language as decayed 
material within Martian acoustic space (Kristeva, 1980). 

9. Interpretive Typology 

Hirsch’s compositional strategies can be summarized in three interlocking dimensions: 
1. Temporal Correspondence – The years 1999 to 2026 function as tonal epochs, producing an 
aural timeline in which frequency and harmonic density replace prose chronology. 
2. Linguistic Transformation – The invented Martian phonology and Byron’s verse trace the decline 
of human language from communication to echo, articulating post-semantic meaning. 
3. Spatial Semiosis. Reverb, spatial delay of cathedral and similar types, stereo spread, and spectral 
width function as grammatical markers, guiding listener perception. Together these axes form a cognitive architecture of sound, where listening itself becomes a form of 
temporal literacy (Nattiez, 1990). 

10. Intermedial Aesthetics 

As Clüver (2007) notes, intermediality is transmutation, not imitation. Hirsch reconstructs Bradbury’s 
affective architecture so that each track functions as a sonic ruin, layering harmony, phonemes, and 
echoes of extinct dreams. Long sustains and delayed attacks translate literary time into acoustic 
resonance, establishing a temporal topology where memory lingers as sound (Rajewsky, 2005).  
The result is a performative correspondence between fiction and frequency: meaning is not narrated 
but resonated. 

11. Applications: AI, Augmented Cognition, and Synthetic Symbiosis 

Hirsch’s Memories of Mars not only reconstructs literary temporality in sound but also gestures toward 
emerging paradigms in artificial intelligence, augmented cognition, and human–machine symbiosis. 
Treating sound as a computational medium of narrative information, the album anticipates how musical 
architectures might serve as cognitive substrates for AI-mediated perception. 

11.1 AI and Narrative Cognition 
The album’s temporal precision and layered semiotics offer a model for machine interpretation of narrative structures. Each track functions as an algorithmic sequence encoding literary logic into spectral data. AI systems could employ similar mappings to translate complex temporal narratives into multimodal outputs—sonic, visual, or haptic—allowing machines to reconfigure human cultural memory. Hirsch’s phonemic abstraction and spectral temporality point toward a framework for processing meaning beyond lexical semantics, privileging resonance, causality, and structure. 

11.2 Augmented Human Cognition 
By externalizing reflection and temporality into acoustic form, Memories of Mars acts as a cognitive 
prosthesis. Listeners reconstruct temporal sequences recursively, paralleling augmented-cognition models that scaffold attention, memory, and decision-making. The translation from Bradbury’s text to Hirsch’s sound prefigures interfaces in human–machine augmentation, where spatialized semiotic architectures enhance creative reasoning or memory retention. Spectral layering and binaural panning thus offer prototypes for spatialized memory systems or adaptive neural feedback loops. 

11.3 Synthetic Symbiosis and Posthuman Aesthetics 
Hirsch’s hybrid orchestration—merging acoustic, electronic, and computationally informed sound—models a proto-symbiotic relationship between human intention and synthetic process. The album exemplifies a co-creative environment: composer, performers, and algorithmic structures act as an integrated system. In future research, such symbiosis could inform AI platforms where human sensitivity and machine optimization co-produce art or knowledge (Braidotti, 2013). 

11.4 Implications for Future Research 
Memories of Mars functions as a conceptual laboratory, illustrating how sound can encode temporal, 
semiotic, and narrative complexity. Potential future directions include: 
● AI-driven compositional analysis: training models to identify temporal logic, affective markers, 
and spectral symbolism in multi-modal art forms. 
● Cognitive augmentation interfaces: employing auditory and spatialized semiotic architectures to 
enhance memory, attention, or creative reasoning. 
● Human–machine co-creation: exploring collaborative frameworks where composers, AI agents, 
and performers dynamically generate adaptive soundscapes reflecting emergent narrative 
structures. 
● Synthetic archives of cultural cognition: translating literature, history, or philosophical thought 
into semiotic sound environments, enabling preservation and reactivation of human knowledge in 
posthuman contexts. 

Thus, Hirsch’s work not only reinterprets Bradbury’s chronicle but anticipates the convergence of art, 
cognition, and technology, demonstrating that sound can operate simultaneously as a medium of 
reflection and as substrate for augmented intelligence. 

11.5. Limitations of Synthetic Cognition 
Hirsch himself resists the idea of artificial cognition as currently conceived, emphasizing that “where words end, music begins.” His skepticism reveals a crucial boundary in AI discourse: the inability of algorithmic systems to embody affective resonance, emotion, and imagination—the very media through which music communicates. The dialogue between composer and analyst therefore enacts a dialectic between computation and consciousness, revealing that while AI may model narrative structure, it cannot yet inhabit its affective core. 

12. Discussion: Posthuman Memory and Editorial Authorship 

Sound is memory’s final refuge. Hirsch’s hybrid use of electronic and orchestral instruments creates a 
posthuman ontology, where analog and digital electronics emulate organic resonance and strings mirror 
spectral smoothness. Reflexion closes the cycle through an aural palindrome that enacts Derrida’s (1967) différance—sound perpetually deferring its own meaning. Editorial authorship becomes crucial: through deliberate selection, sequencing, and omission (Silent Towns, There Will Come Soft Rains), Hirsch transforms absence into meaning, decentering the composer within a collective sonic identity (Braidotti, 2013). Mars, in this sense, becomes a metaphor for fragility not only of civilization but of significance itself. 

13. Synaptic Encounter — Language in the Elements 

Figure 1: Field encounter with Memories of Mars — Material, elemental, and mnemonic convergence, 
Mares P. W. 
The encounter with the album above the charred ground (see Figure 1) is not merely aesthetic; it 
constitutes a field experiment in which human memory, material medium, and elemental forces converge. Within this moment, the act of perception itself becomes analytical: the listener’s cognition, the physical artifact, and the natural environment form an integrated semiotic system. Because the author is a language synesthete, language is apprehended not as abstraction but as sensory 
event. Fire, ash, and water therefore operate not as imposed symbols but as pre-existent 
scripts—grammars inscribed within the elements themselves. 
● Fire as inscription. A compact disc is written by a laser’s heat; fire thus becomes an emblem of 
memory etched into matter. The burning process materializes language as heat—an act of searing 
the immaterial into permanence. 
● Ash as forgetting. When combustion ends, residue remains: a syntax of erasure, the trace of 
meaning fading into silence. 
● Water as recollection. Rain intervenes as a counterforce, cleansing yet continuous. Across mythic 
and philosophical traditions, water functions as an archive of origins, returning what was lost to 
circulation. 

This triadic interplay dramatizes the instability of remembrance: inscription, destruction, and recollection perpetually coexist. The synapsis—literally “connection”—designates the moment where these forces meet, comparable to a neural spark through which new meaning arises. 

Physics as Semiotic Continuum 
The extension from semiotics to physics follows naturally. Physics, too, constitutes a language system—a script of forces and relations through which matter communicates. In the early universe, matter itself “spoke” through oscillations: pressure within the primordial plasma resisted collapse, generating acoustic ripples that determined whether energy dissipated or condensed into form. Physicists describe this equilibrium through the parameter β, a ratio defining the balance between pressure 
and density. 
● When β is small, pressure smooths irregularities: structure dissolves into uniformity—an act of 
cosmic forgetting. 
● When β is large, pressure amplifies fluctuations: matter clumps into galaxies and stars—an act of 
inscription and remembrance. 
Thus, β functions as a measure of whether existence forgets or remembers, whether it erases or records 
its own emergence. 

Hirsch’s Spectral Architecture as Cosmological Analogy 

Hirsch’s spectral architecture mirrors this cosmological grammar. His compositional pressure—the tension between resonance and silence—determines whether musical memory dissipates or crystallizes. Just as β governs the fate of cosmic structures, Hirsch’s integrated techniques govern the fate of Bradbury’s temporal architecture in sound. The analogy is structural rather than ornamental: both physics and music articulate systems of inscription, erasure, and survival. 

The Experiment and the Metaphor 
Viewed through this lens, Memories of Mars becomes both experiment and metaphor. The physical 
gesture—holding the disc above embers in the rain—materializes the dialogue among the elements. Fire, ash, and water form the alphabet of memory; physics provides its grammar; and Hirsch’s soundscape becomes its literature—fragile yet enduring precisely because it is exposed to dissolution. 
The field encounter thus signifies the convergence of three languages: 
1. the elemental script of fire, ash, and water; 
2. the cosmic script of β and sound waves; 
3. the musical script of Hirsch’s spectral architecture. 
At their intersection lies the synapsis—the connective spark through which all languages of memory 
communicate. In this liminal zone, matter, sound, and consciousness coalesce, ensuring that memory, 
though mutable, persists. 

Transitional Note 

In this synthesis of the elemental, the cosmic, and the musical, Memories of Mars transcends medium to become a theory of persistence. The album’s sonic universe behaves like the cosmos itself—an unstable equilibrium between inscription and erasure, between fire and silence. It is from this equilibrium that the final argument of the study emerges: that sound, as Hirsch conceives it, is not merely expressive form 
but temporal literature—a language through which existence remembers itself. 

14. Conclusion: Sound as Temporal Literature 

Memories of Mars demonstrates that music can think in sound. Chronology, frequency, timbre, and voice together achieve narrative sophistication equivalent to prose, transforming Bradbury’s speculative fiction into sonic epistemology. Fidelity here is conceptual, not mimetic: sound encodes memory, space, and identity. Hirsch redefines literature as audible architecture, where extinction, reflection, and memory persist beyond human presence (Morton, 2018). Just as cosmological structures depend on the balance of pressure and gravity, Hirsch’s spectral composition depends on the balance between dissolution and form. If β is too low, memory smooths into silence; if too high, it fractures into noise. Memories of Mars operates in the critical regime between the two — the universe’s own listening point, where narrative resists both chaos and stasis. 

References 

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3. Braidotti, R. (2013). The posthuman. Polity Press. 
4. Bradbury, R. (1950). The Martian chronicles. Doubleday. 
5. Chion, M. (1994). Audio-vision: Sound on screen (C. Gorbman, Trans.). Columbia University Press. 
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https://doi.org/10.7202/1005503ar 
7. Derrida, J. (1967). De la grammatologie. Éditions de Minuit. 
8. Eco, U. (1979). The role of the reader: Explorations in the semiotics of texts. Indiana University 
Press. 
9. Hirsch, V. (2025). Memories of Mars [Album liner notes]. Epidemie Records. 
https://vladimirhirsch.bandcamp.com/album/memories-of-mars-2 
10. Jakobson, R. (1960). Closing statement: Linguistics and poetics. In T. A. Sebeok (Ed.), Style in 
language (pp. 350–377). MIT Press. 
11. Kristeva, J. (1980). Desire in language: A semiotic approach to literature and art. Columbia 
University Press. 
12. Merleau-Ponty, M. (1945). Phénoménologie de la perception. Gallimard. 
13. Morton, T. (2018). Being ecological. MIT Press. 
14. Mukhanov, V. F. (2005). Physical foundations of cosmology. Cambridge University Press. 
15. Nattiez, J.-J. (1990). Music and discourse: Toward a semiology of music (C. Abbate, Trans.). 
Princeton University Press. 
16. Peirce, C. S. (1998). The essential Peirce: Selected philosophical writings (Vol. 2, 1893–1913). 
Indiana University Press. 
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intermediality. Intermédialités / Intermediality, 6, 43–64. https://doi.org/10.7202/1005505ar 
18. Schaeffer, P. (1966). Traité des objets musicaux. Éditions du Seuil. 
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Maria Petrova (aka Mares P.W.), November 2025

An Attempt at Analysis of Resistance to the Czech State's One-Word Name

One day, almost twenty years after the establishment of the modern Czech state, one of the most active fighters for the one-word name of this country said: „I wonder why such a united front opposes the name Česko and its English version. Just only the English version. We should call a symposium on this subject“. I shared both his astonishment and his exhaustion. Right, the meaning of his question was the rhetorical „Quo usque tandem…..“. Still, I decided to try a possibly thorough analysis of this phenomenon, which is surviving persistently in all layers of Czech society.

I. Reasons

In the beginning, let us examine some facts that fundamentally determine this phenomenon, even if they do not touch it directly and thus escape the standard detection methods. As we know, the attitude of the average Czech to his homeland is more indifferent than other Europeans´ relationship to their own countries. The mentioned characteristic makes the citizen less resistant to external and internal pressures and, consequently, unable to understand (let alone protect) his vital interests. If these statements are correct, we should ask about the reasons for this situation. They are the following:

 1  The historical loss of national self-confidence, a late offspring of the "Munich" complex. Back in September 1938, the lack of courage showed by the state's political representation paralyzed a large part of the nation. As a result of this psychological trauma, the people patiently surrendered to fate, and their morality disintegrated without recovery. This subject deserves a much more detailed analysis, which falls outside the scope of this article. There may be different views on how we should or should not behave at a historically significant moment. Still, one thing is sure: The decision to act so that the majority of the people survive physically, resulted in the downfall of national pride and damaging the people's characters, despite the heroic deeds done by those who did not accept the situation.

 2  The Czechs' high degree of identification with the Czechoslovak State. Few people are aware that the Czech National Revival was essentially all-Slavic. This movement was the intellectual center of the emancipation of Slavic peoples in the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. Therefore, the Czechs spontaneously adopted the feeling that they are "Czecho-Slavic" or "Czecho-Slovak". So, the Czech legions in WW1 called themselves "Czechoslovak," although we could only exceptionally find any Slovak soldiers among them. A similar situation was in the fight with Hungary over Slovakia's southern border in 1919. During the existence of Czechoslovakia, the Czechs usually did not hesitate to call themselves Czechoslovaks, but we could hardly find a similar approach beyond our present-day eastern border. The state was much more Czech than Slovak, and so its break-up affected Czechs much more deeply. We feel the results of this disillusionment up to the present day.​

 3  A "flagellant syndrome", which manifested itself in the prominent politicians' activities after the "velvet revolution“. So, for example, the Czech-German declaration in the 1990s, "solving" seemingly after years the problem between Czechs and Germans after WWII: while the German side included the expressions "we admit that..." and "we are aware of..." (six years' terror and genocide in Czechia), the Czech part says humbly and faithfully "we regret" (meaning the crimes committed during the expulsion of the Sudeten Germans after the war). Good from the Czech side, but, the term is not merely a sign of goodwill for Germans: it is a sign of weakness.

 4  Praising and admiring the incompetent multiculturalism as against the precious domestic cultural values which disappeared from people's consciousness. Getting to know one's roots is a necessary step to universal values and cannot be labeled as nationalistic. The universally proclaimed cosmopolitanism and post-positivism have never worked as a real striving for the world's civil society but as an escape from responsibility for one's environment. Only if we respect our own identity, we become a creative and beneficial part of the world. If not, we join the grey average and fall into oblivion. Still, from the viewpoint of the "citizens of the world", the feeling of being a Czech is a sort of naive, faded junk that turned into a social faux-pas.

 5  A complete departure of foreign policy from the traditional friendly relations and bonds which had inspired the international respect for our country. As we have already mentioned, it was in the 19th century that the Czechs constituted the intellectual center of the Slavic nations´ striving for emancipation. During the twenty years´ existence of the modern state, we managed to bury forever the remnants of these traditions (the official recognition of Kosovo, among others). We presented ourselves as opportunists who refuse to learn not only from negative but - beyond common sense - even from positive experiences of our past. Metaphorically, the foreign policy of the modern Czech state is the policy of a paper-boat captain on Victoria's waterfall. To put it bluntly, there is no foreign policy, there is merely servility to the powers; the only difference from the previous (communist) practice lies in the direction of its vector to one or the other cardinal points.

 6  The tragic level of education and information sources in general. The schools and the media often ignore or discredit historical and cultural milestones, personalities, and events on which a citizen could authentically build his national pride. On the contrary, education in this country resembles something like instruction in the inferiority complex. The media, nowadays a universal source of knowledge, play a significant role in this process. They find support in the current quasi-critical historiography, which emphasizes historical antagonisms and does not help the citizen to come to terms with the country's history.

As a result, national pride is mostly present when the "Czech Republic" wins a sports championship, and it lasts as long as the proud citizen gets sober and returns to everyday reality. This sort of patriotism manifests itself by the fans' jumping and shouting, "Češi, do toho!" - "Czechs, ahead!" One would expect the name of the country instead, but the Czech Republic is too long to chant, the acronym CR a bit weird, and Česko? No, the Czechs do not like it. Why? The answer is obvious: Because they subconsciously feel as if something were missing. Moreover, people do not know the real reason for their frustration and intuitive disagreement with the name. Therefore they invent arguments against its (nonexistent) linguistic and aesthetic weakness.

II. The problem "Česko"

We are finally getting to the core of the matter: Why is the name "Cesko" and the English equivalent Czechia to so many people so difficult to adopt? What is wrong with them? Is there anything missing?

 1  The citizen misses some visible and audible element of dignity and respectability in the name. Therefore he is so keen on using the word "republic" as if it were a magic wand that can provide the country with noble and distinguished character. "Česko" seems too short, and hardly worthy of notice. Where does the feeling come from? It is easy to guess: "Slovensko" is missing. The division and shortening of the name make one think of the loss of the territory, which the Czechs have never put up with. Therefore the young people, free from the weight of the past, would have no problem with "Česko" unless their teachers insisted on "Česká republika."

 2  Aesthetic euphony is another necessary quality in which the name Česko is lacking, says the general public. Some poets and writers (more or less competent) specify the complaint: “Česko sounds hard and hissing, it has not the poetic charm which is so typical of our language and country!” Sadly, they do not bring any proposal, what the name should look like. Instead, they prefer the Republic – a word whose “poetic character” might fascinate, at best, an author of ministerial circulars. In any case, a country's name is one of the terms that require accuracy of meaning, not a superficial likableness. The opponents also ignore the fact that other countries´ names originated by a similar word-formative process; maybe they think “the others” do not have to sound beautiful.

 3  Not universal but frequent is the Moravian complaint about neglecting the eastern part of the country in the state's name. The criticism does not include any proposal but only the erroneous idea that Česko is identical to Čechy. (In English, the names Czechia and Bohemia are not alike, so the confusion does not occur.) Surprisingly, the title Česká republika is acceptable. This longer name seems to substitute the traditional non-official expression “české země” (the Czech lands). We asked the Moravian movement representatives directly, why they reject Česko and accept Česká republika, but we only received an evasive answer. If I were a “moravist,” I would not be satisfied; from their point of view, the only solution would be “Čechy a Morava” (“Bohemia and Moravia”), as it was under the Protectorate.The former state´s name Československo (Česko-Slovensko in 1918) did not include Moravia, either. Why they do not mind this „omission“is a mystery.

 4  Finally, let us mention a marginal fake argument about the “wrong” spelling of Česko. It should be written as “Češsko” demanded the opponents, claiming wrongly, that the name of the country is derived from the names of its inhabitants (Čech, Češka). It was easy for linguists to disprove the claim because the names of the country are derived in Czech language from the adjective form (český - Česko, slovenský - Slovensko, polský - Polsko etc.). The form "češský" has never existed.

     Do the principal reasons for rejecting „Česko“ come from a curious remnant of national pride? Certainly not. In the first case, it is resentiment; in second one, the citizen wishes to present his homeland as a „paradise on earth,“ as the national anthem has it. A genuine patriot would adopt a name that reflects the country´s historical and cultural development. Political attributes limit the name's validity. „Česká republika“ is the title of the current state-political formation in the country and society. It does not cover the 1100 years´ statehood of the territory. Sadly, few people worry about it. So we witness tragicomic phenomena, such as a renowned historian´s wording „působení Cyrila a Metoděje v České republice“ („the activities of Cyril and Methodius in the Czech Republic“ - 863 AD!!!! and many other nonsenses arising from wrong universal use of the current political name. ​

We have listed some principal reasons for rejecting the name Česko. Now let us examine why the word “republic” meets with approval and favor. Here are some of the reasons:

 1  A “republican” tradition developed due to the establishment of the new Czechoslovak state in 1918. The term “republika” indicated people's pride in independence and freedom and became accepted usage. The following decades brought many historical and political changes; accordingly, the state´s name was changing. If we do not mention the degrading period of the Protectorate, there were the attributes Czechoslovak, Czechoslovak Socialist, Czech and Slovak Federal, and finally Czech; the only permanent element was the Republic. This fact may be a reason for mechanical clinging to this word. To some extent, it is understandable.

 2  A remnant from the communist era, when it was a routine to use only the state titles. In this way, the “Peace Camp” members differed from the others at first sight. Naturally, the primary purpose was to pretend that these states were governed on the “res publica” (“public affairs”) principle. Thus the media articles and news were teeming with People´s, People´s -Democratic, and Socialist Republics. Since the complete titles of states would need almost more space than the message proper, the writers and speakers used acronyms, such as (in Czech spelling) SSSR, ČSSR, ČSR, SSR, MLR, PLR, NDR, ČLR. A remnant of them is the frequent ČR, or in transcription CR (which makes the confusion even funnier because CR is the ISO code of Costa Rica).

 3  Many years' everyday excessive use of the word “republic”, even in small talk, makes people take it for a part of the country's proper name. The Republic means nothing else than a type of political management. Many people get astonished or excited when we alert them to the problem.We can call a person by name, or we can also mention his/her social or professional position. Sometimes we have to cite both, another time it may be highly inappropriate. We can tell the difference in everyday life. However, we fail to distinguish when the state's name is concerned. As if there were only „the accountant Mr. Karásek“, but no „Mr. Karásek“. We can imagine embarrassing and funny situations concerning Mr. Karásek's introduction; concerning the country's name, fun disappears, embarrassment and faux-pas remain. 

III. The problem "Czechia"

How easy and logical presentation proposal (of  course, rejected by institutions responsible for it) - using unversally applicable, timeless name of our country. The reasons for rejecting „Česko“ are self-evident. Still, the name makes progress and we can assume that it will eventually become accepted usage because there is no other choice. On the other hand, why is there a similarly strong resistance against the English equivalent „Czechia“? Why does a citizen oppose it so vehemently, even if his knowledge of English may be poor or zero?

Having created the „problem Česko,“ the Czechs transferred it automatically in the „problem Czechia.“ Why just in the English equivalent? A vast majority of the population have no idea about the natural existence and function of the country's one-word name in other languages (Tchéquie in French, Chequia in Spanish, Cechia in Italian, Chéquia in Portuguese, Tschechien in German, Tjeckien in Swedish, Tsjechië in Dutch, Чехия in Russian, Çekya in Turkish, צ'כיה in Hebrew, etc.). They hardly notice that these names are formed identically or similarly as in English. Even if they saw the fact, they would not care. But English is the universal means of communication in the present-day world; despite poor education in languages, an individual cannot but be aware of it, thus making it most relevant. For this reason, he immediately sees a problem in it, similar to „problem Česko“.

A rank-and-file citizen can influence the usage of his native language. On the other hand, the English version of the country's one-word name depends on the respective state institutions and organs. Sadly, the persons working there suffer from identical prejudice and errors or even create and spread them. They often use and misuse their power to fight against the one-word name. So, for the most part, it is the Czech political representatives' fault that the name Czechia occurs marginally, and its future is indefinite. Unfortunately, anglophone countries declared in 1993 that the choice of the English name is a matter of our government. It is then the government's fault that Czechia disappeared from the vocabulary of many foreign media and institutions in anglophone territories. In case the Czech side uses the name, the respective institutions repeatedly declared their positive attitude to Czechia. It never happened. On the contrary, "Czechia "was often blocked by Czech ambassadors. So the problem spread to countries that had adopted respective equivalents of "Czechia", which started to prefer the formal political title.

It was necessary to give some reasons for the negative approach. For this purpose, several myths were invented. They worked sufficiently; the public's dislike of "Czechia“ grows from personal feelings and emotions, and so every reason is welcome, however weak it may be. Since there are no facts to form a basis of the refusal, some distorted information must replace them. The most frequent fake arguments are as follows:

a) a dubious origin of the word

b) its overall weakness

c) maybe even an insulting character

d un-English character

e) historical inaccuracy

Medial misinterpretation plays a vital role in the origin of such myths. In the beginning, a respected authority utters a careless, irresponsible, purely subjective comment. The reporters take the words up and adapt them to attract public interest. Next comes an average reader/viewer, who usually has insufficient language knowledge but feels free to profess his opinion. 

By far the most cases result from a lack of education and responsibility. An uneducated person is not dangerous because he or she can eventually change his wrong attitude. On the contrary, the genuine enemy of the country´s name Czechia is a half-educated individual. A typical representative of this group is a politician who assumes that his position gives him the right to comment on everything. His self-confidence results from his obsessive urge to feel educated. Therefore he fights against all arguments, however convincing they may be. If he did not, he would admit that there is something he does not know. Since the half-educated (and also unscrupulous) individuals make up a considerable part of this state´s parliament and government, they will respect, parrot, and protect all sorts of stupid opinions and viewpoints. Why? Because, if they did not, they might endanger their own re-election: they depend on voters of a similar character. In this regard, these politicians are extremely sensitive; on the other hand, they neglect the voters´opinion, in their own interests (power and money) are concerned. The false arguments that they use for this purpose penetrate automatically into the public. The resulting vicious circle offers no exit and can only be cut from outside. (That is the aim of our efforts.) We can list the said false arguments in the following order according to their frequency:

 1  The name is of „eastern“ origin and thus denominates something underdeveloped or backward. (Alexander Vondra: “We [who is „we“? - author´s note] don´t want it, it sounds like Russia.“) , Mr. Vondra does not know that „Czechia“ and all similar variants come from Latin, and he is not concerned with its origin. He would hardly say what he said if he knew that the Latin form Czechia or Cechia reaches back to the ear 17th century. Moreover, an average inhabitant, missing reliable mental support, cherishes a mental rescue-crutch: a feeling of superiority over everything that exists to the east of him. It is the other side of his inferiority complex. As far as the names are concerned, he cites, for example, Bulgaria, Latvia, Armenia, but forgets Bohemia, Moravia, Austria, Australia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Columbia, and others. It is one of the unfortunate consequences of the absence of Latin in present-day secondary education.​

Concerning this category, we can mention the (artificially produced) "Chechnya affair". Rumour had it that the names Czechia and Chechnya were similar enough to be confused, and if so, it could damage our tourism. Who would visit a country where a permanent war is going on? In reality, Chechnya not only sounds quite different but also does not constitute an independent state. In the end, the real story emerged: In comments on the Boston marathon bomb attack in 2013, Chechnya was confused with the Czech Republic, not with Czechia. The myth was dead, but it survived in the media and in the heads of its inventors, who never interpreted the Boston story truthfully. In any case, an individual's lousy knowledge of geography is no argument against a government's option for the country's name. There is always someone who confuses cocaine with caffeine, astronomy with agronomy, or, among countries' names, Austria with Australia, Slovakia with Slovenia, but hardly anybody would require a change. By the way, if we were not confused with the incriminated far-away part of Russia but, say, the highly developed Sweden, hardly anybody would complain. This all results from the notion that our country is not sufficiently prominent or respectable on a global scale.

 2  The name lacks respectability (see above the passage "why Republic ") and may even be insulting. Those who share this opinion are not able to explain it. It comes from what we cite under 1) and also from would-be expert claims of some linguists or historians: they say that it is either derived - or directly translated – from the German "Tschechei. " In their opinion, this word is pejorative because Hitler used it, although it had existed long before. The pre-war editions of the German national Brockhaus encyclopedia define it as the standard "name of the western part of Czechoslovakia. "It survives in the vocabulary of border-area inhabitants, who naturally do not feel it as pejorative. After the negotiations with Czech representatives in 1993, the Germans diplomatically opted for "Tschechien“. The respective theorists probably based their proposal on materials from the early stage of the Protectorate when the name "Böhmen und Mähren "was not yet introduced. "Czechia", on the other hand, is 75 years older than Tschechien. In the 1920s-30s, the American media used it as a natural denomination of the Czech state in its historical context.

  3   The name is un-English or sounds „weird“ in English. This opinion also occurs, especially with those opponents who prefer „Czechland“ or „Czechlands. “ Yes, this alternative would sound more natural in English. However, contrary to „Czechia,“ it is an artificial neologism without any historical background. iI cannot „come from nowhere“, unless the English-speaking experts opted for it If they did, we would not object to their request. Some North-American names of non-English (Indian) origin, such as Saskatchewan, Idaho, Kansas, Wyoming, Massachusetts, do not sound English, but everybody uses them. And how about Lithuania, Chile, Zimbabwe? Do they sound natural? They are non-English names of non-English countries, so they do not have to sound natural in English. One more conjecture has appeared in the press: the name Czechia is linguistically wrong because it suggests the pronunciation [che-chi-ya] (chi like „chip“). This false argument is irrelevant. In many words, the written ch sounds k: architect, technic, archive, ache, chimera. Spelling is one thing; the correct pronunciation is another one: it is necessary to learn it. 

 4  The name does not correspond with history. Czechia never existed „de facto.“ This claim is the least frequent but the most dangerous. It originates among half-educated intellectuals who feel sufficiently qualified to force their opinions upon the public. They find a breeding ground on anonymous internet databases, such as Wikipedia, where they can modify the content like censors. Almost all of them rank among heart-and-soul bureaucrats. They cannot see a state in its historical and cultural continuity or distinguish between the letter of the law and its spirit. They argue that it is impossible to apply the name Czechia retrospectively to the „Kingdom of Bohemia“ or the „Crown Lands of Bohemia.“ They fail to notice that other states do so routinely; for example, Germany has existed as an integrated state only since 1871. Due to this absurd approach, the mentioned source of information inspires authors to produce absurd deductions as already was demostrated above (Prince Bořivoj and Charles IV. - extracts from a book on Czech history, written in English and based on information from Wikipedia.) Some of Wikipedia´s writers and administrators became aware of this absurdity. After long and thorough deliberation, they replaced this nonsense by another, even worse one: „...now the Czech Republic, previously the Crown Lands of Bohemia consisting primarily of the Kingdom of Bohemia and the Margraviate of Moravia.“ This muddle occurs in many articles dealing with Czech history.

The protagonists of this creed refuse to accept the following apparent facts:

 1  A simplified term is necessary for a nonprofessional recipient to understand the information; moreover, it is valid generally. Many books had the title „History of Czechoslovakia“ or „Czechoslovak History, “ although none of them covered only the period of the state´s existence, starting in 1918. On the other hand, the first „post-November“ team-work historical synthesis (also published in English) bears the title „A History of the Czech Lands, “ although this collocation has never been the Czech state´s official or political name. The authors did not apply the relevant, correct, and logical title „Dějiny Česka“/“A History of Czechia. “ However, it is a standard way the countries present themselves, even if some periods of their history do not apply the particular name. This sensible method helps the recipient to keep his bearings. We can see the difference when we compare the two headings: „A History of Czechia“ vs. „A History of the Czech Republic. “

 2  Their peculiar interpretation of terms is inconvenient: it baffles the standard recipient and inspires such informational gems as "Prince Bořivoj and Charles IV. "

 3  It is beneficial to offer a clear and transparent definition of our state and its continuity.

All kinds of information trying to set the myths to the right have insufficient coverage. The chief editors of the most popular media usually reject them; thus, the articles only appear in professional periodicals, on the websites of the Civic initiative Česko/Czechia and on the web of English Wikipedia (where they are systematically deleted by Czech administrators).

​

​

IV. Common Problem

The common problem concerning both Česko and its English equivalent Czechia is the would-be aesthetic assessment, "I do not like the name," declared without any justification. This irrational personal attitude is, by far, the most frequent. It would not be noteworthy if it only occurred with "rank-and-file "citizens. Surprisingly, we find an even higher percentage of this unprofessional approach in persons and institutions responsible for public affairs. The country's geographic name is not a mere object of aesthetic pleasure. First of all, it must serve the state's basic needs. Who else should be aware of this essential request, if not the state's representatives? 

The difference in meaning and function between the Czech state's geographic vs. political name is the core of the matter within its professional sphere. Oddly enough, some persons are unable or unwilling to distinguish, be it on account of ignorance or arrogance. We could hardly imagine a member of Parliament of the French Republic (République française) who would not know that his country, apart from the political title, also can be called France. In our country, however, we often witness the very opposite.

V. Substitutes

In daily life, the one-word (short, geographic) name is a natural and logical necessity. While the responsible persons or institutions ignore this need, the do-it-yourself public can invent a name. Since the upper circles reject the correct name, the people create a wrong makeshift: a simple (or rather foolish) abbreviation of the political title by omitting the "republic. "The resulting "Czech "works as an adjective, but not as a proper name of the country "Česko." In English, adjectives are never identical with the countries' names. It would be inconvenient, apart from other reasons. It is easy to succumb to the illusion if well-known institutions offer it. We adduce an example from sports: The Czech Olympic Committee and the Czech Ice-Hockey Union placed the wrong form on the sportsmen's outfit; as a result, many other unions believed that it was the adequate equivalent to the word Česko. The Ministry of Education, Youth, and Sports (who distribute hundreds of millions from the state budget to particular sports and mainly to state representation) shared this trend. After long-lasting protests, the unions replaced "Czech "by another, but no less inappropriate inscription "Czech Team. " In vain were the logical objections that the "Czech Team "applies to the national representatives and equally, say, to Sparta Prague or the local Sports Club in Kotěhůlky.

The brusque „Czech“ survives in the names of many business companies and organizations (for example, Synlab Czech, Toyota Motor Czech, Huyndai Motor Czech, Gillette Czech, and others). It shows lack of knowledge and interest on the part of the corporations but also indifference and disregard on the part of Czech authorities.The gravest harm comes from the the world-renowned Pilsen Prazdroj brewery who have been labelling their export production „Pilsen – Czech“ for more than ten years now; they insist they do not mean the country but an attribute of the product – it is „Czech beer“. True or not, the wording of the message does not prove it. „Czech“ also decorates sports hats and T-shirts, and a variety of tourist souvenirs. This would-be name of the country does not result from anglophone speakers´ usage, as some of its advocates try to make us believe; it is typical „Czenglish“, a genuine product „Made in Czech“ (language). Understandably, its creators´ knowledge of English is low or limited to a narrow field of practical usage. On the other hand, it is alarming that some professionals in the field of English language sometimes accept it.

Thus it is no wonder that an average citizen takes this erroneous form for the correct translation of "Česko" into English. Contrary to the fuss over "missing euphony and dignity" in the word Česko, the public does not apply aesthetic criteria. People accept the one-syllable, brusque "check "-sound without reservation. Moreover, they use it as a source of would-be witty puns, such as "Czech it out "or the official ( ! ) Czechpoint. According to the law, the state's essential symbols must not be altered or abused; the name is undoubtedly one of them. However, this principle is often infringed even on international occasions, including the Olympic games. Examples: Individual and wilful versions of the name in the media; a sports team wearing T-shirts in the form of flags with reversed color order; heraldic errors in the state's coat of arms; wrong sizes of color parts in the state flag; the fans' ugly attributes made of incredible variants of the state's name, its flag, or coat of arms. All these occur every day.

The Czech politicians have tried hard to eradicate the country's correct name; they have done nothing to stop spreading garbles. They only wake up from their lethargy when somebody uses the proper form. At that moment, they open a fierce discussion. With a bit of exaggeration, we could interpret their approach: "Treat the country's name as you like, damage it as you wish, every atrocity (Czech Republike, Czech Rep, Team Czech) is permitted; only don't admit the correct title."

VI. Consequences

Linguistic, historical, and geographical arguments and political and social relations show that the one-word name is necessary and cannot be substituted by the political title. Every avoidance of this necessity leads to verbal and terminological chaos; it reduces the country´s ability to identify itself. This situation harms the state from outside and inside. In domestic politics, it contributes to disunity and dispute. On the international scene, it evokes intuitive doubts about such a unit; the more so because we are the only exception from Europe´s standard and one of four exceptions on a global scale. Symptomatically, our partners are the Dominican Republic, the Central African Republic, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Česko/Czechia is not a country of considerable prominence, concerning the size, the number of inhabitants, and the actual influence (let alone the long-time political indifference and minimal international activities of its representatives). The country´s image becomes the hazier, the less it can conventionally define itself. This handicap harms all spheres, particularly economics. Stability, reliability, and visibility are necessary for a trademark. The good old brand „Made in Czechoslovakia“ has logically one possible heir: „Made in Czechia“.

VII.Conclusion 

We are arriving at the core of the question that we asked at the beginning of this paper: Why does a part of the Czech population (with the political elite at the head) refuse so stubbornly and permanently to solve the issue?

After years of work in our Civic Initiative, after hundreds of articles, press conferences, requests, appeals (mostly without response), we can give a plain answer: The public does not feel a necessity to appear as a well-established, locally and historically anchored state. Thus, the state´s management takes an opportunistic, inconstant line without a vision and idea, as if the leaders had lost or reversed the essential scale of values. 

Some time ago, the President used the name Czechia in a conversation with a foreign politician. The media faced it as a novelty and opened discussions on the (non-existing) choice „either the political title or the one-word name. “ With only minor exceptions, a vast majority of the renowned authorities showed that they were far from understanding the proper crux of the issue. (Let alone the journalists, the would-be „experts“ in various professions, a crowd of bloggers and internet chatters.) The most contributions to this dump of opinions consisted of vague emotional responses whose authors could not understand WHAT was said and WHO brought up the old problems.

In an imaginary vote (based on the wrong task „either-or“and resulting in the relation 2-3: 1), we proudly declared that common sense gets a bad deal and that we do not want to have a name. The future will show the consequences. The vital issue is more profound and broader than our ignorance of the problem in its linguistic, historical geographic and political context; it is the fact that we do not feel the necessity of possessing a permanent value. Because, if we did, we could easily understand the partial attributes of the matter. 

Vladimír Hirsch (2013)

Translation: Eva Horová