World war n has accented two basic requirements regarding the handling of geographic names. One is the very practical need for positive identification of place names used in service communications, including intercepted enemy documents. This need is readily met by the production and issue of gazetteers1 for areas of operations, which list all known geographic names and define, locate, and give the source of each. These lists identify the multiplicity of names often attached to one feature—Iwo Jima, for example, which is also known as Io Shima, Io Jima, Iwo Shima, Sulphur Island, and Naka Iwo.
The second requirement, related to the first but much more complex, is for uniformity in the geographic names appearing in the official documents used in planning and in action. In a given area, joint operations by the Army and Navy or combined operations by Allied forces may require numerous special- purpose maps, including aeronautical and surface charts, produced by a number of agencies. Geographic features must bear the same name on all of these sheets, or confusion will result. Further, each name must correctly identify the feature to which it applies. In effect, this is a demand for correct and uniform usage of geographic names, not only by the United States but also by Allied Nations.
That numerous adjustments essential to even a reasonable degree of uniformity in geographic names must be undertaken during the urgency of war is due to the lack of attention that this subject received during years of peace. While political, economic, and technological developments were steadily leading to the present maelstrom of world conflict, this country characteristically maintained only an academic interest in the geography of the world outside our own frontiers. Only a few alert minds sensed the advantage of standardized practices in the use of foreign geographic names.
The first formal action in behalf of the Government of the United States toward the establishment of policies and procedures for effecting uniformity in this field was taken in 1890 by the Hydrographer of the Navy, Captain H. F. Picking, U. S. Navy, who created within his office a board to investigate existing official usage among nations and to report comprehensive rules for handling names on the mariner’s charts. This action was prompted by a sense of responsibility for the correct use of foreign names, a desire for uniformity among the various agencies of the United States Government, and the hope of developing procedures consistent with those of foreign countries. There was also an awareness of the need for practical standardization in the nautical charts of all maritime nations, for it was occasionally necessary for the American navigator to make use of the charts issued by foreign countries.
The U. S. Hydrographic Office Board of 1890 established direct communication with responsible agencies of all foreign maritime governments and, in 1891, a report was published in which existing practices in geographic nomenclature were set forth in detail.2 The problem of international uniformity, particularly in the transcription systems used for the non-Latin scripts, was seen as one that would require years for solution. In order that the subject might receive continuing attention and, very practically, in order that the various departments and agencies of the United States Government might be brought into agreement in their geographic terminology, the matter was brought to the attention of the President of the United States, Benjamin Harrison, who by an Executive Order dated September 4, 1890, established a Board on Geographic Names. It is noteworthy that the British institution with similar functions but longer title, the Permanent Committee on Geographical Names for British Official Use, was formed in 1919 at the suggestion of the British Admiralty.
A brief examination of certain aspects of the mariner’s charts may make it clear why the chart-maker, in recording foreign names, seeks the relative stability of correct and firmly established policies.
Until the outbreak of the last war, the mariner’s charts published by the Hydro- graphic Office of the Navy were the only maps of foreign areas issued by the United States Government that were extensively used by our nationals abroad. Whereas our citizens traveling in foreign lands had only a casual interest in the maps that were almost over-supplied by private transportation companies and automobile clubs, the actual safety of our sea travelers in foreign waters depended upon the presence and use of the mariner’s charts. This safety factor was such that marine insurance covering the vessel was invalid unless corrected charts were available. To the traveler, himself, these charts were virtually unknown, as they were part of the navigator’s magic equipment for “traversing the trackless wastes of the ocean and threading his way among coastal dangers.”
Nautical charts are constructed to a close precision in projection and detail and have been aptly likened to fine instruments. They are printed on a durable grade of drawing paper which offers some resistance to change in relative dimensions due to unequal shrinkage and which is further designed to permit the navigator to make corrections to charted features and to draw and erase course lines and lines of bearing and position. These charts are maintained, both in distributing depots and aboard ship, in an up- to-date condition with respect to aids and dangers to navigation by means of a worldwide information service that includes radio dispatches and printed notices issued daily and weekly. When corrections become too numerous or complex all charts in use are replaced by new editions at intervals varying according to circumstances from a few weeks to several years.
The effort involved in this correction schedule is such that only items directly affecting navigation can be publicized and changed simultaneously on all copies, and it is for this reason that nearly all changes in geographic names must await the occasion of a new edition. As there may be in an extreme case as many as fifteen charts of various scales that cover a given position, the inevitable result of a change in name is lack of agreement among charts in the form of that name until the last chart of the series has been revised. To protect the mariner against needless confusion, the chart- maker must insist that the newly accepted form of a changed name be in accord with correct basic principles and so have a fair chance of remaining in use for a long time.
Before attempting to find acceptable formulas for handling geographic names, there may be profit in scanning the familiar conventions that govern our use of personal names. While the analogy between these two classes of names is not perfect, they are alike in their social foundation and both, in their present stage of development, represent the practically undirected reaction of civilized communities to similar problems.
Names of geographic features resemble names of persons in that an attempt is universally made to preserve their individual distinctiveness by a painstaking mimicry of sound and a faithful repetition of printed form. If it so happens that the printed form of a person’s name suggests the correct pronunciation, that is very nice indeed. But if it does not, there is little we can do about it. We grant the visiting foreigner the same basic right we grant our neighbor—to maintain, if he can, the unique quality of his name, both in pronunciation and in spelling. We even accord to him the titles and forms of address that may be due him in his native land. The master of ceremonies who must introduce a string of visiting Elks from the four quarters of the globe is in a position no better or worse than the radio announcer who is called upon to proclaim the Allied capture of Zuelpich, Schwornigatz, and Suribachi Yama.
If the foreigner writes his name in the same symbols that we use—that is, the Roman alphabet—we will try to maintain both sound and written form. If, however, he writes his name in a script that is strange to us, we will, as always, attempt to maintain the sound, but will make no attempt whatever to reproduce the strange written form. On the contrary, we will insist that he convert his symbology into ours, and if he is unable to do this, will ourselves attempt a transference of the sound of his name into our Roman alphabet.
Every geographic name, like each personal name, has two manifestations—a sound and a sight-form. The sound varies with the vocal mechanism of the person who utters it and, even in its standard pattern among the inhabitants of the locality, will, over a long period, suffer changes. The written form is fixed, and the changes to which it is subject arc changes that may be deliberately made for various reasons. To the student of geographic names, the world is divided into two parts, which, for convenience, will here be called Roman and non-Roman. One part uses the Roman alphabet, or modifications thereof, and the other part uses radically different alphabets, syllabaries, or ideographs for written communication.
Countries within the Roman-alphabet group are inclined to accept at face value all names for features that are under the sovereignty of any country in that group, but there are many different views on this subject and, in actual practice, many exceptions and special cases. The fact that the official spelling often fails to adequately indicate the sound of the name is regarded in some quarters as reason enough for altering the spelling.
When the Roman world has occasion to introduce into its writing the name of a geographic feature that is under the sovereignty of one of the non-Roman countries, it transcribes that name into letters of the Roman alphabet and thus produces a new form, which, being created for its own convenience, can within reasonable limits be tailored to measure. This “tailoring” is done with the purpose of retaining the distinctive sound of the name, but the sonic imperfections of the Roman alphabet are such that it is adequate to few of the languages that employ it and ill-fitted for many speech- sounds of the non-Roman countries.
Should foreign geographic generic terms— words equivalent to our English “island,” “cape,” “bay,” “river,” etc.—be regarded as inseparable parts of the foreign names and retained in the foreign form? What is the legitimate place for conventional English names, such as “Cape Horn,” “River Plate,” “Sunda Strait,” and “Canton”? These and other questions require adjustment before uniformity is possible in the English-speaking world.
The introduction in even one country of uniform methods of dealing with foreign geographic names necessarily calls for some changes in existing practices, and attempts in that direction set the stage for a clash of interests where extreme views contend for recognition. One extreme position is that of the valiant defenders of things as they are, or at least as they have been in the recent past, who resent change from customary forms whether right or wrong. To this school, the Sea of Azov is the Sea of Azov, beloved by man and boy, and certainly never Azovskoe More, as it now appears on the recent maps of the National Geographic Society and other cartographic institutions. They contend, and not without reason, that if we do not watch ourselves the maps of tomorrow morning will be utterly unintelligible. At the other extreme is a school of phoneticians and geographers who wish to develop a comprehensive phonetic alphabet into which all geographic names may be transcribed. They would thereby provide fixed international usage which, like an international system of weights and measures, would, after a painful interlude, react to the national advantage. Much can, and in fact has, been said for each extreme point of view, but such progress as has been accomplished over a long term of years has been at the expense of both extremes. Manifestly we cannot keep the world always framed within the familiar terms of our grade-school geographies. And it is equally clear that the theoretically perfect system is not acceptable to a world that very wisely resents the injection of logic into its affairs in doses that arc “too big and too soon.” Now, more than ever, there is need for further compromise wherever it can be demonstrated that specific changes are to the national interest.
To the maker of the mariner’s charts of foreign areas, the necessity for uniformity in the geographic names employed by the Army, Navy, and other agencies of the United States Government, applies as a directive, and the need for uniformity among English-speaking nations is accepted as basic. However, in making changes intended to effect this standard usage he is moved to adhere to practical procedures that are consistent with convention, and he is little inclined to support measures that are sponsored by those who hope to make geographic names answer the requirements of special pleaders and impossibly become “all things to all men.” Thus, he would be of one mind with the librarian in an abstract desire for a definite and unchangeable form, but would yield to necessary changes, such as those required to maintain agreement with official forms in the Roman-alphabet countries. He would exclude the phonetician from altering official Roman and near-Roman forms, but when, at long intervals, a review is undertaken of obsolescent systems of transliteration and romanization, he would welcome the phonetician’s expert aid in re-tailoring them for, it is hoped, another long period of service. He would furnish such phonetic renderings as may be needed by our armed forces in the field, not by changes in systems, but by placing on the maps pronunciation keys, in the form conventionally employed by lexicographers and others. He would enrich our understanding of foreign countries by accepting foreign geographic generics (Punta, Cabo, Ensenada, Kastron, More, etc.) as integral parts of foreign names, and would make preferred use of conventional names only for features that are not under the sovereignty of one foreign country. In short, he would urge stabilization of policy along simple lines that produce a maximum of harmony with a minimum of change. These lines appear to be about as follows:
In that part of the world that uses the Roman or near-Roman alphabet, adopt the form that is accepted as best usage within the country having sovereignty over the particular feature.
This leaves to the scholar the problem of determining just what this best usage actually is and leaves to the public and private speaker the problem of correct pronunciation. The name that appears on the railroad station or on the highway signs of a town offers the best possible means of identifying that town. There may be an alarming scarcity of vowels in that name, some of the letters may differ slightly from our usual form, and other letters may be crowned, flanked, or otherwise embellished by diacritics, but nevertheless, there it stands as the official and, we hope, unique designation of the community. Natural features are rarely marked by signs, but a statement of equivalent authority is found in the official maps of the country having sovereignty. These official names should form a standard for our usage. Our simple duty is to reproduce them with as much fidelity as is permitted by the practical resources of our printers and the limitations of our various processing methods. Undoubtedly some of these diacritics and special letters will be omitted in the everyday records of news and business, for the conventional typewriters and the normal facilities of telegraphic dispatches are not designed to reproduce them.
Having in principle accepted this great mass of names as we believe them to exist today, we find that they are subject to deliberate change, both individually and in groups. Our own scholars will find that in certain cases the best usage within the country having sovereignty is not what we had previously accepted, but is something else. Scholars within that country may originate their own new conclusions, and names may be changed by official action. These changes must be accepted if we are to be true to our own declared principle.
An entire area may, as a result of political events, be transferred from one sovereignty to another, and, as a minor result of this transfer, the names within that area may be replaced by forms that are slightly or entirely different. These changes must be accepted immediately or eventually, depending upon the attitude of our Department of State, as we cannot long ignore the development of a living world. The readiness of some sections of our public press to accept the Japanese term “Manchukuo” is evidence of their somewhat indiscriminate eagerness to appear up to date in presenting “global” news. It is also evidence of the need for discretion in the use of names that have political meaning and for a more general observance of the position taken by our Government.
In summary, the broad principle of substantial fidelity to the Roman-alphabet form appears to present to all countries the same advantages that it holds for the United States, and there is reason to believe that it is the standard toward which actual practice is trending.
In that part of the world that uses scripts other than the Roman, transcribe into the Roman alphabet according to the currently approved systems.
For our use, geographic names in non- Roman areas must be expressed in our familiar Roman alphabet by systems designed to preserve, as well as may be possible, the distinctive sounds of the names. The Roman alphabet did not develop in consonance with the characteristic speech sounds of the English language, but is an alien importation that serves as a recording vehicle only by varying the sonic values of many of its letters. Existing Roman- alphabet spellings, admittedly imperfect, are accepted as part of our environment, but we are reluctant to deliberately devise procedures that produce comparably defective results. However, it seems impracticable to do anything else. What would it serve if the most authentic sound-versions of all non- Roman place names were transcribed into an adequate phonetic alphabet? Perhaps some people could use such symbols and accurately reproduce the place-names of all foreign languages, but the average person learns speech-sounds in his formative years or not at all.
Somewhere a line must be drawn between the ideal and the attainable, and it is this type of compromise that has made possible our existing transcription systems.3 These systems employ few diacritical marks and are adjusted to use to advantage such phonetic values as are possessed by Roman letters and letter-combinations in the English language. Transcriptions made according to these systems have fixed in our usage, for a time at least, the printed form of many thousand names. At the end of the war there will undoubtedly be changes in some national boundaries, and despite our heavy investment in maps of all areas we may feel constrained to join in an international survey of geographic-name procedures, including transcription systems. Any reasonable changes that may be necessary should be compensated by increased uniformity and by the stability of a formal convention.
For features in all foreign areas, accept the generic term of the country having sovereignly.
Geographic names, particularly names of natural features, usually include generic terms that classify with respect to kind, thus: Loch Lomond, Firth of Forth, Heligoland Bucht, Fuji Yama, Rio Grande, Musa Dagh. In many cases the foreign generic is accepted with the specific part of the name, and the two form a unit in general English usage. Such units have been accepted without material alteration by the map-makers of all countries, as the necessity for exact identification has been clearly apparent. No map-maker translates the generic terms in such names as Kansas City, Captown, and Ciudad Bolivar. In fact, the generic term in the names of some towns was deliberately chosen from a foreign or even a defunct language for the sake of its atmosphere and euphony, thus: Nashville, Williamsburg, Annapolis. But the generic terms in names of natural features are not so readily accepted in their foreign form, as the “man in the street” very generally favors the English translations, thus: Sea of Azov, Amazon River, Cape Spartivento.
The general use of generics of the country having sovereignty offers a practicable basis for uniformity among nations, but it is less clear that this procedure possesses other advantages. The question at issue has a misleading appearance of simplicity, and the practical utility of the English terms is so evident and so prone to carry conviction, that it is remarkable that the foreign generics have been so generally favored by those who make our maps and charts. Without attempting to review all aspects of the question, it should be of service to note a few of the factors that appear to justify the course that has been adopted.
The fundamental English generics that appear in geographic names are few in number, but almost all have variations that reflect the size or character of the feature, or the customary speech of the locality. Thus, rivulet, stream, creek, run, brook, rill, streamlet, brooklet, the dependent forms “branch” and “fork,” and the regional “arroyo,” “bayou,” and “kill,” are all associated with the fundamental generic “river”; and mount, peak, hill, hillock, knoll, and mound, are all variations of the “mountain” concept. The definitions of some of these terms overlap each other grossly, and though they permit fine graduations of meaning, these meanings are usually relative rather than fixed. Some foreign languages are rich in these variations, and, in the absence of profound investigations, exact translations are often impracticable. Some of these terms contain descriptive elements that, even when fully understood, defy transference into a single English word.
In some foreign areas where the numerous native population use a different dialect in every mountain valley, a great number of variations of the fundamental geographic terms can be identified. The map-makers of the sovereign country usually accept them, without translation, as part of the geographic names. This practice not only facilitates production, but it gives to the names their full value as accurate identifications of these minor settlements and natural features, and thus improves the utility of the maps when they are actually used in the locality. It is natural that our own map-makers should follow the same practice when reproducing these numerous large-scale maps for official use.
Although this policy, when applied to all foreign generic terms, produces such unfamiliar forms as Cabo de Homos and Golfo di Napoli, it has the compensating virtue of offering us in many cases a key to the possible identity of less well-known places that have just escaped our memory. For the language or language-group in which the generic is expressed is characteristic of the area where the place is located.
Maps of interior areas seem somewhat remote from the immediate interest of the modern navigator and his cartographer. However, the nautical chart not only covers the sea but it also reaches into the marginal land, and when the chart-maker goes ashore to depict salient physical characteristics and cultural features, he enters a domain where the practices of the topographic and political maps must be considered. Further, in response to the needs of naval aviation in foreign areas, the mariner’s chart-maker also produces the aeronautical chart, which combines the characteristics of the navigator’s chart and the topographic map. So, despite the highly specialized nature of the mariner’s chart, it cannot stand alone in its own world, as it is only one of a variety of general and special maps produced by various agencies of the United States Government. All features that are common to these sheets must be co-ordinated if they are to be fully useful to the Army and the Navy.
In areas, particularly water areas, that are open to the citizens of all nations and arc not under the sovereignty of any nation, follow conventional English usage, if such usage exists, and in any event always use the English generic term.
The practice of nearly all countries is in substantial accord with this principle, as witness the Gulf of Mexico on our southeastern doorstep, which is known to the Germans as Golf von Mexico, and to the French as Golfe du Mexique. Accordingly in La Perouse Strait, the wide and deep body of water separating the islands Hokkaido and Sakhalin, our practice should favor “La Perouse,” the conventional English specific name for this feature, rather than “Soya,” used by the Japanese, and the English generic term “Strait” is preferred to the Japanese term “Kaikyo.” Thus, also, in Java Sea, the English “Sea” is preferred to the Dutch “Zee,” as this body of water, though delimited by islands of the Netherlands Indies, is a section of the high seas. The Yellow Sea, between China and Korea, properly retains the conventional English name and should not be given the Chinese name “Hwang Hai” on our maps and charts. Soenda Strait has for centuries been an open gate in the marine highway to the East, and the English generic “Strait” is appropriate. Similarly, Strait of Makassar is preferable to Straat Makassar. In principle, the high seas, subordinate parts thereof, and connecting passages that can be used by all vessels without national restriction, should receive English generics.
The distinction observed here in the application of English conventional names and generics is based more upon the character of maritime traffic than upon our concept of international law. Thus, recessions in the coast of one country, whether they be gulfs, bays, bights, or coves, may well take the names used by that country, as traffic in such areas exists only because of the national ports. Thus, we see on modern maps: Golfe du Lyon, Golfo de Cadiz, Anadyrski Zaliv, Bahia Delagoa, Tokyo Wan.
Conventional English usage is preferred for the names of countries and their major territorial divisions, and for the boundary features thereof.
These are all foreign areas, but no one foreign country is in a position to prescribe usage for the rest of the world. Sverige has no objection to our fixed habit of calling her “Sweden,” Deutschland has objected to many things but never to our calling her “Germany,” and the United States hardly knows, and certainly cares not a whit, that she is known as Forenta Staterna to the Swedes, and as Vereinigte Staaten to the Germans. Practically all nations have and use their own names for their neighbors and cannot, therefore, be sensitive about what they, themselves, are called. It is only occasionally that the desire for general recognition of a new political development will produce insistence upon the national name, as in the cases of Eire, Thailand, and Iran. The world usually accepts such changes without objection, and in American usage these new names stand on a parity with “Ireland,” “Siam,” and “Persia.” The principle of giving preference to the conventional English name of countries is extended to a number of major territorial divisions that bear established names in our usage. Thus “Tunisia” is usually preferred to the French Tunisie and “Croatia” to the local official Hrvalska.
Rio Uruguay forms the boundary between Argentina on the west and Uruguay and Brazil on the east, and bears the same name in all three countries. Perhaps there is strength in this united front, as no conventional English name has even offered competition. The Danube River touches or passes through a number of countries in its course toward the Black Sea. No one of the several national names for the river can properly claim dominance, and the conventional English name is accordingly preferred in our usage. A river that rises in France flows through Belgium and part of the Netherlands, and discharges into a deltaic outlet of the Rhine is known in France and Belgium as the “Meuse” and in the Netherlands as the “Maas.” There is no one name that applies to its full length.
Each case presents its own problem, but the conventional name, where it exists, is always ready to take over to our complete satisfaction.
In names of natural features, the generic part of the name is to be written as a separate word with an initial capital, provided it can stand alone as a word in the language from which it is taken.
In the United States, the standard practice in writing the names of natural features is to treat the generic as a separate word with an initial capital, as in Lake Huron and Long Island. Capitalization is a minor matter that is arranged to the taste of the country and the occasion, but ready understanding of the significance of foreign names is promoted if the practice of writing the generic term as a separate word is observed wherever practicable.
The Germanic propensity for combining many words into one long unit is one of our stock typographic curios, but it is less well known that some of her (by no choice of their own) neighbors arc touched by the same proclivity. Thus, the Norwegians write Stensholmskjaergrund. This translates into “stone islet rock shoal”. The final element “grund” is the generic term, and since it can stand alone as a word in the Norwegian language, the American chart-maker separates it from the specific part and writes the name Stenholmskjaer Grund, as this assists the American navigator in recognizing the nature of the feature to which the name applies. The Japanese supply their own Roman transcriptions on many of their topographic maps and mariner’s charts, but while the land maps usually connect the generic term with the root name by a hyphen, the nautical charts print it as a separate word. This latter practice is sufficient evidence that the Japanese generic will stand alone as a separate word, and this form is given preference because it agrees with conventional usage within the United States. And so in each case an effort should be made to establish the generic as a separate word.
To understand many of the foreign generic terms now freely employed, the map-user must consult a glossary to obtain the English equivalent. It is unnecessary to impose upon him a further handicap by confusing the generic part of the name with the specific part in such a manner as to cause difficulty in its recognition.
Within areas under one foreign sovereignty, conventional names are to be relegated to a position of second choice.
Conventional names within such areas may be defined as names that enjoy widespread usage in English-language countries but differ from the foreign official names or from the forms obtained by our transcription systems. Although from the technical point of view they are now wrong names, this was not always true. For some originated when the world was young and careless about both the written and the spoken form, and the name used by a returned traveler was as authoritative as that of the native burgomaster. Others, and their name is legion, were the names assigned by the early navigators to the features along savage coasts where the national sovereign had never troubled to make a literate inventory of the natural features of his domain. Still others once enjoyed full official approval but lost their standing by political or other change. Conventional names that today insist most strongly upon being made exceptions to any general rule are names that are prominent in the realm of political geography—principally names of well-known cities.
Athens is Athenai and Rome is Roma, and the correct official names are necessary to all documents that bear responsibility for technical accuracy; but the conservative cartographer will add the conventional name wherever space permits.
Eventually we are certain to use the name that is supported by the life and vitality of its own government, and an unwilling acceptance may produce the comical result of being always one lap behind the event. By the time the present generation learned something of St. Petersburg it became Petrograd. And by the time we learned to say Petrograd it became Leningrad. Grant the passage of enough time and Leningrad will become a venerable fixture not to be trifled with by its own unthinking population, for our instinctive attitude is like that of the devout old lady who resented the new stained glass windows in the village church and wanted her glass clear, “Like the Lord made it.” And the initiate will remember that it was a proposed change in the name of his native state that provoked from a mythical Senator that masterpiece of ribald eloquence entitled “The Speech of the Gentleman from Arkansas.”
The American press has its own peculiar problem in deciding how much to defer to the conservative public by retaining the old and well-known names of important places. They have met this problem in their own way by accepting4 the names that appear on the maps of the National Geographic Society in all but 78 selected cases. The old conventional names which are prominent in western culture, history, and tradition, are retained for these 78 places; and further, the generic terms that form part of names of natural features will be translated into English. Virtually it may now be conceded that this selected list of 78 names represents the last stand of the once numerous and always valiant conventional name contingent.
America faces a future of fully developed international activity, to which the principles discussed herein are well adapted. Briefly summarized, these principles are:
Foreign countries using the Roman alphabet establish our usage for names within their areas; we, desirably in collaboration with other countries, devise and formally adopt transcription systems that establish our usage for names within the non-Roman countries; and we, alone, fix our usage for international features and for names of countries and other major areas. Foreign generic terms are accepted for places under foreign sovereignty, but generics for natural features are printed as separate words.
These principles are not new, and therein lies such virtue as they may possess. The possibility of their general acceptance rests not so much upon a clear exposition of their applicability as upon the fact that they are in accord with the current of social thought among civilized countries and with such basic procedures as have to date received formal acceptance. Their conversion into well-established conventions rests in the discretion of the U. S. Board on Geographical Names.
Originally established in 1890 as a result of the efforts of the Hydrographer of the Navy to develop logical and authoritative handling of foreign geographic names on the mariner’s charts, this Board is now functioning in response to war necessities and is endeavoring to meet the present acute need for reasonable uniformity in the place names that appear in the communications and on the maps and charts used by this country and its allies. In the field of geographic names, it exercises both legislative and judicial functions, in that it issues to the government service directives for the selection of geographic names in specific areas and serves as a court of appeal for the arbitration of divergent views and practices.
As now organized this Board consists of a Division of Geography, which, under the administration of the Department of the Interior, supplies organized scholarship, and an Advisory Committee, which contributes the diverse and critical viewpoints of interested government agencies and of geographic societies and other selected private institutions. Foreign names are given special consideration by a subcommittee that numbers among its membership a representative of the Hydrographic Office of the Navy, which is consistent with the continuing interest of the mariner’s chart-maker in the development of uniformity in the handling of foreign geographic names.
1. Gazetteers for various Pacific areas, H.O. Nos. 880-894, inclusive, are published by the U. S. Hydro- graphic Office, Washington, D. C.
2. Report on Uniform System for Spelling Foreign Geographic Names, Washington, Navy Department, 1891.
3. Transcription systems approved for use by all agencies of the United States Government arc presented in the publications of the U. S. Board on Geographical Names, Washington, D. C.
4. Agreement publicized by a news release dated April 8, 1944, effective April 9, 1944.