Expats in Kazakhstan back in the first decade of the millennium, while, strangely, not inclined to add to their own linguistic repertoire, would often report how the language barrier impacted their daily lives outside the immediate confines of their jobs. This would largely have been because they worked in industries which provided interpreters, or because they were English teachers whose immediate colleagues obviously knew the language to high levels.
The ever-unwillingness of westerners to learn whatever language would enhance the experience of their time spent in the host country is bemusing to those in the minority who find even a smattering to be both personally enriching and of great practical use in daily life.
Expecting the natives to speak English works both ways, as, depending on the country, locals either see it as a slight or an opportunity – or both – once again depending on where you live.
To give this point a little more validity, Italians have often whispered to me in private that they wish these tourists would at least learn to say ‘thank you’ in the local language, as many of them find it disrespectful that they don’t.
Grazie might do the trick for those of you opening a new tab to check.
Nobody reasonably expects a consultant on a short business trip to any given country to scramble to fluency in their language before offering his or her invaluable skills to the mutual benefit. At the same time, grasping a few phrases wouldn’t challenge any brain that offers an indispensable level of expertise in an area of industry or business that the receiving economy would not dispute was critical to their prospects.
That said, the cooperation between Kazakhstan and Western nations on so many fronts has led to such understanding that people over here do see the lack of Russian or Kazakh skills displayed by their guests as an opportunity, and few countries have risen to the challenge as admirably.
Official statistics from the global IELTS organisation show Kazakhstan to have reached a level of English on a par with some European nations widely seen as proficient in its use.
The overall global average for the whole exam in 2025 was 6.1. In this country, it was 6.3, which, for those watching in black and white, means that the user is competent.
In the words of the big IELTS bosses, therefore:
The test taker has an effective command of the language despite some inaccuracies, inappropriate usage and misunderstandings.
This essentially means that, of those taking this major global exam in Kazakhstan, the overall result across the board says that people here speak English very well.
Scoring 7 would take the user close to native-speaker level, and while bridging the gap from 6.3 to 7 isn’t going to happen overnight, the fact that the country has made such progress over the last decade or so is already evidence of English becoming far more than a way to chat to monolingual Brits down the expat pub, which is where so many of them tend to gather.
So, how well does Kazakhstan speak English?
If to puncture a tired cliche, this one is like answering ‘how long is a piece of string?’ and so while somebody who’s been teaching English here for 18 years may be well-placed to reach some considered conclusions, there is no one-size-fits-all answer.
Every conceivable level of linguistic ability is to be found across this vast country, from people who don’t know a single word, to those who would be difficult to distinguish from an Oxbridge-educated native speaker fresh from a course in advanced elocution. Speaking on a subject he or she is passionate about. And having a good day into the bargain.
But as the statistic quoted above suggests, there are valid observations to be made about what visitors to the country are likely to encounter in terms of how well the locals can reciprocate, and overall, the picture is quite rosy. Suburban Denmark, it may not be – but there’s a lot to be positive about.
Advances in teaching English in schools, not necessarily in the delivery of the content (vocabulary and grammar) but in the way it is presented as a living language rather than a series of rules, have, in many cases, helped students to improve their functional English ability, i.e. what they can do, not just what they know.
Pupils in some schools know it by design, as these schools deliver all learning in English (bar Russian and Kazakh lessons), meaning that those studying grow up with this as a second (or third) mother tongue.
Perhaps it wouldn’t take an out-and-out cynic to presume that this is what I base my broader conclusions on. Yes, I do think elite schools contribute to driving the culture of English forward, but I am more than aware that they are not representative as a whole.
When youngsters have friends studying in an English-only environment, it can arouse a sense of motivation in those less fortunate, in that they identify the opportunities that their prospective fluent-speaking friend now has, and desire to have some of them too. This leads to more uptake in other English courses, be it online or in one of the language centres dotted around the city. There may be more engagement with online learning resources – more people downloading language learning apps, etc. And further on, it makes it more difficult for those who choose not to learn, as the absence of English on the CV hits harder year on year.
No English = no great job would be a very harsh evaluation because Kazakhstan has a large number of successful, influential people who don’t speak it, but most career paths will be far smoother if people do. Want to be a doctor? Study medicine and English. Want to be a pilot? Study aviation and English. And so on.
To this end, officials encourage a culture of tri-lingualism in the country, with schools at the centre of this initiative. That not every child leaves school fluent in English does not mean that this project is not working, as standards have risen noticeably since it took hold.
Consider, when I was at school, I won a prize for French, and the teacher said I was the best she had ever known, but in my job here, I have met literally hundreds of youngsters in Almaty and Astana whose English has been markedly superior to my French at a corresponding age.
Trips to restaurants in 2008 left you surprised when waiters knew English, while today it’s completely the opposite. Bazaar traders, the occasional taxi driver, fitness coaches, and a host of others display competence and confidence in a language which sometimes doesn’t even directly benefit them. This, mostly because English is more embedded in the culture and people are keener to learn it, even not needing it.
The Bolashak Scholarship programme has helped thousands of local people study in other countries, with high levels of English among the requirements in most cases, and only a handful slip the net, i.e. don’t return to their homeland with even better English and a top-level diploma.
Knowing that they need to compete, locally educated graduates attend English courses or pay for private tuition, hoping to fill the gap in order to get ahead. Many succeed; those who don’t still improve their skills.
More tourists lead to more demand for the international language; hotels, restaurants, and resorts. It doesn’t always mean that even a five-star hotel has a staff room filled with IELTS Band-9-level speakers, no, but what it does mean is that increasingly, English is becoming a prominent language here, step by step.
Those planning a visit should not ditch the time-honoured phrase books nor neglect to cram a few survival phrases in before boarding the plane, simply because, patriot that I am, I cannot make any claim that everybody in Kazakhstan speaks English.
What I can say, after nearly two decades living here, fully immersed in the English-speaking part of society (although I speak Russian and Kazakh too), is that the country has improved its English enormously in recent years, even if not everybody has noticed. I have.