Do Not Leave Indigenous Place Names to Machine Translation: Digital Maps, Cultural Data Sovereignty, and Public Services in Indigenous Areas
Original Chinese title: 不要把部落地名交給自動翻譯:數位地圖、文化資料主權與原鄉公共服務
Place names are not interchangeable map labels. They index language, history, territory, migration, and relationships; digital platforms that pursue standardization alone risk erasing local knowledge once again.
Aciang Iku-Silan
Aciang Iku-Silan has long researched Indigenous traditional knowledge, languages and cultures, dream divination, and Indigenous traditional medicine, while advancing Two-Eyed Seeing, cultural data sovereignty, speech technology, and public services in Indigenous areas.

Place Names Are Not Map Labels; They Are How Places Remember Themselves
Digital maps encourage a familiar illusion: every place has one fixed name, one set of coordinates, and one optimal route. Enter the text and the system will take you there. That convenience matters, but it also compresses a place name into a label in a search box. For many Indigenous communities, names record ancestral migration, hunting grounds, water sources, disasters, plants, events, kinship, and restrictions on access or speech. A name expresses not only what a place is called, but who calls it by that name and in what context. One location may carry several layers of naming: everyday usage, ceremonial names, administrative terms introduced from outside, and memories held by different families need not coincide.
When a digital platform demands one standardized answer, other names are easily classified as spelling errors or duplicates. If an algorithm consistently ranks one name first, the platform may eventually shape public assumptions about which name is “correct.” A map then does more than represent the world; it begins to rewrite it. The deeper problem is that platforms do not announce this intervention. They quietly amplify some names, obscure others, and present the resulting hierarchy as objective data.
Machine Translation’s Gravest Error Is Making Uncertainty Look Certain
Machine translation and romanization of place names may appear to be technical tasks, but both depend on linguistic structure and cultural context. Some names can be analyzed into morphemes; others have lost transparent meanings through historical change. Some pronunciations must be confirmed by speakers familiar with a local variety or phonology. A system that guesses from common vocabulary can produce an explanation that sounds plausible but is false. The greater danger is that models rarely say, “I do not know.” Generative AI is adept at filling gaps with fluent prose and, when records are scarce, may invent an appealing legend for a place. Such an error can be more damaging than garbled text because it looks ready to share, cite, and reuse in training. Once a fabricated account enters travel websites, teaching slides, or local policy documents, it spreads like a faulty map copied a thousand times and becomes increasingly difficult to trace.
Systems for Indigenous place names must therefore measure more than translation coverage; they need mechanisms for uncertainty and provenance. Each name should be linked, where appropriate, to an audio recording, contributor, area of use, date recorded, language code, and terms of use. Where accounts differ, the system should present multiple versions rather than decide on a community’s behalf. AI can help organize records, but it cannot replace the authority of local knowledge holders or turn the statistically most frequent account into the culturally authoritative one.
Standardization Has Public Value, but It Is Not Cultural Unification
Emergency response, postal delivery, administration, transport, and statistics all require stable place names. United Nations work on geographical-name standardization likewise emphasizes that authoritative names support communication, sustainable development, emergency response, and data integration. The question is not whether standardization has value, but who sets the standard and whether multiple languages, names, and cultural contexts can coexist within it. Administrative systems often prefer one place and one name because that arrangement is easier to manage in a database. Cultural reality may instead be one place with many names, varying by language, history, and user. A sound institution can designate a primary administrative name while retaining community names, aliases, historical names, pronunciations, and community explanations. A poor one relegates everything outside the primary field to a note that disappears during the next system upgrade.
Place-name databases should support multilingual fields, version histories, and community-initiated corrections. Nor should every place be required to disclose precise coordinates immediately. A culturally sensitive location may be represented only as a general area or withheld entirely. Standardization without permissions can turn cultural heritage into a convenient list for external use. Such a list may appeal to researchers, tourism operators, and developers while doing little to protect community safety.
The CARE Principles: Data May Be Open, but Power Cannot Be Left Out
Open-data initiatives often draw on the FAIR Principles, under which data should be Findable, Accessible, Interoperable, and Reusable. These goals are important to science and public administration. Yet if circulation is discussed without confronting historical inequalities of power, Indigenous data can again be separated from their context. The Global Indigenous Data Alliance’s CARE Principles—Collective Benefit, Authority to Control, Responsibility, and Ethics—require data governance to ask not only whether a record can be downloaded, but who benefits, who decides, what responsibilities a user assumes, and whether the use is ethical. Applied to place names, CARE calls for databases to be co-governed with communities from the design stage, not announced to them after collection is complete.
Communities must also be able to set tiers of permission. Some names may be suitable for public education; some for research but not commercial use; some for community members only; and others may concern sacred or restricted knowledge. Treating every record as the same generic category of “cultural content” is among the most common—and least responsible—habits of digital governance. Cultural data are not ownerless raw material. A dot on a map may mark a family memory, evidence of migration, a boundary defined by restriction, or a place a community does not want outsiders to approach.
Local Contexts Brings Cultural Protocols into Digital Systems
Traditional Knowledge Labels developed by Local Contexts give communities a way to express conditions for using cultural material. A label may address attribution, community authority, seasonal or gender-based restrictions, sensitivity, non-commercial use, or access limited to community members. These labels do not replace ordinary copyright licenses; they help express cultural responsibilities that legal systems often overlook. Public visibility is not the same as unrestricted use, and finding material online does not authorize its use in model training, tourism products, or work repackaged under an individual creator’s name.
A place-name platform can include cultural labels, points of contact, and usage guidance in its data fields. Developers retrieving records through an API should receive their terms of use along with names and coordinates. Otherwise, a platform may proclaim cultural respect on its home page while stripping every element of context from its interface; respect becomes decoration. The danger grows with AI because, once data have been absorbed into a model, it can be difficult to identify which outputs derive from which community, knowledge holder, or field record.
Public Services in Indigenous Areas Need Both Place Names and Correct Pronunciation
Place-name data are not only for cultural researchers. Fire and ambulance services, disaster reporting, long-term care visits, road maintenance, tourism, and logistics all depend on location information. In remote areas, administrative addresses, names used by communities, and navigation systems often diverge, forcing frontline personnel to confirm a location repeatedly by telephone. Public-service systems that integrate community names, audio, aliases, landmarks, and road conditions can improve practical delivery. Audio is particularly important: staff unfamiliar with an Indigenous language will not necessarily pronounce a romanized form correctly, while an older resident may recognize a familiar spoken name more readily than an administrative address.
Public service, however, cannot become an unlimited justification for collection. Rescue-location information can be kept in a layer separate from cultural knowledge. Emergency personnel need roads and addresses; that does not mean everyone needs access to ceremonial sites or restricted spaces. Data minimization and cultural permissions must be designed together. Genuine public service does not expose all local knowledge. It gives the right people enough information in the right context—the kind of precision digital governance should pursue instead of treating “move everything to the cloud” as the only answer.
Bias in AI Maps Often Begins with What Is Missing
Large mapping platforms and language models favor well-resourced languages, popular destinations, and high-traffic areas. Where names used in Indigenous communities have little digital documentation, systems readily substitute administrative terms, colonial spellings, or tourism labels. User clicks then reinforce those substitutes, making the community names still harder to find. The answer is not to upload all cultural knowledge at once. A more workable approach is to establish community-governed data layers that specify which names are public, which include audio, and which may be used only for particular services. Model training should record provenance and restrictions while supporting correction and withdrawal.
Technical teams must accept a proposition that sits uneasily with the data industry: some data should not be put to maximum use. Some knowledge derives its value precisely from the relationships, responsibilities, and contexts that govern it. Digital maps seek a single answer to provide fast navigation, but cultural geography is not reducible to the shortest route. Indigenous place names show how natural, historical, kinship, administrative, and spiritual dimensions can coexist in one place. Those dimensions need not displace one another, and no dropdown menu should erase them.
Maps Must Learn to Respect Multiple Realities
Future public maps can combine administrative utility with cultural depth. They can provide multilingual names, accurate pronunciations, community sources, historical versions, and terms of use, while placing sensitive information behind tiered permissions. AI can help with matching, search, and speech recognition, but it cannot replace cultural authority or community consent. Most importantly, a map should be able to show that a place has more than one name. Users should know which version is visible under which permissions, rather than being led to mistake a platform’s version for the only reality.
Refusing to leave names used by Indigenous communities to machine translation is not a rejection of technology. It requires technology to learn a basic lesson: remain humble in the face of uncertainty and accept responsibility when using someone else’s knowledge. If digital maps are to serve Indigenous areas, they must move from coordinate systems toward systems of relationship, and from search efficiency toward cultural accountability. Place names are how places remember themselves. Only technology that respects that memory deserves to be called a public service.
Place-Name Systems Must Allow Silence
One capacity in data governance is frequently overlooked: the ability not to publish. Mainstream platforms treat a blank as a field waiting to be completed and missing data as a quality defect. Within Indigenous knowledge systems, however, some blanks are deliberate silences. They do not signal ignorance; they mean that the knowledge is not appropriate to share at this time, in this place, or with this audience. A system that marks every blank “information needed” has already placed a mainstream logic of openness above cultural permission.
Platforms serving Indigenous areas should therefore include statuses such as “reason for non-disclosure” or “reserved by the community,” rather than recognizing only public and empty fields. This design tells outside users that absence does not mean nonexistence and does not authorize someone else to fill the gap. Respect for data sovereignty sometimes requires protecting knowledge from compulsory entry into a system, not putting more of it online.
Sources retained from the Chinese original
AI use and content-safety disclosure
AI assisted with source organization, structural drafting, and prose refinement. Human editors set the perspective and fact-checking direction.