Orientalism, a term coined by Edward Said, refers to the Western construction of the Orient (primarily Asia – including East and West Asia – and Africa) as a place of exoticism, backwardness and inferiority. This construct was deeply intertwined with colonialism, as Western powers used these Orientalist perceptions to justify their domination of these regions. Colonialism involved the political, economic, military and cultural subjugation of colonised peoples and territories by European powers. The construction of the Oriental Other, as Said (1979) argues, has been empowering a dualistic link between the Orient and the Occident; an association which ‘is a relationship of power, of domination, of varying degrees of a complex hegemony’ (Said 1979: 5).
This power relationship has played its role in naming practices too. By naming practices, I am addressing the conventions, methodologies and cultural processes surrounding the assignment of names to entities, whether they be individuals, organisations, concepts, places or other phenomena. This includes the cultural, linguistic, historical and social factors that influence how names are chosen, perceived and understood within a given context. The impact of Orientalism on naming practices manifests when the indigenous name is deemed exotic, inferior and unimportant and is replaced with the conventions of naming according to the linguistic norms in English-speaking communities. The literature on how the name of the Other has been affected by multiple factors including Orientalism shows a particular focus on toponymic inscriptions (e.g. Bigon and Njoh 2015; Yeoh 1992; Grounds 2001; Keilo 2017; Mamvura 2023; Rose-Redwood et al. 2010). However, the act of naming individuals from the Other, or how Occidental discourse imposes its naming conventions on Oriental individuals, has received limited attention.
In this article, I endeavour to contribute to addressing this gap by extending the lens of Said's Orientalism to the process of naming the Other. I suggest that the practice of naming the Oriental individual can showcase Orientalism's principal method of discourse making where ‘suppositions, associations, and fictions appear to crowd the unfamiliar space outside one's own’ (Said 1979:). The unfamiliar space, in this case, is the ‘exotic’ name of the Other where Western linguistic forces come and crowd. According to Said (1979: 94), the central purpose of Orientalism's cultural agenda is to form a ‘silent’ Orient which facilitates the Western manipulation and governance of ‘native inhabitants’. This cultural project brings to light Orientalism's core premise, which is the ‘Western projection onto and will to govern over the Orient’ (Said 1979: 95). While Said (1979) does not necessarily suggest a distinction here, I use his terminology, ‘projection onto’ and ‘govern over’, to distinguish between two mechanisms in treating the name of the Other, suggesting that sometimes the Occidental force projects its naming preferences on the Other, while other times it governs the Other to adopt a name according to Western predilections.
The differentiation between ‘projection onto’ and ‘govern over’ in my argument is rooted in Michel Foucault's distinction between ‘sovereignty’ and its absolute force and ‘government’ and its disciplinary power (Foucault 2009). In several of his works, particularly his lectures at the Collège de France between 1977–1978, Security, Territory, Population, Foucault (2009) discusses that sovereign power operates through coercion and repression, relying on external controls and incentives for enforcement. Conversely, governmentality and its disciplinary power are concerned with shaping individuals’ motives, desires and character through self-regulation techniques. Government encompasses a complex array of processes aimed at systematically regulating human behaviour across various aspects of societal and personal existence. In Foucault's words,
the objective of government will be a series of specific finalities. And one will arrange (disposer) things to achieve these different ends. This word ‘disposer’ is important because, what enabled sovereignty to achieve its aim of obedience to the laws, was the law itself; law and sovereignty were absolutely united. Here, on the contrary, it is not a matter of imposing a law on men, but of the disposition of things, that is to say, of employing tactics rather than laws, or, of as far as possible employing laws as tactics; arranging things so that this or that end may be achieved through a certain number of means. (Foucault 2009: 99)
Adopting a methodology that interweaves Said's Orientalism and Foucault's distinction between the sovereign's absolute power and the government's disciplinary power, I locate my argument in the framework of linguistic Orientalism, demonstrating how the practice of naming the Other has dually impacted Persian names in English-speaking contexts. On the one hand, the specific names of some Persian historical figures have been completely wiped out and replaced with the names that Western academia prefers – a practice that will be addressed here as name projection. On the other hand, a multitude of socioeconomic factors have been at work to discipline the Persian individual to find in their original name a deficiency that could be rectified through the adoption of a new Anglo-sounding name – a practice that will be referred to here as name adoption.1
To develop my argument further and showcase how linguistic Orientalism is at the core of the treatment of Persian names in English-speaking contexts, I will first look at the framework of linguistic Orientalism. The position of naming practices within this context will be discussed. Next, I will draw on examples of name projection – particularly from discourses about Persian history – and name adoption – based on the data gathered through informal interviews with five individuals from an Iranian background who live and work in Sydney, Australia. Afterwards, I will review the common reasons reinforcing both practices, name projection and name adoption. As I argue, both naming practices can manifest four impetuses at the heart of the general frame of linguistic Orientalism and the specific treatment of the name of the Other: ‘the insignificance of the Other’, ‘assimilation force’, ‘lazy colonisers’, and ‘economic drives’. Finally, I will illustrate how the move from name projection to name adoption demonstrates a Foucauldian trajectory in the Occidental treatment of the Oriental identity – from sovereign power to disciplinary power. Both name projection and name adoption can manifest how linguistic Orientalism follows the path of settler colonialism that ‘destroys to replace’ (Wolfe 2006: 388). First, the name of the Other is eradicated, and then it is replaced with the Occidental preference.
Linguistic Orientalism
Both approaches to naming the Other, name projection and name adoption, can be categorised within the scope of linguistic Orientalism. According to Said (1979), Orientalism takes place when Western discourses try to shape, represent and illustrate the Eastern world from their privileged point of view:
Orientalism can be discussed and analysed as the corporate institution for dealing with the Orient – dealing with it by making statements about it, authorising views of it, describing it, by teaching it, settling it, ruling over it: in short, as a Western style for dominating, restructuring and having authority over the Orient. (1979: 3)
Leveraging Said's ideas, John Mugane (2006) argues that linguistic Orientalism pertains to the portrayal, instruction, governance and dominance of indigenous languages. Drawing on the example of African languages, he shows that commentary on these languages and cultures has functioned as a significant tool for their suppression, obstruction, and ultimately, eradication. Linguistic Orientalism characterises indigenous languages as unworthy, suggesting they impede efficiency and advancement. Through such a typification, the colonised population is made less robust, cut off from their cultural history, and forced to conform to the ideals and conventions of the colonisers by being subject to their linguistic supremacy. Linguistic Orientalism has manifested itself in a variety of contexts including India (MacKenzie 1995), China (Ma 1993), Africa (Michieka 2020), America (Iyengar 2014), and West Asia (Burrows 2016). In all those cases, the superiority of another language, often English, is forced upon the indigenous population. This privileged position is not inherent in the linguistic structures but is the consequence of the ‘greater economic and political success of its speakers in recent centuries’ (Milroy and Milroy 2002: 13).
Names are not an exception in the assumed superiority of English over indigenous languages. Along with facilitating identification, names carry significant cultural values. They maintain associations with a person's background, family history or societal affiliations that are either personal, cultural or historical. As Edwards (2006) suggests, language occupies a central role in shaping identity, particularly through names, as they are fundamental to communication and contribute significantly to how we construct our identities, both internally and in the eyes of others (93). Since naming exists as a distinct sphere with its own inherent logic and autonomy, it can ‘territorialize, politicize, and ideologize’ (Giraut and Houssay-Holzschuch 2022: 2).
Names are strategic gates to a person's identity through which a subtle, yet powerful method of domination could advance. They are one of the first tactical points for different subjugating forces on different levels – from school bullies to grand colonisers in history – to conquer and enter the territory of their target's identity in order to harass and manipulate. Naming conquered places is a crucial part of the conquest process, whether it happens before, during or after the actual conquest. It involves labelling newly ‘discovered’ lands, marking settlers’ boundaries, and naming territories or populations that have been conquered, annexed or colonised, with various methods (Giraut 2022). The colonial practice of naming the Other is primarily observable in the context of naming territories and landscapes, known as ‘colonial toponymy’ or ‘colonial place naming’ (Alderman 2008; d'Almeida-Topor 2016; Bigon 2008; Cherry et al. 2023; Hudson and Woodcock 2022; Mamvura et al. 2017; Mangena 2023; Mbenzi 2019; Stanley 2009; Stella 2007). In addition to those examples, one can see certain instances where the names of individuals, including historical figures of the Other, are reappropriated by the Occidental authorities and are replaced with English-speaking preferences.
Name Projection
In the practice that this article addresses as name projection, cultural appropriation goes hand in hand with linguistic Orientalism. In name projection, part of the culture of the Other is appropriated by Western preferences but in a manner in which the roots and origins fade away. Even if the indigenous name is not completely removed, it undergoes such a profound alienation from its roots that individuals from the same background have no familiarity with the new form. Not only is a new name imposed by the structures and conventions of a different language but its fundamental roots and connections to the original mother language are entirely severed. The alienating process of name projection takes place when a name is subjected to considerable linguistic alterations, acquiring grammatical conventions, phonetic patterns and cultural context from another language. As a result, the name becomes unrecognisable to people previously familiar with its original form.
One of the most iconic examples of name projection, and the fusion of Orientalism with the tampering of one's name as a means of mastery, appears in Daniel Defoe's (2007) Robinson Crusoe.2 Undertaking the colonising mission of creating ‘a new world of his own in the distant reaches of the African, Pacific, and Atlantic wilderness’ (Said 1994: 64), Robinson Crusoe encapsulates the myth of colonialism and ‘the dynamics of colonial relationships in general’ (McInelly 2003: 1-2). If Crusoe symbolises the inception of the colonial mindset in literature, then the character ‘Friday’ embodies all indigenous peoples from America, Asia and Africa who later suffered under European imperialism. The sovereign relationship between Crusoe and the Other begins with naming: ‘I made him know his Name should be Friday[ . . . ] I likewise taught him to say Master, and then let him know, that was to be my Name’ (Defoe 2007: 174). Here, naming becomes a performative act that gives an identity to the Other which is part and parcel of the legitimisation of authority over them. As Cecilia Sjöholm (2018) discusses, through the act of naming, we exert control over the world by representing and categorising its elements. The case of Crusoe illustrates how colonisers tame the name of the Other, recognising its crucial role in expanding their mastery and power which is akin to the exploitation of native resources such as gold, silver, and labour (Novak 1997: 111).
Name projection reflects not only a literal renaming but also a symbolic erasure of the native cultures. It becomes a way for the coloniser to reshape the narrative in their own favour. In the Crusoe case, Friday is not only a new name conveying an unmistakable assertion of Occidental ownership of the Orient, but it also exemplifies the cancellation and elimination of the identity of a twenty-six-year-old ‘savage’ (Keymer 2007: xxii). To further showcase the subordinate position and submissiveness of the Other, Defoe (2007) spices up Friday's docility with his desire. From the perspective of Robinson Crusoe, it was Friday himself who ‘made all the Signs to me of Subjection, Servitude, and Submission imaginable, to let me know, how he would serve me as long as he liv'd’ (174). Such depictions of the identity-less Oriental Other ready to be ‘identified’ and ‘named’ by Western colonisers were disseminated through several discourses of the time. From Bernal Díaz del Castillo's The True History of the Conquest of Mexico3 (Castillo 1800) and James Cook's Voyages Round the World (Cook and Anderson 1790) to Sydney Parkinson's A Journal of a Voyage to the South Seas (Parkinson 1773) one can witness repetitive instances of ‘naming’ the unknown territory as a performative act of establishing authority over the Other. Friday's passion to be named in Robinson Crusoe could be seen, more or less identically, in a report by an English explorer, navigator and pirate, William Dampier (1699):
He was named Will, as the other was Robin. These were names given them by the English, for they had no Names among themselves; and they take it as a great favour to be named by any of us; and will complain for want of it, if we do not appoint them some name when they are with us: saying of themselves they are poor Men, and have no Name. (86–87)
The case with the names of some historical figures of Persian culture is similar to this colonial practice whereby Western authorities manipulate the identity of the ostensibly identity-less Other. Several Persian names in Western historical accounts have undergone the process of name projection. Their forms have been alienated from the roots in the Persian language and significantly altered due to the manoeuvres of English preferences. In those cases, the name loses an important part of its cultural and historical importance because of the severance of its ties to its origins. It no longer possesses the history, depth and symbolism that it would obtain in the mother tongue. Losing its original context and essence, the name becomes a disconnected entity and a part of linguistic Orientalism, serving the process of exoticism that delivers a view ‘from the Center's vantage point’, reinforcing a ‘relation between (Western) Self and (exotic) Other’ (Célestin 1996: 7). Even if one considers the past of those historical accounts as a justifiable instance of cultural ignorance, the current insistence on keeping those wrong forms and their extension to other fields, such as the entertainment industry, shows, at best, an indifference to the culture of the ‘Other’. Some examples can be viewed in Table 1. While the complexity of name interchange between ancient Greece and Iran, as well as the evolution from Old Persian to Middle and New Persian, deserve independent research, the rootlessness of the prevalent English forms of the Persian names listed in Table 1 remains an unchanged fact.
These are some examples of name imposition on Persian historical figures in English.
| English Name | Description | Original Name |
|---|---|---|
| Achaemenid | A dynasty that ruled Iran between | Hakhâmaneshiân |
| /əˈkiːmənɪd/ | 559 and 330 BC | /hɑːkʰɑːmɑnɛʃiːɑːn/ |
| (uh-KEE-muh-nid) | (hah-KHAH-mah-neh-shee-AHN) | |
| Cyrus | Commonly known as Cyrus the | Kourosh |
| /ˈsaɪrəs/ | Great (590/580 BC–529 BC), | /kuːˈrɒʃ/ |
| (SY-rus) | founder of the Hakhâmaneshiân | (koo-ROSH) |
| Empire | ||
| Artaxerxes | Name of three Persian kings: I died | Ardeshir |
| /ɑːrtəˈzɜːrksiːz/ | 425 BC (reigned 465–25 BC); II | //ɑːrˈdɛʃir// |
| (ar-tuh-ZURK-seez) | died 359/58 BC (reigned 405/404– | (ar-DESH-eer) |
| 359/58 BC); III died 338 BC | ||
| (reigned 359/58–338 BC) | ||
| Cambyses II | Son of Kourosh the Great, king of | Kambujiya |
| /ˈkæmbəsiːz/ | Persia (529–22 BC) | /kæmbuːˈdʒiːjə/ |
| (KAM-buh-seez) | (kam-boo-JEE-yuh) | |
| Artabanus of Persia | A Persian political figure during the | Ardavan of Persia |
| /ɑːrtəˈbeɪnəs/ | Hakhâmaneshiân dynasty | /ɑːrˈdɑːvæn/ |
| (ar-tuh-BAY-nuhs) | (ar-DAH-van) | |
| Hystaspes | The father of Darius I, emperor of | Vištāspa |
| /hɪˈstæspiːz/ | the Hakhâmaneshiân Empire (died | /ʋiʃˈtɑːspə/ |
| (hih-STAS-pee-z) | 486 BC) | Vish-TAA-spuh |
| Autophradates | A Persian Satrap of Lydia, who also | Vadfardad |
| /ɔːtəʊˈfreɪdətiːz/ | distinguished himself as a general | /vædfɑːrˈdæd/ |
| (aw-toh-FRAY-duh-teez) | in the reign of Darius III. | (vad-far-dad) |
In addition to the names mentioned in Table 1, another widespread example of projecting estranged names onto Persian figures is Xerxes. ‘Who is Xerxes?’ would be the response of an average Persian person if asked about a character so named. The use of Xerxes [zɜːrksiːz] instead of the original Persian name, Khashayarsha [kʰɑːʃɑːˈjɑːrʃɑː], in different English discourses demonstrates how a worldview which deems itself superior does not trouble correcting itself to exhibit acknowledgement and respect for other cultures. Examples of using this preposterous form include historical accounts such as those from Jacob Abbott (1878), Ernst E. Herzfeld (1932), Morgan Llywelyn (1987), Richard Stoneman (2015), and multiple works in the entertainment industries such as those from Frank Miller (1998; 2018) , the film 300 (2006) directed by Zack Snyder, the film One Night with the King (2006) directed by Michael O. Sajbel, and the film 300: Rise of an Empire (2014) directed by Noam Murro. Insisting on using the wrong name for historical figures of other cultures is a clear sign of linguist Orientalism based on which the indigenous cultures and languages are delegated to a primitive position, unauthorised to have an identity independent of what Western traditions have established for them. Despite the passage of time and the clarification of the mistreatment, many of the discourse makers are not ready to admit fault and abandon the questionable traditions on which they have accumulated their ‘knowledge’.
Name Adoption
The decision to adopt an Anglo-sounding name is typically made for cultural, societal or professional reasons. This habit is especially prevalent among non-native English speakers and people from Eastern cultures whose naming practices differ from those of English-speaking nations, for example, Taiwan (Chen 2015; Liao 2000), Hong Kong (Li 1997; Mathews 1996), Macau (Cheang 2008), and Singapore (Tan 2001). Beyond just being a practical choice for language learning or professional needs, adopting an English name reflects a broader cultural phenomenon. In today's interconnected world, where English serves as a lingua franca in many spheres, choosing an English name can symbolise not just linguistic proficiency but also a desire to connect with global culture and trends, thereby promoting a ‘glocal identity’ (Huang and Ke 2016). The act of adopting English names can also symbolically index modernity and cosmopolitanism in some contexts (Henry 2012).
As Schmitt (2019) enumerates, ‘pronunciation and memorability’, ‘communication’, ‘comfort and assimilation’, and ‘following the crowd’ are among the common reasons for adopting an English name. The result of my informal interviews with five persons of Iranian background with original Persian names, who have adopted Anglo-sounding names (Table 2), also shows how these reasons impact individuals’ decisions for name adoption. In my conversations with five Iranian individuals, who adopted Anglo-sounding names in their professional lives, I guided our discussions towards the question: ‘Why did you choose an Anglo-sounding name?’ without directly asking it. To ensure the ethical aspect of my research, my interviewees remain unnamed. In using this form of data, I am following the argument made by Jon Michael Swain and Zachery Daniel Spire (2020) supporting the benefits of informal interviews in data generation. Particularly, as they suggest, one of the main advantages of informal interviews is that during the discussion the distinction between participant and researcher often blurs. While individuals may share details about their daily lives that seem mundane to them, the researcher perceives them as significant contributions towards addressing the research inquiries.
The results of informal interviews with five persons with original Persian names, who have adopted English names.
| Age/Gender | Main Reason for Change |
|---|---|
| Person 1—Female, | Honestly, I hated it when people pronounced my name as if I've come |
| in her late thirties | from Mars. The surprised expression on their face was too much for me. |
| Person 2—Male, in | You have to deal with facts. Every society has its own rules. When |
| his late twenties | you don't have the right name, you'll end up with less opportunities. |
| Person 3—Female, | I don't think you should let anything be an obstacle to your |
| in her mid-thirties | acceptance into a new community. A name is just a name. If they feel more comfortable calling me this, let them do it. |
| Person 4—Female, | I have loved this name since I was a child. Coming to Australia was |
| in her mid-twenties | the best chance for me to take it on. |
| Person 5—Male, in | I reckon it is unprofessional to be that ‘guy’ in the workplace. |
| his early thirties | Imagine every time they want to tell you something, they pause for |
| half an hour figuring out how to pronounce your name. I mean, who | |
| wants to be that guy? |
The responses I have recorded show that better assimilation into the crowd and enhancing professional pathways are the main reasons behind adopting Anglo-sounding names. The spread of English and Anglicised names reflects the shifting dynamics of globalisation and the value of English skills across a range of fields. As my interviews show, adopting an English name is not only a linguistic adjustment for people; it is also a calculated choice to improve professional opportunities and negotiate foreign cultures. Having an English name is frequently seen as a benefit for effective communication and networking in fields with a large global presence, such as business, hospitality and academia. Although it is important to acknowledge the constraints of this data, it still offers valuable insights into possible reasons that may guide the decision to adopt an Anglo-sounding name in the context of Australia's society, where diverse populations from different backgrounds and parts of the world live and work. It is important to note that except for Person 4 in Table 2, the other individuals use their adopted Anglo-sounding names only in their professional settings or interactions with people who are not from an Iranian background.
Nevertheless, it must be emphasised that not every non-native resident of English-speaking communities supports choosing an English name. In the end, the individual decision to adopt or reject English and Anglicised names is influenced by a variety of linguistic, cultural and personal elements that represent the many perspectives and goals of people in a globalised society. Consequently, it is essential to approach the adoption of or refusal to adopt English and Anglicised names with a sense of relativity and acknowledgement of the complexity and variety of forces at play. The decision to adopt or reject an English name could be profoundly personal (as evidenced by the response by Person 4 in Table 2) and influenced by many factors, including cultural identity, individual preferences, educational environment, career aspirations and societal expectations. Each person's experience and motivations may differ significantly, and it is essential to avoid generalisations or sweeping judgements.
Name Projection, Name Adoption: Commonalities
The practice of projecting an estranged form of a name on the Other stems from a colonising tendency to appropriate something – a place, an account, a discourse – and make it a strategic position in the coloniser's general worldview. It is the enforcement of an affiliation between the superior Western subject and the inferior Eastern object whose inferiority and exotic features should be stressed in the practice of name projection. The reasons behind the authoritarian practice of name projection can also be found in the social incentives that encourage the disciplinary practice of name adoption. I suggest four dynamics which work in those practices: ‘the insignificance of the Other’, ‘assimilation force’, ‘lazy colonisers’, and ‘economic factors’.
The Insignificance of the Other
Within the frame of linguistic Orientalism, the language of the Other is frequently portrayed as submissive, uncivilised or undeveloped. Such a portrayal validates colonial dominance and reinforces a sense of Western superiority. Some might argue that a name is just a name. However, it is hard to disregard the fact that a name can bring with it a complete discursive power. The need to name arises from the necessity of making known the unknown and ultimately usurping the control. In his account of the ‘discovery’ of the natural life of America, the French naturalist Count de Buffon not only highlights the vital link between denomination and the domination of the unknown but also shows, of course unwantedly, how the projection of names onto the Other stems from linguistic Orientalism and an assumed privilege of European languages:
When the Europeans first discovered America, they found the quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects, plants and almost every thing, perfectly different from those of Europe. It was, therefore, necessary to denominate the principal objects of this new world. The names given them by the natives were mostly barbarous, and very difficult to pronounce or to remember. The names of objects were, of course, borrowed from those of the European languages, and especially from the Spanish and Portuguese. (Leclerc 1785: 75)
One can argue that individual names are even more critical since they often carry roots of one's familial background, culture and history, serving as expressions of social principles and collective identity. Emphasising the vitality of personal names, Edwards (2006) reminds the potential English reader of their own experience:
It is very unusual for a British person to change their personal name. We seem to be very attached to our names and they are very much connected to our sense of self. We only have to think how uncomfortable we feel when someone forgets our name, or calls us by the wrong name, or in some instances mispronounces our name to appreciate the truth of this statement. (92)
The insignificance of the Other can show itself in a variety of contexts. For instance, if one searches the Avicenna of Baghdad, multiple texts will show up. To be even-handed, it might be a simple mistake by an author to wrongly mention the birthplace or origins of Ibn Sina, an Iranian polymath who lived during the tenth and eleventh centuries. But the main point is that it is almost impossible that similar mistakes such as William Shakespeare of Berlin or Johann Wolfgang von Goethe of Amsterdam would pass the scrutiny of Western academia. Nevertheless, when it comes to the Eastern figures, such blunders become acceptable and even publishable. Another example is the invention of a city named Kanoon or Kanun in Iran, by some Western authors, as the birthplace of the Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults4 which was the sponsor of early films of the renowned Persian filmmaker, Abbas Kiarostami. It is rather curious to ponder why an author would decide to invent a city called Kanoon or Kanun in Iran, where there is none, and disregard the fact that the Institute actually commenced its activities in Iran's capital, Tehran, in 1965. If the Other were truly significant to a discourse maker, they would probably show more precision or a will to correct their human errors.
The insignificance of the Other plays a crucial role in both name projection and name adoption. For instance, historians often fail to recognise the lack of inherent meaning in a name like Xerxes within the Persian language. Otherwise, the name would have been changed to the original one. It seems unlikely for mainstream academicians to embrace such shifts as they may disrupt the current dominant reading of history. Our understanding of history is influenced by the language we use to describe it (Crowley 1995). Maintaining the estranged form of a Persian king's name can, per se, indicate the ‘superiority’ and ‘victory’ of a coloniser's viewpoint. The insignificance of the Other also impacts the process of name adoption. Like their Western counterparts, Eastern names have significant cultural and historical connotations. They frequently contain legends, customs and connections to ancestors. While the free choice of adopting a new name must be entirely respected, a society must not make a name a barrier to a person's ability to flourish in social interactions and professional settings. In response to societal pressures, individuals may choose to adopt a new name as a means of adapting to their circumstances. They may feel that their ‘name’ is seen as an insignificant residue from their mother culture, deserving erasure and replacement.
Assimilation Force
Assimilation is the process by which people or groups adopt the language, cultural norms and practices of another culture, frequently to be accepted by that culture. Assimilation into the hosting culture is an important factor in name adoption and the perpetuation of name projection. When historical figures are assimilated into the mainstream study of history, their imposed names are likely to be implemented vastly, regardless of the accuracy of the form. The dissemination of historical narratives through education, literature and media tends to cement particular versions of names in public consciousness. Once a name has been popularised through textbooks, historical novels, films and other cultural artefacts, it becomes entrenched, making it difficult to alter even if more accurate versions are later discovered. In such a light, if one wishes to study Hakhâmaneshiân instead of Achaemenid or the battles of Khashayarsha rather than the battles of Xerxes, the attempt would be in vain since such revisions to the mainstream narratives of history would rarely be welcome.
The assimilation force plays an even more prominent role in maintaining the name adoption mechanism. People from Eastern cultures frequently encounter different sorts of pressure to integrate and follow Western naming traditions when they move to English-speaking nations or connect with English-speaking groups. This pressure may result from a number of things, such as a desire to fit in with the new community, and a wish for clear pronunciation and communication. In some cases, the desire for name adoption can be rooted in the fact that individuals do not want their names to ‘become a diversion from other interaction, particularly at early stages in any interactional relationship’ (Schmitt 2019: 153). In other cases, the individual who changes a name might be after a detachment from some problematic labels such as having a ‘terrorist-sounding’ name (Suleiman, 2011; Uddin, 2019). As Mark Finney (2019) aptly observes, ‘assumptions are made from names, without first verifying religious identity. If one looks different, sounds different or has an unfamiliar name they are given “other” status’ (142). Therefore, it could be common for individuals from different backgrounds in English-speaking communities to rename themselves, endeavouring to detach their identity from cultural biases and stereotypes.
Lazy Colonisers
Linguistic Orientalism and its subsequent name projection and name adoption are, to an extent, entangled with the colonised perception of manual labour. One prevalent viewpoint during colonialism was that manual labour was beneath the colonisers. This point of view originated from ideas of racial and cultural superiority that defended the exploitation and enslavement of colonised peoples (Edmondson 1976). Manual labour was seen by the colonisers as menial, demeaning and suitable solely for native or enslaved inhabitants. Colonisers believed themselves to be the intellectually and socially superior race, and manual labour was something kept for inferior races. As Carter A. Wilson (1996: 48) points out, ‘It is not coincidental that the word race – meaning different human species – appeared in the English language at precisely the time Britain began to colonise other lands’. Hierarchical and oppressive colonial regimes were implemented in colonised lands because ‘lazy colonisers’ wanted ‘the blacks, the domestics, and the boys to do all the work’ (Wagner 2022: 73).
Although the physical aspects of speech production are not typically considered labour-intensive, in the same way as manual labour is, the traditional coloniser's view of not sparing even the slightest effort for the correct pronunciation of unfamiliar names can be a part of the mechanisms of name projection and name adoption. While it is expected from the Other to pronounce English names according to the correct phonetics, the names of Others can easily be considered exotic, demanding too much labour for accurate pronunciation. The observation made by Edwards (2006) is illuminating in this respect:
What is certainly apparent from students’ responses, however, is that students are nevertheless aware that native English-speaking teachers are at best uneasy with, and at worst incapable of, using their Chinese names. The most common reason given by students as to why they are given or asked to choose English names by their English teachers is that their Chinese names are too difficult for teachers. This difficulty is seen both in terms of pronunciation and in terms of memorability. It is interesting that eight of the 10 lecturers I interviewed freely admitted that they found the English names of their students far easier to remember than their Chinese names. (95)
Of course, many people, regardless of their culture and language, may have trouble pronouncing specific sounds or words. They may experience phonological constraints, articulatory boundaries or barriers resulting from linguistic background and exposure. As a result, a person may find it difficult to consistently pronounce words in a new language that differs from their linguistic repertoire. Nevertheless, the case here – at least in my view – does not pertain to the utmost correct pronunciation of words. The challenge is about ‘making an effort’ to properly pronounce ‘names’, which are the critical vehicles of identity and cultural diversity. When the effort is made, the result, even if not completely compatible with the original form, can represent the beauty of diverse dialects in pronouncing the same word.
Economic Factors
Marketing factors include the role a name plays in its suitability in commercialising or promoting economic activities. This includes considering how well a name can be utilised in marketing and business contexts to attract employers or customers and contribute to economic success. The phenomenon can be discussed in regard to both name projection and name adoption. For instance, for companies operating in the entertainment and media sector, the popularity of a name such as Xerxes may present several lucrative prospects. The series of comic books and 300 films are strongly linked to the name. The entertainment industry has been significantly impacted by this well-known franchise, which also offers numerous future business options. By sustaining this unrooted name through economic means, not only is the use of the wrong name perpetuated but the aligning coloniser/victorious perspective is reinforced.
The role of marketing factors in name adoption, particularly in multicultural or international settings, is even more explicit. Adopting an Anglo-sounding name can help people fit in and communicate more easily in multicultural communities or when they migrate to English-speaking nations. Having an English name can help individuals develop their careers in the professional world. For international business partners, employers, and co-workers, English names are typically more familiar and easier to use. People may elect to change their names to English ones in order to boost their career chances and avoid any potential biases or difficulties associated with their birth names. In contexts where employers favour candidates with ‘English’ names, adopting one can significantly improve employability (Adamovic and Leibbrandt 2023; Clement and Murugavel 2015).
Names: From Sovereign Projection to Neoliberal Governance
The move from the authoritative method of projecting colonisers’ desirable names onto places and individuals to the current process of incentivising people of different backgrounds to govern their names and adopt Anglo-sounding ones, can perfectly manifest a switch between the traditional form of exerting power on the Other – sovereign power – to encouraging the Other to act in accordance with the dominant doctrine freely – disciplinary power. According to Foucault (1995), ‘sovereign power’ is centred on the idea of the ruler who has the capacity to exert control over others and enforce their will by overt and apparent means. Top-down power is characterised by the fact that the authority to make decisions is concentrated in a small number of people or organisations. To influence behaviour and uphold order, sovereign power uses the threat of punishment. It functions through blatantly obvious control mechanisms, including laws, rules and formal hierarchical systems.
‘Disciplinary power’, on the other hand, functions in a more covert and pervasive manner, as defined by Foucault. Through a variety of approaches, namely, surveillance, normalisation and punishment, it focuses on the control and management of human behaviour. Although it is dispersed across society and takes the form of institutions, practices and technology, disciplinary power is not concentrated in one single figure of authority. It works by developing systems of observation, investigation and evaluation that encourage people to internalise norms and follow social expectations. In Foucaut's words, ‘the chief function of the disciplinary power is to train, rather than to select and to levy’ (1995: 170). The use of disciplinary power in everyday life has been significantly impacted by neoliberalism as an economic and political ideology. Neoliberalism supports the notion that people should act independently and responsibly and that market forces should take precedence. However, this emphasis on personal accountability frequently coexists with stronger disciplinary measures. Neoliberalism uses the instruments of market competition, meritocracy and self-governance to exercise disciplinary power and promote self-discipline and conformity to market-driven norms and values. Institutions and technologies that track and monitor people's behaviour, including performance reviews, rankings and ongoing market value assessments, serve to encourage diverse disciplinary measures (Dolbec et al. 2022; Parker 2024).
The difference between the traditional form of projecting a name onto the Other and the modern governance of the Other's name showcases the trajectory between sovereign power to disciplinary power within linguistic Orientalism and its naming practices. The criteria for ‘normal’ is still produced by the ‘Orientalist’ lens of colonisers. However, the tone and the way of implementation have significantly changed. For instance, it is hardly imaginable that a scholar should make the following observation in today's global atmosphere:
English language, standing on its base of Saxon and Gothic architecture, presents to the world an irrefragable proof, that at no time have the people speaking ‘that language’, been a conquered nation [ . . . ] In short, the English language is the only one on earth, coextensive with liberty; and where it ceases to be spoken, LIBERTY ceases to exist. (Barrett 1837: 24)
Similarly, one can barely expect an academician to degrade a language today by saying it ‘sounds like a burlesque’ (Duffy 1888: 29). Nevertheless, the core assumption of English as the superior language has not entirely gone away. The notion is propagated in other subtle practices. Instead of the old authoritative assertions and coercive techniques, which would be ‘easy to dismantle’, the new policy to plant and conserve English names and the coloniser's auditorial desires is through a form of power that ‘incites, provokes, produces’ (Foucault 2001: 172). Modern power does not command or forbid any names, but, by monitoring the individual, directs them towards a choice that ultimately conforms to the ‘norms’ rooted in the old colonising mentality.
Conclusion
This article looked at the cases in which the names of the Other are changed based on the preferences of English-speaking communities. Two linked mechanisms discussed were name projection and name adoption. Since the language and cultures of the Other are insignificant in the eye of the coloniser, they felt free to project their preferred names on places and individuals. Name adoption is a mechanism to change the name based on free will. However, many social and economic factors emerging from the global market can direct the choice of individuals. The economic and social necessity of integrating into the larger community is a prominent factor influencing the decision-making process. In both cases, the name-changing process may lead to the eradication of a critical aspect of a person's sense of self and identity. The article reviewed four similar drives behind name projection and name adoption: ‘insignificance of the Other’, ‘assimilation force’, ‘lazy colonisers’, and ‘economic factors’. The move from the previous authoritative act of projecting names onto Others to the current impulsion of Others to adopt an Anglo-sounding name for smoother cultural and social integration can show a Foucauldian trajectory from ‘sovereign power’ to ‘disciplinary power’.
In our neoliberal era, the name of Others is often governed and disciplined according to market rationale and individual free choice. The economic necessities usually incite, encourage and provoke a seemingly autonomous decision: to detach the ‘name’ and identity from the mother tongue and culture and embrace an Anglo-sounding one. Despite the pressures, some individuals choose to resist this trend, consciously retaining their original names as a form of cultural assertion and resistance. Overall, the decision to adopt an Anglo-sounding name is a multifaceted one. It reflects a range of pragmatic considerations and deeper cultural dynamics, highlighting the ongoing tension between assimilation and cultural preservation. Understanding this process in its full complexity requires acknowledging both the external pressures and the personal agency involved, as well as the broader societal implications of such decisions.
Notes
It must be noted at the onset that adopting a new name is, after all, the result of free will and must be respected. Therefore, despite the critical questions that could be raised regarding the discursive forces engaged in this practice, there remains one ultimate element more vital than and above all critical enquiries and that is respect for and acknowledgement of personal will.
Originally published in 1719.
Originally published in Spanish in 1568.
In Persian: Kānoon-e Parvaresh-e Fekri-e Koodakān va Nojavānān.
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