The Rise of Self-Naming: When Political Figures Brand Public Spaces
The practice of naming public spaces after individuals is typically reserved for those who have passed away, allowing for a period of reflection and historical assessment. Yet, a growing trend sees political figures seeking to immortalize themselves through naming rights while still in power, a phenomenon that echoes historical patterns of autocratic regimes. This practice, recently highlighted by Donald Trump’s expressed desire to rename public landmarks, raises questions about the intersection of power, legacy and public space.
Historical Precedents: From Stalin to Trujillo
Throughout history, authoritarian leaders have utilized self-naming as a tool to cultivate a cult of personality and solidify their control. Saparmyrat Nyyazow, the former dictator of Turkmenistan, exemplified this by renaming towns, schools, and even a meteorite after himself during his presidency from 1990 to 2006. Similarly, Rafael Trujillo, the long-time dictator of the Dominican Republic (1930-1961), renamed the capital city Santo Domingo to Ciudad Trujillo and Pico Duarte, the country’s highest mountain, to Pico Trujillo. In the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mobutu Sese Seko, who ruled from 1965 to 1997, transformed his hometown of Gbadolite into a showcase of his power and wealth, replete with monuments celebrating his glory.
These examples, as noted by Frédéric Giraut, a professor at the University of Geneva specializing in inclusive toponymy, are “specific to autocracy: to impose in the public space celebrations to the glory of the autocrat, or even to other living holders of power.” This practice mirrors the “Stalinization” seen in the USSR, where public spaces were systematically renamed to reflect the dominance of the regime and its leaders.
Trump’s Branding Strategy
Donald Trump’s recent proposals to rename Washington airport and a New York train station after himself, along with attaching his name to the Kennedy Center and pursuing a coin bearing his image, represent a contemporary iteration of this historical trend. Giraut suggests this behavior is linked to Trump’s business practices, where his name has been used as a “prestigious brand” to enhance the value of his properties. He is essentially “transposing his entrepreneurial culture to public affairs.”
While politically risky, Giraut notes that this strategy could create a sense of association for Trump’s supporters, linking them to prestigious objects through their connection to the former president.
Cultural Norms and Republican Decency
In contrast to these authoritarian tendencies, France maintains a stronger cultural taboo against self-naming. While there are no explicit laws prohibiting it, a 1938 circular from the Ministry of the Interior “advises” against naming public roads after living individuals, citing concerns about “ephemeral political passions” and “local political considerations.” This reflects a belief that a “supreme civic reward” like a street name should be reserved for those whose legacy has been tested by time.
Exceptions do occur, as demonstrated by a mayor in Lambesc, France, who named a park after himself before leaving office, dismissing concerns as a simple “quest to mark territory.”
The Power of Place Names
naming a place is an act of inscribing “a power in space” and in collective memory. The trend of political figures seeking to brand public spaces while in power raises important questions about the appropriate leverage of public symbols and the potential for abuse of power.