SOME countries change their names for ideological reasons (the Soviet Union), some as part of a break-up (Bangladesh) and some on a dictatorial whim (Myanmar). It is a bit of a relief that the Czech Republic wants to change its name—or rather, the way it is referred to in English—simply for stylistic reasons. On April 14th the country’s foreign minister, Lubomir Zaoralek, gently suggested that English-speakers should begin referring to it as Czechia. The new moniker has the backing of the cabinet and the president, Milos Zeman. Wiseacres noted that it might have been better to have made the decision earlier: the uniforms for the athletes competing in this summer’s Olympics are already emblazoned with the name Czech Republic.
The announcement caused some backlash and a fair bit of confusion. Czech leaders insist that the country’s full official name is not changing: they are merely requesting that the United Nations register Czechia as an official shortened name (like “Russia” for “the Russian Federation”). Mr Zaoralek says the shift is meant to prevent future “distortions and misspellings”. But the underlying argument is that Czechia is just a little more modish.


“It is short, and very similar to the name used in other languages,” says Lubos Motl, a physicist and long-time advocate of the change who, in addition to being a leading expert on string theory, claims to be the world’s foremost modern user of the name Czechia. Yet even he says he does not understand “why exactly this happened now”.
Czechia can be seen as a literal translation of Cesko, which entered into common use after the 1993 break-up of Czechoslovakia, though some historians argue it dates back as far as 1634. Mr Zeman has long advocated its use. Supporters say it is analogous to the shortened names used for other countries (France, after all, is officially “the French Republic”), and note that it is closer to the names used in most Romance and Germanic languages, as well as Hebrew. Even the New York Times used Czechia once, in 1925.
But Czechs seem less convinced. A 2013 survey by Mlada Fronta Dnes, the country’s leading daily, found 73% opposed to Czechia. The antipathy may reflect long-standing mixed feelings towards Cesko. Back in the 1920s, the writer Karel Capek said Cesko was “not musical”; for foreigners “it even sounds a little facetious.” Czechoslovakia’s first post-communist president, Vaclav Havel, said it evoked images of “crawling slugs”. More important, the word reminded him of the break-up of Czechoslovakia, which he opposed so strongly that he briefly resigned as president, returning as the first president of the Czech Republic.
During the break-up, as now, a number of alternative names were suggested, but many came with baggage. Some Czechs would prefer a name referring to the country’s two main regions, Bohemia and Moravia. But doing so brings to mind unpleasant memories of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, the name under which German-occupied territory was known in the Nazi era.
Adding to the confusion, the “Cz” spelling used in English comes from Polish, not Czech. It may have been adopted as a result of the influx of Ashkenazi Jews from Poland to the anglophone world in the 19th century. In short, the spelling of Czechia in the places where it will have the most impact is essentially a mistake. But Mr Motl, who taught at Harvard University from 2004 to 2007, thinks that a small country may have to put up with a certain amount of ignorance on the part of foreigners: “I am used to the fact that people in America, for example, don’t know anything about us.”