Last year, a group of scholars launched an international survey of philosophers on the dominant language of philosophy today—“academic English”—and the challenges faced by native and non-native speakers of everyday English as they work in this language.
The survey was completed, and the results of their study were published yesterday in Review of Philosophy and Psychology as “Epistemic Challenges Faced by Non-native English Speakers in Philosophy: Evidence from an International Survey“.
In the guest post, below, a subset of the researchers involved in the study share and discuss their findings. The authors are Uwe Peters (Utrecht University, Netherlands), Kiichi Inarimori (Hiroshima University, Japan), Sitian Liu (Guangxi University, China), and Juan Samuel Santos-Castro (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, Colombia).
The Hidden Costs of Being a Non-Native English Speaker in Philosophy
by Uwe Peters, Kiichi Inarimori, Sitian Liu, and Juan Samuel Santos-Castro
Using academic English in philosophy is now almost inevitable. And in many ways, it’s great. It allows us to share ideas and collaborate across borders and languages. It makes a global philosophical conversation possible.
But academic English is no one’s native language. It involves a style, register, and formality that can be hard to master—for non-native English speakers (NNES) as well as for native English speakers (NES). So how do both groups fare in practice? Do they struggle equally when writing papers, reading texts, or giving presentations in academic English? Are they equally likely to avoid asking questions at English-language events, or get negative teaching feedback related to their English use?
To find out, last year, we, an international team of ten researchers, including NES and NNES, conducted a large-scale survey of people working in philosophy. Many of you here may have taken it—thanks to Justin’s help in sharing the survey.
We received over 1,600 responses from NES and NNES philosophers from around the world, providing us with intriguing, and disconcerting, insights into the experience of being a NES and NNES in philosophy. The survey results have just been published in Review of Philosophy and Psychology.
NNES Work Harder, Speak Less
Controlling for English proficiency, career stage, and regional context, we found that the time NNES reported needing to read English-language papers was twice as long as the time reported by NES. For preparing English presentations, it was nearly twice as long as well. Moreover, even among highly proficient NNES (C1–C2 level), about 60% reported having avoided asking questions at events due to concerns about their English (compared to 16% of NES). Nearly 50% of these NNES said they had at some point felt ridiculed for their English (e.g., because of their accent or pronunciation).
This isn’t just a personal or practical inconvenience. It’s perhaps a collective ethical and epistemic problem: When NNES (or NES) philosophers hesitate to participate or are subtly discouraged from doing so, the whole philosophical community may pay the price. Valuable insights may go unspoken. Important objections may not be raised.
And the impact is not just immediate.
A Lingering Loss
Surprisingly, almost 90% of NNES respondents also said that frequent use of English in academia had interfered with their ability to do philosophy in their own language.
I (Uwe) can relate. I’m a German (originally from East Berlin). After almost a decade of doing philosophy in English-speaking countries (e.g., New Zealand, Canada, the UK), I now struggle to explain my research in German. All I know in philosophy is ‘encoded’ in English in my mind. When German-speaking colleagues ask what I work on, I often freeze because I don’t know how to say it in German. Reaching a certain NNES proficiency may come at the cost of fluency in one’s native language—a loss that may be subtle but deeply felt.
Native Speakers Struggle, Too
Interestingly, many NES respondents also reported challenges with academic English. Several noted that coming from a working-class or “first-gen” background, or speaking with a regional (e.g., US, British, Scottish, etc.) or rural accent, made it harder to feel at ease at conferences or to write confidently in academic prose. Academic English, then, is not just a language barrier. It can act as a class marker and a gatekeeper within English-speaking countries for NES too. We couldn’t fully explore these dynamics, but they are an important direction for future work.
Perspectives from Colombia, China, and Japan
Juan Santos (Bogota, Colombia):
Picking up on social class issues, I think in many countries where English isn’t the dominant language, English education often also signals wealth and status. Here in Colombia, for example, NNES from higher socio-economic backgrounds typically have access to formal English training and better opportunities to refine their language skills, opportunities that poorer students may lack. So, it’s not just being a NNES that matters. Socio-economic class and ‘academic socialization’ (e.g., where one got one’s degree) are crucial too.
Some NNES reported trouble speaking in public and networking due to their lack of common language fluidity or familiarity with cultural references. For NNES (and even for some NES) from lower socio-economic backgrounds this means that there is an additional layer of difficulty as the academia has traditionally belonged to the privileged class.
I experienced this in my professional life. Becoming an academic meant for me becoming a member of a different socio-economic class. It meant learning to use a different language (i.e., English) and learning the conventions, mores and biases of a different socio-economic classes both in my own country and abroad.
NNES from privileged backgrounds may have more resources to “outsource” proofreading or editing work, helping them produce publishable drafts faster than possibly even some NES (as some trends in our data may suggest). Those same privileged NNES may also have fewer incentives to challenge the status quo, potentially perpetuating both intra-national and global injustices in academic philosophy. If philosophy is concerned with justice and equity, this should worry us as well.
Sitian (Nanning, China):
For many Chinese people working in philosophy, academic English is both a passport and a burden. It grants access to international publication and recognition but imposes cognitive and emotional strain. Even highly skilled English users often hesitate to speak in seminars, not because they lack ideas, but because formulating them in “appropriate” English takes time. That delay can be costly.
Reading in English also creates insecurity. If a Chinese text is unclear, we might blame the author. If an English one is, we often blame ourselves. This self-doubt can lead to self-censorship, and real-time discussion becomes stressful or even paralyzing.
The stylistic gap between Chinese and English academic writing adds another layer of complexity. Chinese journals tend to favor a neutral, detached tone, whereas English ones encourage first-person, assertive argumentation (Liu, 2009; Loi & Evans, 2010).
Perhaps most telling is the fact that some people consider adopting an English name or inserting a Western-sounding middle name when submitting papers, in hopes of subtly improving their chances of publication. That such strategies are considered reveals the structural inequality embedded in academic English. It doesn’t just affect how we communicate, it silently governs who feels entitled to speak, and who remains hesitant, no matter how much they have to say.
Kiichi (Higashi-Hiroshima, Japan):
For native Japanese speakers, mastering English is particularly difficult. Although most people study English for at least six years, many still struggle with basic conversation, let alone academic writing. Japanese philosophers, in particular, often find it challenging to write papers in proper English without assistance (e.g., proofreading services). Most national journals require an English abstract, and in many cases, proofreading by a native speaker is mandatory. Authors are even asked to submit certificates confirming this (see, e.g., here or here).
Several factors make English difficult for Japanese speakers. The two languages differ significantly in grammar and vocabulary, with little overlap. Unlike European languages, Japanese shares no linguistic roots with English. Moreover, because of Japan’s long-standing translation culture since the Meiji era, philosophy is typically taught in Japanese. This has made Western philosophy more accessible domestically. But it has also limited exposure to English-language academic discourse.
While I am now relatively comfortable writing in English (as I am doing here) speaking is much harder, especially in academic discussions. Unlike writing, it requires quickly following the flow of conversation and responding in real time. I recall attending a summer school in Europe during my first year as a PhD student. Though I was considered a strong English speaker at my university, I soon realized I was the least fluent participant.
Fortunately, advances in AI tools like ChatGPT have made English writing and speaking practice far more accessible. Some schools in Japan are beginning to use such technologies in education. These developments may help reduce the epistemic barriers Japanese scholars face in global academia.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Our study highlights that while English can unite philosophers across continents (as we’ve done for this project), it may also divide, by imposing different kinds of challenges on NES and NNES, or emphasizing class, regional, or other social differences. Academic English is not neutral. It privileges certain voices, disadvantages others, and may leave many NNES less able to do philosophy in their own mother tongue(s).
If we want philosophy to be genuinely global, just, and conducive to the pursuit of truth, we need to be more aware of the invisible labor that many NNES philosophers invest to be heard, and more willing to challenge the structures that may keep them quiet. Acknowledging this imbalance may not be enough. But it’s a promising place to start.
