Mandarinization law used as pretext for silencing TV host

Larry Lang (Lang Xianping / 郎咸平), a professor of finance at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, has had his popular television show on economics taken off the air in China, allegedly because the show fails to meet regulations on the use of Mandarin on the airwaves.

Lang, who was born in Taiwan and has his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Taiwan universities, is fluent in Mandarin. He has a doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School and has taught at a number of U.S. universities.

He often used his television show, broadcast in Shanghai, to criticize the way the sales of PRC state enterprises are conducted.

source: Chat show economist forced off China TV, Financial Times, March 14, 2006 (via Kenyon’s Chinese list)

sign-language variants abound in China

Different signs are used in different parts of China. This is no surprise in itself, but it’s nice to see this reported in China. According to the article below, in Guangdong some 70 percent of the target audience for CCTV’s sign-language news are unable to understand the signs used on the show. Moreover, new signs are being created all the time.

Xiàmén gēn Quánzhōu de shǒuyǔ bù yīyàng, gēn Shànghǎi de shǒuyǔ yě bù yīyàng, gègè dìfang de shǒuyǔ dōu yǒu gèzì de tèdiǎn.

Xiàmén tèxiào jiàoyánshì fùzhǔrèn Huáng Zǒngzhì shuō, bǐfang “zuò zuòyè”, Xiàménrén shì liǎng ge quántou shàng-xià bǐhua, érhòu yòushǒu shǒuzhǐ héngfàng zài zuǒshǒu shǒuzhǎng xià, gòuchéng yī ge “yè” (业) zì; Quánzhōurén zéshì liǎngshǒu bǐhua yèpiàn de xíngzhuàng. Guǎngzhōu lóngyǎrén duì “xìngzāilèhuò” de dútè biǎodá shì gēbo jiājǐn, liǎng zhī xiǎo bì xiàngshàng wānqū wòquán, yǒushíhou huì bèi [cuò]wù rènwéi gēbo bù shūfu.

Zài rú “Pānyú” yī cí de dǎfǎ tōngcháng shì Pīnyīn dǎfǎ, ér Guǎngzhōurén zé dǎ “dà fānshǔ” de xiàngxíng, yīnwèi Pānyú shèngchǎn dà fānshǔ.

Jùxī, Guǎngdōng qī chéng lóngyǎrén kànbudǒng Yāng-Shì [i.e., CCTV] de “shǒuyǔ xīnwén”, Xiàmén yòng de shì quánguó tōngxíng de biāozhǔn shǒuyǔ, dànshì Xiàmén de lóngyǎrén chángcháng wúfǎ lǐjiě wàidì shǒuyǔ. Huáng zhǔrèn shuō, měi nián de xīn cíhuì bùduàn chūxiàn, gè dì de xíguàn yòu yǒu bùtóng, yīxiē shǒuyǔ lǎoshī hé lóngyǎrén bùdébù zìjǐ chuàngzào xīn de biǎodá fāngshì. Zhèxiē xīn fāngshì tōngguò miànbù biǎoqíng hé qítā fǔzhù xìng de dòngzuò, jiāoliú de shuāngfāng hěn kuài jiù huì shúxī.

source: Shǒuyǔ yěyǒu fāngyán, Xiàmén Wǎnbào, March 6, 2006

a geisha by any other character

This has to do with Memoirs of a Geisha. But I don’t give a hoot about what is probably a profoundly silly movie that I have no intention of paying money to see. Nor do I care about Beijing’s profoundly silly objections to it. What I’m interested here is how Chinese characters were manipulated for the name.

In Mandarin, the word for “geisha” is yìjì, which is written 藝妓 in traditional Chinese characters and 艺妓 in “simplified” Chinese characters. The word for “memoirs” is huíyìlù, written 回憶錄 (回忆录 in simplified characters).

Thus, Memoirs of a Geisha could be translated as Yìjì huíyìlù, which it has been up to a point. (This is something of a surprise in itself, because Western movies tend to be completely retitled in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China rather than have their titles translated into Mandarin. There’s a tedious sameness to most of these titles, which tend to imitate titles of other popular movies and throw in 愛 (ài, love) a lot.)

As written in Chinese characters, the title in Taiwan of the movie is 藝伎回憶錄, not the expected 藝妓回憶錄. Note the difference in the second character:

vs.

The form in the movie title has the “person” radical 亻, while the original form has the “woman” radical 女.

The one with the woman radical is strongly associated with prostitution. Here are a few of the many prostitution-related words that contain this character:

  • 娼妓 chāngjì n. prostitute; streetwalker
  • 娼妓館 chāngjìguǎn p.w. brothel
  • 妓館 jìguǎn p.w. brothel
  • 妓女 jìnǚ n. prostitute
  • 妓院 jìyuàn p.w. brothel
  • 營妓 yíngjì n. prostitutes serving military units
  • 箏妓 zhēngjì n. zither-playing courtesan

Even a word for male prostitute takes this character: 妓男 (jìnán).

Here, by way of contrast, are some of the words containing the character with the “person” radical:

  • 伎巧 (also 技巧) jìqiǎo n. (1) technique; skill; craftsmanship; dexterity (2) acrobatic gymnastics
  • 才伎之士 cáijìzhīshì f.e. a person of outstanding ability in craftsmanship
  • 歌舞伎 gēwǔjì n. (1) (trad.) female dancer/singer (2) (Jp.) Kabuki
  • 鬼蜮伎倆 guǐyùjìliǎng id. devilish stratagem; evil tactics
  • 故技/伎 gùjì n. old trick/tactics
  • 故伎重演 gùjìchóngyǎn f.e. play the same old tricks; be up to one’s old tricks again
  • 賤伎 jiànjì n. inferior/lowly arts
  • 伎而止此 jì’érzhǐcǐ f.e. One’s cleverness stops here.
  • 伎/技倆 jìliǎng n. (1) trick; intrigue; maneuver (2) skill; dexterity; craft
  • 伎藝 jìyì n. (1) mechanical arts (2) expert skill

So the switch from 妓 to 伎 was an attempt to soften the connotations of prostitution, changing Memoirs of a Geisha (i.e. prostitute, in common association, whether that’s just or not) to Memoirs of a Skilled Performer. It also brings to the fore the phonetic basis for Chinese characters as it is no coincidence that 妓 and 伎 are pronounced the same. This same phonetic basis, however, is why the revised name isn’t really different; it just looks different. All this is the written equivalent of fancy footwork. It doesn’t really change a thing. Yìjì is the word for geisha, so that’s what is going to come to mind, not “skillful performer” — not unless the movie-title’s usage somehow becomes widely used and longlasting. But I doubt it.

After all, the translators could have adopted another word for geisha, gējì, which takes both forms: 歌伎 and 歌妓. So why not use 歌伎 and get rid of that troublesome 妓 character without bending any usage? Because the main word for geisha is still yìjì, and geji is also used for prostitutes (there’s that word again) who sang and danced. And maybe some people would have been expecting a musical because of 歌 (, song).

Although it might sound sophisticated for the translators to have played with Chinese characters this way, it’s not really all that different from naming a band Wyld Stallyns instead of Wild Stallions.

Memoirs of a Wyld Stallyn? Hmm. Now that might have potential.

source: ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’ Lost in Political Din, IPS, February 7

Shanghai moves against English-only signage, ads

The official Shanghai Language Works Commission has been keeping busy. In addition to ordering severe restrictions on the use of the language native to most people in the area, yesterday it decreed that beginning next month all companies, stores, and entertainment venues in Shanghai must include Chinese characters on their signs and in their notices and advertisements.

The regulation is aimed primarily against English-only signage.

What’s not clear, though, is if the rules declare what the Chinese characters must say or how much space must be given to them. Can the English be much larger? Can there be a full page of copy in English but just, say, the address in Chinese characters?

Those who violate the rule will be warned and told to fix the problem immediately. Repeat offenders will have their names added to a black-list published in local media outlets, but they face no fines or jail terms, according to the rule.

“Foreign-language-only signboards will probably hamper people’s understanding and deliberately set up communication barriers for most Chinese,” said Sun Xiaoxian, an official with the language works commission.

Many entertainment facilities that target foreign consumers have never set up Chinese signs, and others deliberately use English only to demonstrate they are the so-called “high-class” places, Sun said.

Only 15 of the 39 signs for businesses in front of the Shanghai Center, an office and hotel complex on Nanjing Road W., have Chinese characters on them.

Of 14 bars and restaurants along Tongren Road, only Blue Frog has a Chinese name — Lan Wa — on its sign.

A manager at Blue Angel, a bar next door to Blue Frog, said he had never heard of the new regulation.

“Most of our customers are foreigners, so we don’t need to worry that they cannot recognize the English signs,” said the manager who refused to disclose her name.

Many bars in the city don’t even have Chinese menus, according to Sun.

Blue Angel only added Chinese to its menu a few months ago, the manager said.

The language commission officials said they conduct regular spot checks beginning next month to ensure the regulation is being followed.

English only signs outlawed, Shanghai Daily, February 24, 2006

further restrictions against language in Shanghai

China is stepping up its repression of Shanghainese, a language which, in its various forms (considering the Wu language group as a whole), is native to close to 100 million people, especially around Shanghai, China’s largest city.

According to rules announced on Wednesday, beginning next month most people in the public sector (including teachers and members of the broadcast media) must use Mandarin and no other Sinitic language when addressing the public.

Use of Shanghainese will be restricted to private conversations and special study programs, according to the Shanghai Language Works Commission.

The new rules, announced yesterday, represent the city’s first language standards. Radio and TV personalities, as well as government officials and teachers, are required to use Mandarin in their daily work.

Broadcasters can air Shanghai-dialect programming, but any new shows must be approved by the Shanghai Culture, Radio, Film and Television Administration.

“Residents of an international metropolis like Shanghai should speak Mandarin in public places, especially people in social service industries, government departments, schools and the media,” said Zhu Lei, office director of the language commission.

She said the city still needs to foster development of Shanghai dialect to preserve the city’s culture. But the use of dialect in public settings sets communications obstacles for the increasing number of migrants and foreigners.

Anyone who violates the new rule will be warned, and repeat offenders will have their names put on a blacklist.

Media outlets that launch new dialect programs without permission will be punished by the national radio and television administration.

There are now more than 10 city-based radio and TV programs broadcast in Shanghai dialect. Most are talk shows or entertainment series.

One of the channels under Shanghai Media Group tried to broadcast news in Shanghai dialect last year, but the effort was later halted for undisclosed reasons.

Lu Yunpeng, an official with the local TV and radio watchdog, said the agency will strictly control dialect-based news programs. For new entertainment shows, the administration will appoint a panel to examine proposals and determine their value.

At present, there are no plans to add new dialect programs or close down old ones.

Chen Mingfang, producer of the popular Shanghai dialect radio segment “Afugen,” said his show draws an excellent audience response. The daily program was even expanded from the original 30 minutes to an hour.

Chen, however, refused to comment on the new rules.

To that, I’d just add a few reminders:

  • In China, words like blacklist, strictly control, and punish aren’t just empty terms.
  • Although Shanghainese can be considered a dialect of Wu, calling it a dialect of “Chinese” is at best misleading. In China, the word “dialect” is used politically, not linguistically.

source: Shanghai dialect takes back seat to Mandarin, Shanghai Daily, February 23, 2006

home of romanization pioneer Lu Zhuangzhang found

The birthplace of Lu Zhuangzhang (盧戇章/卢戆章) (1854-1928), a pioneering writing reformer, has recently been identified in Xiamen, China.

Locals said they knew the house was Lu Zhuangzhang’s ancestral home but didn’t know he was famous for his romanization work.

Lu was “the first Chinese to propose a system of spelling for Sinitic languages,” Victor H. Mair notes in his essay Sound and Meaning in the History of Characters: Views of China’s Earliest Script Reformers, which contains additional information about Lu.

Lu was from Fujian and, as a boy, he grew up in Amoy (Xiamen) where romanized writing of the local language was used widely after it was introduced by Christian missionaries. (A romanized Chinese translation of the Bible had already been made in 1852.) At age 21, Lu moved to Singapore where he studied English. After he returned to Amoy four years later, he assisted an English missionary in compiling a Chinese-English dictionary.

Lu’s Yimu liaoran chujie (First Steps in Being Able to Understand at a Glance), published in Amoy in 1892, was the first book written by a Chinese which presented a potentially workable system of spelling for a Sinitic language. His script was based on the Roman alphabet with some modifications. Among other improvements over the sinographs was linking up syllables into words and separating them with spaces. Lu’s system was designed specifically for the Amoy topolect, but he claimed that his system of spelling could also be adapted for the other languages of China. Although he believed that all of the local languages should be written out with phonetic scripts, Lu advocated that the speech of Nanjing be adopted as the standard for the whole nation, as it was when Matteo Ricci had come to China three centuries earlier. Altogether, Lu worked for 40 years to bring an efficient system of spelling to China. He is now viewed by Chinese language workers as the father of script reform.

Local authorities hope to protect the home as a cultural monument.

Tóng’ān fāxiàn Lú Zhuàngzhāng gùjū

Wǒguó “yǔwén xiàndàihuà” de xiānqū, xiàndài Hànyǔ pīnyīn de fāmíng zhě Lú Zhuàngzhāng, qí gùjū jìnrì zài Xiàmén Tóng’ān bèi fāxiàn, wénwù bǎohù zhuānjiā hūyù bǎohù gāi gùjū.

Lú Zhuàngzhāng de gùjū zài Xiàmén Tóng’ān gǔ zhuāng cūn, shì yī zhuàng yǒu bǎi-yú nián lìshǐ de Mǐnnán hóngzhuān gǔ mínjū, Lú Zhuàngzhāng jiù chūshēng zài zhèlǐ.

Cūnmín gàosu jìzhě, tāmen zhīdao zhè shì Lú Zhuàngzhāng jiā de “gǔ cuò”, dànshì bùzhīdào tā shì “yǔwén xiàndàihuà de xiānqū”, yějiù méi rén qù kèyì bǎohù zhè “gǔ cuò”, yīnwèi yīzhí dōu yǒurén jūzhù, hái méi wánquán bèi huǐhuài.

Huòxī Lú Zhuàngzhāng gùjū yīrán bǎocún zài Tóng’ān, Xiàmén Shì wénhuàjú wénwù chù chùzhǎng Chén Zhìmíng biǎoshì, zhēngqǔ ràng Tóng’ān qū wén guǎn bàn jiāng qí dìngwéi qū jí wénwù bǎohù dānwèi.

Jù liǎojiě, Lú Zhuàngzhāng shēngyú Qīngcháo xián fēng sì nián (1854 nián), shì Xiàmén Tóng’ānrén. Zài chuàngzhì pīnyīn fāng’àn, tuīguǎng jīng zhāng guānhuà (jí Pǔtōnghuà), tuīxíng báihuà kǒuyǔ, cǎiyòng héngpái héngxiě, tíchàng xīnshì biāodiǎn, shǐyòng jiǎntǐ súzì děng fāngmiàn, Lú Zhuàngzhāng zài guónèi kāile xiānhé.

source: Tóng’ān fāxiàn Lú Zhuàngzhāng gùjū, Dōngnán Kuàibào, February 15, 2006

Chinese orphanages and children’s names

I was amazed and appalled to discover today that a widespread practice for naming abandoned children in China has been to assign the family name after the name of the city of the orphanage. For example, many such children from Guangzhou have been assigned the family name of Guang and those from Shenzhen have been called Shen.

China doesn’t have the same range of surnames of Western countries (more about that some other time), so uncommon names stick out even more there than in the West. Giving children family names like Guang and Shen is not altogether unlike branding their foreheads and ID cards with the word “orphan.”

As if that weren’t bad enough, the given names assigned to children have been largely pro forma as well, with elements of even those often based on geography. Thus, children in the Guangzhou orphanage have often had names of places within the city incorporated into their names, such as “Tian,” “Bai,” and “Li,” with those representing the city’s Tianhe, Baiyun, and Liwan districts, respectively.

Naming someone Li after the Liwan District (荔灣區) is pretty much the same as calling that person “Lychee.”

The non-geographical elements in given names have often been Yong (as in 勇敢, brave), Hong (紅/红, red — often associated with communism), Qiang (強/强, strong), Wen (文, literacy, culture), Ping (as in 浮萍, duckweed), or Cui (翠, emerald green).

Taken as a whole, these names tend to mark children as having been residents of an orphanage and, as my source article states, “are not good for their psychology when they try to interact with the outside world, the orphanage has found.”

No kidding. Just how many decades did it take to figure that out?

Fortunately, the practice has changed, at least in Guangzhou:

Starting this year, Guangzhou’s orphanage has stopped giving its wards the surname “Guang” to prevent them from being identified as orphans.

All children adopted by the orphanage are being given the surname “Li” this year, the Guangzhou-based Southern Metropolis Daily said yesterday. “Wang” will be used next year, followed by other Chinese surnames listed in the “Baijiaxing,” a book of 100 common surnames. Staff members of the orphanage said they would also try to think of unique names for each child, rather than middle names representing the location of orphanage, and a randomly picked given name.

The children can also pick their own name later if they do not like the name given by the institute, the head of the orphanage said.

I wonder how many Westerners who have adopted children from China have innocently continued to use such pro forma names, thinking that they must have been given especially and uniquely to their child.

source: Guang dropped as surname for orphans, Shenzhen Daily, February 13, 2006

Shanghai students to focus more on Pinyin at first

Some 20 percent fewer characters will have to be learned during a child’s first two years of school in Shanghai, with more attention being devoted to Pinyin. I’d be happier if this were everywhere, including areas where the native language is Mandarin, but this is good news nonetheless.

Shanghai primary school students will be required to learn 20 percent fewer Chinese characters but spend more time on pinyin in their first two school years, the Shanghai Education Commission said yesterday.

The reform is meant to ease the study burden by making language learning less of a chore.

Starting in the spring semester which beings next week, first-year students will be required to recognize 364 Chinese characters compared with the previous 460.

Altogether 205 characters will be canceled in first two school years out of the former 1,000-plus.

“Despite the city’s education reform, studies we’ve performed in the past months still suggested that young pupils were over-burdened with character recognition and writing tasks. And that reduces a child’s interest in learning,” said Qu Jun, the education commission’s vice director.

Most of the characters eliminated from the requirement list were considered complicated. The canceled contents might be left for extracurricular self-study or postponed to be taught later, authorities said.

It wouldn’t be much help if students have to learn those characters during the same years anyway, just outside of school. Postponing the memorizing of them is the only way for this to make any real difference.

But commission officials said that they haven’t worked out any punishments yet for those who violate the rule.

Also, teachers are being required to spend more time on pinyin — a system that translates Chinese characters into the Roman alphabet — during the first two years of school.

The final paragraph above has a serious error. Pinyin is not “a system that translates Chinese characters into the Roman alphabet.” This sort of thinking is behind a lot of the confusion related to the nature of Chinese characters, the sinitic languages, and Pinyin. The distinction is important: Pinyin is for the Mandarin language, not for Chinese characters.

source: Primary students learn less Chinese characters, Shanghai Daily (via Xinhua), February 10, 2006