What’s In a Name?: The Implications Behind the Titles of Military Engagements

“Within such a discourse, memory becomes an object of social tension and is viewed as a symbolic resource in political and ideological battles between certain social powers in their fight for dominance in the present. This occurs variously in different socio- national contexts, but occasionally the fight for memory takes the form of an ideological war with far-reaching social consequences” (Rozhdestvenskaya et. al. 2016, 1).

It is not surprising that military conflicts are often designated different names by different historical actors. This multilateral nomenclatural practice has been present since the Middle Ages. Designating names for military conflicts was, and continues to be, a reflection of the producer’s power in political, military, and popular culture. There are many factors, both universal and domestic that influence the naming of battles. Far from a peripheral or pragmatic concern, the names of battles were always an important matter for political and military powers. Primacy over the collective remembrance of a nation’s military contribution has always been at the heart of constructing and reshaping national identity. In this article, I will examine the various factors and contexts involved in the process and practice of naming military conflicts using a variety of case studies. From the Middle Ages to the Modern age, I will demonstrate some examples of expressions and motivations encompassed in naming military conflicts. Thus as a result, highlight the political and social implications in the present-day regarding certain variants of the same conflict.

Back in the Middle Ages, territory usually dictated how a battle was named. English medievalist Robert Bartlett explained that “it is clear that by the end of the Middle Ages, the current convention, ‘the battle of PLACENAME’, was well established” (Bartlett 2020, 8). This practice continued into the Modern age. Battles in large open fields usually spanned several kilometres and therefore took place in more than one place at the same time. And since opposing sides named the battles in reference to the closest landmark, what ended up occurring was at least two names for the same engagement. An apt example would be the battles fought during the Wars of German Unification (1864-1870). In the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars, the rise in German nationalism in conjunction with Austrian and Danish military intrigue over a newly created German Confederation, resulted in a series of German victories against neighbouring imperial powers (Goldstein 1993, 6). What the Germans called the Battle of Sadowa (1866), was known as the Battle of Königgrätz to the Austrians. In another confrontation, the Germans’ designated name of the Battle of Gravelotte (1870) was known to the French as the Battle of St. Pivat (“Battles That Have Two Names”, The Youth’s Companion. October 1, 1914).

However, despite the seemingly concise practice, variants still appeared in historiography. For instance, the Battle of Maupertuis of 1356 was the common name of the engagement as recorded by several French writers. Nevertheless, the 14th century French chronicler Jean Froissart called it Battle of Poitiers even though he himself wrote that it was fought “near Poitiers, in the fields of Maupertuis.” In addition, even more curious, the Italian chronicler Matteo Villani called this same clash the Battle of Trecceria despite there being no explainable connection (Bartlett 2020, 13). But the most popular example of nomenclature variants by far is in the history of the American Civil War (1861-1865). The first major battle of the Civil War, the Battle of Bull Run (1861) commonly referred to in the northern states, is in fact known as the Battle of Manassas in the American South. The practice of naming conflict was far from pragmatic or neutral.

The common aphorism, “history is written by the victors” definitely predominates the power struggle over collective memory. The names of conflicts can be used to delegitimize the defeated. In the 1302 battle that ended the Franco-Flemish War (1297-1302) the battle was not named after the battlefield, but rather after the trophies that the victorious Flemish took from their dead foes. In conclusion, the battle became known as the Battle of the Golden Spurs (Bartlett 2020, 8). Nomenclature can also be used to legitimize victors, by connecting their victory to part of a greater historical continuity. What is now known as the Battle of Bosworth (1485) was first recorded as the Battle of Redemore after the field where it was fought. Regardless, the victorious King Henry VII contested this location, stating in an official proclamation that Richard III was killed in Sandeford. A possible reason behind this name change was that there existed a famous prophecy by Thomas the Rhymer regarding a great and final battle (Bartlett 2020, 13). Thus, not only was Henry VII declaring that he was the victor within this prophesized battle, but that this battle was a decisive end to the War of the Roses, thus marking him as a harbinger of peace and stability. Military historian Frederick C. Schneid argued that “Anglocentric and Prussocentric master narratives” have a tradition of censoring “significant events and experiences that informed and influenced those nations that are seen as paradigmatic” (Schneid 2023, 50). Thus, victors would often take advantage of their successful campaign to further subjugate their vanquished enemy by controlling the historical record.

Control of the discourse of historical memory is not constrained to just political or military authorities, nor even the victors in certain cases. The defeated side can also fabricate their own historical memory of a conflict. For instance, despite the North winning the American Civil War, the South nevertheless managed to craft their own foothold in the historical discourse. In the 1880s, White Southerners popularized the conflict as the “Lost Cause”, a reflection of the South’s disaffection with the conflict’s resolution and post-war politics (Tran 2017, 18). Popularity is a major factor in the dissemination and recognition of names. For instance, the Luguo Bridge (Lugouqiao) in the Fengtai District, was the location of the July 1937 event which instigated the Second-Sino Japanese War (1937-1945). However, it is more commonly known as the Marco Polo Bridge Incident. The Venetian merchant and explorer Marco Polo (1254-1324) encountered the bridge in his travels and wrote about it in his Book of the Marvels of the World. The cultural memory of the famous explorer in Western culture dominated the discourse and as a result the name stuck. Therefore, one authority does not have a power monopoly over the construction and dissemination of historical memory, and as such multiple, contrasting perspectives can be popularized. Nevertheless, that does not mean that there were not any attempts.

Efforts to reduce name variants on an international scale were established after World War I, mainly from the British government. After the Great War (1914-1918), the British government established the Battles Nomenclature Committee who were tasked to record dates of, and designate official names for, battles. An official report was published in 1922 called “The Official Names of the Battles and Other Engagements Fought by the Military Forces of the British Empire during the Great War 1914–1919” (Bartlett 2020, 8). You can find the report in the West Sussex Record Office in Chichester, England. This Committee was also involved in the Second World War (1939-1945) and the Korean War (1950-1953). Besides its symbolic purpose, the Committee also served a practical objective. Having an official name for a conflict made it easier to confirm contributions of valour from servicemen and women (Bartlett 2020, 8). However, efforts to centralize military nomenclature came to nothing in the end since still variants arose, guided by memory politics.

The Second World War goes by two other names. First, in the former Soviet Union the conflict was called the Great Patriotic War. The term “Great Patriotic War” first appeared in a 1941 article within Pravda, official newspaper of the Communist Party of the USSR. Bolshevik revolutionary and journalist, Yemelyan Yaroslavsky wrote, “June 22, 1941 will go down in history as the beginning of the Great Patriotic War of the Soviet people against Nazi Germany, which carried out a predatory attack on the Soviet Union'' (Yaroslavsky, Pravda, June 23, 1941). The term was popularized and then quickly recognized by the Communist Party in 1942. The Party realized its propagandic potential, and quickly adopted its use into official political rhetoric (Identifymedals.org). The term has framed the Nazi-Soviet War (1941-1945) as a morally dichotomous conflict, intrinsic to Soviet identity. A historian on Soviet collective memory, Yan Mann, argued that the cult surrounding the myth of the Great Patriotic War “portrayed the Soviet Union as a peace-loving nation attacked by a belligerent, merciless foe, and the people were consistently depicted as selfless heroes ready to risk life and limb for the motherland” (Mann 2020, 509). In other words, all participation towards the war effort was therefore to be construed as completely virtuous, defensive, and morally just. Another example of this is exhibited in China’s title for the Second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945) where it is formally known as the Eight-Year War of Anti-Japanese Resistance (Coble 2007, 402).

Since the term, “Great Patriotic War”, predates Soviet victory, this name follows the similar element of prophecy that Henry VII used for his battle against Richard III. This Delphian practice is also present in the second variant of World War II, but was short-lived due to defeat. “The Great East Asia War” (1931-1945) is a name that is not commonly used anymore in the scholarship. The unfulfilled prophecy of a Japanese victory may be a factor to explain its diminished historiographical presence. Just as names can be utilized as pedestals to accentuate military achievement, they can also be used to cloak them. For instance, the construction of the name could be used to downplay a player’s role or accountability in a conflict. An example is the Mukden Incident in Manchuria (September 18, 1931). The Japanese Kwantung took advantage of this event and framed it as justification to occupy Manchuria, renaming the territory as Manchukuo (Earhart 2018, 52). The Japanese called the event the “Manchurian Incident”, designed to place blame of the conflict on the Chinese as the aggressors, erasing any kind of Japanese culpability or involvement (Earhart 2018, 52). The construction of battle names can be used as a propaganda tool for nations to rally the masses in support for military endeavours, painting them as righteous, unpolitical, and defensive struggle for survival.

Names could also be created to evade the recognition of an important military loss. Between May and September 1939, the Soviets and the Japanese engaged in a relatively small military conflict. Largely ignored by historians, the Battle of Khalkhin Gol, also known as the Nomonhan Incident, was a border conflict on the frontier of Soviet Mongolia and the Japanese puppet-state Manchukuo (occupied Manchuria) (Sella 1983, 651). Far from a skirmish, the battle resulted in 25,000 dead Japanese in comparison to the victorious Soviets’ number of 10,000 (Sella 1983, 651). However, the event is often overshadowed by the concurrent diplomatic agreement between Stalin and Hitler resulting in the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of August 1939. Historian Amnon Sella notes that “[t]he war at Khalkhin-Gol seemed so utterly remote from every world centre of diplomatic activity that it hardly rated a mention in the press even the Soviet and Japanese” (Sella 1983, 669). By framing the conflict as an incident rather than a war, the name detached the level of importance, removing it from popular historiography and therefore erasing the loss from popular memory. Labelling something as an “incident”, also removes the dedication of resources and the level of intent. Far from it, the Japanese military command did not think of this battle as secondary and many resources were dedicated towards a victory against the Soviets. Thus, a possible motivation over the selection of “incident” may have been to reduce the impact over the amount of wasted resources and substantial number of Japanese casualties.

The importance of the topic lies in the intersection of remembrance and recognition. Who has the right to dictate remembrance? How should conflict be memorialized? Should it? Specialist of cultural memory Elena Lamberti, concluded that, “this does not exempt us from the responsibility to remember also the shadows, to retrieve what, in time, has been removed, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes strategically” (Lamberti 2009, 11).

References

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