Storms get proper names as if they’re real people, but the process behind choosing whether a hurricane gets called Kevin or Katrina is way more organised than you might think. There’s actually a whole committee of meteorologists somewhere deciding that this particular swirling mass of destruction deserves to be called Derek rather than Dave.
It all started because weather forecasters got fed up with confusion.
Before storms had names, meteorologists had to describe them by their coordinates or date, which got incredibly messy when multiple storms were happening at once. Imagine trying to explain the difference between “the storm at 15 degrees north, 45 degrees west” and “the other storm at 16 degrees north, 43 degrees west” on live television.
Giving storms proper names made everything much clearer for everyone involved. Instead of rattling off coordinates that nobody could remember, weather presenters could simply say “Hurricane Bob is heading your way,” which is infinitely more useful for the general public.
They used to only give storms women’s names.
From the 1950s through the 1970s, all Atlantic hurricanes got female names because, apparently, meteorologists thought storms were unpredictable and temperamental like women. Hello, misogyny! This was about as outdated and sexist as you’d expect from that era, and thankfully someone eventually pointed out how ridiculous this was.
The practice finally changed in 1979 when they started alternating between male and female names. Now storms are equal opportunity destroyers, and nobody has to deal with the awkwardness of explaining why all the dangerous weather systems were supposedly feminine.
Each ocean basin has its own naming committee.
The World Meteorological Organization runs separate naming committees for different parts of the world, so Atlantic storms get different names than Pacific ones. These committees meet every few years to discuss storm names like they’re planning a particularly important dinner party guest list.
It’s quite serious business, actually these committees include meteorologists from multiple countries who have to agree on names that work across different languages and cultures. Nobody wants to accidentally name a hurricane something that means “fluffy bunny” in another language.
Names follow strict alphabetical order.
Storm names go through the alphabet in order, starting with A each season, which is why early-season storms always get names like Alex or Ana, while late-season ones might be called William or Wendy. They skip certain letters entirely because finding good names starting with Q, U, X, Y, or Z is apparently too much hassle.
This system means you can immediately tell how busy a hurricane season has been just by looking at the names. If they’ve reached names starting with W by October, you know it’s been an absolutely mental year for weather.
Really destructive storms get their names retired forever.
When a hurricane causes massive destruction or kills lots of people, its name gets permanently retired out of respect for the victims. Names like Katrina, Sandy, and Harvey will never be used again because they’re forever associated with devastation.
There’s actually a whole graveyard of retired storm names that reads like a who’s who of weather disasters. The replacement names get chosen by the same committees, though they probably spend extra time making sure the new names don’t sound too similar to the retired ones.
Different cultures contribute names from their own languages.
In the Pacific, storm names come from multiple Asian countries and regions, so you might see typhoons called Haikui from China, Kirogi from North Korea, or Tembin from Japan. Each country contributes names from their own language and culture to the rotating list.
This creates quite an international flavour to storm naming, though it can be tricky for English-speaking weather presenters who suddenly have to pronounce names they’ve never encountered before. Some of these names are absolutely beautiful, which feels slightly odd when they’re attached to potentially deadly weather systems.
There are backup plans when they run out of letters.
In extremely active hurricane seasons, they can run through the entire alphabet before the season ends. When this happens, they used to move on to Greek letters (Alpha, Beta, Gamma), but this got confusing, so now they have a supplemental list of regular names ready to go.
Running out of names is like the meteorological equivalent of needing to open the emergency biscuits: it only happens when things have got properly out of hand. The 2020 Atlantic hurricane season was so bonkers they had to use the Greek alphabet, which tells you everything about how crazy that year was.
Storm names can’t be trademarked or copyrighted.
You might think having a hurricane named after you would be terrible for business if you happened to share a name with a particularly destructive storm, but legally, nobody can claim ownership of storm names. They’re considered public domain, so Hurricane McDonald’s isn’t going to happen.
This is probably for the best, because can you imagine the chaos if companies could sponsor hurricanes? “Hurricane Coca-Cola is bringing refreshing destruction to the Gulf Coast” would be deeply weird, even by modern advertising standards.
Some regions use completely different naming systems.
While most places stick to human names, some regions get creative with their storm naming. The Philippines uses their own names for storms that also affect them, so the same typhoon might be called different names depending on which country’s weather service is talking about it.
This can create proper confusion when the same storm is simultaneously being called Kevin by one country and Pepito by another. International coordination helps, but sometimes you get situations where news reports from different countries seem to be talking about totally different storms.
Names are chosen years in advance.
The committees don’t just wing it each year. They plan storm name lists several years ahead of time. Right now, someone already knows what the first hurricane of 2030 will be called, assuming we don’t have any major changes to the system.
This forward planning means meteorologists can prepare pronunciation guides and cultural context for unusual names well before storm season starts. It also means somewhere there’s probably a spreadsheet with potential hurricane names stretching decades into the future, which is quite a bizarre thing to think about.
Popular culture influences which names get retired.
Beyond just the destruction they cause, some storm names get retired because they become too culturally significant or because the name itself becomes synonymous with disaster. Sandy wasn’t just retired because of the damage. The name became so associated with that particular storm that using it again would be confusing.
There’s something quite poignant about this. Really, these names that were probably chosen because they sounded pleasant and unremarkable end up becoming permanently associated with some of nature’s most destructive moments. You could never heard these names again without thinking of the destruction they brought.
Climate change is making storm naming more complicated.
With storms becoming more frequent and intense due to climate change, the naming systems are getting stretched in ways they weren’t originally designed for. More storms mean running through the alphabet faster, and stronger storms mean more names getting retired permanently.
The committees are having to think about whether the current system can handle what might be coming in future decades. Nobody wants to admit it, but there might come a point where they need completely new approaches to naming storms, simply because there are going to be too many of them to handle with the traditional system.