Framing the linguistic landscape of a Chinese heritage-tourism site: discursive frames, viewer reception, and the symbolic economy of English at the Confucius Temple, Nanjing

When we walk through a historic place, we do not just see buildings and old stones; we read a story written in signs. This field of study, known as the linguistic landscape, examines how public signs—everything from street names to shop banners—shape our understanding of a place. In heritage sites, these signs carry a double burden. They must tell visitors where to go and what to do, but they also have to convince us that the place feels authentic, even if parts of it have been rebuilt or redesigned for modern tourism. Researchers have long known that the mix of languages on these signs matters. In many parts of the world, English appears on signs not just to help foreign visitors, but to signal that a place is modern, open, and prestigious. However, a new study suggests that the meaning of English is not fixed. Instead, its power to impress or inform changes completely depending on the specific type of area where it appears, acting like a chameleon that shifts its colors based on the environment it inhabits.

To understand how this works, researchers Xingyan Lu and Zhiyi Zhang from Nanjing Normal University turned their attention to the Confucius Temple scenic site in Nanjing, China. This location is a perfect example of a complex heritage zone. It is built around a historical layout where a temple sits in front, a school stands behind, and a bustling market wraps around the edges. The site includes ticketed museums and ancient halls, but it also features a crowded pedestrian street filled with restaurants and souvenir shops. The researchers wanted to see how the signs in these different zones spoke to visitors. They photographed nearly a thousand signs, ranging from official wayfinding markers to commercial advertisements, and then interviewed thirty people, including local tourists, international visitors, and shop owners. They asked these participants what they noticed, what they felt, and how they interpreted the different languages they saw.

The team discovered that the site is not a single, uniform space but is actually divided into three distinct "frames," or ways of presenting information. The first frame is the regulatory zone, found on the main paths and near entrances. Here, signs are designed to guide and control. They tell people where the restrooms are, warn them not to touch wild cats, and remind them to be polite. In this zone, English appears on almost every sign alongside Chinese, but it feels invisible. Visitors reported that they barely noticed the English text because it is so common and standardized. It functions like a utility, a quiet background noise that confirms the site is well-managed and ready for international guests, but it does not carry any special weight or excitement.

The second frame is the heritage zone, located inside the museums and the main temple grounds. Here, the goal is to tell a story about history and culture. The signs in this area are often written in classical Chinese calligraphy, using traditional characters and poetic language. When English appears here, it is usually a shortened summary of the detailed Chinese text. Visitors perceived this English not as a tool for navigation, but as a sign of quality. It suggested that the museum was well-planned and cared for, offering a high level of service. For some visitors, seeing English alongside the ancient art made the experience feel more complete and professional, as if the site was taking the time to share its history with the whole world.

The third frame is the commercial zone, which covers the busy pedestrian street. This is where the rules change most dramatically. Here, shop owners are free to design their own signs to attract customers. They often use English to make their shops look fashionable, modern, or international. However, the study found that this strategy does not always work. In a place steeped in traditional Chinese culture, English can sometimes feel out of place. Some visitors felt that adding English to a shop selling traditional snacks or crafts broke the immersion, making the place feel less authentic. They described it as "breaking the spell" of the historic atmosphere. Yet, for other visitors, particularly younger ones, the same English signs made the shops feel vibrant and appealing. The researchers found that the value of English in this zone is unstable; it can be seen as a badge of prestige or as a clumsy intrusion, depending entirely on the viewer and the specific shop.

The most significant finding of the study is that the meaning of a language is not a fixed property of the language itself. Instead, the symbolic power of English shifts depending on the context. In the regulatory zone, it is a standard requirement. In the heritage zone, it is a mark of institutional care. In the commercial zone, it is a volatile tool that can either boost a brand's image or ruin the feeling of authenticity. The researchers argue that we cannot understand the role of English in tourism by simply counting how many times it appears. We must look at the specific frame in which it is used. A sign that feels helpful in one part of the site can feel jarring in another, even if the words are the same.

This research challenges the idea that adding English to a historic site is always a good thing. It suggests that the success of such signs depends on how well they fit the story the place is trying to tell. In the commercial areas of Nanjing, the study observed a tension between the desire to look modern and the need to feel authentic. Some shops managed to blend these elements beautifully, using traditional materials and calligraphy while still including English in a way that felt natural. Others, however, used English in a way that felt forced, creating a visual clash that distracted from the historic setting. The study concludes that for heritage sites to remain meaningful, the people who manage them need to be more careful about how they mix these different languages. They must ensure that the signs support the story of the place rather than undermining it, recognizing that every word on a sign contributes to the overall feeling of the visitor's experience.