Chinese names in English often carry historical baggage due to dialectal variations and romanization systems, which can trip up even the most careful translators. However, beyond the technicalities, a more pressing question arises: How should Chinese names be pronounced when placed in an English context?
Let us start with the order of names. In English, the given name comes before the surname. For years, many Chinese speakers have flipped their names to fit this Western convention when writing in English. For instance, Zhang San (張三) becomes San Zhang, which might leave English speakers thinking “San” is the surname and “Zhang” is the given name. That inversion feels awkward to the speaker and the listener.
Interestingly, English media often respect the Chinese tradition of placing the surname first. Whether referring to leaders or ordinary citizens, they consistently maintain the “surname-first” order. So why do we, as Chinese speakers, bend over backward to conform to a foreign convention when the world is already accommodating ours? It is time to embrace our naming tradition with confidence.
Then comes the tricky part: pronunciation. Many Chinese names are butchered in English, often sounding like a bad karaoke rendition. While it is understandable that non-native speakers struggle with tones and phonetics, we native speakers should strive to pronounce our names authentically, even in an English context.
The gold standard is to pronounce names in clear, standard Mandarin. For example, Zhang San should sound like “張三.” If tones are too challenging for English speakers, dropping them while retaining the basic pronunciation (for example, “張散” for Zhang San) is acceptable. However, completely anglicizing Chinese names — such as pronouncing Zhang San as “Jang San(d)” — feels like a cultural betrayal. After all, our names are part of our identity.
Of course, if someone has an English name, all bets are off. They are free to follow English naming conventions without judgement.
The same principles apply to Chinese place names, but with an added layer of historical complexity. Take for example “Soochow University,” the English name for Dongwu University (東吳大學), founded in Suzhou in 1900. “Soochow” is an old romanization of “Suzhou” (蘇州). When I pronounced it as “蘇州” in an English recording, a professor said it should be pronounced “Zhao” (超) to preserve its historical roots.
Similarly, “Taipei” (台北) is derived from the Wade-Giles romanization system, which originally included an apostrophe to indicate aspiration (T’aipei). Over time, the apostrophe was dropped, but should we still pronounce it as “台北” or anglicize it to “Tie-pay”?
The professor likened my approach to tearing down ancient buildings and replacing them with modern structures, saying it erases historical charm. However, “Soochow” and “Taipei” are merely romanized representations of Mandarin pronunciations. Pronouncing them as “蘇州” and “台北” aligns with their linguistic origins, not their spelling.
Some Chinese place names in English carry deep historical roots. “Cathay,” an archaic term for China, derives from the Khitan people. “China” traces back to Sanskrit. “Peking” (北京) reflects an older Mandarin pronunciation, while “Hong Kong” (香港) is firmly rooted in Cantonese. Those names have become entrenched in English and should be pronounced as they are.
For modern place names, I recommend sticking to standard Mandarin pronunciations: “Taipei” should ideally sound like “台北,” although dropping the tones to make it “胎貝” is a reasonable compromise. Fully anglicizing it to “Tie-pay” should be the last resort.
Ultimately, how we pronounce Chinese names and places in English reflects our cultural confidence. While it is understandable that non-native speakers might struggle, we should hold ourselves to a higher standard. After all, our names and places are more than just words — they are a part of who we are.
So, the next time you hear someone mispronounce “Zhang San” or “Taipei,” gently correct them. Remember, cultural pride starts with how we say our own names.
Hugo Tseng holds a doctorate in linguistics, and is a lexicographer and former chair of the Soochow University English Department.
The White House’s decision to take a 9.9 percent stake in Intel Corp is looking like very shrewd business indeed. Since the government bought in at US$20.47 a share last August, the US chipmaker’s surging stock price has delivered the US a US$43 billion return. One of the reasons the investment has so far proved so sound is that the White House has made sure of it. According to The Wall Street Journal, Howard personally pushed deals on Intel’s behalf with some of the most lucrative clients imaginable. They include Nvidia Corp, the company at the heart of the AI
In a Taiwanese university classroom, a lecturer asks in English: “Can anyone give me an example from Taiwan?” Students look down. No one answers. After class, one student writes on the course platform in Mandarin: “I understood the concept, but I didn’t know how to answer in English.” That moment highlights a key issue in Taiwan’s English-medium instruction (EMI) reform: It is not just about more English-taught courses, but whether students can learn, participate and belong. EMI expansion is part of the Bilingual 2030 policy and the Ministry of Education’s BEST Program, aiming to improve English ability, support EMI teaching
The Ministry of the Interior, working with the navy and coast guard, is organizing Taiwan’s first joint exercise simulating escort tankers carrying liquefied natural gas (LNG) and oil through a Chinese blockade. The drills simulate fuel transport along three maritime corridors leading toward Japan, the Philippines and the US. Deputy Minister of the Interior Sawyer Mars (馬士元) said that a blockade of the Taiwan Strait would amount to “almost a 100 percent blockade of the regional energy supply.” Minister of National Defense Wellington Koo said planning to counter a blockade is standard practice in Taipei. While the exercise is limited in
A single photograph can cut through a lot of noise, but it can also be used to misrepresent the truth. At the very least, it can concentrate the mind on something that requires further investigation. On Monday last week, Ma Ying-jeou Foundation CEO Tai Hsia-ling (戴遐齡) and former National Security Council secretary-general King Pu-tsung (金溥聰) held a news conference in which they showed a photograph of former foundation CEO Hsiao Hsu-tsen (蕭旭岑), now Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) deputy chairman. In the image Hsiao is seated next to Xiamen Taiwan Businessmen Association chairman Han Ying-huan (韓螢煥). The two men were holding