Imperial echoes: Renaming and its forgotten consequences

On Monday, January 20, soon after Donald Trump’s inauguration as President, he started what this blogger can only describe as an “Executive Order-a-palooza.” It started around mid-morning Hawai‘i time and continued until it seemed to be past midnight in Washington, D.C.

Donald Trump went on an “Executive Order-a-palooza” on his first day, and as of this writing, he still is at it.
PC”Donald Trump – Caricature” by DonkeyHotey is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

So many orders were posted so quickly that there were notable hiccups in moments. For instance, when a post was initially put up, clicking on the header to read the document took you to a completely different document. Another was the inconsistency in how the titles were presented: some were in capital letters as if they were just cutting and pasting the title from the document itself, and some were in more standard upper and lower cases.

By the time an hour or so passed, things had been standardized, and all the links to documents had been directed to the right ones.

But there was one Executive Order (EO) that piqued this blogger’s interest, who has studied Political Science (holding a master’s degree), along with a healthy amount of knowledge of historical events and trends, especially during the modern era.

The EO was entitled “Restoring Names that Honor American Greatness”, and issued as part of the last batch of EOs on the 20th of January.

In summary, it orders the changing of two geographical names. The first was the reversion of the name of the highest peak in the United States, called Denali, back to “Mount McKinley”, which was so named for the 25th President of the United States, William McKinley. In 2005, after a successful campaign by the indigenous people who live around the mountain in Alaska, President Obama officially recognized its indigenous name and officially changed the mountain’s name to that.

The second is to change all official government documents to reference what we all know as the “Gulf of Mexico” to be called the “Gulf of America”.

There is also a section where there could be more renaming of things to honor “additional patriots”.

On the surface, changing the name of a place does not seem to be too much of a big deal. And this is reflected by the coverage of the news, basically giving it a line or two. Some publications like the Guardian gave it more prominence but didn’t go that deep.

However, a geographical name change, to this blogger and his knowledge of both colonialism and imperialism, has way bigger connotations that invoke a whole host of things that include, but are not limited to the annexation of Hawai‘i and the entire historical record of the United States imperial expansionism in the late 1800’s. 

Let’s start with the easy part, the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico.

The Gulf Of Mexico, AKA in the United States government, the Gulf of America.
PC: “Gulf of Mexico in its region” by Aplaice is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.

The modern colonial era in which global powers conquered and controlled vast stretches of various locals went from about the 15th century (1400s) to about the middle of the 20th Century (1900s). During those times, countries like France, the United Kingdom, Belgium, Germany, and even Japan expanded their reach to other parts of the world.

Even the United States got into the act.

When these powers took over other countries and locations, one of the first things they did was to put their mark on the area by naming or renaming areas to inscribe their power.

Even Honolulu felt this practice of naming places and things based on the powers that be that oversaw it. In the article “Historical geographies of place naming: Colonial practices and beyond” by Beth Willamson in the publication “Geography Compass”, the author noted in their study,

“Scholars (e.g., Blaisdell, 1989; Budnick & Wise, 1989) have also been interested in Hawaiian street names, with Herman (1999) investigating how American hegemony was embedded through the inscription of Western names onto the streets of Honolulu during the American annexation of Hawaii at the end of the nineteenth century.”

Excerpt from the publication “Historical geographies of place naming: Colonial practices and beyond

With the middle of the 20th Century, and the desire by the world to de-colonize areas that were under the rule of the global powers, places were freed with naming conventions changed. For instance, in what was called Rhodesia, when it gained independence from the United Kingdom, the name of the country changed to Zimbabwe, and the capital was known as Salisbury, which was named after the Prime Minister of Great Britain when the place was founded, also, by those loyal to Britain.

The capital is now called Harare.

The Gulf of Mexico, by contrast, was named different things by different parties that ruled different areas of the Americas until at least Texas declared independence from Mexico. Then it was commonly known as the Gulf of Mexico.

File:Street renaming Ingeborg-Hunzinger-Str Rahnsdorf.jpg
The names of places and spaces are changed all the time in cities and countries. But when a country unilaterally changes the name of an international space, that harkens back to days of imperialistic power that the United States fought against after the end of World War II.
PC: Polarbear24, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

At that time, everyone in the region, including the United States, accepted the name for the body of water. However, in the early 21st century, U.S. authorities proposed renaming it the “Gulf of America.” This seemed to be a unilateral desire by some, but not a widespread call by all parties involved (including those in the United States let alone the countries that surround the Gulf).

When Pres. Trump declared on day one of his second administration that the Gulf would be renamed the “Gulf of America.” the reflection of the action, compared to how former colonial powers would change the names of areas to their liking, was profound to this blogger. It harkened back to a prior colonial era in which the “major power” (that being the United States) imposed its will on a place, renaming it. It further took on colonial-type tones when Congressman Dan Crenshaw called on Apple – one of the main makers of maps in the world now – to make the change on their map.

As of the writing of this article, both Apple and Google have yet to change the name of the Gulf on their maps, despite calls for the rebranding. This situation mirrors the ongoing disputes over naming conventions, such as the pressure from China for global companies to label Taiwan as “Taiwan CN,” reflecting its contested sovereignty.

While the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico may seem like a symbolic gesture, it reflects a broader pattern of asserting dominance through acts of rebranding. The reversion of Denali to Mount McKinley, however, strikes closer to home for Native Hawaiians, as it underscores the painful legacies of U.S. expansionism.

President McKinley’s legacy in Hawai‘i is inseparable from the annexation of the islands during the Spanish-American War, a land grab that also included the Philippines and Cuba. For many Native Hawaiians, McKinley is not a figure of greatness but a symbol of stolen sovereignty—a leader who absorbed their homeland into the United States without consent, perpetuating the broader narrative of American imperialism.

President William McKinley, here straddling the border between the United States and Central America, was the President who engaged in expanding the influence of the country in imperialistic ways, including annexing Hawaii in 1898.
PC: Victor Gillam, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Since the Second Hawaiian Renaissance of the 1970s, a growing movement has sought to reclaim Hawaiian identity by challenging these colonial legacies. This includes calls to rename McKinley High School in Honolulu back to its original name, “Honolulu High School,” as well as debates over other colonial symbols, like Captain Cook monuments. These discussions reflect a larger reckoning with the impact of colonization and the narratives that continue to glorify it.

Yet, actions like these are increasingly at odds with the new tone coming from Washington, D.C.—one that appears to celebrate figures like McKinley, whose legacy Native Hawaiians view as a painful reminder of injustice. The reversion of Denali’s name, paired with the broader rhetoric of “restoring American greatness,” raises an uncomfortable question: are these gestures merely symbolic, or are they an attempt to reawaken the imperialist ideals long thought buried after World War II and the mid-20th century decolonization movements?

For Native Hawaiians and those who hold Hawai‘i close to their hearts, these actions carry real weight, no matter how symbolic they seem. This blogger predicts that they will not allow this history—or the pain it caused—to be erased or ignored. Suppose the current administration in Washinton intends to revisit the imperialist playbook. In that case, they can be assured that the voices of Hawai‘i will rise, resolute in their mana‘o, to remind the nation of the consequences of such a path.