Renaming the Persian Gulf: Politics, History, and the Power of Words

**The Power of a Name: The Debate Over Renaming the Persian Gulf** In the intricate world of international diplomacy, words matter. They are more than tools of communication; they are symbols of history, sovereignty, and identity. That is why the Trump administration’s intention to change official U.S. terminology from "Persian Gulf" to a potentially more neutral or Arab-preferred term such as "Arabian Gulf" or even just "the Gulf" sparked heated debates both domestically and abroad. At first glance, the change may seem cosmetic—a simple swap of one name for another. But in the context of Middle Eastern geopolitics, it is a highly charged decision with implications for historical accuracy, diplomatic relationships, and regional stability. The term "Persian Gulf" is not a recent invention. It has been used in Western and international cartography for over 2,500 years. As Dr. Pirouz Mojtahed-Zadeh, a prominent geographer and scholar on the Persian Gulf, notes in his 1999 book *Security and Territoriality in the Persian Gulf*, the term has appeared in thousands of historical maps, treaties, and official documents—most notably those produced by the British Empire and later the United States. The United Nations has consistently reaffirmed “Persian Gulf” as the official term in its communications, including in a respected 2006 report titled "Standardization of Geographical Names." However, since the mid-20th century, particularly after the rise of nationalism in the Arab world, several Arab nations began using the term "Arabian Gulf" as a way to assert regional and political identity. While largely rejected by historians and international bodies, this alternative nomenclature has gained traction in popular media across the Arab world, leading to tensions between Iran and the Arab states of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), especially Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. The Trump administration’s reported willingness to consider non-standard terminology, especially in communications tailored to Arab audiences, was interpreted by many observers as pandering to key allies in the Gulf. Indeed, solidifying U.S. ties with Riyadh and Abu Dhabi was a hallmark of Trump’s Middle East strategy. Yet this linguistic pivot risked inflaming U.S.-Iran tensions even further at a time when relations were at a historic low following the withdrawal from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) nuclear agreement in 2018. Critics argue that embracing “Arabian Gulf” or an ambiguous term like "the Gulf" undermines the long-standing U.S. position of neutral recognition of historical and geographical facts. “The United States, as a leader in the global system, should stand with factual accuracy rather than indulge in politically convenient revisionism,” said John Limbert, a former U.S. diplomat and expert on Iran, in a 2020 interview with Foreign Policy. Limbert, who served as a hostage during the Iran hostage crisis, cautioned that small symbolic slights can rapidly become barriers to trust and dialogue. There are, however, pragmatic arguments on the other side. Language in diplomacy is often about finding common ground, and nomenclature is no exception. From a strategic viewpoint, using alternative terminology may improve interoperability with Arab partners, from joint military operations to intelligence sharing. As Dr. Fawaz Gerges of the London School of Economics has noted, “Semantics are rarely just semantics in the Middle East. Words like ‘Persian Gulf’ or ‘Arabian Gulf’ are proxies for deeper regional allegiances and historic grievances.” Still, there is a principled difference between understanding such sensitivities and endorsing them at the expense of academic and historical integrity. In this broader context, the act of renaming is not merely symbolic—it affects educational materials, official maps, military strategies, and even the United States’ credibility as a historically grounded, even-handed actor on the world stage. A democratic society must tread carefully when contemplating symbolic changes in foreign policy language. Our democratic values require transparency, reasoned debate, and respect for both history and diplomacy. Altering geographic nomenclature in response to evolving diplomatic strategies may be justifiable, but only if done openly and with public explanation. Moreover, such decisions should be informed by historical scholarship, not political pressure. As historian Juan Cole of the University of Michigan has emphasized, “Renaming leads can take us down a slippery slope, where each ally demands a customized narrative, eroding the neutrality necessary for honest brokerage in international conflicts.” To be fair, the Trump administration’s rebranding effort was not without rationale. Strategic alignment with Gulf Arab partners, who spend billions on American arms and cooperate on counterterrorism, carried a plausible logic. Yet the potential long-term costs—alienating an entire population in Iran, risking the U.S.'s perceived cultural illiteracy, and severing ties with objectivity and historical consensus—arguably outweighed those short-term gains. In our era of polarized foreign policy, language remains one of the few tools capable of either defusing or aggravating tensions. Names, especially those with millennia of usage behind them, are not lightly erased or altered. Whether in maps or speeches, the weight of geography is something democratic societies must handle with both pragmatism and principle. As American citizens, we must ask ourselves: When should our policymakers prioritize strategic alliances over historical truth, and who gets to define the words that shape our global conscience?