Why were so many street names suddenly and dramatically changed in Australia during WWI?

Before 1914, German communities had become a recognised part of Australian society.

In regions such as the Barossa Valley in South Australia or the Darling Downs in Queensland, settlers of German descent had operated Lutheran churches and had published newspapers in their native language as part of their contribution to the agricultural economy.

By the outbreak of war, around 50,000 to 60,000 Australians were of German heritage, based on census and migration figures, and many of them had long maintained bilingual households that blended their cultural background with life in the colonies. 

After Britain declared war on Germany in August 1914, however, public suspicion of anything German increased sharply.

Soon after, allegations of sabotage and espionage began to circulate in newspapers, and this prompted many Australians to question whether their German neighbours held secret loyalties to the Kaiser.

Officials responded with the War Precautions Act, passed in October 1914, which granted the federal government very wide powers to control enemy influence.

As a result, authorities closed German-language schools and banned publications, and they also prevented German-Australians from having the right to travel freely or to own certain property. 

Eventually, the fear of internal betrayal grew stronger to the point that entire towns and suburbs came under close attention.

To remove what they saw as a threat from public view, governments ordered councils to rename places with German-sounding names, even if those names had no direct connection to the enemy.

Across much of the country, families with German surnames watched as their family and cultural background seemed to vanish from street signs, while many community members were arrested and sent to internment camps such as Holsworthy, which held over 5,000 internees at its peak, as well as smaller camps like Trial Bay and Berrima. F

or those who remained free, social isolation and government surveillance became constant features of daily life.

At the same time, many Australians believed they had a duty to show visible support for the British Empire.

Across cities and rural towns, patriotic sentiment motivated community groups to demand the removal of names that appeared to honour the enemy.

Petitions circulated in major cities such as Melbourne and Sydney, and residents insisted that their streets and neighbourhoods should not bear names that embarrassed grieving families or suggested divided loyalties. 

Under pressure, many councils acted quickly. For instance, German-named streets were changed to commemorate figures such as General Haig and General Allenby, with Admiral Jellicoe also favoured.

In some cases, councils renamed streets to match those found in London or Edinburgh, which further reinforced the unity of the British Empire.

Newspapers praised these efforts as acts of loyalty, and editorials often suggested that the decision to keep German names showed disrespect to the men who fought on the Western Front. 

Public organisations also supported the campaign, such as the Australian Natives’ Association, who promoted British-Australian identity and shared ideas about making people fit in with that identity.

Nonetheless, councillors often described the renaming process as a moral obligation to the war dead.

As a result, place names became instruments of national duty, used by civilians to echo the sacrifices made by soldiers abroad.

As the war continued, nationalist thinking shaped decisions made at every level of government.

Since Federation had occurred just thirteen years earlier, Australia still lacked a fully developed sense of national identity.

However, after the Gallipoli campaign in 1915, Australians had increasingly defined themselves through military service and loyalty to Britain.

Any public symbol that conflicted with that ideal became suspect. 

Under those conditions, street names became more than simple labels for geography.

Officials argued that a truly Australian public space could not contain German references.

Street names that once honoured settlers or communities were declared unpatriotic, and their removal became a sign of national unity.

Many local leaders presented these decisions as necessary corrections to a past that no longer fit the present reality of war. 

At the same time, the name changes often showed wider ideas about race and belonging.

The White Australia policy had already been in place since 1901 and had created a national system that excluded people considered foreign or dangerous to national identity.

During wartime, that policy also included language and religion as well as cultural expression.

The removal of German names fitted neatly into that idea of excluding people.

When Australians cleansed maps of foreign terms, they claimed that this action secured their national future from internal threats.

Across several states, governments initiated large-scale renaming programs between 1916 and 1918, supported in South Australia by the Nomenclature Act of 1917, which authorised official changes to place names.

In South Australia, the state government had replaced 69 German place names.

One example was Blumberg, which became Birdwood, in honour of the general who had led the ANZAC forces at Gallipoli, while another was Germanton in New South Wales, which was renamed Holbrook in 1915 to commemorate Lieutenant Norman Holbrook, a British Royal Navy submarine commander awarded the Victoria Cross.

Another was Hahndorf, which had kept its name since 1839 but was changed to Ambleside during the war, and the new name came from a British town in Cumbria.

However, that name did not last, and by 1935, after anti-German feeling had softened, Hahndorf regained its original name, and it joined 19 of the 69 renamed places in South Australia that eventually reverted to their pre-war names. 

Similar actions occurred in Victoria and New South Wales. In Melbourne, Germania Street became Amess Street, named after Mayor William Amess, who had supported the renaming campaign after a petition by Fitzroy residents in 1915.

In Sydney’s Ashfield suburb, Berlin Street was changed to Crieff Street, which had no local meaning but suggested Scottish heritage.

Councils often chose British-themed replacements, regardless of local history, as long as they removed the offending German term. 

Many German-Australian residents resisted the changes, but their protests carried little influence.

Letters that were sent to local newspapers defended their loyalty and pointed out that their sons fought for Australia and sometimes died in its service, just like the sons of other families.

Nonetheless, public hostility often drowned out their appeals, such as letters that were published in newspapers like the South Australian Register, where German-Australians publicly declared their loyalty to Australia.

Councils pushed ahead, motivated by public demand and wartime pressure. The result was a dramatic redrawing of the urban and rural map, with over 90 towns, suburbs, streets, and landmarks renamed across South Australia and New South Wales, with similar changes in Victoria within a few short years, though the total number of affected places across all states likely exceeded 100.

Outside signage, the rejection of German culture reached into homes and shops.

Many Australians began to reject products that had German names, regardless of their origin or popularity.

Many retailers feared public anger if they stocked anything that appeared sympathetic to the enemy, so they began to give everyday items new names to suit patriotic tastes.

The trend affected household goods and food but also touched the names of animals.

For example, sauerkraut was a traditional German fermented cabbage dish that became known as “liberty cabbage.”

Shopkeepers either relabelled the jars or removed them from display altogether. In the same way, the term “Hamburg steak” disappeared from butcher shops and restaurant menus, replaced by vague alternatives such as “beef patty.”

Claims that it was also renamed “Empire steak” have appeared in some reports, though there is limited documentation to support that label’s common use.

Even German shepherd dogs became suspect. Pet owners and breeders began to call them “Alsatians” instead, and they used the name from the Alsace region to avoid the association with Germany.