There has been much pearl clutching and retiring to fainting couches over President Trump’s “renaming” of Lake Ontario in the ongoing trade curfuffle with Canada.
I admit to being conflicted.
There are times when I am happy to watch him get the usual suspects all wound up, and running around waiving their arms and getting spittle all over themselves while they denounce him as a nazi/facsist/racist or other terms that they are robbing of any meaning by continually yelling them with no concrete basis. But this is different.
Despite a quarter century of living in the shadow of Mt. Rainier (itself the focus of a naming controversy, as the “land acknowledgement” loons have been unabiguously calling for renaming “Tahoma” for the entire time I’ve lived here) I am STILL a Great Lakes kid at heart. And when I read the repost of Senator Chris McDaniel weighing in on this last weekend on a friend’s Facebook page, I got it, but I still am not ok with it.
From the Senator:
“I have to admit, I’m enjoying the outrage over Lake Ontario being renamed Lake America.
For years, we were told that names matter. Names carry meaning. Names make statements about who we are and what we value. Whenever some old name offended the political sensibilities of the moment, changing it wasn’t treated merely as permissible. It was regularly celebrated as an act of moral courage.
The Biden administration changed the federal names of hundreds of geographic features because the existing names contained a term it considered derogatory. The Pentagon renamed military installations across the South. Fort Bragg became Fort Liberty. Fort Hood became Fort Cavazos. Fort Benning became Fort Moore. Fort Polk became Fort Johnson.
Nobody told us names were sacred then.
Princeton removed Woodrow Wilson’s name from its School of Public and International Affairs. Yale removed John C. Calhoun’s name from one of its residential colleges. The Cleveland Indians became the Guardians. The Washington Redskins disappeared and eventually became the Commanders. Aunt Jemima became Pearl Milling Company. Uncle Ben became Ben’s Original.
Even mountains weren’t immune. In 2015, the Obama administration officially changed the name of Mount McKinley to Denali for federal purposes.
And through it all, we were told pretty much the same thing. That language evolves. Culture changes. Names are symbols. If a name no longer represents our values, change it.
Fair enough.
But apparently that rule came with an asterisk.
Donald Trump changes Lake Ontario to Lake America for purposes of the United States government, and suddenly everybody discovers an almost religious devotion to historical nomenclature. Now we’re told the old name is centuries old and carries historical importance. So did plenty of the names they wanted changed. Now we’re told renaming something is unnecessary, provocative, and political.
Welcome to the last decade.
But that really isn’t the point.
The point is that the people now acting horrified by politically motivated renaming helped create the age of politically motivated renaming. They spent years teaching us that names aren’t merely descriptions. They’re declarations. They told us government has every right to reconsider the names it uses, and that changing an old name can say something important about the values of the present generation.
Trump apparently listened.
The difference is that instead of renaming something because America should be embarrassed by its past, he renamed something because he thinks America ought to be proud of itself. And I suspect that’s what bothers some of his critics more than the name itself.
For years, the approved direction of travel was away from old American names, old American heroes, and old American traditions whenever somebody found them insufficiently enlightened. Trump went the other direction.
And it’s driving the liberals crazy.
Is it necessary? Probably not. Is it subtle? Not remotely. Is it quintessentially Trump? Absolutely.
But spare me the argument that renaming things for political or cultural reasons is some shocking new violation of American tradition.
That ship sailed a long time ago.
They just never expected Trump to climb aboard.”
I read this while sipping my morning coffee last Saturday.
I read it again.
Then I thought about it.
If the act had been framed this way, then I might not have been so conflicted about it. But it wasn’t.
Whether I want it to be so, or not, as a “Great Lakes Kid”, this is a violation of my identity. It is a geographic feature that is joined with the other lakes as a force of nature (and if you think that is an exageration, you haven’t witnessed a November storm on the lakes).
It is woven into music (at least two songs immediately come to mind that mention Lake Ontario).
It is part of a contiguous waterway from the midwest to the Atlantic Ocean.
It brings to mind the unique smell of these giant bodies of water… of summer sunlight dappling into the eyes of vacationers, of snows driven by the moisture of the lakes, and of commonalities over a border by the people of this region. Of trips to Toronto before it befell the same fate of so many cities run into the ground by leftists.
I’m not so conceited to believe that my opinion matters to anyone in this cross-border tit-for-tat, and I’m only responsible for how I react to it.
I did an internship in the Canadian House Of Commons. I saw what Canada’s capitol was like when it had adults in charge. Carney may have gotten elected based on his willingness to be confrontational with our President. Good for him. But I know enough to know he’s been terrible for Canada and the average Canadian. But like my own President, I don’t see him going anywhere anytime soon.
And so I can simply sit back, noting that this is one provocative act that I do not endorse, secure in the knowledge that the waters will continue to splash, and the people living on the shores of the Lakes will remain, regardless of the political winds on either side of the border.