Approximately 1.5 billion people speak English, making it the most spoken language across the globe. Statistically, you can probably find one person who speaks English by talking to five people. Of course, this would only hold true if the geographic distribution of languages were perfectly randomized, which it obviously is not. Why, then, do people continue to travel to non-English speaking countries and expect the locals they encounter to speak English?
Growing up in China, English education was constantly emphasized due to the language’s status as a global lingua franca for business, science and technology. Despite the fact that Mandarin has the most native speakers in the world, the emphasis the education system placed on English fluency led me to believe that in most technologically advanced countries, English would be universal.
But the more I traveled, the more I realized how wrong I was. It became clear that access to English is unequal — shaped by generation, education and geography. My personal experiences have made me more critical of the tendency to treat English as the default when we travel. The assumption that everyone can speak English is quite inaccurate, impractical for travelers and locals alike, and even disrespectful at times. Prioritizing our own linguistic comfort without considering who is in front of us can be dismissive. Simply put: When you travel, step outside your comfort zone and find ways to communicate with others without expecting them to speak English.
I used to be guilty of this as well. When I traveled to Japan as a middle schooler, I decided to take on the role of translator for my family. After years of being drilled in school, memorizing English vocabulary lists and taking auditory quizzes, surely it was time for all that practice to pay off. I thought, in my little, 11-year-old brainwashed mind, “Everyone speaks English nowadays,” as if that was an undeniable characteristic of any modern society.
Trying to order tonkotsu ramen for my family by speaking English did not work at all, and my dream of flexing my newly acquired language skills was dampened instantly. Without a common language, the waiter, my family and I quickly switched to a mix of gestures, pointing and awkward smiles.
I’ve been on the other side of this exchange, too. Last summer, my friend and I were sitting at an open-air bar in Shanghai, and at some point, I got up to return her portable charger at the kiosk nearby. A young Asian guy approached me, asking me how to return the charger in English. I was completely caught off guard, having someone speak to me in English on some random street in Shanghai. I felt relieved that the 10 years I spent studying English had kicked in at that moment. But what if it hadn’t? I’d probably still be replaying that moment in bed five years later, cringing at my own helpless silence.
The idea of English as a global language is actually quite a recent development. For many people, especially older generations, learning English was never a given. My parents are a prime example; they grew up in the 1970s, a time when English education was far from universal in China. Although the country gradually began encouraging people to learn English to keep up with the world, resources were limited. There simply weren’t enough qualified teachers, and access to language education depended heavily on where you lived. Many people never had the chance to learn it in a meaningful way, let alone become fluent.
It’s true that younger generations like mine have greater access to resources for language learning, since every kid in China receives public education that requires them to learn English. However, learning English through textbooks does not totally translate to situations where you have to speak English with native speakers. Even within China, language access varies greatly from region to region, and it would be unfair to generalize my experience to all of Asia and certainly to the rest of the world. But my point is not to argue that people should never expect to find English speakers when traveling. Instead, I want to criticize why English is treated as the default in the first place.
Part of the answer lies in the history of globalization itself. The contemporary global system did not emerge on equal terms. Rather, it grew out of a colonial legacy. Empires with economic, political and cultural power spread their languages along with their influence. English, first spread through the British Empire’s colonial era and later through the United States during the Red Scare, became deeply embedded in the fundamental structures of international business, education and media. Over time, this made it feel natural and even logical to treat English as the global language.
But what feels natural for English speakers produces an experience that can be negative for everyone else. The modern expectation that everyone will speak English quietly places the burden of communication on residents of linguistically diverse areas, treating them as the ones who must adapt. For locals in other countries, not being able to respond in English carries the implication that they are less worldly or somehow intellectually behind, reinforcing a global linguistic hierarchy. Increasingly, English is identified as superior to everything else treated as secondary. At a time when languages are dying at an unprecedented level, the consequences of treating English as the default go far beyond a brief moment of awkwardness.
Fortunately, it is surprisingly easy to push back against this hierarchy of languages when traveling, even if you only speak English. Trust me, the language of gestures, pointing and awkward smiles is by far my favorite language of all time. Choosing to communicate in this way can feel more respectful, because it shows that you are making the effort instead of assuming that the other person should. It takes away the quiet pressure on local people to perform in a language they are not the most confident in using. In those small, often slightly clumsy exchanges, you laugh, you repeat, you try again and somehow, that shared effort might feel more genuine than a smooth conversation in perfect English.
Catarina Shi SC ’29 is from Hangzhou, China, and really enjoyed her first time watching the Super Bowl Halftime Show, without a lick of Spanish.
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