Politics of naming
Trump's political naming will not pass muster in Korea
A recent report suggested that U.S. President Donald Trump wants to rename New York’s Penn Station, the busiest transportation hub in the Western Hemisphere, as “Trump Station.” Another leaked document reportedly outlined plans to rebuild the station adorned with a seal featuring Trump’s name. This comes after proposals such as the “Trump Passport,” a commemorative passport featuring his portrait, “TrumpRx,” a government-run prescription drug platform, the “Trump Gold Card,” an immigrant investor program, and “Trump Accounts,” tax-advantaged investment accounts, to name a few. And of course, there are already Trump hotels and resorts across the world.
Naming schools, hospitals, companies, streets, towns and institutions after someone is a very common practice in Western cultures, especially in the United States. Many private universities in the U.S. are named after their founders or major donors. From JFK Airport to the George Washington Bridge and Carnegie Hall, it would be difficult not to notice places named after individuals if you live in America. Trump, however, appears to be taking this tradition a step further by attempting to attach his name to nearly everything he touches.
Such branding and naming practices are far less common in Korea and throughout East Asia. Compared to the U.S., you rarely see universities or public institutions directly named after individuals. If a street or airport were named after a living political leader in Korea, it would likely provoke strong public criticism, with many asking, “Does this person own this country?” Under collectivist cultural traditions and a historically strong state influence, institutions, schools, hospitals and public buildings in Korea are generally viewed as part of a broader social mission rather than an extension of one person’s legacy.
Regardless of how much money one donates or how significant one’s achievements may be, overtly placing one’s own name on public institutions can appear arrogant or vain. There remains a cultural premium on restraint and indirect prestige. If anything, Korean institutions are more likely to adopt a company name or a symbolic title. So, instead of visiting “Johns Hopkins” Hospital, Koreans visit Asan Medical Center, named after the pen name of Hyundai founder Chung Ju-yung, or Samsung Medical Center, named after the IT powerhouse.
Naming public places after individuals is not uniquely a Western tradition. Many societies have historically named institutions after rulers, saints, scholars and patrons. Korea is also gradually becoming more open to donor recognition and commemorative naming. But in the more individualistic American tradition, such practices are accepted much more broadly and enthusiastically. American culture has long celebrated the idea that individuals can shape history through talent, hard work, wealth, leadership and sacrifice. Naming institutions after people became one way of expressing and rewarding this ideology of individual achievement.
There is also a strong philanthropic tradition in the U.S., where wealthy individuals are often expected to fund libraries, schools, hospitals, museums and cultural institutions. Naming rights emerged both as recognition and as an incentive for major donors. In many cases, the naming itself becomes part of the fundraising agreement between institutions and benefactors. That is part of the logic of American capitalism: Private wealth is transformed into public infrastructure, while donors receive prestige and symbolic immortality in return.
Still, Trump’s approach appears extreme even by American standards. Public glorification usually comes after a presidency ends, not while a president is still in office. Even many Americans who are generally comfortable with naming practices seem taken aback by the scale and intensity of Trump’s self-branding efforts. Imagine President Lee Jae Myung naming government programs, buildings and transportation hubs after himself. If that ever happened (and I guarantee it won’t), the backlash and mockery would be so fierce as to threaten his presidency.
There is nothing inherently wrong with promoting one’s achievements or seeking recognition. I would be ecstatic if something was named after me. There are also many positive aspects to such practices. Naming can preserve historical memory, encourage philanthropy and democratize recognition by allowing societies to honor not only kings and rulers, but also educators, scientists, activists and community leaders. That is one reason some Korean universities and institutions have increasingly begun naming buildings after donors and distinguished figures.
But there is a meaningful difference between recognition that is earned and recognition that is self-imposed. When admiration comes naturally from the public, it carries dignity and legitimacy. When it is aggressively manufactured by the individual seeking praise, it can begin to feel less like honor and more like branding. Whether in the United States or Korea, recognition is most meaningful when it is bestowed by others rather than claimed for oneself.
Min Seong-jae (smin@pace.edu) is a professor of communication and media studies at Pace University in New York.