As Beijing gears up for the 2008 Olympic Games, the government wants to teach its residents to avoid the dreaded ‘Chinglish’, says Daniel Allen

As Tiananmen Square’s Olympic clock counts down the seconds until 8 August 2008, Beijing is undergoing the mother of all makeovers. Urban planners have wholeheartedly embraced the Olympic motto ‘Faster, Higher, Stronger’, as construction workers labour to complete massive new infrastructure projects on time, and the city prepares itself for next year’s anticipated influx of foreign visitors.

A slightly newer, if less catchy, Olympic motto – ‘Use Accurate English to Welcome the Olympics’ – highlights the importance that Beijing places on improving its literary and linguistic landscape. To the huge disappointment of some Beijing expats, this has meant an ongoing and concerted effort to rid the city of ‘Chinglish’ – China’s own brand of frequently baffling, largely comical pidgin English.

‘It’s an embarrassment for the local residents and our city,’ says Beijing English student Xiao Jie. ‘Every citizen who can read English has the duty to notify the relevant authorities about these mistakes, to make sure they are changed before the eyes of the world turn to Beijing.’

Those lamenting the disappearance of Chinglish need not worry too much. Despite various hot lines and websites, massed ranks of grammatical experts and legions of scouts, erroneous and entertaining English is still a common sight on menus, billboards and signage across the city. It is a pretty safe bet that at some point during their stay, bemused Olympic visitors will encounter dishes such as ‘Crispy Skin Infections’ or ‘Man and Wife Lung Slices,’ or ponder over the function of a ‘Pubic Toilet’.

It is not only Beijing’s physical environment that is changing. As part of the drive to present the Chinese capital as a sophisticated, international metropolis, the government is attempting to transform Beijing’s 15 million inhabitants into cultured, service-oriented folk, ready to communicate freely with overseas guests. The government has targeted five social problems – swearing, spitting, littering, disorderly queuing and not smiling – and ‘courteous communities’ have been organised to teach members how to mind their Ps and Qs.

‘Olympic English’ classes have also sprung up in every neighbourhood, and armies of senior citizens equipped with an official textbook delightfully titled Don’t Be Shy, Just Try attend lessons every weekend. Police officers and taxi drivers have been ordered to master at least 200 English phrases

While all this looks good on paper, those planning to visit the Olympics should not dispense with their trusty Mandarin phrase books just yet. Taxi drivers complain that they are unable to retain the dozens of English phrases they need to pass mandatory tests, and often skip class. Even though the occasional cabbie is only too happy to practise his new-found language skills, it is still usually the foreign passenger who labours to decipher the driver’s coarse Beijing patois.

Despite the obvious problems, it would be churlish to deny the fact that next year’s big event is transforming Beijing’s society as much as its architecture. Whatever the outcome of this Herculean social and urban development endeavour may be, it is hard not to admire the Chinese for their unlimited determination to succeed. And if a few foreign visitors have to resort to body language in the final reckoning, it will not be the end of the world.