Chinese Influence on the Toponymy of Seoul

The Sinicized Landscape: A Historical and Linguistic Analysis of Chinese Influence on the Toponymy of Seoul

Part I: Foundations of a Sinicized Toponymy – From Native Sounds to Imperial Systems
The toponymic landscape of modern Seoul is a palimpsest, a layered text written and rewritten over nearly two millennia. At its deepest level lies a foundation of native Korean place names, whose original sounds and meanings are often obscured by time. Over this foundation were inscribed successive layers of Chinese influence, beginning with the very technology of writing itself and culminating in the wholesale adoption of imperial administrative systems. This initial transformation was not merely a linguistic convenience but a profound political and cultural act. It filtered the vernacular Korean landscape through the logographic and ideological lens of the Chinese empire, establishing a paradigm of Sinicization that would define the peninsula's administrative geography for centuries and set the stage for the later construction of Seoul as a meticulously planned ideological capital.
1.1 The Logographic Transformation: Adopting Hanja for Korean Places
Before the invention of the Korean alphabet, Hangeul, in the 15th century, the only available writing system was Chinese characters, known in Korean as Hanja. The process of recording native Korean place names using this foreign script, known as chaja p'yogi (차자표기, 借字表記), was the foundational act of Sinicization. This was not a simple, neutral act of transcription but an interpretive process that forced a choice between sound and meaning, fundamentally altering the relationship between a place and its name. This process generally followed two primary methods, often supplemented by hybrid approaches.
The first method was semantic translation, or uiyeok (의역, 意譯), where the meaning of the native Korean name was translated into its Hanja equivalent. This approach was common for places with clear, descriptive names. For instance, a place known natively as Moraenae (모래내), meaning "sand stream," was recorded as Sacheon (沙川), using the Hanja characters for 'sand' (沙) and 'stream' (川). Similarly, a place called Dolgoji (돌곶이), meaning "stone point," became Seokgwan (石串), combining the characters for 'stone' (石) and 'spit/point' (串). This method had the effect of making the name legible to a classically educated official but completely erased the native Korean phonology from the written record, replacing it with a Sino-Korean reading that fit neatly into a logographic administrative system.
The second method was phonetic transcription, or eumcha (음차, 音借), where Hanja characters were chosen solely for their sound to approximate the native Korean name, with their original meanings disregarded. This was often used for names whose meanings were obscure or for which no simple Hanja equivalent existed. The very name 'Seoul' is the ultimate example of a native word's persistence through this process. Originating from 'Seorabeol' (서라벌), the capital of the Silla kingdom, the name evolved phonetically over centuries into 'Seoul'. While it was written with various phonetic Hanja combinations over time, the native sound endured, unlike names that were semantically translated.
The choice between these methods was a critical decision made by a literate elite steeped in the Chinese classics. To translate a name's meaning was to prioritize administrative and ideological clarity within a Sinitic framework, but at the cost of the local sound. To transcribe its sound was to preserve local identity phonetically, but the resulting Hanja name could appear meaningless or even "barbaric" in a purely logographic context. Therefore, the very act of writing down a place name in Hanja was the first step in its subordination to a foreign cultural and linguistic system. It filtered the vernacular geography through an elite, Sinitic lens, establishing a fundamental and enduring tension between native sound and imported meaning.
1.2 The Silla Model: Systematizing a Chinese Toponymic Framework
If the initial adoption of Hanja was the first step, the systematic toponymic reforms of the Unified Silla kingdom in the 8th century CE represented a quantum leap in the Sinicization of the Korean landscape. Under King Gyeongdeok, the state undertook a nationwide project to replace native place names—which were often of variable length and phonetically transcribed—with standardized two-character, Chinese-style names. This reform was a profound political project aimed at administrative centralization and international legitimation.
Prior to this reform, the area of modern Seoul was known by various names associated with the early Baekje kingdom. With the Silla reform, it was officially designated Hanyang-gun (漢陽郡). This name is a classic example of Chinese geographical naming principles, meaning the county (郡) on the "yang" (陽) or "sunny side"—conventionally the north side—of the Han River (漢). This act replaced a local, historical identity with a generic, descriptive name derived from a Chinese cosmological and geographical framework.
This nationwide standardization was far more than an aesthetic or linguistic preference; it was a powerful tool of statecraft. By imposing a uniform, Chinese-style naming system across the entire peninsula, the Silla court was asserting its centralized authority over newly conquered territories and diverse local traditions. It was a bureaucratic technology for creating a homogenous and legible administrative space, erasing local particularities in favor of a unified imperial system.
Furthermore, this adoption of Tang Dynasty administrative toponymy was a form of geopolitical signaling. In the East Asian world order, which was dominated by the Tang empire, adopting Chinese administrative and cultural practices was a way to present one's state as "civilized" and sophisticated. By mirroring the toponymic conventions of the great power, Silla was claiming its status as a worthy participant in the Sinocentric sphere. The Sinicization of place names was thus an instrument of both domestic state-building, through centralization, and foreign policy, by gaining legitimacy in the eyes of the Tang court. This established a powerful and long-lasting paradigm in which administrative modernity and cultural sophistication were equated with the adoption of Chinese models, a precedent that would directly inform the founding of Hanyang as the Joseon capital centuries later.
Part II: The Joseon Dynasty – Constructing an Ideological Capital
When the Joseon Dynasty established its new capital in 1394, it did not simply build a city; it constructed a physical embodiment of a worldview. Hanyang, as Seoul was then known, was meticulously planned and named to function as a microcosm of the Neo-Confucian universe. Its layout, its structures, and its administrative divisions were all imbued with symbolic meaning derived from Chinese classical texts, cosmological principles, and the kingdom's carefully calibrated diplomatic relationship with Ming China. This section provides an in-depth analysis of how Hanyang was conceived as an ideological landscape, where geography, architecture, and toponymy converged to create a capital that was both a practical administrative center and a didactic tool for moral and political instruction.
2.1 Designing the Capital: The Synthesis of Chinese Idealism and Korean Reality
The fundamental design of Hanyang was a masterful blend of two distinct, though related, Chinese philosophical systems: the idealized, text-based political theory of the Rites of Zhou, and the naturalistic, earth-based cosmology of Feng Shui.
The Rites of Zhou (주례고공기, 周禮考工記) provided the abstract, symmetrical template for an ideal imperial capital. This ancient Chinese text dictated key principles of urban design, most notably jeonjohusi (전조후시, 前朝後市), which stipulated that the royal court and government offices should be placed in the front (south) of the city, with the commercial markets situated in the rear (north), and jwamyousa (좌묘우사, 左廟右社), which mandated that the royal ancestral shrine (Jongmyo) be located to the left (east) of the palace, and the altars to the gods of earth and grain (Sajikdan) be placed to the right (west). This model represented a perfect, rationalized political space.
However, the mountainous terrain of the Korean peninsula made a literal application of this symmetrical grid impossible. Instead, Joseon's planners turned to the principles of Feng Shui (풍수지리, 風水地理) to select the actual site and adapt the ideal plan to physical reality. The chosen location was deemed auspicious because it was a basin perfectly cradled by two protective mountain ranges: the Four Inner Mountains (Naesasan, 內四山) of Bugaksan (north), Naksan (east), Namsan (south), and Inwangsan (west), which were in turn embraced by the larger Four Outer Mountains (Oesasan, 外四山). The stream flowing through the city, the Cheonggyecheon, was identified as the vital myeongdangsu (명당수, 明堂水), or "bright hall water," essential for accumulating positive energy (gi, 氣).
The genius of Hanyang's design lies in the sophisticated synthesis of these two systems. The planners did not blindly copy the Zhouli model, recognizing its incompatibility with the local topography. First, they used Feng Shui to interpret and sanctify the natural landscape, identifying Bugaksan as the primary guardian mountain and the proper site for the main palace, Gyeongbokgung. Only after establishing this cosmologically correct orientation did they adapt the core tenets of the Zhouli. Gyeongbok Palace was built with Bugaksan at its back, and in accordance with the jwamyousa principle, Jongmyo Shrine was placed to its east and Sajikdan to its west. This was not mere imitation but a creative act of cultural translation. It demonstrated the Joseon elite's ability to harmonize a universalist, text-based Chinese political ideal with a particularist, nature-based Chinese cosmology, resulting in a capital that was both ideologically "correct" by Chinese standards and uniquely Korean in its organic relationship to the land.
2.2 Moral Cartography: Naming the Gates and the Center
The ideological project of Hanyang extended from its physical layout to its toponymy, most strikingly in the naming of the Four Great Gates and the central belfry. These names were a direct and systematic application of the Five Constant Virtues (오상, 五常) of Confucianism, transforming the city's primary points of entry and its very heart into a symbolic map of ethical principles.
* East Gate (Dongdaemun): Named Heunginjimun (흥인지문, 興仁之門), the "Gate of Rising Benevolence" (仁, In).
* West Gate (Seodaemun): Named Donuimun (돈의문, 敦義門), the "Gate of Upholding Righteousness" (義, Ui).
* South Gate (Namdaemun): Named Sungnyemun (숭례문, 崇禮門), the "Gate of Revering Propriety" (禮, Ye).
* North Gate (Bukdaemun): Originally named Sukcheongmun (숙청문, 肅淸門), its name was later altered, but it was associated with Wisdom (智, Ji).
* Central Belfry: Named Bosingak (보신각, 普信閣), the "Belfry of Universal Trust" (信, Sin).
These names were not arbitrary labels; they were chosen to transform the physical space of the capital into a moral and pedagogical landscape. For the Neo-Confucian Joseon state, the capital was not just an administrative hub but the heart of civilization, from which moral influence was expected to radiate throughout the kingdom. By inscribing the Five Virtues onto the city's most prominent and functional structures, the state created a constant, if subliminal, form of instruction for its subjects. To enter the city from the east was to literally pass through the Gate of Rising Benevolence. The daily tolling of the bell from the city center was the sound of Universal Trust. This act of "moral cartography" turned the entire walled city into a didactic instrument, architecturally embedding the state ideology into the daily lives of its inhabitants and making the very geography of the capital a lesson in Confucian ethics.
2.3 Governance Through Naming: The Bang (坊) System of Hanseongbu
The internal administration of the capital, known as Hanseongbu (한성부, 漢城府), was also organized according to a Chinese model. The city was divided into five departments (bu, 部)—Central, East, West, South, and North—which were further subdivided into a total of 52 wards, or bang (방, 坊), in the early Joseon period. The bang was the fundamental unit of urban administration, responsible for crucial state functions such as tax collection, labor mobilization for public works (bangyeok, 방역), and maintaining public order.
This administrative structure was a direct adoption of the fang (坊) system used in the great capital of the Tang Dynasty, Chang'an. The importation of this system represents the adoption of a proven Chinese "technology of governance." However, while Joseon borrowed the terminology and bureaucratic framework, it adapted the implementation to its own specific context. In Tang Chang'an, the fang system was a highly rigid instrument of social control. Each ward was a self-contained unit surrounded by high walls, with gates that were locked under a strict nightly curfew to prevent movement. Commercial activity was confined to two designated, heavily regulated markets. This system was designed to manage a massive, cosmopolitan, and potentially restive imperial population.
The Joseon bang system, in contrast, appears to have been less draconian. While it served as an efficient tool for organizing the populace for state purposes, historical sources emphasize its role in administrative grouping and labor duties rather than physical enclosure and curfew. Hanyang was smaller and more ethnically homogenous than Chang'an, and the state's relationship with its urban subjects did not necessitate the same level of physical control. Thus, Joseon adopted the bureaucratic efficiency of the Chinese system but dispensed with its more oppressive features, demonstrating a pragmatic adaptation of an imported model.
The ideological project of the capital was further extended through the naming of these administrative wards. An analysis of the 52 bang names reveals a clear pattern reflecting the values and aspirations of the new dynasty. They can be broadly categorized as follows, showing a clear preference for names that promoted Confucian virtues and auspicious ideals.
Table 1: Semantic Categorization of Hanseongbu's Bang Names
| Category | Hanja | Pronunciation | Literal Meaning & Significance | Sample Source |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Confucian Virtues | 崇敎坊 | Sunggyo-bang | Ward of Revering the Teachings |  |
|  | 彰善坊 | Changseon-bang | Ward of Proclaiming Goodness |  |
|  | 仁達坊 | Indal-bang | Ward of Attaining Benevolence |  |
|  | 明禮坊 | Myeongnye-bang | Ward of Bright Propriety |  |
|  | 誠明坊 | Seongmyeong-bang | Ward of Sincerity and Brightness |  |
|  | 積善坊 | Jeokseon-bang | Ward of Accumulating Good Deeds |  |
| Auspicious/Aspirational | 嘉會坊 | Gahoe-bang | Ward of Auspicious Meetings (a virtuous king meeting a wise minister) |  |
|  | 慶幸坊 | Gyeonghaeng-bang | Ward of Fortunate Events |  |
|  | 瑞麟坊 | Seorin-bang | Ward of the Auspicious Kirin (a mythical beast heralding a sage) |  |
|  | 太平坊 | Taepyeong-bang | Ward of Great Peace |  |
|  | 永堅坊 | Yeonggyeon-bang | Ward of Eternal Firmness |  |
|  | 興盛坊 | Heungseong-bang | Ward of Flourishing Prosperity |  |
| Natural Features | 蓮花坊 | Yeonhwa-bang | Ward of the Lotus Flower |  |
|  | 盤松坊 | Bansong-bang | Ward of the Sprawling Pine Tree |  |
| Administrative/Descriptive | 皇華坊 | Hwanghwa-bang | Ward of the Imperial Envoy (location of the guesthouse for envoys) |  |
|  | 廣通坊 | Gwangtong-bang | Ward of the Wide Canal (location of the Gwangtonggyo bridge) |  |
|  | 觀光坊 | Gwangwang-bang | Ward for Viewing the Light (of the king's virtue) |  |
This categorization reveals the worldview of the Joseon state founders. By naming the very units of urban administration after moral precepts and auspicious symbols, they imbued the bureaucratic machinery of the state with ideological purpose, turning every neighborhood into a reminder of the dynasty's political and ethical goals.
2.4 Diplomacy in the Landscape: Sadae (事大) and Its Toponymic Markers
The principle of sadae (사대, 事大), or "serving the great," was the cornerstone of Joseon's foreign policy, defining its hierarchical and tributary relationship with Ming and later Qing China. This diplomatic posture was not confined to official documents and tribute missions; it was physically and permanently inscribed onto the landscape of the capital itself through the naming of key structures.
The most explicit of these toponymic markers were located just outside the West Gate, along the official route for Chinese envoys. Here stood the Mohwagwan (모화관, 慕華館), the "Hall for Admiring China," which served as the official guesthouse for visiting delegations. In front of it stood the Yeongeunmun (영은문, 迎恩門), the "Gate for Welcoming [Imperial] Grace," a ceremonial arch through which the envoys were received by the king himself. The names of these structures were unambiguous public declarations of Joseon's vassal status within the Sinocentric world order. They were architectural and toponymic performances of diplomatic deference, designed to honor the representatives of the Chinese emperor.
In stark contrast to these symbols of submission stood another crucial site: the Hwangudan (환구단, 圜丘壇), or "Altar to Heaven". This was a sacred place where the king performed rites directly to the supreme celestial deity, a practice that, according to strict Confucian protocol, was the exclusive prerogative of the Chinese Emperor, the "Son of Heaven". The existence and use of the Hwangudan was a source of constant ideological tension within the Joseon court. Orthodox Neo-Confucian scholar-officials frequently attacked the practice, arguing that for a "vassal king" to perform the rites of an emperor was a grave violation of sadae principles and an act of hubris.
These conflicting sites reveal that the capital's landscape was a stage for the performance of the Joseon Dynasty's complex and often contradictory dual identity. On the one hand, the names Mohwagwan and Yeongeunmun broadcast Joseon's role as a deferential participant in the international order. On the other hand, the Hwangudan represented the principle of oe-wang nae-je (외왕내제, 外王內帝), meaning "king abroad, emperor at home." It was a site where the Joseon monarch asserted a sovereign, quasi-imperial authority within his own realm by claiming the right to communicate directly with Heaven. The fierce debates surrounding the Hwangudan's legitimacy demonstrate that this duality was not a stable consensus but a site of intense ideological conflict. The toponymy of Hanseong thus physically manifests the central political tension of the dynasty, carving into the landscape a permanent record of its complex negotiation between geopolitical dependency and national sovereignty.
Part III: Rupture and Reconfiguration in the Modern Era
The turn of the 20th century marked a violent rupture in the centuries-long tradition of Seoul's toponymic development. The Japanese colonial period (1910-1945) witnessed a systematic effort to erase the symbolic landscape of the Joseon Dynasty and replace it with a new administrative geography designed to serve the interests of the empire. This colonial project of "creating new place names" was followed by a complex and ambivalent process of decolonization after 1945, where the impulse to restore a lost past clashed with the lived realities of a rapidly modernizing city. Finally, in the 21st century, Seoul has re-engaged with the Hanja cultural sphere on its own terms, culminating in an act of toponymic self-definition that signals a new chapter in its long history.
3.1 Colonial Modernity and Toponymic Erasure: From Hanseong to Keijō (京城)
Upon annexing Korea in 1910, the Japanese colonial government immediately renamed the capital from Hanseongbu to Keijō-fu (경성부, 京城府), using the Japanese reading of the same characters, and administratively downgraded it from a capital city to a municipality within Gyeonggi Province. This was followed in 1914 by a sweeping administrative reform that fundamentally reshaped the city's toponymic landscape. This project has been termed Changjigaemyeong (창지개명, 創地改名), or "creating new place names," a deliberate policy analogous to the later, more infamous policy of forcing Koreans to adopt Japanese-style personal names, Changssigaemyeong (창씨개명, 創氏改名).
The reform abolished the traditional Joseon-era administrative units of bang, gye (계, 契), and dong (동, 洞). In their place, a new system of Japanese-style machi (町, read as jō in Japanese and jeong in Korean) and chōme (丁目, read as jeongmok in Korean) was imposed. The methods used in this renaming process reveal a clear intent to de-historicize the urban landscape:
* Amalgamation and Abbreviation: Multiple traditional dong and gye were merged into a single new machi. The new name was often an artificial synthesis created by taking one character from each of the old names. For example, the area now known as Insadong was created by combining parts of the Joseon-era Gwanin-bang (관인방, 寬仁坊) and Daesa-dong (대사동, 大寺洞), taking the 'In' and 'Sa' to form the new name. Similarly, outside the old city walls, Sungsin-myeon (숭신면, 崇信面) and Inchang-myeon (인창면, 仁昌面) were combined to form Sungin-myeon (숭인면, 崇仁面).
* Imposition of Japanese Names: In areas with a high concentration of Japanese residents, particularly around the city center and Yongsan, names with Japanese cultural or auspicious connotations were introduced, such as Honmachi (본정, 本町, "Main Street," now Chungmuro), Asahimachi (욱정, 旭町, "Rising Sun Street"), and Meijimachi (명치정, 明治町, "Meiji Street").
The colonial government justified these changes on the grounds of administrative efficiency and the rationalization of a supposedly archaic and confusing system. However, the methodology of renaming reveals a deeper purpose. By creating synthetic, historically meaningless names through amalgamation and imposing distinctly Japanese names, the reform systematically severed the organic link between a place and its historical memory. A name like Gahoe-bang told a story rooted in Joseon's political ideals; a name like Sungin-myeon was a bureaucratic fiction. This process effectively rendered the landscape illegible in its traditional context. The 1914 toponymic reform was thus a key project of colonial modernity. It utilized the seemingly neutral tools of bureaucracy, cartography, and administrative rationalization to de-historicize the Korean capital, erasing the symbolic landscape of the Joseon Dynasty and creating a "blank slate" upon which a new, Japanese-controlled colonial order could be inscribed.
3.2 Post-Liberation Ambivalence: The Politics of Toponymic Restoration
With liberation in 1945, one of the first symbolic acts of decolonization was to reclaim the capital's name. In 1946, Keijō was officially renamed 'Seoul' (서울), formally adopting the native Korean vernacular term for "capital" that had been in use for centuries. At the local level, Japanese-style administrative units were changed back to their Korean equivalents: machi became dong, and the numbered chōme became ga (가, 街). However, the process of restoring the pre-colonial names themselves proved to be far more complex and incomplete.
Despite the nationalist fervor of the post-liberation period, a comprehensive reversion to the Joseon-era toponymy never occurred. A significant percentage of Seoul's place names, particularly in the historic city center, remain the direct products of the 1914 colonial consolidation. Names like Insadong, Donuidong, and Gye-dong are not original Joseon names but colonial-era creations. Various estimates suggest that up to 30% of all of Seoul's place names, and as high as 60% in the old capital district of Jongno-gu, are of this origin.
Numerous efforts to change these names and restore older, native ones have largely failed. The reasons for this are multifaceted. They include a lack of sustained political will from municipal authorities, the high administrative and financial costs associated with changing addresses and official records, and, most significantly, opposition from residents themselves. The colonial-era names, though initially artificial impositions designed to erase memory, had, over several generations, become the lived reality for the city's inhabitants. They became associated with personal histories, community identities, property deeds, and commercial brand value.
This phenomenon reveals a powerful principle of toponymy: place names, even artificially created ones, gain their own organic life and historical legitimacy through decades of continuous usage. The persistence of these names highlights the complexities of postcolonial identity. It illustrates a fundamental conflict between a nationalistic, top-down desire to purify the landscape of colonial vestiges and the localized, bottom-up experience of residents for whom "Insadong" is now a historic and cherished place in its own right, its colonial origins having faded from public consciousness. The incomplete toponymic decolonization of Seoul shows that the process is not a simple act of reversion to a pristine past but a continuous and often contested negotiation between official historical memory and present-day identity.
3.3 Seoul in the Sinosphere: The Modern Creation of Shǒu'ěr (首爾)
For most of the post-war era, Chinese-speaking countries referred to Seoul by its historical name, Hanseong (한성, 漢城). This was problematic for the modern South Korean state, as it referred to a defunct dynasty and was often confused with China's Han Dynasty, locking the city's identity in the past. In a landmark decision in 2005, the Seoul Metropolitan Government took proactive steps to resolve this issue by selecting and promoting a new official Chinese name: 首爾 (pronounced Shǒu'ěr in Mandarin and read as 'Seoul' in Korean).
The choice of 首爾 was a masterful act of linguistic and diplomatic branding, designed to resolve the age-old tension between sound and meaning. The name was selected based on two key criteria:
* Phonetic Similarity: The pronunciation Shǒu'ěr is a close phonetic approximation of the native Korean name "Seoul," ensuring immediate recognition.
* Auspicious Meaning: The characters themselves carry a positive and appropriate meaning. 首 (shǒu) means "first," "head," or "capital," and 爾 (ěr) is a common phonetic character. The combination can be interpreted as "The First City" or "The Capital City," conveying an image of leadership and centrality.
The creation and successful promulgation of Shǒu'ěr represents the culminating event in the long and complex history of Seoul's relationship with the Chinese logographic system. It marks a paradigm shift from being a passive recipient of Sinicized toponymy to an active agent of its own toponymic identity on the world stage. In the pre-modern era, Hanja names were imposed by domestic elites copying Chinese models. During the colonial period, they were imposed by a foreign power. In 2005, for the first time, the city chose its own Hanja name, specifically for an international audience.
This act is a declaration of toponymic sovereignty that simultaneously acknowledges Seoul's unique Korean identity (by prioritizing its native sound) and its position within the historic and contemporary East Asian cultural sphere (by using the shared medium of Hanja). It is the final, modern synthesis in the centuries-long dialogue between a native Korean place and the logographic world, demonstrating a confident, globalized identity that is no longer defined by imitation or reaction, but by proactive self-definition.
Conclusion
The toponymy of Seoul is far more than a collection of labels on a map; it is a deeply layered historical text that chronicles the city's journey through centuries of political, ideological, and cultural transformation. The analysis of this landscape reveals a distinct narrative arc, moving from passive reception and creative adaptation of Chinese models to a violent colonial rupture, and finally to a modern, proactive self-definition within a globalized East Asia.
In its foundational period, the adoption of the Chinese writing system and, later, the systematic Silla-era reforms, subordinated the vernacular Korean landscape to the administrative and ideological frameworks of the Sinitic world. The Joseon Dynasty built upon this foundation, meticulously crafting its capital, Hanyang, as a physical manifestation of Neo-Confucian ideals and cosmological principles imported from China. The city's layout, the moral cartography of its gates, the administrative grid of its bang system, and the diplomatic language of its ceremonial structures all attest to a sophisticated process of cultural adaptation, where universalist Chinese concepts were creatively synthesized with the particularities of the Korean context. The landscape became a stage upon which the dynasty performed its dual identity as both a sovereign entity and a deferential member of the Sinocentric order.
The Japanese colonial era represents a radical break in this tradition. The 1914 Changjigaemyeong was not merely an administrative reshuffling but a deliberate project of de-historicization, using the tools of modern bureaucracy to sever the links between place and memory, thereby creating a toponymic tabula rasa for the colonial regime. The post-liberation period has been characterized by an ambivalent and incomplete process of decolonization. The persistence of many colonial-era names demonstrates how even artificial toponyms can become naturalized over time, embedding themselves in the lived experience of a community and creating a complex tension between nationalist historical narratives and local identity.
Finally, the 21st-century creation of 首爾 (Shǒu'ěr) marks a new era of toponymic agency. It is an act of sovereign self-naming that masterfully resolves the historical tension between native sound and logographic meaning. It signals a mature identity, comfortable with both its unique Korean heritage and its place within the broader East Asian cultural sphere. The story of Seoul's names is, therefore, the story of Seoul itself—a continuous process of negotiation between local identity and external influence, between a cherished past and a dynamic present, written and rewritten upon the very landscape of the city.