Late last year, Chunjie (春節) was added to UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. While this recognition was a moment of pride for Chinese culture, it also reignited a long-standing debate: How should Chunjie be translated into English?
For decades, the holiday has been variously rendered as “Spring Festival,” “Chinese New Year” or “Lunar New Year,” each term carrying its own cultural and political implications. However, as the world becomes more interconnected, the question of which translation to use has become more than a linguistic curiosity — it is a matter of cultural identity and global influence.
Three main English translations are in use, with “Spring Festival” being the most favored, followed by “Chinese New Year” and “Lunar New Year.” The preference for “Spring Festival,” a verbatim rendition of Chunjie, reflects a desire to highlight the holiday’s unique cultural significance rather than framing it solely as a “new year” celebration. After all, Chunjie is deeply rooted in Chinese traditions, from family reunions and feasts to the iconic red envelopes, firecrackers and dragon dances. By adopting this straightforward literal translation, the holiday’s distinctiveness could be better conveyed.
In contrast, English-speaking countries tend to favor “Chinese New Year.” Major English dictionaries, including Oxford and Merriam-Webster, list “Chinese New Year” as the primary term, followed by “Lunar New Year” and “Spring Festival.” This preference is also reflected in large language corpora, such as the News on the Web corpus, which tracks over 20 billion words from English-language media.
The dominance of “Chinese New Year” in the English-speaking world underscores the holiday’s association with Chinese culture. However, it also raises questions about inclusivity, as the term implicitly centers China in a celebration that is also observed by other cultures, such as in Vietnam and South Korea.
In recent years, “Lunar New Year” has gained traction as more inclusive than “Chinese New Year.” This shift is partly driven by efforts from countries such as South Korea and Vietnam. Both nations have long-celebrated lunar new year traditions, but have increasingly pushed for the use of “Lunar New Year” to distance themselves from the Chinese-centric framing.
While “Chinese New Year” remains the most common term, its growth rate has almost plateaued out. Meanwhile, “Lunar New Year” has seen a significant uptick in usage, particularly in English-language media. This reflects a broader cultural and political movement toward de-Sinicization, as countries with historical ties to China seek to reclaim their narratives.
Amid these debates, some scholars and media outlets have advocated for using the Pinyin-transliterated “Chunjie” as the primary English term. Historical precedents offer valuable insights. This approach aligns with the way other traditional festivals are translated, such as Japan’s Tanabata (Lovers’ Day) and Obon (Festival of the Dead), South Korea’s Seollal (Korean New Year), or Vietnam’s Tet (Vietnamese New Year). Given these examples, the transliteration of Chunjie is not only natural but also consistent with global practices.
As the Year of the Snake approaches, let us embrace this opportunity to assert our cultural voice on the global stage. By adopting “Chunjie” as the primary term, supplemented by “Spring Festival” and “Chinese New Year,” we can ensure that our traditions are represented authentically and respectfully. After all, language is not just a tool for communication — it is a vessel for culture, history and identity.
Hugo Tseng holds a doctorate in linguistics, and is a lexicographer and former chair of the Soochow University English Department.
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something
RSS