Altering the continent’s name, which reflects its colonial past, needs to be brought into public discussion
In the wake of independence, several African nations embarked on a symbolic journey of renaming — a powerful step toward reclaiming identity and shedding colonial legacies.
This movement was not merely about altering titles but about embedding national and cultural significance into the very fabric of society. Yet, despite these efforts, one name remains insufficiently challenged — that of the continent itself, “Africa”.
The movement towards renaming in Africa has gained momentum in the past two decades. However, the politics and legacy of this had its point of departure in the wake of independence on the continent.
Since independence, many African nations have shaken off their colonial pasts by renaming their countries.
For example, the Kingdom of eSwatini was once called Swaziland, Namibia was known as South West Africa and Ghana emerged from the Gold Coast. Zambia and Zimbabwe replaced Northern and Southern Rhodesia, while Malawi became the new name for the British Central Africa Protectorate.
This renaming extends to cities and streets. South Africa has been at the forefront, with Port Elizabeth becoming Gqeberha in 2021, a name rooted in isiXhosa, an indigenous language of the Eastern Cape. Other significant changes include Pretoria to Tshwane, Durban to eThekwini and Pietersburg to Polokwane.
Similarly, Mali’s military junta recently renamed 25 streets, boulevards and squares to sever ties with their French colonial history.
However, the name “Africa” remains untouched. This raises the question of why the continent itself has not undergone a similar transformation.
One could argue that renaming the continent would not translate into economic development and progress. The argument might be that renaming is a cosmetic act that would have no great implications for our well-being.
This assertion could be informed by the socio-economic state of the continent, which is characterised by persistent poverty, poor education, low levels of employment, corruption and a lack of basic social amenities. Given these conditions, the view might be that the focus of the continent should be on advancing economic growth rather than identity engagement.
While I am sympathetic to such views, I think it is important to engage in discourse about the continent’s identity. My view is grounded on the important role of identity in enhancing economic development. It is imperative to know oneself before developing.
Furthermore, I am not only interested in the renaming of “Africa” but also in scrutinising the act and politics of naming and the power “given” to those who name. To make any further assertions, it is a prerequisite to show, briefly, the power embedded in names.
Names are more than mere identifiers; they are foundational to identity. They carry cultural, historical and emotional significance. For instance, in African tradition, surnames and clan names have rich histories that transcend the physical to the metaphysical. These names connect the bearers to their land and ancestry lineage.
From this perspective, in South Africa, renaming initiatives were recommended by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission as part of reparation efforts to acknowledge and restore indigenous identities.
Names foster a sense of belonging and shape the communal narrative of those who inhabit a space. Yet, does the name “Africa” evoke a sense of belonging for the continent’s people? The evidence suggests otherwise.
The name “Africa” is deeply rooted in European history and colonial interaction. Scholars trace its origins to ancient Greek and Roman nomenclature. The Greeks referred to the continent’s northern region as Libya, while the Romans popularised “Africa”, derived from the Latin aprica (sunny) and Greek aphrike (without cold). However, this term initially described only the northern regions of the continent, particularly lands under Roman influence, such as Carthage in modern-day Tunisia.
Far from encompassing the diverse peoples and cultures of the continent, the name “Africa” emerged as a geographical and climatic descriptor based on European experiences and expressions. Its adoption across the continent was largely a byproduct of colonial expansion and dominance.
The term “Africa” is emblematic of a Western experience imposed upon the continent. It reflects neither the self-understanding nor the rich identities of its indigenous inhabitants.
Historical names such as Bantu, Akan and Benin better represent the continent’s cultural mosaic. Yet, it continues to carry a name rooted in colonial conquest and European interaction, perpetuating a narrative of external domination.
While it is imperative to point out that the continent should deal with the political and socio-economic shambles it is grappling with, it is also necessary that this history, and all that it comes with, are deeply engaged with and taught in schools. But, most importantly, this issue must be brought into public scrutiny, if we understand and agree that there is power in names as integral forms of identity.
In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, the notion of self-actualisation stands at the highest point of human needs. Why so? One cannot develop if one has a fluid understanding of one’s identity or does not know oneself. Knowing oneself is the foundation for growth and development.
We can learn from countries like China which has based its development models on the Chinese identity (using the Chinese language in schools, engaging with their models of development on Chinese structures and many more).
Should the name of the continent be changed? That is another conversation. The point of this article is to call for this issue to be brought into public debate and conversation.
Additionally, my concern is not just in the name but the power of naming and in the ownership of our identity. While it might not be immediately apparent that the one who names has some form of control over the name, we can infer from the Judio-Christian creation narrative that the one who named all the animals was given “power and domination” over the named.
Furthermore, from an Indigenous perspective if, on the one hand, names are powerful forms of identity, and if the one who names has power and domination over the named, on the other hand, then retaining the name “Africa” is a helpless tacit acceptance of colonial imposition.
Engaging in the conversation of changing the continent’s name, or even changing the name, would not only reflect its rich and diverse heritage but also send a strong political statement of autonomy and self-determination.
It would mark a decisive move from a European-centric identity toward an expression that resonates with the continent’s people. Most importantly, engaging in this conversation would awaken an epistemic awareness of historical matters for younger generations.
The implications of this conversation extend beyond semantics. A European-imposed identity undermines efforts to break free from the historical violence and subjugation that defined the colonial era. Until the continent asserts its own identity through a name that embodies its essence, it risks remaining tethered to a past defined by conquest and external narratives.
Renaming the continent, or at least engaging in the conversation, would be a bold act of reclamation. It would reframe the continent’s place in global politics and redefine how its people see themselves.
The question, then, is not whether a new name is necessary but rather when the continent will embrace this opportunity to assert its true identity. The name “Africa” is a relic of colonial imposition. It’s time for the continent to redefine itself on its own terms, breaking free from the shadows of its colonial past and charting a future rooted in its diverse heritage and shared aspirations.
Edmund Terem Ugar is a doctoral candidate in the Department of Philosophy and a researcher at the Centre for Africa-China Studies, both at the University of Johannesburg.