The Politics of Names

I have long been fascinated by place and species names, the stories they tell, the stories they hide, and the stories they erase. For far too long, though, the bestowing of such names was primarily controlled by white men, who often honored themselves, their friends or family, or their patrons. Because these men were usually visiting or encountering the landscape/plant/animal for the first time, they had minimal connections to what they named and were often blind to the deeper stories of longtime residents. Just consider some of the most famous names in my neighborhood: Mt. Rainier, named by George Vancouver for his pal Peter Rainier, who never saw what Native people call Tahoma; Douglas fir, which at least honors a guy—David Douglas—who saw the trees and was an adept naturalist; and Washington, which of course honors the president, who also never saw this place.

Seeking out the origin of place and species names has been central to helping me develop my own connections to the natural world. I have never considered the names a barrier but I, too, recognize that in my focus on the historical names, I have been blind to other stories. So, I was intrigued last week when the American Ornithological Society (AOS) announced plans to change the English-language names of birds named after people, starting with the birds in the United States and Canada. Their goal is to eliminate names that discourage people from focusing “attention on the unique features and beauty of the birds themselves.” More than 70 names are slated to change.

I have to admit that initially I was a bit annoyed by the AOS decision, in part because I have been writing recently about two birds that bear white guy names: Steller’s Jay and Clark’s Nutcracker. If those names are changed, then we will begin to overlook two fascinating stories of exploration, that of German naturalist George Wilhelm Steller on Qe’yiłteh Island in Alaska’s Prince William Sound in 1841 and that of William Clark in Montana in 1805.

First known drawing of Clark’s Crow, aka Nutcracker, from Alexander Wilson, 1812, from bird collected by Lewis and Clark, 1805.

But, as I thought more about the proposed change, I realized that my initial reaction was selfish. I like Clark and Steller and their stories and they seem to be reasonable fellows who were extremely curious and paid deep attention to the natural world. Using their names doesn’t harm me or detract from my appreciation of the two bird species. Yet, learning and using other names connects me to men who I cannot admire. (I use men specifically because nearly every person honored by a bird’s name is male, not to mention the lack of honorifics for people of color.) These honorees often had little to no association with the bird and behaved in odious ways, such as being a Major General for the Confederacy or robbing Native graves. The logic in removing these names is clear and by choosing to remove all people-related names the AOS is making a complete reset.

Birding is unusual in that most people who call themselves birders know only the common name and not the scientific name. In contrast, for example, botanists, whether amateur or professional, are fluent in scientific names and often eschew or may not know common names, which often have huge regional variability (and honor many people). This is primarily because the AOS is solely responsible for all common names of birds in North America and no other entity is so authoritative for other plants and animals, so what the AOS decides, spreads to every birder, casual or serious. (The AOS regularly changes names, usually due to a better understanding of genetics, so the idea of change is nothing new.) Ironically, many of the people’s names proposed for change will actually persist, because the AOS has no authority over scientific names. For example, the bird long known as McCown’s Longspur, and now called Thick-billed Longspur because McCown was a Confederate officer, still bears his name in the scientific name of the bird. (The scientific name of Steller’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) will also still incorporate his name.)

The AOS decision to make the wholesale change of all names in the US and Canada, makes sense. The new names will prioritize objective descriptions, as illustrated through the Thick-billed Longspur. Developing criteria to evaluate each and every name and decide who is worthy and who is not would be time consuming and challenging and take time away from issues such as conservation.

With no honorifics at all, we will have to go elsewhere to learn the deeper, older stories of connection to place, as well as naturalist and explorer stories. Obviously, the people who have long lived in the regions where the birds reside, knew of the birds and had their own names, stories, and relationships with them (and in many places still live and still know the birds). That knowledge was and is invaluable and those who care about these species would benefit by seeking out this traditional ecological knowledge. I further hope that birders and others interested in natural history (by this I mean the nature and history of a place) will continue to seek out a fuller understanding of the names and the stories they tell, that we will continue to have conversations about the shameful parts of our shared past, and that we will celebrate a broader range of people.

We live in a constantly changing social and cultural environment and modernizing the names of birds seems part of an evolving understanding between people and the natural world. Names and words do make a difference and if these names created a deterrent for people to develop a relationship with birds, and clearly many have expressed that it did, then I support steps such as the AOS decision that allow more people to develop connections to place, curiosity in the natural world, and a desire to protect ecosystems.

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Three side notes that didn’t really fit into this essay.

1. In one of my favorite books, Mink River, Brian Doyle imagines numerous names for what animals call themselves. For example, Doyle writes that “The word for ground squirrels in the language of bears is meat in holes…and the word for beaver is meat in water holes.”

2. Last April 1, a satiric note was posted on Tweeters, the local birding listserv, in which it was reported that new technology had allowed scientists to understand the names animals used for themselves and each other. “The situation became even worse, believe it or not, when scientists looked at bird’s names for each other…As one researcher put it ‘I never expected so much profanity. We just couldn’t begin to publish the phrases that corvids use for other passerines; shorebirds use remarkably colorful names to disparage the feeding abilities of sparrows, and tubenoses uniformly use horrible language to refer to less agile flyers. There was widespread disdain for ducks and their sexual exploits that led to vulgar names that, again, could never be printed in a field guide.’”

3. And, all kidding aside, here’s a truly profound thought. In Carl Safina’s Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel, he writes about dolphins: “In other words, they call each other by name, and they answer when they hear their own name called. Dolphins call their close friends’ names when they are separated.”

Perhaps some day we will come to a better and more nuanced understanding of the natural world around us. Until we do, I hope we can at least show our fellow residents of planet Earth respect and honor through language and deed.

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And, if you know anyone in Port Townsend who likes fossils, or should, please let them know about the two events that I will be part of this weekend.

November 11 - 4pm - Quimper Geological Society - Baptist Church in Port Townsend

November 12 - 3pm - Port Townsend Marine Science Center - Ft. Warden Chapel, Port Townsend.