Faced with a name that appears in only two brief medieval sources, twentieth century scholars turned to a different method entirely to say more about Stribog: structural comparison across the whole reconstructed Slavic pantheon rather than close reading of the scant direct evidence, since the direct evidence has little more to give. The Soviet linguists Vyacheslav Ivanov and Vladimir Toporov, working from the 1960s on what they called the basic myth of Slavic religion, a reconstructed cosmic conflict between the thunder god Perun and a serpentine adversary, situated Stribog within this larger scheme as a wind or sky associated figure, and proposed a deeper linguistic connection between the first element of his name and words for holiness found in other Indo-European branches, an etymology more ambitious than the plainer spreader reading offered by earlier philologists. Their approach treated the sparse Slavic sources as fragments of a coherent underlying system that could be partly restored by comparing them with better attested Baltic, Vedic and other Indo-European mythologies, a method influential in Slavic studies but one that necessarily produces a reconstruction rather than a directly attested belief, and specialists still debate how much weight such comparative structures can bear when the primary Slavic evidence is this thin.
Whatever the scholarly verdict, Stribog has found a straightforward modern home in Rodnover practice, the contemporary Slavic Native Faith movement, where he is honoured as a god of wind and open air, invoked at outdoor gatherings and in seasonal rites connected to weather and travel, a living devotion built on the same handful of medieval words that occupy scholars, now given renewed, present-day religious life.