Jinglish of the Month

Now, why is the general standard of English so bad in Japan? It isn't for want of trying. The English-teaching industry, according to hearsay, could be as big as $6B per anum. That doesn't sound like a lot, given the country's 120M people ($50per person per year), but it would nonetheless make the industry the 34th smallest economy in the world (based on 2008 PPP GDP estimates), ahead of powerhouses such as Bhutan, East Timor, and Sao Tome and Principe (but Sao Tome has oil, so this could change soon).

This guy is brushing up his definite article while waiting for a train:

Lets see if you can get it:

While you're pondering that, you can enjoy looking at these little characters nodding their heads.

So, with standards pretty high, why is there such an abundance of Jinglish? The answer, I feel, is that Japan is an island country, a little bit like England, but also very different in many ways. English is a burden. So inconvenient, with its prepositions, articles and whatnot. Why can't those Americans and others just let us be, and stop saying things in big voices, anyway?

But there is another, possibly more important reason. And that is that poor English begets poor English, in the way that poverty begets poverty. There are rumours of Venezuelans, Romanians, Turks, Malaysians, and Russians teaching English, many of whom have CVs similar to that of Simbad the Sailor. There is nothing wrong with this, as long as they can order a beer in a pub without resort to sign-language, but - and this is the important point - can they?

Evidence for the second half of the "begets-poverty" equation came and sat down next to me on the empty subway the other day, in the form of a highly excited middle-aged Japanese lady. She was an English teacher, she told me, she taught children, and that she did this in some part of town, and then she gave me her business card. This took about seven minutes. And she failed the no-sign-language test.

So, was she taught English by Oxford dons, or by a Afghan bus driver*? Of course, there aren't really a lot of Afghan bus drivers in Japan, mainly because they would get lost - Japanese streets are really not very well labelled. And they would likely use alternative road rules. And the GDP per capita of Afghanistan is $457 per calendar year per person, behind East Timor, while a trip from Pakistan to Tokyo (you'll have to take the bus from Kabul to Islamabad) starts at $450.

On top of that there is an wealth of semi-English on TV ("Lets make the style", "The sweets has come"), and even an advert for English language materials in which a Japanese guy holds a puppet and squeaks some English word noises that sound like, well, squeaks.

Even the names of some language services sound suspicious. While it may be impossible to prove, I have a suspicion that the people behind the establishment here pictured would end up ordering a chin and sonic.

*Disclaimer available upon request for Afghans, bus-drivers, and all other parties who feel injured by this lack of sensitivity.
Now, in a part of town which has hotels such as Hotel Africa ("Great Hotel of the World, Lovers Space"), with discounted rates for short term accommodation, we find...

...this correct-English sign: "No, you can't play with mine - just 'cos you've broken yours off!".

However, this is also the site of some absolute knock-me-down Jinglish par excellence. I will write out the words for those who are visually impaired.

It is dishonest. You and I. Though it is terrible and simple It is not possible to say because it is shameful. You also surely : me.

That time is imagined. I am heating its body. Here with you at this moment now...... The voice seems to sound, and even every corner seen under a bright light. Up to now, because only the light on the bed side permits. Everyone : though all are honest. You are dishonest, and I.

Clearly very impressive, what does this all prove?

The problem of chosing an English school is a bit like the market for lemons. The Market for Lemons (a Lemon in America is a dogdy second-hand car) is a classic 1970 economics paper showing, through devilish cleverness, that if you have some uncertainty about how good a used car is, you are going to discount the value of all used cars, even though only some are dodgy. So if you are a seller (teacher), you need to invest in ways to differentiate your used car (teaching ability) from the crowd, or to not sell into the same market. By doing this the quality of the pool of non-differentiated cars (teachers) falls further, until you end up being taught by Simbad the Sailor.