Police policies

The first time I got into trouble with the police in Japan was about two years after I’d started living there and already spoke the language fairly well. I’d borrowed a friend’s car but hadn’t been able to return it before going away on a 3-day skiing trip, so I parked it in a quiet suburban street. When I returned I found lots of plastic tags tied to the car’s wing-mirrors. In some countries, when you park a car illegally they clamp the wheel or tow the vehicle away. In Japan they just clamp your mirror, believing that drivers will be embarrassed into paying their fine immediately. I am not easily embarrassed. But I didn’t want to cause my friend any trouble. So I phoned to say I would go straight to the police. “Just be very apologetic, “ she advised me. “And don’t speak Japanese!”

When I arrived, a huge cop led me into a small room with bars on the windows. So it was easy to feel apologetic. However, since he didn’t seem to speak English, it was hard for me to avoid using Japanese. But I decided to speak it as badly as possible. The big cop told me I had committed a very serious offence and the fine would be heavy. Then he looked up and changed to English. “Hmm, seem you not live in Japan so long. Maybe not understand Japanese customs. Ok, just go. But next time no parking.” I have often wondered how much I would have had to pay if I had spoken in fluent Japanese.


I realise some foreigners don’t get treated so kindly (especially if they are from Asia or Africa). But I’ve heard many tales from English-speaking friends about how they escaped trouble – as long as they didn’t use Japanese, or Chinese, or Korean, or whatever the language of the place they were in. Perhaps it is because the police are busy and don’t want to go through the embarrassment of explaining things in English unless a serious crime is involved.


While most Asian police officers hardly speak English, I have come across several exceptions, such as a very fluent young Tokyo cop who came to investigate when my New Zealand colleague had his apartment burgled, and a Bangkok friend who had to study English, often with foreign instructors, in order to enter the commando force there.


And then there are the tourist police. Countries whose economies rely heavily on tourism, such as Indonesia, Nepal, Sri Lanka and Thailand, have special police forces to deal with crimes against (or sometimes by) tourists, and they have to be fluent in English.

Thailand’s Thammasat University has produced a textbook entitled English for Tourist Police. Its chapters, which include Giving Directions (“Make a left turn.”) and Complaining and Showing Sympathy (“Oh that’s too bad!”), give an idea of what situations Thai police expect to encounter when dealing with foreigners. A section on robbery has a story of a foreigner being given whisky with sleeping pills in it; another is about getting refunds from jewelery shops who overcharge tourists.

China made English lessons compulsory for officers in Beijing during the Olympics. It even produced a 252-page book: Olympic Security English. This has the usual sections on traffic accident, thefts and lost passports, but seems to hold the view that foreign men are likely like to get drunk and molest local women. It is full of expressions such as: “Please blow into the intoxiliser” and “Don’t take too many liberties with the waitress”.

Common law – common language?

It is sometimes claimed that English law is the last bastion of British colonialism and of the English language. Long after their countries gained formal independence, lawyers throughout the Commonwealth continue to study laws that evolved centuries ago in England. Many of them still complete their training in London. And all of them require a high level of proficiency in the English language. Because of this, lawyers often have a reputation for trying to preserve ancient privileges and outdated practices. But if we look at the situation of the law in several Asian countries we can see that there are often good reasons for the conservatism of the legal profession. Moreover, it is no easy task to change the language of the law from English to an Asian language.

Most of the Asian countries that inherited English law continue to rely on the English language to administer the law. A great deal of Singapore’s legislation dates from the colonial era; new laws are drafted in English and court proceedings are conducted only in that language, with a centralised system of courtroom interpretation for witnesses and litigants who prefer to use Chinese, Malay, Tamil or other languages. Law in Brunei, which was once a British protectorate, also operates in English, and some of the judges come from Britain.

In the Philippines, a mixture of Spanish and common law is used since the country was a Spanish colony before being occupied by the US more than 100 years ago. But hardly any lawyers use Spanish now. Nor do they use Tagalog, the national language. Almost everything is in English.




However, there are some countries that have tried to introduce another language into the courtrooms. Nearly all cases in Myanmar are now heard in Burmese. In Pakistan, Urdu is commonly spoken in the lower courts (but English remains the language of the constitution, statutes and higher court proceedings). Several state-level courts in India permit Hindi or official regional languages in court. All laws in Hong Kong are written in both English and Chinese, and trials may be in either language. Malaysia started using Malay in its courts in the 1980s, and it is now the main language in the lower courts and in criminal cases. However, English is still used extensively in the higher courts and in civil cases, and even cases conducted in Malay often use a lot of English words.

Since trials are public events, it makes sense for courtrooms to use the language that most people understand best. But changing the language of a legal system is easier said than done. A Hong Kong lawyer who trained in English may not be comfortable speaking Cantonese in court, even if she uses it at home every day. In Malaysia, many laws are yet to be translated into Malay, and so many lawyers feel it is natural to speak English when referring to them. The thousands of previous cases, or precedents, which lawyers base their arguments on all over the Commonwealth and in America may never be translated – there are simply too many of them, and some have been in use for hundreds of years. An attempt to use Tagalog in some courts in the Philippines has had limited success. Not all Filipinos speak Tagalog, and many court clerks and recorders were trained in English and do not have time to retrain.

Some lawyers also worry that by changing the language of the law the meaning of the law will somehow change. After all, even changing the language of old English laws into more modern and simple English is not easy.

Many Asian legal systems have adopted a compromise, adopting both English and a local language. Sri Lanka has a trilingual system of law. In the lower courts, Sinhala or Tamil is used, depending on where the case is held; English is used for the higher courts.

While some common law countries are starting to use more Asian languages, alongside English, one or two countries that never used English in their legal systems are stressing its importance. The Thai government, for example, is encouraging judges to study in English-speaking countries so that they can deal directly with business documents without having to wait for a translation. In Macao, the legal system operates bilingually in Portuguese and Cantonese, but nearly all lawyers are fluent in English. If they weren’t, they could not collaborate with law firms in neighbouring Hong Kong, which is much bigger and richer.

Asia writes back

When Kiran Desai won the 2006 Man Booker Prize for Inheritance of Loss it came as no surprise that yet another Indian-born writer had won the Commonwealth’s most prestigious literature award. Previous Indian winners include Ruth Prawal Jhabvala (Heat and Dust, 1975), Salmon Rushdie (Midnight’s Children, 1981) and Suzanna Arundhati Roy (God of Small Things, 1997). No less than three of Anita Desai’s novels have been short-listed for the prize.

Indians have made an enormous and varied contribution to English writing, from the intellectual Rabindranath Tagore – one of only four Asians to win the Nobel Prize for literature – to the hugely popular R.K. Narayan and Raja Rao, whose long careers spanned the 20th century. Nowadays Vikram Seth consistently makes best-seller lists throughout the English-speaking world, while Shobha De’s steamy novels have sold over a million copies. Although some Indian authors achieved fame overseas before becoming known back home, such as Harvard-educated Preeti Singh and Oxford PhD-holder Amitrav Ghosh, many write very much with the domestic market in mind. Chetan Bhagat’s One Night at the Call Center specifically draws Indian readers’ attention to the mixed blessing of English-language skills in a world where educated locals end up doing boring outsourced work for less-educated Americans.

The University of Delhi’s Radha Chakravaty has claimed that the best writing in English comes from regions where English is not the people’s mother tongue. While this ignores the fact that most of the literary class of South Asians were educated primarily in English rather than a local language, it does remind us that many authors there are multilingual: Sudha Murty, a renowned social activist who together with her husband set up India’s largest software company, publishes novels in both English and Kannada.

Literary success should not mask the fact that most Indians have had something of a love-hate relationship with English. Narayan and Raja Rao used the language to create a different image of the empire from that depicted by British writers like Kipling and E.M. Forster. Prominent nationalists such as Gandhi and Nehru condemned English as a foreign imposition while using it expertly themselves. Arundhati Roy was angered on a recent British TV show when it was suggested Indian writers adopted the language freely: in her novel, children are punished for using Malayalam at school. She told radio listeners that even though English was her first language, “The empire has interfered with my deepest thoughts.” In fact the colonial period had instances not only of Indians being forced to learn English against their will, but of others wanting to learn it but being discouraged by the British.

J-pop, K-pop and Asia-pop

Most Japanese pop songs contain English phrases. Some even have English titles. This is quite interesting since, unlike Malaysians, Filipinos and Indians, Japanese rarely switch into English when speaking to each other. In the 1980s and 1990s, Nakamori Akina had a string of best-selling Japanese singles with titles such as Southern Wind and Everlasting Love. Mr Children’s albums include Everything and Kind of Love. SMAP’s singles include Can’t stop loving!, Triangle, Dear Woman and Mermaid.

In addition to English titles, Japanese pop has a tradition of including a few English phrases in their lyrics. Amuro Namie’s Can you celebrate begins

Can you celebrate?
Can you kiss me tonight?
We will love long long time [sic]
Eien te iu kotoba nannte shiranakatta yo ne
[You didn’t even know the word forever, right?]

Glay’s Happiness includes the lines

Don’t wanna hurt you any more
Tell me the meaning of your happiness
Anata ga ikite yuku koto no kotae ni nari wa shinai darou
[I can’t be the answer you’re looking for]

Hip hop has fostered new ways of bringing English into Japanes e songs. Dabo’s Lexus Gucci inserts repetitions of ‘Yes, y’all on and on and on and on’ and ‘Hey hey hey’ into rapid Japanese spoken with an Americanised accent. Rip Slyme (which in Japanese sounds just the same as ‘Lips Rhyme’, the title of their debut album), has a rap song called ‘Bring your style’ that includes

Yo bringin that, Yo bring that style
Jinrui saigo no freaky side
[Humanity’s final freaky side]

Is there anything more to this fondness for English apart from playing with words? SMAP member Katori Shingo is involved in a TV programme encouraging people to improve their English and his own limited ability in the language seems to work to his advantage with audiences. His book English Berabera (‘English fluently’) was one of the ten top bestsellers of 2003.

Alastair Pennycook of University of Technology in Sydney thinks bands like Rip Slyme are “native users of a new English, a blend of Japanese and English.” He uses rap in Japan and Southeaast Asia to support his view that traditional distinctions between languages are no longer valid.

But Andrew Moody of the University of Macau thinks it is more a question of Japanese singers paying tribute to American music by adopting English song titles and phrases, and in the case of performers like Nakata Keisuke, singing Japanese in an Americanised way. There is also a tradition of playing with words so that, when sung rapidly, they could be heard either as Japanese or English. For example, Mika Nakashima in Cry no more sings ‘I don’t wanna cry…ato dono kurai (how much more)’, the Japanese kurai being sung exactly the same as English ‘cry’. For many years, one very popular programme on Japanese television has included a section called Sora Mimi – lyrics in American and British songs that somehow sound like something strange and funny in Japanese.

A sign that J-pop may be becoming more international is the popularity of Utada Hikaru. Born in New York to Japanese parents, she has written several songs in English. Her third English single, Easy Breezy, includes the line ‘I am Japanesey’, suggesting that she is Japanese – but not typically so.

Pop music in other parts of Asia also shows a fondness for English. I need somebody by Thai singer Bie includes the refrain

Need someone to look into their eyes
And make my heart feel weak
Be thinking of me, be thinking of me.

South Korea's BoA, who is also very popular in Japan, has released albums of Korean songs entitled ID Peace B; Atlantis Princess, My Name and Girls on Top. Many of her songs, such as Don’t start now comes in Korean, Japanese and English versions. The lyrics of the Korean version of ID Peace B include ‘Peace B is Network ID’ and ‘Connecting is my Neverland.’

Polite is right

While all societies value politeness, certain behavior that is tolerated in some places may be considered rude in others. Who speaks first in a conversation? When do we give a gift or open one that we receive? Where should we sit at a dinner party? How close should we stand to the person we are talking to? Such social rules can vary quite a lot. And it is probably true to say that most Asian cultures pay more attention to social and age differences than English-speaking societies.

The different ways in which Asian societies demonstrate politeness tend to influence the way they use English. Most Thais feel it is rude to speak loudly in public, for example, and so they speak quietly in English as well as Thai. Japanese say sumimasen a lot, even when they don't feel they have done anything wrong, so not surprisingly they also say sorry very often when speaking English. One information video at Narita airport even warned travellers not to say sorry if they had a car accident in the USA in case American lawyers exploited this as an admission of their guilt.

All languages have a wide range of ways to say the same things more politely or less politely, but in many Asian languages the choice can be complex. Korean and Japanese have different sets of verbs and even nouns to indicate the relationship among speakers. At my university, for example, professors were recently advised to use polite forms when writing material to be read by students, so I had to change all the verbs in a document I had written. In Malay, the choice of pronoun depends on the relative positions of speakers. When people are not sure, they often use English pronouns such as “I” and “you”. In Javanese, the different levels of politeness are so distinct they are really separate languages.

Even greetings can be complex. Before getting to the point of a conversation, Arabs often spend a long time expressing wishes and exchanging enquiries, and since it is not easy to find cultural equivalents for Guwwa (May God give you strength) or Eshloonik (What is your colour?), such phrases are often left in Arabic when people speak English. Many Pakistani friends greet me with As-Salamu alaikum (Peace be with you) and expect me to reply Wa-alaikum salam (And also on you), but I have some Indonesian friends who think it inappropriate for non-Muslims to use such phrases.

More casual greetings around Asia include 'Have you eaten?' (the polite answer is always Yes!) and 'Where are you going?' (you don't need to reply accurately). Most languages have a set phrase for when people start to eat or go on a journey. However, there are certain experiences that some cultures acknowledge and others ignore. Japanese has a phrase used after sharing a journey or tiring experience (otsukaresama) which really has no English equivalent. Indonesians wish you Selamat mandi(Have a good bath). On the other hand, few Asian cultures acknowledge a sneeze, so ‘Bless you!’ is not often heard among Asia’s English speakers.

In one of her novels, writer Amy Tan jokes that Chinese visitors to an American home could starve. When offered food, they refuse out of politeness, expecting the offer to be repeated until eventually they accept. But their American hosts may assume they are not hungry and never ask again.

Asian students are often taught that English is a straightforward language in which people say exactly what they think. So they may be surprised to learn that most Americans are actually very polite. It may be true that many English-speaking cultures are less formal than Asian ones, but it would be wrong to suggest that English speakers are always direct. In fact it seems to me that although most Asians tend to be rather formal with strangers, with their friends they are more direct than Americans or Britons.



Conversely, visitors to Asia who expect everyone to behave politely may be surprised to get blocked by Singaporeans pushing on to the train before they can get out; or to be asked how much money they earn by Koreans!

What’s in a name?

Until fairly recently, most people around the world had only one name. Only the rich, with property to pass down, or those who travelled far from home, needed anything more than a personal name. Even today, many Indonesians go by a single name.

When Chinese started using family names these were often borrowed from their local lord. Thus whole communities in some parts of the country have the same name. For example, most people called Huang claim a connection to Huang Di, the Yellow Emperor.

While the English tended to form surnames either from their fathers’ personal name (Johnson, Richardson, Williams, Edwards) or from their profession (Carpenter, Mason, Smith), the Japanese turned to the natural environment, producing Fujibayashi (wisteria woods) Tanaka (in the middle of the field), and Yamashita (below the mountain).



It can be difficult to know which is a family name and which a personal one. Some Asian communities place personal names first, as in most European societies (Thaksin Shinawatra). Others begin with the family name (Lee Kwan Yew, Abe Shinzo). In many Muslim communities it is common to put your father’s personal name after your own personal name, but it is not the same as a family name because it changes with each generation. And so in Malaysia, Zubaidah Ibrahim is listed under Z, her personal name, and not I, the name of her father.

Even if we can distinguish personal and family names, we still need to know which one to use. Thais hardly ever use family names. They either use a personal name – Khun (Mr) Abhisit – or a nickname (Daeng = red; Yai = big; Lek = small). Sometimes I only learn the real names of Thai friends when we travel together and I see their passport.

In contrast, there are some Asian societies where personal names are rarely used. Goh Chenchuan may not mind being called Chenchuan – or even Charlie – while in America, but he may expect his colleagues to call him Mr Goh back home in Hong Kong.

Many Chinese around Southeast Asia have English personal names used alongside Chinese ones. A Singaporean child might be called Kelvin by his schoolfriends but Chun Pay by his grandmother. The practice is also spreading to Singapore’s Malays, such as actors Sharon Ismail and Aron Aziz. It is also happening in China, where many people make very imaginative choices. While there, you may meet a Jackal Chang, Apple Zhang, Weenie Wang or even Satan Han.

In many situations we have to address people whose name we don’t know. This can be difficult in English ('sir' and 'madam' may only be suitable for formal occasions), but most Asian languages have a wide range of titles, such as the Japanese terms untenshu-san (driver); sensei (teacher); onii-san (‘older brother’) or obaa-san (‘grandmother’) for people of appropriate professions or ages. These practices often get transferred when Asians speak English. For example, many Indians and Chinese call middle-aged ladies ‘aunty’ even if they have never met them before.

English villages in the British Hills

Although native and highly proficient speakers of English can be found all over Asia, many Asians seek to learn the language by immersing themselves in a ‘native-speaking’ culture. Where better than Britain, the small island where a minor Germanic tongue was gradually transformed by absorbing huge amounts of French and Latin vocabulary and then spread around the globe by commercial and naval power? But Britain is too expensive and distant for most Asians. Never mind. For Anglophile Japanese, a three-hour journey into the mountains north of Tokyo brings them to British Hills.

This impressive collection of houses, built painstakingly in various historical styles with imported materials, boasts a medieval-style hall, bedrooms where modern royalty have slept and a pub where you might run into the British ambassador. Its Latin motto is Pax per Linguam (Peace through Language).

Built in the early 1990s by the Sano Foundation (which owns several educational institutes including Kanda Foreign Languages University), the venture underwent many years of financial difficulty. But its fortunes were turned around by an American tragedy: after the 9.11 attacks many Japanese got nervous about going overseas, and flocked to a “Britain that anyone can visit without a passport.”

Despite the unintended gift from the US, John Renaldy, who runs British Hills with a discipline acquired in the army, never employs Americans. Ideally, cultural instructors, receptionists, cooks and waiters come from the UK. If there is a shortage, Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians will do. But no Americans, with their “lazy English”.

The main weekday visitors are high school students taking English courses while studying British history and customs. Weekend activities there might include anything from seminars for businessmen to calligraphy classes for housewives. Or even weddings.

Over in Korea, another cultural transplant is facing its own decisions about how to make a profit. English Village is less than an hour north of Seoul, close to the DMZ. It too has gone for a British theme, with a model of Stonehenge outside its castle-like gates. But here you do need a ‘passport’. Built by Gyeongi province for local schoolchildren, but now looking to broaden its income base, English Village encourages visitors to use English by creating the illusion that they really are going abroad, with a ‘check-in counter’ at the entrance, coffee shops staffed by Romanians (well, they probably speak better English than most visitors) and even a branch of a Korean bank with English signs and English-speaking counter clerks. The typical visitors are high school students on ten-day courses taught by foreigners. There are also day-trippers seeking an educational theme park.

Just as the creators of English Village made countless trips to British Hills to get ideas (“They still come,” sighs John), educators from around Korea turn up in Gyeongi to see what they might learn. When he was president, Roh Moo-hyun announced plans for a huge English village on Jeju Island as a “substitute for overseas English study trips.” Internationally famous Koreans such as Manchester United’s Park Ji Sung were employed to publicise the project.

Behind these attempts to recreate ‘English culture’ is a genuine belief that Asians should not have to cross the globe, often at considerable financial hardship, to immerse themselves in English. But some believe they will never provide more than superficial cultural experiences, much like Thames Town, a pastiche of an English village being built near Shanghai for very rich Chinese wanting an ‘English lifestyle’ without any intention of speaking English. Meanwhile poor but studious Chinese continue to practise their English with each other at the ‘English corners’ which spring up in large parks everywhere at weekends.