11/27: What's in a (language, country) name?

What's in a name? Shakespeare had it right; despite what we might hope for, a name always includes a whirlwind of implications and physical realities in order to represent a single person, their family, a term and its history, or even more. What's in a country name, or a language name, for example, when they are called to represent an entire, diverse group of people or a geographic region and its history? More specifically, how should we refer to languages and countries? And is the most legitimate name for them always the one they use themselves? 

If you follow global news, you probably took note in the past couple of years when several countries have asked to be officially referred to by a name which their leadership feels more accurately represents them. The Republic of Türkiye, which used to be referred to as Turkey in English, requested in 2021 to be referred to as Türkiye by the international community, and later by the United Nations as well. Specifically, the country wanted Türkiye, which is the Turkish word for the country (also known as an endonym) to become the word in English. Another, but notably distinct example, is the Czech Republic, which in 2016 proposed the name Czechia to be used by the international community. But Czechia is not, like I assumed, the Czech endonym for the country; that would be Česko. It's a term that has been used intermittently throughout history but was officially coined again by former President Miloš Zeman and his administration, partly because it is “nicer” and less “cold-sounding" than the Czech Republic. So, despite this difference, its motivations are not unlike those of Türkiye: to cultivate a certain international image for the country. 

But changing a name used by billions of people is no small request. While exports from Türkiye will now carry tags that read "Made in Türkiye" and official documentation from the UN will read Türkiye, not Turkey, my English language keyboard still red-underlines the word, and the US Department of State pagedescribing US relations with the country reads "Turkey (Türkiye)" followed by a brief note noting that while "'Republic of Türkiye' should be used in formal and diplomatic contexts," Turkey is "more widely understood by the American public" and can be used alongside the formal name.

And then there is the question of pronunciation. While the difference is not astronomical, the Turkish Türkiye is still fundamentally different than the word pronounced in English. On the one hand, perhaps helping people who don't speak Turkish understand a bit more about the language by incorporating a Turkish word into English, or into a different language in general—the same way an English speaker who has some exposure to French words in English might be able to pronounce more French words in French. On the other hand, if the word's original pronunciation is never achieved—or literally cannot be, due to sound limits in another language—would bringing the endonym into another language just create another, separate exonym, namely, the endonym pronounced in and altered by a foreign language? And alphabet differences are an issue, as well; the name 土耳其 (Tǔ'ěrqí) in Mandarin comes from similar roots to the English. But part of the reason for changing the international term were the at least confusing and at most derogatory associations of the word "Turkey" in English; should (and could?) the Mandarin term change, even when it lacks these associations？And should languages like Mandarin or Hebrew that use a different alphabet than the Latin alphabet used by Türkiye be made to incorporate words from a foreign alphabet into their language, which is both logistically difficult and often against national or linguistic pride, for the sake of using a country's endonym? 

With those factors in mind, I want to return to the question I posed at the beginning: is the most legitimate name the one used by the country or the people who speak the language themselves? It is question that seems to have an obvious answer—which would be yes—but which also deserves closer consideration. There is a difference, for example, between the name commonly used by thousands or millions of people, and the official name proposed by a government. What about in cases where the name obscures a political reality? Should we call 조선민주주의인민공화국  (Chosŏn Minjujuŭi Inmin Konghwaguk, when Romanized) the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or that Romanized version of the official name, in English, when the country itself is decidedly undemocratic? And does our perception of the Türkiye request change at all when we know that President Erdoğan, who has pushed for it, presides over a country increasingly backsliding from democracy into authoritarianism and even far-right nationalism? Or maybe it doesn't change at all, given that Türkiye is the people's term for the country. Even so, just these two examples illustrate explicitly that the choice of a country name, or language name, is always political. What about the indigenous people of the land where a country exists? Does their name for the land, necessarily being older, merit any more or less legitimacy than the name used by the government or by non-indigenous people? 

Picking the language the endonym originates from is not an easy decision, either. Many countries have multiple official languages, or languages that are purposefully excluded from being official, and the choice of official language is a tool of the government. And while sometimes choosing to use a country's endonym could be portrayed as a rejection of colonization or global hegemony, what about when the endonym of a country is itself the result of colonization or conquest? The name Nigeria, given by British colonizers, which led to the words for the country in the various national languages like Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba. (For context, the English name comes from the French word for the Niger River, which is completely different from the names for that river in those three languages). "Nigeria" and its endonyms are all a result of colonization. Yet practically, we require a word to refer to the political entity that now exists there. Is the only choice we have to refer to the country by the British name of conquest? 

Of coures, sometimes endonyms migrate into other languages, or are chosen to be used, and become accepted as alternatives or the main term for a country, language, or region. For example, Farsi is accepted for Persian in English; Uluru, the indigenous name for what was previously called Ayers Rock in Australia, has become the de facto term; and no one is calling Rio de Janeiro "River of January" or Buenos Aires "Fair Winds" in English. Though these cases do, of course, run across the question of pronunciation I mentioned above.

So choosing to refer to a country, language, place, etc by its endonym, exonym, or some combination is not always a simple decision. Names not only have individual people and/or systems behind them as creators; they also come to carry pride, shame, and history. And without the will of the people themselves, they are not so easily changed. So as you learn words for languages and countries in the language(s) you study, consider the history behind them, whether there are alternatives, and what it means to start asking that question—what's truly in a name? What lies inside, and behind, and throughout, and in front of it? And where do we go from there?

For more examples, read this article about Lithuania's choice to call Georgia by its endonym or this article, which includes an abstract in Korean, discussing how to refer to geographical features that cross national and linguistic boundaries.