The Power of Names: Why 'Persian Gulf' Still Matters in Global Diplomacy

**Words Matter: Reflections on Changing the Name of the Persian Gulf** In international diplomacy, few elements are as underestimated yet deeply influential as language. Not merely tools of communication, words in geopolitics carry the freight of history, identity, and legitimacy. One such fraught term is the “Persian Gulf,” a name with centuries of usage that now stands at the center of a political and semantic tug-of-war. The Trump administration’s reported consideration of officially changing American government usage from “Persian Gulf” to “Arabian Gulf”—a term favored by some Arab states—has reopened a long-standing dispute and compels us to examine the role of symbolic language in diplomacy, our alliances in the Middle East, and the responsibilities that come with rhetorical choices in foreign policy. The term “Persian Gulf” is not a recent coinage. Historical records from Greek geographers such as Strabo and Ptolemy, dating as far back as the first century CE, consistently used terms equivalent to “Persian Gulf” when referring to the body of water separating modern-day Iran from the Arabian Peninsula. Maps published by European mariners in the Age of Exploration, as well as documents from the United Nations, the U.S. State Department, and global academic literature, retain the use of “Persian Gulf” to this day. In fact, the United Nations Secretariat, in its note ST/CS/SER.A/29/Add.2, affirmed in 1994 that “the full term ‘Persian Gulf’ should be used in every case” in official UN documentation. Yet beginning in the mid-20th century, particularly after the rise of Arab nationalism in the 1960s, some Arab states began promoting the term “Arabian Gulf” as a counterpoint to Iranian hegemony and as a symbol of their own regional identity. The semantic change remains highly contentious, viewed by many Iranians as an erasure of cultural and historical heritage. For the United States to endorse this alternative name in official communications amounts to more than just a language update—it would be seen as taking sides in a historical dispute, a move that carries geopolitical implications. Supporters of the name change argue that adapting terminology to align with key U.S. partners in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC)—such as Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain—could enhance diplomatic rapport. These states are vital to U.S. strategic interests in counterbalancing Iranian influence, securing maritime routes, and maintaining energy stability. As former U.S. Ambassador to the UAE Michael Corbin has observed, “Language in diplomacy can serve as a subtle but effective means of signaling realignment or reassurance to allies.” Thus, proponents see this shift as a low-cost, high-impact gesture that could generate goodwill among Arab partners. However, such symbolism is not without cost. Altering long-established names risks undermining the credibility of international norms and the appearance of U.S. impartiality in regional conflicts. Renaming the Persian Gulf may be interpreted—not only by Iran but also by historians and international observers—as a politicization of geographical nomenclature. As Barbara Slavin, director of the Future of Iran Initiative at the Atlantic Council, has warned, “Tinkering with names for political convenience undermines diplomatic tradition and emboldens nationalist narratives that fuel conflict.” Furthermore, adopting “Arabian Gulf” could compromise the U.S.'s ability to effectively engage with Iran, a key regional player whose cooperation is essential for resolving crises in Iraq, Syria, and Yemen, and for negotiating nuclear and maritime security. While relations between Washington and Tehran have been tense, the prospects for de-escalation require sensitivity, not provocation. Symbolic affronts carry real consequences. According to a 2010 study by the journal Geopolitics, such symbolic disputes can contribute to the hardening of national identities and increase resistance to compromise. Critics of the Trump administration’s consideration of the change also argue that it reflects an inconsistent approach to diplomacy, one that privileges performative alignment over substantive strategy. While optics are important, they should not eclipse the weight of historical precedent and the need for balanced, fact-based policy. The use of “Persian Gulf” is not a casual remnant of the past—it is a reflection of a documented cultural and cartographic lineage that a responsible global actor should respect. In fairness, language must evolve when it perpetuates injustice or inaccuracy, as seen with the widespread rejection of colonial-era names and slurs. But the case of the Persian Gulf is not one of error corrected; it is a matter of political preference attempting to override historical fact. Democratic societies should be wary when governments make symbolic changes that risk distorting history or alienating other cultures, especially when those changes are driven by transient political needs rather than enduring values or clear data. Ultimately, the naming of a body of water may seem marginal in the face of war, diplomacy, and nuclear negotiations. Yet in disciplines ranging from historiography to strategic studies, symbolic choices are acknowledged as powerful forces shaping national memory and foreign policy. As citizens of a democracy, we must ask ourselves: When should we adapt our words for the sake of diplomacy, and when must we defend the integrity of language as a reflection of truth and shared history? In the answers to such questions, we determine not only how we speak to the world—but who we are within it.