In a limestone cave deep in Central Slovenia, an unremarkable insect lives in complete darkness. This tiny beetle, barely visible to the naked eye, has no eyes and a brownish-yellow coloration—adaptations to a life spent entirely underground. The beetle has survived for approximately two million years in this harsh environment, yet in the past century, it gained notoriety for reasons completely beyond its control: it was named after Adolf Hitler.
Anophthalmus hitleri, or “Hitler’s Beetle,” is at the center of a heated debate currently raging in the typically cordial worlds of botany and zoology. The controversy hinges on a fundamental question: Should we rename species that were named after objectionable human beings? And even more broadly, should we be naming organisms after people at all?
The Naming Tradition
The practice of naming species after humans traces back to the 18th century and Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish doctor and botanist. Linnaeus revolutionized our understanding of the natural world by creating a systematic framework for naming and categorizing every known animal and plant.
Before Linnaeus, species names were cumbersome descriptive sentences. “This is the plant that has white flowers with yellow bits in the middle and leaves that are slightly incised at the edges” might be a typical example. Linnaeus simplified this by implementing a two-word naming convention in either Latin or Ancient Greek—his “binomial system.” For humans, he chose Homo sapiens: Homo (the genus, meaning “man”) and sapiens (the species, meaning “wise” or “thinking”).
This elegant system quickly gained traction among scientists across Europe. As Sandy Knapp, author of “In the Name of Plants,” explains, “It took off because essentially it replicates the noun-adjective construction that we have in most languages. We have bicycles, which is the genus, and we have red bicycles and green bicycles.”
Linnaeus also pioneered the practice of naming species after people. He had inspired his students—whom he called his “apostles”—to travel the world on dangerous scientific missions. Many lost their lives to tropical diseases, and Linnaeus honored their contributions by naming organisms after them. He also named plants after scientists he admired.
However, Linnaeus was clear that not just anyone should receive this honor. He wrote guidelines specifying that names “should not be used to gain the favor or preserve the memory of saints or of men famous in some other art.” His view was that species should be named for people who had promoted the science of botany.
From Honor to Controversy
Over the centuries, as more plants and animals were discovered, Linnaeus’ guidelines about naming species after appropriate individuals were largely abandoned. Scientists increasingly started naming species after people they just happened to admire.
Hitler’s Beetle was discovered in 1932 by Slovenian naturalist Vladimir Kodrič, who sent a specimen to Austrian beetle collector Oskar Scheibel for verification. Scheibel confirmed it was a new species and initially agreed to name it Anophthalmus Kodriči, honoring its discoverer. But as a passionate Nazi, Scheibel had a change of heart. In 1937, he formally submitted the name Anophthalmus hitleri in a German scientific journal, dedicating it to Adolf Hitler “as an expression of my devotion.” According to some sources, Hitler was pleased by this gesture and sent a personal letter of thanks to Scheibel.
This may be an extreme example, but scientists frequently name newly discovered species after famous individuals. With approximately 18,000 new species discovered annually, scientists often look beyond traditional naming conventions in search of unique names.
Derek Hennen, a diplodologist who studies millipedes, named one of his discoveries Nannaria swiftae after Taylor Swift, whose music kept him in good spirits during field research. “When you have 50 new species to name, you’re really trying to pull from anything to make them unique,” Hennen explains. His millipede naming made headlines in Rolling Stone—unusual publicity for this field of research.
The practice extends far beyond millipedes. There’s a horsefly named Scaptia beyonceae, a tiny Mexican moth called Wockia chewbacca, and Arnold Schwarzenegger has two insects named after him—a beetle called Agra schwarzeneggeri and a tiny fly with oversized legs called Megapropodiphora arnoldi.
The Real-World Impact of a Name
While naming species after celebrities might seem harmless or even beneficial for raising awareness about obscure creatures, Hitler’s Beetle demonstrates that problematic names can have serious consequences.
Twenty years ago, Andrej Kapla, a researcher from the Slovenian National Institute of Biology, made a disturbing discovery in the cave where Anophthalmus hitleri was first found: poachers had destroyed the fragile ecosystem, and the ground was littered with beetle traps. It turns out that Hitler’s Beetle is in high demand among far-right extremists, who buy specimens as macabre Nazi memorabilia.
Preserved insects have been pillaged from museums in Germany, and specimens reportedly sell for considerable sums. In response, the Slovenian government introduced a law in 2004 to protect underground creatures like Anophthalmus hitleri, and the original cave was closed to the public.
While it’s unlikely that Hitler’s Beetle will be poached to extinction by neo-Nazis, its unfortunate name has clearly made it more vulnerable.
The Case for Change
Given these issues, why not simply change the name? After World War II, Hitler’s name was removed from roads and town squares across Europe. If we can erase Hitler’s name from street signs, why not from the natural world?
The answer lies with the conservative approach of the international bodies governing taxonomic nomenclature. The International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature (ICZN), responsible for animal naming, maintains that it has no power to change names based on how offensive they are—a stance that has faced increasing criticism.
Richard Ladle, Professor of conservation science at the Federal University of Alagoas in Brazil, co-authored an article in Nature Ecology and Evolution arguing not only that offensive names like Anophthalmus hitleri should be changed, but that we should stop naming animals after humans entirely.
“Do you want a species to be a living reminder? Because that’s what it is. It’s a living reminder of something that maybe doesn’t deserve to be celebrated,” says Ladle.
His research revealed that in Africa alone, a quarter of all vertebrates are named after people, with a large portion named after white British men and women from the colonial era. Europe’s colonial legacy lives on in the habitats of once-colonized lands.
“I remember going to London Zoo and seeing Lady Amherst’s pheasant, which is just the most amazing looking bird from China. It’s one of the most beautiful birds in the world named after a posh English woman,” Ladle notes.
When his article was published in March 2023, many taxonomists were outraged. The main argument against his proposal is the need to maintain scientific continuity. The ICZN will only change names if further research causes an animal’s taxonomic status to be revised.
Ladle sees this as an excuse for inaction. “The fundamental aspect of this is that naming something is a political act, and pretending that it isn’t is not particularly intellectually honest,” he argues. He suggests scientists should be more creative when naming species, using local words, landmarks, or even crowdsourcing names.
Finding Balance
Not everyone agrees with such radical changes. Sandy Knapp believes that changing all species named after people would be an enormous undertaking with questionable benefits.
“There are thousands and thousands of names of things named for people,” Knapp points out. “Time is a resource. We’re in the middle of a planetary emergency and a biodiversity crisis. Do we want to find out more about biodiversity and how to preserve it and restore it, or do we want to spend our time changing the names of things?”
However, some progress is being made. While the ICZN remains resistant to change, the International Code of Nomenclature for algae, fungi, and plants (ICN) has recently taken action against offensive names. At the 2024 International Botanical Congress in Madrid, the organization voted to change all species names based on the epithet “Caffra”—derived from a racial slur in South Africa—to “Afra.”
To accomplish this, the congress exploited a loophole allowing scientific names to be corrected if misspelled. This enabled them to address this specific offensive term without establishing a broad precedent for name changes. And while Sandy Knapp may not be a fan of Richard Ladle’s radical proposal, she proudly officiated those smaller changes.
As for Anophthalmus hitleri, researcher Andrej Kapla is less concerned about its name than the beetle itself. “For me it’s just a name. It doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “What’s important is what kind of animal it is, where it lives, what it does, its position in ecology.”
Under a microscope, the beetle reveals slender, almost elegant features—the result of evolving after an ancient ice age when living above ground became impossible. “If you live in a cave, you don’t need eyes. It’s just a waste of energy to produce eyes,” Kapla explains.
Hitler’s beetle adapted and thrived in its underground environment for two million years before being saddled with the name of history’s most notorious figure. As Kapla simply puts it: “It’s not its fault!”
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