Lake Ontario or “Lake America”? A Toponymic Reading of Trump’s Naming Wars

Donald Trump’s suggestion that Lake Ontario could be renamed “Lake America” is not just a passing political provocation. It belongs to a larger pattern in which geographical names become instruments of symbolic power, national assertion, media conflict, and diplomatic pressure. According to AP and ABC News, Trump said the United States was giving “serious consideration” to renaming Lake Ontario, after already promoting the federal U.S. name “Gulf of America” for the Gulf of Mexico.

From a toponymic point of view, the proposal is striking because Lake Ontario is not an internal American feature. It is a shared Great Lake, forming part of the border region between the United States and Canada. ABC notes that New York and Ontario govern their respective portions of lakebed and shoreline, while the lake is also managed through binational frameworks such as the International Joint Commission and the Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement.

1. The name “Ontario” is older than the modern border

The first important point is historical. The name Ontario does not originate as a modern provincial or national label. It belongs to an older Indigenous hydronymic layer. AP derives the lake name from Huron oniatarí:io, glossed as “lake of shining waters,” while a Canadian government source explains Ontario from Iroquois kanadario, meaning “eau miroitante,” or “shimmering water.” The precise linguistic form may vary between traditions and sources, but the deeper point is clear: Ontario is an Indigenous-derived water name, not a U.S. or Canadian nationalist invention.

That matters because renaming it “Lake America” would not simply replace one neutral label with another. It would overwrite an older hydronym connected to Indigenous linguistic memory with a modern geopolitical slogan. In that sense, the proposal would be an act of toponymic re-nationalisation: a shared, historically layered name would be reframed through the political vocabulary of one state.

2. Canada’s official neutral position: Lake Ontario / Lac Ontario

For Canadian official usage, the matter is straightforward. The Canadian Geographical Names Database records both Lake Ontario and Lac Ontario as official names. The French-language database states that the official data come from the federal, provincial, and territorial naming authorities of the Commission de toponymie du Canada; the entry gives Lac Ontario / Lake Ontario with official status.

The English-language Canadian database likewise records Lake Ontario as official, with a decision date of 18 February 1994 and the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry as the naming authority source.

This is important for a neutral formulation: Canada has not renamed the lake, and the official Canadian forms remain Lake Ontario and Lac Ontario.

3. The French-Canadian dimension

The French-speaking Canadian reaction is especially relevant because the conflict is not only about geography. It is also about language, sovereignty, and cultural recognition.

French-language Canadian media reported the proposal as Trump wanting to rename le lac Ontario as “lac de l’Amérique” or “lac America”, and framed the question as whether such a change would actually be possible. Montréal station 98.5 discussed the issue with geographer Yann Roche of UQAM, asking precisely whether a U.S. president could impose such a change.

Another French-language Canadian report quoted Canadian minister Mélanie Joly as saying that Canada would always call it “lac Ontario”. The same article explicitly connected the proposed Lake Ontario change with the earlier U.S. move to rename the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America.

This French-Canadian layer is not accidental. At the same time, Prime Minister Mark Carney stated in both English and French that Canada was not prepared to compromise its sovereignty, including the protection of the French language and Canadian culture, in trade negotiations with the United States.

ABC also reported that Trump denied wanting to interfere with French-speaking Canadians, while Carney clarified that the dispute concerned U.S. objections to issues such as Quebec language and cultural-protection laws, including French content and bilingual labelling.

So, for Canada, this is not merely a lake-name issue. It touches a broader symbolic field: Who controls the public language of space? Who decides which names appear on maps, labels, platforms, and official documents?

4. The Gulf of Mexico precedent

The Lake Ontario proposal must be read together with the earlier Gulf of Mexico / Gulf of America dispute. The U.S. Department of the Interior stated that, following Trump’s executive order, the Gulf of Mexico would be officially known in U.S. federal usage as the Gulf of America, and that the federal geographic names system would be updated accordingly.

But this kind of change has limited jurisdiction. AP explained that Trump’s Gulf order carries authority within the United States, but Mexico, other countries, and international bodies do not have to recognize it. AP therefore continued to use Gulf of Mexico for global clarity, while acknowledging the new U.S. federal name.

Mexico resisted the change strongly. AP reported that Mexico considered legal action against Google over the display of Gulf of America, arguing that Trump’s order could apply only to the U.S. continental shelf and not to Mexican territorial waters. Google Maps reportedly showed different labels depending on user location: Gulf of America in the United States, Gulf of Mexico in Mexico, and a mixed form elsewhere.

This is the new geography of toponymic conflict: not only treaties, atlases, and schoolbooks, but also search engines, digital maps, federal databases, news stylebooks, and platform geolocation settings.

5. A unilateral name is not the same as an international name

The United States does have mechanisms for standardizing names in its own federal usage. The U.S. Geological Survey describes the Geographic Names Information System as the federal repository of official geographic names, while the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency describes its foreign names database as a source of standard spellings sanctioned by the U.S. Board on Geographic Names for federal use.

But shared and international features are different. A U.S. federal name can create a domestic official usage; it cannot automatically create a Canadian, Mexican, United Nations, International Hydrographic Organization, or global scholarly usage. AP makes this distinction clearly in the Lake Ontario case: Trump may have broad power over U.S. government recognition of geographic names, but he cannot force Canada or individuals to follow.

This is why “Lake America” would not truly rename Lake Ontario in the full international sense. It would create a unilateral American exonym for a shared water body.

6. “America” as a contested name

The choice of America is itself politically loaded. In U.S. English, “America” is commonly used as a synonym for the United States. But in many other linguistic and political traditions, America refers to a wider continental space: North America, South America, or the Americas as a whole.

This makes “Lake America” different from a simple patriotic name. It uses a continental term to mark a feature shared with Canada as if it symbolically belonged to the United States. For Canadians and Mexicans, the problem is not only that the name is new. The problem is that it appropriates a broader geographic term and narrows it into a U.S.-national frame.

In this sense, “Lake America” and “Gulf of America” are examples of exonymic expansion: the naming authority of one state is projected outward onto spaces that are historically, geographically, or politically shared.

7. Mexico, Canada, and the politics of resistance

Mexico’s resistance to Gulf of America and Canada’s resistance to Lake America show two versions of the same phenomenon.

Mexico’s response emphasized territorial jurisdiction: the United States cannot rename Mexican waters. Canada’s response emphasizes sovereignty, bilingualism, and the stability of official names: Canada will continue to say Lake Ontario / Lac Ontario.

The Canadian case adds another layer because of French. When U.S. trade pressure is linked, directly or indirectly, to Quebec language laws or French cultural visibility, then the naming of a lake becomes part of a wider politics of linguistic sovereignty. Carney’s French statement that Canada would not compromise on sovereignty, French language, or culture makes that connection explicit from the Canadian side.

8. De-Indigenization and symbolic replacement

There is also an Indigenous dimension. Lake Ontario’s name points back to an Indigenous linguistic source. Replacing it with “Lake America” would not simply Americanize a Canadian-American water body. It would also erase, or at least overshadow, an older Indigenous-derived hydronym.

This resembles a broader tension in North American toponymy. Some recent naming debates have restored Indigenous names or recognized Indigenous traditions, as in the Denali / Mount McKinley debate. AP notes that Denali had been changed federally in 2015 to reflect Alaska Native traditions and the preference of many Alaska residents, before Trump moved to restore Mount McKinley in federal usage.

Thus, the same political programme that promotes “America” in place of older or internationally established names also tends to reopen older conflicts between colonial, Indigenous, national, and local naming systems.

9. Toward a concept: asymmetrical toponymic sovereignty

The Lake Ontario case can be described as asymmetrical toponymic sovereignty.

The United States cannot legally force Canada, Mexico, the United Nations, or international scholarly usage to adopt its preferred names. But it can use its administrative power, media weight, platform influence, and symbolic dominance to create competing realities.

That is what makes the conflict asymmetrical. Canada and Mexico can say no, but U.S. usage may still appear in federal databases, American maps, search engines, headlines, and political speeches. The name becomes a tool of pressure even without international recognition.

Conclusion: Lake Ontario as a test case

The proposed renaming of Lake Ontario is not a minor naming joke. It is a test case in the politics of twenty-first-century toponymy.

At stake are several questions:

Who has the right to name a shared place?
Can a national government rename an international water body for its own purposes?
What happens when digital platforms adopt one state’s terminology?
How do older Indigenous names survive nationalist renaming projects?
And how do Canada, Mexico, Quebec, Indigenous communities, journalists, and international bodies resist toponymic pressure?

For now, the neutral and internationally responsible formulation remains: Lake Ontario, in French Lac Ontario. “Lake America” would be a unilateral U.S. political exonym, not a generally recognized replacement.

The deeper issue is not the lake alone. It is the emerging struggle over the symbolic ownership of geography. In that struggle, names are not decorative labels. They are claims.

References

Barrow, B., Householder, M., & Gillies, R. (2026, August 25). Trump mulls renaming Lake Ontario as “Lake America.” Canadians balk at the idea. AP News.

Murray, I. (2026, August 25). Trump floats renaming Lake Ontario to “Lake America,” denies claim he’d interfere with Canadians speaking French. ABC News.

Jackson, K. (2026, August 25). Lake America? Trump mulls renaming Lake Ontario, expresses love for French Canadians amid trade war. Reuters.

Natural Resources Canada. (n.d.). Place names: Lake Ontario. Canadian Geographical Names Database.

U.S. Geological Survey. (n.d.). U.S. Board on Geographic Names.

Barrett, A. (2025, January 23). AP style guidance on Gulf of Mexico, Mount McKinley. The Associated Press.

Ressources naturelles Canada. (2021, 16 février). Noms de lieux : Lac Ontario / Lake Ontario. Base de données toponymiques du Canada.

Gouvernement du Canada. (n.d.). Les symboles provinciaux de l’Ontario. Canada.ca.

Cabinet du premier ministre du Canada. (2026, 22 août). Le premier ministre Carney prononce une allocution sur les négociations commerciales avec les États-Unis.

98.5 Montréal. (2026, 25 août). Trump veut renommer le lac Ontario en « lac de l’Amérique ».

Agence QMI. (2026, 25 août). Nouvelle attaque envers le Canada : Donald Trump affirme vouloir rebaptiser le lac Ontario. 24 heures. 

 

Pacific Islands · May 2026

Say It Right:
Naoero

A tiny island nation is reclaiming the name that colonialism took away

World Affairs

The country the world has called Nauru for more than a century was never really called that — at least not by its own people. Now, in a quiet act of sovereignty, the tiny Pacific island is correcting the record.

On May 12, 2026, the parliament of Nauru voted unanimously — all 16 members present in favour — to pass a constitutional amendment renaming the country Naoero. A national referendum will follow to seal the change in the constitution, but the direction is clear: the world's smallest island nation is reclaiming its original name, and with it, a piece of its identity that was lost not to war or treaty, but to something far more mundane mispronunciation.

Colonial distortion

Nauru

Anglicised for foreign ease

→

Restored original

Naoero

From Dorerin Naoero, the native language

The story of how a nation loses its own name is a small but telling chapter in the history of colonialism. Germany claimed Nauru — or rather, Naoero — as a protectorate in the late 1880s. After World War I, Australian troops took the island, and it was jointly administered by Australia, the United Kingdom, and New Zealand until independence in 1968. Across those decades of foreign administration, the native name proved a persistent stumbling block for English-speaking officials and record-keepers. The solution, as so often in colonial bureaucracies, was to simplify — to file off the rough edges of an unfamiliar word until it sat comfortably in a European mouth. Naoero became Nauru.

Nauru emerged because Naoero could not be properly pronounced by foreign tongues, and was changed not by our choice, but for convenience. — Nauru Government Statement, 2026

That phrase — "not by our choice, but for convenience" — is doing a great deal of work. It names, precisely and without drama, the mechanism of a particular kind of cultural erasure: not violent, not even necessarily malicious, but consequential all the same. A name adjusted for administrative ease, repeated across official documents, maps, and dispatches for generations, until it displaces the original so thoroughly that the original starts to seem unusual.

A Name That Survived Anyway

What makes this story more than a historical grievance is that Naoero never actually disappeared. The country's native language is Dorerin Naoero — the language of Naoero — and is spoken by the vast majority of the island's roughly 10,000 to 12,000 inhabitants. The true name survived in everyday life, in the language itself, even as the anglicised version dominated every international document, passport, and atlas.

President David Adeang first tabled the proposal in January 2026. In his second reading speech, he was careful to frame the change not as a rupture but as a restoration: something the world has been getting slightly wrong, and which it is now invited to get right. The amendment would replace every reference to "Nauru" in the constitution with "Naoero," and the change would cascade outward — to national aircraft and ships, to the country's seat at the United Nations, to every official record and symbol.

They Are Not Alone

Naoero joins a small but growing list of nations that have chosen to correct the names handed to them by outsiders. The government itself cited several precedents: Eswatini, which shed the name Swaziland in 2018 to mark fifty years of independence from Britain; Türkiye, which formally requested the world use the Turkish pronunciation of its name rather than the anglicised "Turkey" in 2022; and Chuuk, the Micronesian state that has long sought the same recognition of its indigenous name over the colonial-era "Truk."

Each of these cases is different. Some name changes are straightforward acts of linguistic restitution. Others carry more contested histories, tangled up with questions of which government has the right to rename, and on whose behalf. Naoero's case seems relatively uncomplicated on that score: this is a small, independent democracy correcting a specific colonial distortion, with unanimous parliamentary support and a referendum to follow. It is hard to argue with the logic.

What's Really at Stake

One might ask: does it matter? In a world of climate crises, geopolitical friction, and global inequality — and Naoero faces all three acutely as a low-lying Pacific island nation — is a name change meaningful?

The answer is yes, in at least two ways. The first is philosophical. Names are not neutral labels. They carry histories, embed assumptions, and tell a story about who has the power to define things. A country whose name was changed for the convenience of colonial administrators is, in a small but real way, still living with the imprint of that power every time it signs a treaty or speaks at the United Nations. Reclaiming the name is a way of saying: that convenience was never ours to give.

The second is practical and linguistic. Dorerin Naoero is the living language of the island's people. Every time an international institution uses the name Naoero, it normalises and affirms a word that Nauruans — Naoerans — have always used for themselves. Language preservation and cultural continuity are not abstract goods. They are the connective tissue of community identity, especially for small island nations whose distinctiveness is part of their strength.

A Referendum Still to Come

The constitutional amendment still requires ratification by a national referendum, which has not yet been scheduled. But with the parliament unanimous and the president who proposed the change firmly in office, the outcome seems likely. When it passes, the world will need to learn a new pronunciation — or rather, an old one that was never really forgotten on the island itself.

It is two syllables the world bent into two others. Getting it back right seems like the least we can do.

Written May 2026  ·  Sources: RNZ Pacific, AP, RNZ News

“Donnyland”? An Analysis of the Proposal to Rename Part of Donbas

 

1. The reported proposal

The alleged proposal to name part of the Donbas “Donnyland” should not be understood first of all as a normal act of geographical renaming. It is better interpreted as a symbolic diplomatic maneuver: a possible attempt by Ukrainian negotiators to appeal to Donald Trump’s personal vanity and thereby encourage a harder American position against Russia’s territorial demands. Accessible reports summarizing the New York Times article state that the term was first raised partly in jest, then appears to have circulated informally in negotiations, though not in official documents. TIME reports that the idea concerned a contested part of the Donbas and was connected with broader discussions about demilitarized or special-status arrangements, including a possible “Monaco model” or free economic zone.

The reported details make the proposal more than a casual joke but less than a formal policy. The Irish Times, citing people familiar with the negotiations, says that a Ukrainian negotiator even created a green-and-gold flag and a national anthem using ChatGPT, although it remains unclear whether the American side ever saw these designs. The Kyiv Independent similarly reports that the label would refer to a roughly 2,000-square-mile part of northwestern Donetsk Oblast and that the name plays on Donetsk/Donbas, Donald Trump, and Disneyland.

This ambiguity is central: “Donnyland” is not yet a toponym in the strict administrative sense. It is a proposed nickname, a diplomatic signal, perhaps even a bargaining device. Its academic interest lies precisely in that hybrid status.

2. Official Ukrainian reaction: distancing without full denial

President Volodymyr Zelensky’s reaction is politically significant. He did not embrace the term. On the contrary, he emphasized that in his own negotiations only official formulations such as “Donetsk Oblast,” “Luhansk Oblast,” “our Donbas,” and “territory of Ukraine” are used. He added that the essential point is that Donetsk and Luhansk remain Ukrainian territory, “as long as it’s not ‘Putinland.’”

This response performs two functions. First, it distances the Ukrainian presidency from a potentially embarrassing or unserious-sounding label. Second, it reframes the question away from flattering Trump and toward resisting Russian annexation. The Guardian also reported Zelensky’s denial that such a renaming offer was made in his negotiations, while noting that he cannot constitutionally cede Ukrainian territory and that Ukrainian commanders regard Donbas as a possible springboard for future Russian attacks if Russia is allowed to consolidate control there.

Therefore, the official Ukrainian line appears to be: no such term in formal documents, no abandonment of Donbas, and no recognition of any Russian claim.

3. Commentary: vanity diplomacy, deterrence, or absurdity?

The reactions found online fall into three main interpretive camps.

The first sees “Donnyland” as vanity diplomacy. The Week’s Rafi Schwartz places the proposal within a wider pattern of foreign leaders and governments attaching Trump’s name to strategic projects in order to attract his attention. He describes Trump’s name as a kind of “global currency” in diplomatic flattery. This framing is useful because it links “Donnyland” with earlier cases such as “Fort Trump” in Poland, “Trump Heights” in the Golan Heights, and the “Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity” between Armenia and Azerbaijan.

The second interpretation sees the proposal as an attempted security device. The Week cites RAND political scientist Samuel Charap’s view that Ukraine might regard a “Trump imprimatur” on a free economic zone as a form of deterrent against Russian aggression. The logic is not entirely irrational: if a disputed zone bore Trump’s name, Moscow might hesitate to violate it for fear of provoking American prestige politics. In that reading, “Donnyland” would function not as a serious cultural name but as a diplomatic tripwire.

The third interpretation is sharply critical. Salon’s Chauncey DeVega calls the idea surreal and treats it as evidence that flattery has become a foreign-policy strategy in the Trump era. He argues that such proposals exploit Trump’s need for personal affirmation and transform international security into symbolic branding. DeVega’s criticism is polemical, but the core point is analytically useful: “Donnyland” appears to personalize a question that should be handled through law, sovereignty, security guarantees, and local legitimacy.

Russian-language media unsurprisingly framed the story in a way that can be used against Kyiv. Gazeta.Ru presented it under the headline that Ukraine “wanted” to name part of Donbas after Trump, emphasizing the AI-created flag and anthem, the “Peace Board,” and the “Monaco model.” Even if this is based on the same NYT reporting, the Russian framing illustrates one of the main risks: such a name gives hostile media an easy way to portray Ukraine as unserious, externally dependent, or willing to trade symbolic sovereignty for American favor.

4. Academic interpretation: a case of transactional toponymy

From an onomastic and political-geographical perspective, “Donnyland” is best described as transactional toponymy.

In this article/blogpost, I introduce the term “transactional toponym” to describe a place name proposed not primarily to reflect local history, linguistic tradition, collective memory, or administrative continuity, but to produce an immediate political, diplomatic, economic, or symbolic exchange. A transactional toponym functions as a bargaining device: it offers symbolic recognition, prestige, gratitude, or reputational reward to an external actor in expectation of material, military, diplomatic, or political benefit. In this sense, the reported “Donnyland” proposal differs from conventional commemorative naming, decolonial renaming, or restorative toponymy. It is less an act of memory than an act of negotiation. Related possible terms would be instrumental toponym, bargaining toponym, patronage toponym, diplomatic toponym, quid-pro-quo toponym, or performative geopolitical toponym; however, “transactional toponym” best captures the exchange-oriented logic of such names. The category overlaps partly with research on critical toponymy, which treats place naming as an expression of power, ideology, and spatial governance, and with studies of toponymic commodification, where names are commercialized, branded, or sold through naming-rights regimes. Yet the transactional toponym is more specifically political: its value lies not in market branding alone but in its attempted conversion of symbolic naming into strategic advantage. Examples that approximate this category include Bill Clinton Boulevard in Pristina, Kosovo, George W. Bush Street in Tbilisi, Georgia, or Heydar Aliyev statue / Mexico-Azerbaijan Friendship Park in Mexico City. In all these cases, naming operates as a form of symbolic payment, designed to secure, reward, or dramatize political patronage rather than simply to identify a place.

Ordinary official renaming often emerges from regime change, decolonization, language policy, commemoration, or restoration of historical names. In Ukraine itself, recent toponymic policy has been dominated by decommunization, derussification, and the removal of names associated with Russian imperial power. Ukraine’s UNGEGN report describes legal and administrative work on geographical names, including updates to the State Register of Geographical Names and renamings under the 2023 law on condemning Russian imperial policy and decolonizing toponymy.

“Donnyland” moves in a very different direction. It is not a Ukrainianizing name. It is not an older local name. It is not a neutral administrative label. It is an English-language, person-centered, brand-like invention tied to an external political actor. This makes it almost the opposite of the logic behind Ukraine’s current official toponymic policy.

In critical place-name studies, names are not passive labels. They inscribe power, memory, and identity into space. Rose-Redwood, Alderman, and Azaryahu describe place-naming as a field in which governance, ideology, and spatial identity are actively negotiated. In this sense, “Donnyland” would not merely describe territory; it would symbolically recode a devastated Ukrainian borderland as an object of American presidential branding.

5. Political risks

The proposal has several serious political weaknesses.

First, it risks moral trivialization. The Donbas is not an empty diplomatic chessboard. It is a war-damaged industrial region with destroyed towns, displaced civilians, military casualties, occupation, filtration, deportations, and contested memory. A name echoing “Disneyland” sounds grotesque when applied to a devastated war zone.

Second, it risks sovereignty dilution. Even if intended as a clever deterrent, “Donnyland” could imply that Ukrainian territorial security depends less on Ukrainian sovereignty or international law than on the vanity of one American president. That is dangerous for Ukraine’s own legal and diplomatic position.

Third, it risks propaganda exploitation. Russian state and pro-Kremlin media could use the term to claim that Ukraine is ready to externalize Donbas, create an artificial protectorate, or submit its territorial future to Washington. The Russian-language coverage already shows how easily the story can be reframed in that direction.

Fourth, it could create domestic political backlash in Ukraine. Any settlement involving special status, demilitarization, outside administration, or semi-autonomy would be politically explosive. Adding Trump’s name to the formula would make it even more vulnerable to criticism.

6. Possible strategic logic

Yet the idea should not be dismissed as pure stupidity. From Kyiv’s wartime perspective, the United States remains indispensable. If Ukrainian negotiators believed that Trump was leaning toward accepting Russian territorial demands, then a personalized symbolic maneuver may have seemed like a desperate but pragmatic attempt to redirect his instincts.

The possible deterrence logic is especially interesting. If the area became a demilitarized or special economic zone branded with Trump’s name, a future Russian attack might be framed as an attack not only on Ukraine but on Trump’s personal diplomatic legacy. That is the logic behind Charap’s reported comment about a “Trump imprimatur” functioning as a deterrent.

However, this is an unstable basis for security. Deterrence built on personal vanity is weaker than deterrence built on treaty obligations, troop presence, enforceable guarantees, or alliance mechanisms. It also expires politically: what happens after Trump leaves office, loses interest, or changes position?

7. Comparative examples

The closest precedent is “Fort Trump” in Poland. In 2018, Polish President Andrzej Duda publicly floated the idea of naming a permanent U.S. military base in Poland after Trump and offering more than $2 billion toward the project. But Reuters later reported that the “Fort Trump” project had effectively crumbled, quoting a U.S. official as saying, “There is no Fort Trump.” This is highly relevant: personal flattery can open a conversation, but it does not guarantee durable institutional outcomes.

Another relevant example is the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity in the Armenia–Azerbaijan context. Unlike “Donnyland,” this name appears in a formal joint declaration and implementation framework. The difference is important. TRIPP names an infrastructure/connectivity project embedded in a negotiated declaration; “Donnyland” would name a devastated, militarized, sovereignty-sensitive war zone. The symbolic burden is much heavier in Donbas.

A third comparison is Trump Heights in the Golan Heights, which The Week discusses as part of the broader pattern of naming projects after Trump. Here again, the name is connected to contested sovereignty and international recognition, but it functions within Israeli domestic commemorative politics. “Donnyland,” by contrast, would be attached to an active battlefield settlement.

8. Probability of actual renaming

My probability assessment remains low, but with more nuance after reviewing the online reactions.

Official legal renaming of part of Donbas as “Donnyland”: 1–2%.
The name is absent from official documents, Zelensky has publicly emphasized official Ukrainian territorial terminology, and the proposal conflicts with Ukraine’s legal and symbolic approach to geographical names. Ukraine’s Constitution explicitly includes Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts in the state’s administrative-territorial structure.

Use as an informal negotiation nickname: 35–50%.
This appears already to have happened, at least according to NYT-based reporting. Informal labels often survive inside diplomatic circles even when they never enter formal texts.

Use in a public-facing peace plan or memorandum: below 5%.
The political cost is too high. A neutral formula such as “Donbas Security Zone,” “Donetsk-Luhansk Demilitarized Area,” “International Security Zone,” or “Special Recovery Zone” would be much more likely.

Adoption of a related special-zone model without the name “Donnyland”: 15–25%.
The “Monaco model,” demilitarized zone, free economic zone, or international administration concept is more plausible than the name itself. TIME reports that such arrangements have been discussed, although neither side has endorsed them.

9. Final judgement

Academically, “Donnyland” is a fascinating but troubling example of how contemporary diplomacy can transform geographical naming into personal branding. It reveals the convergence of three processes: wartime territorial bargaining, performative flattery, and the mediatization of diplomacy.

Politically, however, the proposal is weak. It risks trivializing suffering, undermining Ukraine’s sovereignty narrative, and gifting Russian propaganda an easy target. It also substitutes personalized symbolic deterrence for the harder but more reliable instruments of security: enforceable guarantees, international monitoring, military aid, legal continuity, and territorial integrity.

My final position is therefore critical but not dismissive. If Ukrainian negotiators raised the idea, they may have done so out of strategic desperation rather than frivolity. But as a naming act, “Donnyland” would be poor toponymy and poor statecraft. It may be memorable, but it lacks legitimacy. It may flatter a powerful actor, but it does not honor the place. It may briefly attract attention, but it would not produce a stable political geography.

A serious settlement should avoid “Donnyland” and use sober, legally precise terminology: Donbas Security Zone, Donetsk-Luhansk Demilitarized Area, Internationally Monitored Recovery Zone, or Ukrainian Donbas Security Corridor. Such names are less spectacular, but they better serve the principles of sovereignty, dignity, and postwar reconstruction.

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Presentation "What's in a name" on renaming, memory, and public space in South Africa

On 23 April 2026, Stellenbosch University will host an online edition of Imbizo 365 under the thought-provoking title “What’s in a Name?” The event will explore one of the most debated questions in contemporary South Africa: the renaming of streets, towns, and public institutions, and the wider issues of history, identity, memory, and power that these changes bring into focus.

Since 1994, renaming practices in South Africa have been both symbolically and politically significant, while also generating intense national discussion. This event asks a series of timely questions: whose names belong on the map of a democratic nation, and what is gained or lost when history is rewritten in signage, budgets, and public space?

The presenter will be Romantha Botha, a South African documentary filmmaker, journalist, and cultural commentator whose work examines the intersections of history, identity, and power. Known for using film and digital storytelling to illuminate the enduring legacies of colonialism and apartheid, she brings to this topic a compelling combination of research, public engagement, and narrative insight.

The event will take place online via MS Teams from 13:00 to 14:30. Participants are invited not only to attend but also to join the conversation, with an added incentive: attendees will have the opportunity to engage in the discussion and stand a chance to win a R500 Takealot voucher.

This promises to be a stimulating event for everyone interested in onomastics, public history, cultural memory, and the politics of naming in contemporary society.

Call for Panellists: The Power of Names: Naming, Renaming, and African Identity

 10th Annual Conference of the Lagos Studies Association (LSA)

Theme: The State of African Studies in the 21st Century: The Lagos Studies Association @ 10
Format: Hybrid (Lagos + Zoom)
Dates: June 16–20, 2026
Abstract deadline: December 1, 2025

Names are among the most enduring acts of identity, memory, and power. Across Africa, the names of people, places, and institutions carry the imprint of history, spirituality, and politics. This panel examines the politics of naming and renaming as crucial sites where memory is negotiated, authority is asserted, and identities are reshaped.

From colonial toponymic impositions to postcolonial and contemporary struggles over renaming, names encode competing claims to legitimacy and belonging. Street, monument, and institutional renamings today intersect with debates about decolonization, nationalism, religion, and cultural pride. We invite contributors from linguistics, history, anthropology, literature, political science, geography, heritage studies, and related fields.

Guiding questions

• How do African societies negotiate the symbolic power of names in public and private life?

• In what ways does renaming rewrite historical narratives or reclaim suppressed identities?

• How do names reflect intersections of language, politics, and spirituality?

Suggested topics (include but not limited to)

• Colonial & postcolonial toponymies: place-names as power relations and historical memory

• Renaming as decolonial practice: meaning and stakes in nationalist and cultural reclamation projects

• Personal & family names: identity, spirituality, and resistance to erasure

• Memory, heritage, and erasure: how names preserve or obscure Indigenous histories

• Institutional & monumental renamings: implications for schools, streets, and landmarks

• Language, politics, authority: linguistic choices and competing claims to legitimacy

Submission guidelines

• Abstract: up to 250 words

• Include: paper title; author’s full name; institutional affiliation; short bio (80–120 words)

• Indicate: preferred participation mode (in-person Lagos or Zoom)

• Email submissions to: amooabdussalam@fuwukari.edu.ng

• Panel organiser: Abdussalam Olawale Amoo, Federal University, Wukari, Nigeria

Participation & format

This is a hybrid panel. We welcome proposals from scholars, practitioners, and early-career researchers based in Africa and worldwide. Presentations may be in English (or with English slides/handout where another language is used).

Join in Lagos - or online - to explore how the power of names shapes African identities, memories, and futures.

Ukraine erases Russian toponyms from public spaces

(20 Dec 2022) RESTRICTION SUMMARY: ASSOCIATED PRESS Kyiv, Ukraine - 15 December 2022 1. Various of man clearing snow ANNOTATION: Ukraine is erasing the centuries-long vestiges of Soviet and Russian influence from public spaces by removing monuments and renaming streets. 2. Various of fence with sign reading (Ukrainian): "Dostoevskogo street, 2" ANNOTATION: Streets are being renamed to honour Ukrainian artists, poets, military chiefs, independence leaders and even heroes of this year’s war. 3. Wide of street 4. Mid of dog 5. SOUNDBITE (Ukrainian) Valeryi Sholomytskyi, 61, Kyiv resident: “I was happy (about the change of name of street), although I have a very good attitude towards Dostoevsky. I am a graduate of our National Academy of Arts in Kyiv. I eventually finished. That’s why I really like Andy Warhol Street.” 6. Close of fence with sign reading (Ukrainian): "Dostoevskogo street, 14/431" ANNOTATION: It is part punishment for Russia’s invasion and part affirmation of a long-overlooked national identity. ASSOCIATED PRESS Kyiv, Ukraine - 14 December 2022 7. Wide of Kyiv City Council building 8. Wide of deputy head of Kyiv City Council Volodymyr Prokopiv talking to AP journalists 9. SOUNDBITE (Ukrainian) Volodymyr Prokopiv, deputy head of Kyiv City Council: "The names of the streets, the presence of certain monuments are not about toponymy, it is not about the decision of this or that local authority. This is about... maybe it will sound a little harsh - this is about the fact that Russia believed that Ukraine had no right to exist." 10. Close of list with street names UPSOUND (Ukrainian): "Blue - it means that decision is already done. Other colours are other stages with repeated voting." ANNOTATION: Their national identity is having what may be an unprecedented surge, in ways large and small. 11. Wide of Prokopiv talking to AP journalists ASSOCIATED PRESS Kyiv, Ukraine - 15 December 2022 12. A sign on residential building reading (Ukrainian): "Romana Ratushnoho street" ANNOTATION: Many Ukrainians who spoke Russian as their first language from birth now shun or at least limit use of it. 13. Wide of man and woman walking on street 14. SOUNDBITE (Ukrainian) Tetyana Sapronova, Kyiv resident: “We are very pleased that this is being done. And our defenders... By their names, who died, so that the streets should be named. And there should be no Russian names. Such as Durzhba Narodov (translating to ‘friendship of countries’). What kind of friendship do we have? There is no (friendship) there already.” 15. Wide of street 16. Mid of residential building ANNOTATION: Since the start of the program, some 200 streets have been renamed in Kyiv, with 100 more on the way, the city authority said. 17. Sign on the residential building reading (Ukrainian): "Romana Ratushnoho street" STORYLINE: On the streets of Kyiv, Fyodor Dostoevsky is on the way out. Andy Warhol is on the way in. Ukraine is accelerating efforts to erase the vestiges of Soviet and Russian influence from its public spaces by pulling down monuments and renaming hundreds of streets to honor its own artists, poets, soldiers, independence leaders and others — including heroes of this year’s war. Following Moscow’s invasion on Feb. 24 that has killed or injured untold numbers of civilians and soldiers and pummeled buildings and infrastructure, Ukraine's leaders have shifted a campaign that once focused on dismantling its Communist past into one of “de-Russification.”

История переименования городов и сёл в Крыму

avdet.org

Советская власть переименовала Ялту в Красноармейск, а после выселения крымских татар новые названия давали даже горам и рекам. Бахчисарай сейчас мог бы быть Пушкиным или Садовском, Алушта – Кутузовском, Судак – Сурожем, а Белогорск –Чернореченском.

За последние 250 лет Крым перепахали четыре (!) кампании по переименованию городов и сел. Такого не было ни в одном регионе мира. История прошлась по карте полуострова ластиком и чернилами, стирая старые названия и вписывая новые. Иногда они были удачными, но чаще – искусственными, придуманными наспех и без души. О деталях этого бурного и хаотичного процесса рассказали соавтор сборника «Топонимика Крыма 2011» Владимир Санжаровец и историк Гульнара Бекирова.

Первая волна: 18 век

Первое целенаправленное переименование населенных пунктов и других географических объектов Крыма случилось в конце 18 века – после присоединения полуострова к Российской империи. Первыми стали населенные пункты, которым была уготована особая роль: деревушка Ак-Яр стала Севастополем, городок Ак-Меджит – Симферополем. Переименовали и крупнейшие портовые, торговые города: Гезлёв нарекли Евпаторией, Кафе вернули имя Феодосия.

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Call for papers: Contested Names: (Re-)Naming and Place-Name Politics in Post-Socialist Countries

link

Call for submissions

Ideology and Politics Journal – Call for papers:

We invite authors to send us their articles dedicated to the following topics:

issue 1, 2020: Contested Names: (Re-)Naming and Place-Name Politics in Post-Socialist Countries

The Ideology and Politics Journal (IPJ) is dedicated to the analysis of ideologies in their political, social, and conceptual forms. Devoted to the advancement of understanding of socio-political processes in post-Soviet Belarus, Moldova, Russia and Ukraine, as well as the wider space of the former Soviet Union, the IPJ addresses the ideological and intellectual issues arising from the formation of new societies in post-Soviet space.  The IPJ encourages discussion of the historical, cultural and ethical dimensions of political action, with the intention of contributing to both the advancement of interdisciplinary research of contemporary ideologies and the promotion of good politics in the countries of the region.

The Ideology and Politics Journal is a peer-reviewed interdisciplinary journal published once or twice a year in electronic form. The Journal is indexed by Scopus (since December 2016), the DOAJ (Directory of Open Access Journals, since 2015) and the Index Copernicus (since 2017).

issue 1, 2020: Contested Names: (Re-)Naming and Place-Name Politics in Post-Socialist Countries

This volume addresses the theory and  the practice of place-name policies carried out in socialist and post-socialist states during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The volume aims to analyse geographical (re-)naming as a political and ideological practice, engaged in the construction of historical narratives and symbolic space, which also has shapedcollective memories and identities in post-communist and post-soviet countries. The issue will focus on state and local toponymic strategies and habits, renaming patterns, as well as hegemonic and alternative ideologies of place-naming. We invite articles from scholars working in the fields of history, geography, sociology, linguistics, political, gender, culturaland urban studies.     

The volume aims to analyze the following themes:

• The politicization of toponymy and commemoration as a result of changes in political and ideological regimes in post-communist and post-socialist countries.
• The deologicalization and de-ideologicalization of place names: strategies, practices, projects and patterns
• Memory politics and commemorative naming practices
• Place-name politics and the construction of collective identities (national, regional, local, and gender)
• Renaming as the rebranding of national narratives
• Actors and the objects of (re-)naming
• Place names and the symbolism of urban and rural spaces; practices of place (re-)naming and the politics of place
• Gender issues in the domain of toponymy and renaming
• Linguistic landscapes, place-name design, multilingualism and language policies
• The economics of (re-)naming and the commercialization of place names
• The reshaping of toponymic landscapes in uncontrolled areas and military zones
• Critical toponymies, toponymic silencing and the contestation of (re-)naming policies. The hidden discourses of renaming. The problem of parallel names

Both single-case and comparative studies of the defined topics are welcome.

 Articles (min 5,000 words, max. 15,000 words) should be submitted no later than December 30, 2019 to the editor’s e-mail address [mikhailminakov1971@gmail.com]. Submitted texts should be arranged in accordance with the Instructions for authors that are specified here: [http://ideopol.org/?page_id=7]. The decision on publication will be made subsequent to two blind peer reviews of the manuscript. All authors who have submitted their articles will be notified on Editorial Board’s decision by April 15, 2020.

To enhance international dialogue on the regional issues, IPJ accepts the submission of articles in English, Russian and Ukrainian. All accepted articles are published in their original language with abstracts in English, Russian and Ukrainian.

Submitted texts should be arranged in accordance with the Instructions for authors that are specified here: [http://ideopol.org/?page_id=7]. The decision on publication will be made subsequent to two blind peer reviews of the manuscript. All authors who have submitted their articles will be notified on Editorial Board’s decision by December 15, 2019.

Publication in our journal does not involve any fees or honoraria.

Tensions emerge over renaming Welsh Assembly the Senedd

bbc

A law renaming the assembly the Senedd will include an English explanation of the word's meaning, the institution's presiding officer has said.

BBC Wales understands some AMs were unhappy with Elin Jones's plan to give the institution a Welsh-only name.

Ms Jones, who is in charge of assembly day-to-day business, said most AMs backed Senedd name, meaning parliament.

Welsh language campaigners accused her of "opening the door on giving the institution a de facto bilingual name".

However the Conservatives said a "fully bilingual name" was what they wanted, and the assembly should become "Senedd Cymru/ Welsh Parliament".

A bill to rename the institution and cut the voting age to 16 in assembly elections is expected in the next couple of weeks.

Last November Ms Jones told AMs she had decided the assembly would be given the "monolingual name 'Senedd' and that members will be referred to as 'Aelodau'r Senedd/Members of the Senedd'".

Some assembly members, including most Conservatives, were opposed to the decision, BBC Wales has been told. One said the plan had been "watered down".

An assembly source said there had been a "compromise".

In an interview with BBC's Sunday Politics Wales programme, Ms Jones said the name Senedd "seems to me to have the greatest support" among AMs.

"Of course, we are a Welsh parliament, we are a Senedd now, and we do need to call ourselves that," she said.

"Formally this institution will be called the Senedd, if the members agree to that legislation.

"The legislation itself will describe the Senedd as the Welsh parliament.

"Members, people in Wales, people outside of Wales who don't speak Welsh will of course be able to use the terms Senedd and hopefully that will become more familiar to more people.

"But of course it needs to be described as the Welsh parliament because that is of more immediate understanding to those people who don't speak Welsh.

"But over time the formal name will establish itself."

Offensive place names bugging you? Here's your chance to change it

Tines Live

The Western Cape will conduct an audit to identify all place names that are seen as offensive‚ as part of a process to develop a common national identity. (Image: Sharief Jaffer)

The Western Cape is keen to conduct an audit to identify all place names that are seen as offensive‚ as part of a process to develop a common national identity‚ social cohesion and inclusivity within the province.

Cultural affairs minister in the province‚ Anroux Marais‚ said in a statement that proposed name changes would be processed in accordance with the Western Cape policy for the Naming and Renaming of Geographical Features and the South African Geographical Names Council Act.

"On 2 February 1990‚ former President FW de Klerk announced the release of Nelson Mandela‚ which would set off a chain of events leading to the subsequent end of apartheid in South Africa‚" said Marais‚ adding the call for the audit was "in commemoration of the dawn of democracy‚ and as we celebrate Tata Madiba’s centenary".

Submissions of offensive names must reach the Department of Cultural Affairs and Sport by March 31.

The online audit form can be accessed on this link:  and submitted by email to: geonames@westerncape.gov.za

The prescribed audit form (English‚ Afrikaans and Xhosa) is also available on the website of the Department of Cultural Affairs and Sport along with copies of the relevant policy and legislation. It can be accessed using this link.

Mois de l’histoire des Noirs : faut-il rebaptiser les noms de nos rues?

rcinet

Par Stéphane Parent

Il y a trois ans, une plainte formelle avait été déposée par une citoyenne à la Commission de la toponymie du Québec.

La militante pour les droits des Noirs Rachel Décost dénonçait l’appellation d’un plan d’eau nommé « rapides des Nègres » dans la région de l’Outaouais. Elle demandait à la Commission de la toponymie du Québec de retirer tous les noms dans la toponymie québécoise qui comprend le mot nègre. Il y en avait 11 en tout à ce moment-là.

Qui plus est, le Québec était alors la seule province au pays qui possédait des noms de lieux publics comprenant le mot « nègre ». Ailleurs au Canada, les noms avaient tous été changés.

Non merci!

La Commission de la toponymie a toutefois d’abord répondu à la plaignante que changer ces noms ne serait pas souhaitable. Elle précisait qu’au cours de consultations menées dans le cadre de ses démarches de révision des toponymes avec les mots spécifiques « Nigger » ou « Nègre », des représentants de la communauté noire du Québec lui avaient demandé de ne pas les retirer…

Finalement, quelques semaines après le dépôt de la plainte et une pluie de commentaires, notamment sur les réseaux sociaux, la Commission de toponymie a fini par se raviser et affirmait que les noms de lieux du territoire québécois qui comportaient le mot anglais « Nigger » ou le mot français « Nègre » seraient immédiatement changés!

La Commission expliquait que, après analyse, même si ces mots étaient d’usage ancien, ils pouvaient effectivement porter atteinte à la dignité des membres de la communauté noire.

Aujourd'hui, à l'occasion du lancement du mois de l'histoire des Noirs, nous vous posons cette question :
Si vous deviez renommer une rue en l'honneur d'une personnalité noire d'ici ou d'ailleurs, quel nom proposeriez-vous?