Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Southeast
Asian Naming
Systems. Which is Du Xiao Bao's family name?
by George Leonard, Jeeyeon Lee and Chung Hoang Chuong
No-one researching the Asian roots of Asian American literature, no-one trying to
understand the relationships of Asian characters in a novel, will get far if he or
she cannot tell a family name from a given name; but the Asian systems are entirely
different from the American. This article, of course, speaks of the practices of
Asians, not of Asian Americans.
Everyone who discusses this topic starts by noticing one highly significant difference.
In America, the individualís name comes first. In Asia, the familyís name comes first.
(To grasp the full significance, see this volumeís article on Confucian family values,
and the Asian American Family.) This is true of informal spoken, as well as formal
written language. You would say, in speech, ìThis is my friend, Lincoln Abraham.î
Mao Zedongís family name is Mao, and saying ìChairman Mao,î which sounds like familiarity
or affection in English, is merely the ordinary formal way.
Aside from that generalization, Asian naming systems are far more different from
each other than European systems are from each other. So much so, that this article
can only be an overview.
1. Chinese
Nearly ninety five percent of Chinese belong to the dominant Han ethnicity. (Fifty
six ethnicities are officially recognized.) Han Chinese names have two parts: the
xing, (family name or surname) and the ming, (given name.) (Note: this article uses
the pinyin system of Romanization. Please see our article, ìAsian charactersî)
Nearly all modern Han family names are one syllable (Chan, Du, Lee, etc.).
Nearly all modern Han given names are two syllable. Until recently the two syllables
were divided by a dash, so that we are used to seeing names like Chou En-lai, and
Mao Tse-tung. The modern pinyin system of romanization prefers to drop the dash,
so that Chou En-lai becomes Zhou Enlai; and Mao Tse-tung becomes Mao Zedong.
In Maoist China women stopped taking their husbandís name. In traditional China,
and in Nationalist Taiwan-- where Maoís enemies, the Guomindang fled-- women used
their husbandís surname and then their own, separated by a hyphen. If Miss Huang
Xiaoyan marries Mr. Lee, she becomes Lee-Huang Xiaoyan.
Even formal terms of address like Mr., Mrs., Professor, Doctor, appear after the
name, not before it. In Pinyin they are not capitalized. Mrs. Lee is Lee taitai.
Miss Wong is Wong xiaojie. Chairman Mao is Mao zhuxi. In English we routinely say
Doctor Smith or Professor Jones, but do not, as a rule, specify many other professions.
In Chinese, however, one would also routinely say ìTechnician Du,î or even ìDriver
Tan,î referring to a work unitís assigned chauffeur/delivery man.
Within the family, it is very common for even adult children to refer to each other
by their roles as ìelder brother,î or ìyounger sister.î One might almost say, refer
to each other by their rank. In traditional China mentioning clearly who was the
elder and who the younger served the same purpose as specifying who was the sergeant,
and who the private. Even today , in my own family, my fiftyish brother in law refers
politely to his older sister as Older Sister, ìJiejieî rather than call her by her
name. Sometimes heíll shorten that casually to ìJie,î but he uses it. I myself, as
husband of the youngest sister, am only his ìmeifuî ìLittle Sister Husband,î a person
of lesser rank. And I would be reminded of my rank and its duties every time I was
addressed.
In pre-maoist China, as in America, the children inherited only the fatherís name,
and the motherís name was lost. Each year, for thousands of years, a surname vanished
if a family had produced no sons. The five thousand Han surnames that once existed
have, through this erosive process, dwindled to a few hundred shared by some five
billion Chinese. We have the impression that there are more Chinese names than there
are, since we will take a single name, like Wong (ìKingî) and spell it many ways--
Wang, Huang, Hwang, Hwong. Similar situations exist in Korea and Vietnam.
The Chinese, like the Koreans and Vietnamese, compensate with imaginative given names.
Someone named Jones might name a child ìJaxon,î rather than ìJackî if only to spare
him lifelong difficulties with computers and post offices. The Chinese follow this
logic. We, with our vast number of family names, can afford to give our children,
over and over, the familiar twenty or thirty given names. The Chinese and Vietnamese,
stuck with the so few family names, create a great variety of given names.
Classical authorís names present different problems, because a man had his given
name, plus a name he assumed on reaching manhood (his zi), plus, in some eras, yet
another name he assumed on reaching a certain station in life, or even just reaching
maturity, the hao. In Kong Fu Tseís (Confuciusís) time there was, in addition, a
variety of honorific titles a man could be awarded. His name, Kong, has had two honorific
titles signifing ìmasterî added to it. The last sound, zi, we romanize too many ways,
as ìtseî and ìtsuî and ìtzuî and ìzi.î It is pronounced most like ìzi.î Lao Tzu and
Kong Fu Tse both, in Chinese, end in that one same sound. Yet a mistaken convention
has developed in English to say make Lao Tzuís name rhyme with the womanís name Sue.
It shouldnít.
We cannot begin to deal with all the conventions of pennames, Taoist names, Buddhist
names, nicknames that all 3200 years of recorded Chinese culture have left us with.
It is enough to be aware of the complexity.
2. Japanese and Korean
Since Japan and Korea were within Chinaís cultural orbit during their early cultural
history, it is no surprise that they share in much of what has been said above. Family
names are given first in both languages. Someone named Suzuki Keníichi is Mr. Wakatabe
in English. (Suzuki is the most common Japanese surname
A Korean named Lee Soon Chul, is Mr. Lee in English.
In practice however, Japanese names and name customs must partake of the entire exquisite
code of Japanese behavior. If hierarchy and rank are preoccupations of the Chinese
language, they are near obsessions of the Japanese. There are entire different forms
of speech appropriate when speaking to a superior or a subordinate, and the Japanese
concern to denote ìinsideî from ìoutsideî (of the family, the clan, the country,
whatever) surfaces in speech.
In practice, first names are not routinely given. Only small children are called
by their first names, and then it is followed by the softening word ìchan.î People
could work in an office together for years without learning, or using each otherís
first names. ìMy name is Yoshimura,î is an adequate introduction. When single names
like this are given, assume they are family names, not first names, as would more
likely be the case in America. It is perfectly polite to say, ìYoshimura wonít be
in today,î or ìWhere is Yoshimura?î
As in Chinese, a great variety of professional titles are appended after names.
Everyone must know the chain of command. ìAno, chotto ii desu ka, Shosuke kakaricho?ì
would be, literally, ìExcuse me, is it okay, Shosuke Section-chief?î
One could also say, ìShosuke Kai Choî ìShosuke Company Presidentî and many other
specific titles. ìSanî for Mr., is routine, and ìSama,î even more deferential is
frequent, depending on the rank difference between speaker and person addressed.
Women use different, and very deferential forms of address, especially when speaking
to men, adding a particle like ìkunî to the end of the name. ìSensei,î or ìteacher,î
may be added to many professional menís names, as a simple honorific. Little of this
is translatable, but translators try.
In Korean, the special problem is that no good romanization systems exist, and the
same personís name appears in many conflicting translations. Syngman Rhee, the first
public of the postwar Korean republic, could have been ìLee,î in another system.
Quite a problem, since 65%, at one estimate, of Koreans now share either the surname
Lee or Kim. Furthermore, ìthe curious truth about the surname Lee,î Jeeyeon Lee writes,
ìis that in the Korean phonetic language, there is no such surname. My last name
is Lee in English, but in Korean it is actually Ee. The pronunciation of it never
includes a consonant sound. Remember that ë80ís rock and roll girl named Sheila E.?î
Her father regrets that he didnít opt for the more distinguished, in his eyes, romanization,
ìRhee.î But there was also ìthe option of Yi,î and since Korean had an Yi dynasty,
the name, in Korean, can ìeither drip with prestige or pretense, depending on who
you are. Some peole try to reap the proverbial gold from that dynastyís legacy, by
Romanizing the name as ìYiî instead of Lee or Rhee. My did still ponders what life
would be like, had he traveled the more glamorous Rhee road, since Lee is the plainest
of all.î
3. Southeast Asian
The colonial term ìIndochina,î a translation of the French ìIndochineî at least called
attention to the dual heritage of South Asia-- a heritage from India as well as China,
a heritage more strongly Buddhist than Confucian, the closer to India one came.
As in the rest of Asia, the family name again comes first in Vietnamese, Thai and
the former Indochina. China, after all, dominated the region for a thousand years.
Chung Hoang Chuong is in English, Mr. Chung. The name attrition we remarked in China
and Korea has advanced even farther in Vietnam, where only 99 family names are left.
On top of that, fifty percent of the country shares the name Nguyen (pronounced ìwinî
or ìgwinî. There is no W in Vietnamese, and various combinations of letters are used
to produce it.). Only 25 or 26 of the names are common; indeed, the top 14 alone
account for most of the country aside from the Nguyens. The Vietnamese compensate
by using as many given names as there are words in the language. A Vietnamese list
of names, in the old country, would, of necessity, not start with the last name (half
would be Nguyen) but with the first one.
Vietnamese is, like Chinese, almost entirely monosyllabic. The ìmiddle nameî which
appears is very important, since it can tell male from female. Nguyen Van Minh would
be a man, and Nguyen Thi Minh a woman.
Cambodians, by contrast, have no middle name. They give the family name first, and
the two names which follow are, as in Chinese, actually a single two syllable given
name. Sam Sok Bo is Mr. Sam, and his first name is Sok Bo.
It is a mark of how far they rode outside the Chinese orbit that the Hmong use only
two names, and give the family name last. General Vang Pao would be General Pao,
not General Vang. The Hmong are a special case, a preliterate hill tribe. For their
culture, see this volumeís article, ìStory Cloths.î
One reminder, in closing: this article speaks of practices back in the old countries.
In this country-- if only to stay on the right side of the DMV and the IRS!-- Asian
American newcomers have had to conform to the general American system of Given Name
followed by Family Name. Even so, as a point of cultural pride, some will, socially,
prefer the traditional order.
Further Reading:
Schwartz, Benjamin, The World of Thought in Ancient China. Cambridge and London:
The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1985.
State Bureau of Foreign Experts, The Peopleís Republic of China, The Foreign Expertsí
Handbook: A Guide to Living and Working in China. Beijing, China: New World Press,
1988.
See also APA Insight Guidesí excellent series on East Asia. Hong Kong: APA Publications
Ltd., 1991.
Mangajinís Basic Japanese Through Comics (Atlanta, Georgia: Mangajin, 1993) uses
the Japanese adult comic book industry to illustrate social practices. Superb.
I thank Jeeyeon Lee, Chung Hoang Chuong and Mr. Vy Trac Do, whose course on South
East Asian peoples living in the United States I took in the Fall of 1982.