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yì‐nián‐yí‐dù

yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually]) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

[Notes: Tap/click on a Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to reveal its “flashcard”; tap/click on a “flashcard” or its Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to hide the “flashcard”. 📖 📄 📘 icons mean 📖 Reveal All, 📄 Reveal Advanced, and 📘 Reveal None re all the “flashcards” in the heading, paragraph, etc. that they are placed at the beginning of.]

This week’s MEotW, “yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually])”, occurs in the following sentence, which, at the time of this writing, jw.org is featuring to invite people to attend the Memorial:

English:

We invite you to attend our annual event to remember the death of Jesus Christ.

Mandarin:

📖 📄 📘 Wǒmen (Wǒ·men we · [pl] 我们 我們) yāoqǐng (invite 邀请 邀請) (you 你) cānjiā (cān·jiā {to take part in} · {to add to} → [to attend] 参加 參加) zhèige (zhèi·ge this · [mw] 这个 這個) yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [annual]) de (’s 的) jìniàn (jì·niàn remembering · {thinking of} → [commemorating] 记/纪念 記/紀念) jùhuì (meeting 聚会 聚會), jìniàn (jì·niàn {to remember} · {to think of} → [to commemorate] 记/纪念 記/紀念) Yēsū (Jesus 耶稣 耶穌) Jīdū (Christ 基督) wèi (for為/爲) rénlèi (rén·lèi human·kind 人类 人類) xīshēng (xī·shēng sacrificed · {(as with a) domestic animal} → [sacrificed] 牺牲 犧牲) shēngmìng (life 生命).

“Yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((Yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually]) on one level of literalness means “one year one occasion/time”, which effectively means “annual”. Its final morpheme “dù (degree; extent; {degree of intensity} | {spending; passing (of time)} [→ [mw for occasions/times]] 度) in this expression serves as a measure word for occasions or times, which likely derives from its meaning of “spending; passing (of time)”. In other expressions, “dù (degree; extent; {degree of intensity} | {spending; passing (of time)} [→ [mw for occasions/times]] 度) can also mean “degree; extent; degree of intensity”:

  • 📖 📄 📘 dùguò (dù·guò {spend; pass (time)} · pass; cross → [spend; pass (time/etc.) | pull/get through; survive] 度过 度過)
  • 📖 📄 📘 tàidu (tài·du state · degree → [attitude; manner] 态度 態度)
  • 📖 📄 📘 wēndù (wēn·dù {(of) being warm} · {degree of intensity} → [temperature] 温度 溫度)
  • 📖 📄 📘 zhìdù (zhì·dù system · extent → [system] 制度)

Same Character, Different Tones

Note that in “yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually])”, the morpheme meaning “one” is first pronounced “yì (one 一)”, with a fourth tone, and then it’s pronounced “yí (one 一)”, with a second tone. This is tone sandhi, and as the MEotW post on “diǎnliàng (diǎn·liàng {dot → [light (v); ignite]} · {to be bright} [→ [illuminate; shine light on]] 点亮 點亮) said:

On the other hand, the unofficial Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus resources join the official Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) publications, old and new, in explicitly indicating tone sandhi for “bù (not 不) and “yī (one 一) (e.g., “búzài (bú·zài not · again; further; continuing; anymore 不再) instead of the standard “bùzài (bù·zài not · again; further; continuing; anymore 不再)) to make things easier for readers, even though this practice is not included in the GB/T 16159-2012 [PRC national] standard’s recommendations.

In the end, what matters most re how anything is written is not just what is officially recommended or what happens to be popular among changing, imperfect humans. Rather, what matters most is what really works best to accomplish the goal of writing: To communicate to readers. This is especially true when God-honouring and life-saving Bible truths need to be communicated. So, this blog and the other Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus resources will continue to seek to render Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) in ways that maximize how clearly, easily, effectively, and appropriately it communicates with readers.

Same Characters, Different Word Boundaries

Another interesting thing to note is that the last two morphemes in “yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually]) can in some contexts form the expression “yídù (yí·dù [(at)] one · {spending; passing (of time) → [mw for occasions/times]} [once; at one time; on one occasion; for a time] 一度)”, which is appropriately written in Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) without a space or other word divider between the two morphemes. Why then, does this blog post render “yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually]) with a hyphen (that acts as a word divider) between its last two morphemes?

The reason for the different renderings of the same two morphemes in the two different expressions is, well, because we are indeed dealing with two different expressions. Whereas “yì‐nián‐yí‐dù ((yì one 一)‐(nián year年/秊)‐(yí one 一)‐(dù {spending; passing (of time)} → [mw for occasions/times] 度) [once a year; annual | annually]) uses its last two morphemes in a “one-[word divider]-[measure word]” pattern, as does “yí (one 一) ge ([mw]個/个)”, “yídù (yí·dù [(at)] one · {spending; passing (of time) → [mw for occasions/times]} [once; at one time; on one occasion; for a time] 一度), treated as one word without a space in it, is used to effectively mean “once; at one time; on one occasion; for a time”. The ABC Chinese-English Dictionary, edited by John DeFrancis and Victor H. Mair, among others, provides these examples of this expression in use:

📖 📄 📘 Wǒmen (Wǒ·men we · [pl] 我们 我們) yídù (yí·dù (at) one · {passing (of time) → [mw for occasions/times]} [once] 一度) shì (were 是) hǎo (good 好) péngyou (friends 朋友).
We were once good friends.

📖 📄 📘 (she 她) yídù (yí·dù (at) one · {passing (of time) → [mw for occasions/times]} [for a time] 一度) duì (towards) huìhuà (huì·huà painting · paintings 绘画 繪畫) gǎn (felt 感) xìngqù (interest 兴趣 興趣).
She was interested in painting for a time.

Context Is the Key, Not Characters

The above points about how the characters “一” and “度” can have different pronunciations or meanings in different contexts remind us that Chinese characters are NOT the ultimate clarifiers of meaning in Mandarin. This excerpt from the MEotW post on “yǔjìng (yǔ·jìng language · {(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place; area] → [condition; situation; circumstances]} → [context] 语境 語境) explains further:

Context and Mandarin Writing Systems

Research into the importance of context turned up a couple of interesting sayings from the business world:

Content is king.
—Bill Gates

Content is king, but context is God.
—Gary Vaynerchuk

Mandarin field language-learners may hear the assertion from Chinese culture traditionalists that it is necessary to use Chinese characters to clarify the ambiguity that results from Mandarin having so many homophones, words that sound the same but that have different meanings. The insinuation, or even the outright accusation, is that the upstart Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) system is thus unusable as a writing system for Mandarin, that the Chinese characters writing system is still the rightful king. Besides, there is so much existing content written in Chinese characters, and content is king!

However, a little consideration of the yǔjìng (yǔ·jìng language · {(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place] → [situation]} → [context] 语境 語境), the language situation or context, shows up the fallacy of this assertion. The Chinese characters writing system exists along with Mandarin speech, and if Chinese characters are truly required to clearly communicate meaning in Mandarin, then that would mean that Mandarin speech on its own, without the help of visible characters, is unusable as a means of communication. That, however, is obviously not true—people who are proficient in spoken Mandarin communicate clearly with each other all the time, undoubtedly pretty much as clearly as proficient English speakers communicate with each other.

The key reason why proficient Mandarin speakers can communicate clearly with each other despite all of the homophones in Mandarin is not that they are constantly referring to Chinese characters, although people do occasionally do that in the current characters-saturated cultural climate. No, the key reason why Mandarin-speakers routinely communicate clearly with each other is because they use sufficient context to clarify any potentially ambiguous homophones. And, since Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is a simple and direct representation of Mandarin speech, anything that is understandable when spoken in Mandarin is understandable when written in Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音)1 Corinthians 14:8–11.

So, while Chinese characters-based content may be so predominant in the Chinese world that it’s king there, context is God, relatively and metaphorically speaking, and Mandarin speech and Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) rightly rely on context, not on Chinese characters, just like we rightly rely on God, not on merely human kings.

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Culture Current Events History Language Learning Theocratic

rénxīn‐huánghuáng

rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

[Notes: Tap/click on a Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to reveal its “flashcard”; tap/click on a “flashcard” or its Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to hide the “flashcard”. 📖 📄 📘 icons mean 📖 Reveal All, 📄 Reveal Advanced, and 📘 Reveal None re all the “flashcards” in the heading, paragraph, etc. that they are placed at the beginning of.]

As 2023 draws to a close, jw.org is featuring the article “2023: A Year of Anxiety—⁠What Does the Bible Say?”. This week’s MEotW, “rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶)”, is used in the title of the Mandarin version of this article:

English:

2023: A Year of Anxiety—⁠What Does the Bible Say?

Mandarin:

📖 📄 📘 2023 Rénxīn (Rén·xīn People’s · Hearts → [Popular/Public Feeling] 人心)Huánghuáng (Huáng·huáng {Being Fearful → [Being Anxious]} · {Being Fearful → [Being Anxious]} 惶惶) de ( 的) (One 一) Nián (Year年/秊): Shìjiè (Shì·jiè {Generation → [World]} · Extent’s → [World’s] 世界) Dàshì (Dà·shì {Big → [Major]} · Events 大事) Zěnyàng (Zěn·yàng (in) What · {Forms → [Ways]} → [How] 怎样 怎樣) Yìngyàn (Yìng·yàn {Respond to} · Verifying (Regarding) → [Fulfil] 应验 應驗) Shèngjīng (Shèng·jīng Holy · Scriptures → [Bible] 圣经 聖經) Yùyán (Yù·yán {In Advance} · Sayings → [Prophecies] 预言 預言)

Breakdown

“Rén (people | person[s] | human[s] | man/men 人) can mean “people”, and “xīn (heart 心) means “heart”. Together, they can literally mean “people’s hearts”, and in the context of “rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶),” they effectively mean “popular/public feeling”.

“Huáng ({[is] afraid; fearful; scared; frightened} [→ [[is] anxious; uneasy; nervous]] 惶) seems to basically literally mean “[is] afraid; fearful; scared; frightened”. In some cases, it can effectively mean “[is] anxious; uneasy; nervous”. (In these definitions, the presence of “[is]” means that this expression can sometimes function as a stative verb, i.e., a verb that describes a state of being, rather than an action. Some more information on stative verbs, quoted from the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary, can be found in the MEotW post on “gāowēn (gāo·wēn high · {being warm → [temperature]} 高温 高溫)”.)

Taken together, the morphemes in “rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶)”, as used in the above example, effectively mean “popular/public feeling being anxious”.

One More Time

In “rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶)”, “huáng ({[is] afraid; fearful; scared; frightened} [→ [[is] anxious; uneasy; nervous]] 惶) is doubled, or repeated. In linguistics, this phenomenon is called reduplication, and it’s quite common in Mandarin. Sometimes, the tone of the duplicated morpheme is kept the same, while other times, the second occurrence’s tone becomes neutral. Off the top of my head, here are some other examples of reduplication in Mandarin:

  • xiǎngxiang (xiǎng·xiang {think about} · {think about} | think · think 想想)
  • chángcháng (cháng·cháng frequently · frequently | often · often | constantly · constantly 常常)
  • mànmàn (màn·màn slowly · slowly [→ [gradually]] 慢慢)
  • kànkan (kàn·kan {look at} · {look at} | look · look | see · see | watch · watch 看看)

Sometimes, one might even come across a Mandarin double double, such as “mǎma‐hūhū ((mǎ·ma horse · horse 马马 馬馬) (hū·hū tiger · tiger 虎虎) [careless; casual | fair; so-so; just passable])”. (Hopefully, this term does not apply to our approach to learning Mandarin, especially if we are doing so for Jehovah’s work in the Mandarin field!)

Idiomatic

Considering its structure, we can say that “rénxīn (rén·xīn people’s · hearts → [popular/public feeling] 人心)huánghuáng (huáng·huáng {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} · {being afraid; fearful; scared; frightened [→ [being anxious; uneasy; nervous]]} 惶惶) is an idiom. However, it does not seem to be a chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(sth. that) has become} · saying → [set phrase (typically of 4 characters); idiom] 成语 成語). This excerpt from the MEotW post on “chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(sth. that) has become} · saying → [set phrase (typically of 4 characters); idiom] 成语 成語) discusses the difference:

So, it appears that while chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(things that) have become} · sayings → [set phrases (typically of 4 characters); idioms] 成语 成語) can be called idioms in English, not all Chinese idioms are chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(things that) have become} · sayings → [set phrases (typically of 4 characters); idioms] 成语 成語). It seems that “chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(things that) have become} · sayings → [set phrases (typically of 4 characters); idioms] 成语 成語)” specifically refers to Chinese idioms that originated in Classical Chinese, or Literary Chinese. This writing style has largely been replaced by written vernacular Chinese, which has been the standard style of writing for Modern Standard Mandarin for about a century now.

Since they originated in Classical Chinese, which hasn’t been current for about a century, chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(things that) have become} · sayings → [set phrases (typically of 4 characters); idioms] 成语 成語) often cannot be fully understood by modern speakers and readers of Mandarin, since knowledge about the source material for chéngyǔ (chéng·yǔ {(things that) have become} · sayings → [set phrases (typically of 4 characters); idioms] 成语 成語) has naturally been fading with the passing of time.

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Culture History Language Learning Names Science Technology

Yànwén

Yànwén (Yàn·wén {Proverb (Korean: Vernacular)} · Writing → [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system)] 谚文 諺文) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

This week’s MEotW is “Yànwén (Yàn·wén {Proverb (Korean: Vernacular)} · Writing → [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system)] 谚文 諺文)”, which seems to be the most commonly used Mandarin expression referring to the modern Korean writing system. In English, we refer to this writing system as “Hangul” or “Hankul”, depending on which romanization system we prefer.

The Korean text “Joseongeul” and “Hangeul,” written in Hangul, the native Korean script.

The Korean text “Joseongeul” and “Hangeul,” written in Hangul, the native Korean script. [source]
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“…By Any Other Name”

One of the first things I noticed while researching this topic is that Korean, English, and Mandarin each have multiple names for the modern Korean writing system. Here is Wikipedia’s summary of its names in Korean and in English:

Official names

The Korean alphabet was originally named Hunminjeong’eum (훈민정음) by King Sejong the Great in 1443.[source] Hunminjeong’eum (훈민정음) is also the document that explained logic and science behind the script in 1446.

The name hangeul (한글) was coined by Korean linguist Ju Si-gyeong in 1912. The name combines the ancient Korean word han (한), meaning great, and geul (글), meaning script. The word han is used to refer to Korea in general, so the name also means Korean script.[source] It has been romanized in multiple ways:

  • Hangeul or han-geul in the Revised Romanization of Korean, which the South Korean government uses in English publications and encourages for all purposes.
  • Han’gŭl in the McCune–Reischauer system, is often capitalized and rendered without the diacritics when used as an English word, Hangul, as it appears in many English dictionaries.
  • hān kul in the Yale romanization, a system recommended for technical linguistic studies.

North Koreans call the alphabet Chosŏn’gŭl (조선글), after Chosŏn, the North Korean name for Korea.[source] A variant of the McCune–Reischauer system is used there for romanization.

Other names

Until the mid-20th century, the Korean elite preferred to write using Chinese characters called Hanja. They referred to Hanja as jinseo (진서/真書) meaning true letters. Some accounts say the elite referred to the Korean alphabet derisively as ‘amkeul (암클) meaning women’s script, and ‘ahaetgeul (아햇글) meaning children’s script, though there is no written evidence of this.[source]

Supporters of the Korean alphabet referred to it as jeong’eum (정음/正音) meaning correct pronunciation, gungmun (국문/國文) meaning national script, and eonmun (언문/諺文) meaning vernacular script.[source]

In addition to all the above, some dictionaries, including the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary, use the English name “onmun” to refer to the modern Korean writing system. This is apparently derived from the Korean name “eonmun (언문/諺文)”, mentioned in the last paragraph of the above quote. Speaking of “eonmun (언문/諺文)”, the Chinese characters used to write it are the same as the Traditional characters used to write this week’s MEotW “Yànwén (Yàn·wén {Proverb (Korean: Vernacular)} · Writing → [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system)] 谚文 諺文)”, indicating that this is where this Mandarin expression came from.

Speaking of “Yànwén (Yàn·wén {Proverb (Korean: Vernacular)} · Writing → [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system)] 谚文 諺文)”, as mentioned at the beginning of this post, this seems to be the expression most commonly used in Mandarin to mean “Hangul”—it is, for example, the main expression used to refer to Hangul in the Mandarin version of an Awake! article about Hangul. Also used in that Mandarin version of that Awake! article—once—to refer to Hangul is the expression “Hánwén (Hán·wén Korean · Writing → [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system)] 韩文 韓文)”. Another Mandarin expression referring to the modern Korean writing system is “Cháoxiǎn Zìmǔ ((Cháo·xiǎn {Royal/Imperial Court [→ [Dynasty]]} · Rare → [North Korea | Chosŏn (Tw pron.: Cháoxiān)] 朝鲜 朝鮮) (Zì·mǔ Word · Mothers → [Letters (of an Alphabet) [→ [Alphabet]]] 字母) [Hangul/Hankul (modern Korean writing system) (name used in North Korea)])”, which corresponds to the Korean expression “Chosŏn’gŭl (조선글)”, mentioned above. (“Cháoxiǎn (Cháo·xiǎn {Royal/Imperial Court [→ [Dynasty]]} · Rare → [North Korea | Chosŏn; [Great] Joseon [State] (Tw pron.: Cháoxiān)] 朝鲜 朝鮮) corresponds to Chosŏn”, the Korean name for North Korea—these two expressions are in fact written with the same Chinese characters.)

An Exceptionally Phonetic Writing System

In the linguistics podcast Lingthusiasm, in the episode entitled “Writing is a Technology”, linguist Gretchen McCulloch said the following about Hangul:

“But Korean’s really cool.” The thing that’s cool about it from a completely biased linguist perspective is that the writing system of Korean, Hangul, the script, is not just based on individual sounds or phonemes, it’s actually at a more precise level based on the shape of the mouth and how you configure the mouth in order to make those particular sounds. There’s a lot of, okay, here are these closely related sounds – let’s say you make them all with the lips – and you just add an additional stroke to make it this other related sound that you make with the lips. Between P and B and M, which are all made with the lips, those symbols have a similar shape. It’s not an accident. It’s very systematic between that and the same thing with T and D and N. Those have a similar shape because they have this relationship. It’s very technically beautiful from an analysis of language perspective.

[Note that the above quote alludes to the featural aspect of Hangul. The term “featural” refers to distinctive features, which are components of speech such as nasality, aspiration, voicing, place of articulation, etc. which are subphonemic, that is, below the level of phonemes. In his book Visible Speech: The Diverse Oneness of Writing Systems, pp. 196–198, John DeFrancis concludes that while Hangul has a featural aspect, and while it is an ingenious system of phonemic representation, it is not a featural writing system.]

Regarding how precisely Hangul represents the sounds of Korean speech, the above-mentioned Awake! article says:

In Korean schools there are no spelling contests! Why not? Because Hankul represents the sounds of Korean speech so accurately that writing them down correctly as you hear them presents no challenge.

Elsewhere, that Awake! article also explains how Hangul systematically represents the sounds of Korean syllables:

All Korean syllables consist of two or three parts: an initial sound, a middle sound (a vowel or vowels) and, usually, an ending sound. Words are made up of one or more syllables. Each syllable is written inside an imaginary box, as shown below. The initial sound (a consonant or the silent ㅇ) is written at the top or upper left. If the middle vowel is vertically shaped, it is written to the right of the initial sound, while horizontally shaped vowels are written under it. Letters may also be doubled, adding stress, and multiple vowels may be compressed and written alongside each other. If the syllable has a final consonant, it always appears in the bottom position. In this way, thousands of different syllables can be represented with Hankul.

I don’t speak or read Korean, but from what I can gather from information like the above quotes, it seems that Hangul is like Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) (“Piecing Together of Sounds”), but for Korean.

The Hangul of Mandarin?

If Hangul is like Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) for Korean, then conversely, Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is like Hangul for Mandarin, at least when it comes to what is accomplished by its technical design—both systems systematically represent the individual phonemes (distinct speech sounds that can distinguish one word from another) of the language it was designed for.

Another thing that Hangul and Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) have in common is that they have both been bitterly opposed and ridiculed by supporters of Chinese characters. Even though it was sponsored by King Sejong of the Korean Yi dynasty, Hangul was opposed by scholars, etc. who were invested in the more complex Chinese characters, the Hànzì (Hàn·zì {Han (Chinese)} · Characters 汉字 漢字) (or the Hanja, as the Koreans call them), and even though Hangul was created way back in the 1440s, the above-mentioned Awake! article says that “more than 400 years elapsed before the Korean government declared that Hankul could be used in official documents.” That was in 1894, and it would not be until 1949 in North Korea and the 1970s in South Korea that Hangul was promoted to become the dominant writing system in these places.

Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) was promoted by Máo Zédōng ((Máo Hair (surname) 毛) (Zé·dōng Marsh · East 泽东 澤東) (the founder of the People’s Republic of China)) and other early movers and shakers in modern China as a full writing system that was intended to eventually replace the Chinese characters, but when Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) was officially adopted by the PRC in 1958, it was not as a full writing system with equal status to that of the Chinese characters. (A scenario like that, with two writing systems for the same language, is known as digraphia.) (By the way, like Hangul and Zhōngguó (Zhōng·guó Central · Nation → [Chinese] 中国 中國) Mángwén (Máng·wén Blind · Writing → [Braille] 盲文) (中国盲文/中國盲文, Chinese Braille), Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音)—designed along similar principles as those other two systems—is indeed a full writing system, not just a pronunciation aid.) As with Hangul, scholars, etc. who were heavily invested in the Chinese characters wouldn’t stand for that. Even as late as 2001, China’s Law on the Standard Spoken and Written Chinese Language of the People’s Republic of China said that in China, Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is officially just “the tool of transliteration and phonetic notation”.

If Hangul took hundreds of years to become the dominant writing system in Korea, even with the added nationalistic motivation of it having been invented in Korea to be used instead of the characters invented in China, then Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) could take even longer to become the dominant writing system for Mandarin, if it ever does, and if this old system were hypothetically allowed to last that long—the supporters of invented-in-China Chinese characters are even more proudly and stubbornly resistant to the idea of changing away from Chinese characters in China itself.

At this rate, the current government of China, as long as it lasts, will probably never explicitly officially approve of using Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) as a full writing system for Mandarin in China, even if it’s just as an alternative to the characters instead of as a total replacement for them. Even if it actually wanted to do so, even this government would hesitate to approve of something like this that would probably be opposed by many of the people of China. (As a historic comparison, in 1977, the PRC promulgated a second round of simplified Chinese characters, but this was rescinded in 1986 following widespread opposition.)

Your Own Personal Hangul for Mandarin?

However, while that may be the situation with the proud worldly nation of China, what about each of us Mandarn field language learners, as individuals who are dedicated to Jehovah God and not to any worldly human culture? Especially if we don’t live in China, under the authority of the current government of China, we are free to choose for ourselves to use Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) as a full writing system for Mandarin and thus be fully empowered by its simplicity and elegance to serve Jehovah better, as long as we don’t allow ourselves to be shackled by mere human tradition, or by peer pressure.

Even in China itself, people should take into account that Article 18 of the above-mentioned Law on the Standard Spoken and Written Chinese Language of the People’s Republic of China says, in part:

The “Scheme for the Chinese Phonetic Alphabet” [Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音)] is the unified norm of the Roman letters for transliterating the names of Chinese people and places as well as Chinese documents and is used in the realms where it is inconvenient to use the Chinese characters or where the Chinese characters cannot be used.

Technically, it could be said that the extraordinarily complex and inhumanly numerous Chinese characters are by their very nature inconvenient, and that when one does not know or remember some or all of the Chinese characters, “the Chinese characters cannot be used” in those situations…

The above-mentioned Awake! article mentions this historical milestone involving Hangul:

Finally, there was a Bible in Korean that could be read by nearly anyone​—even by women and children who had never had the opportunity to learn Chinese characters.

Many Mandarin field language learners, and literally tens of millions of Chinese people around the world as well, have also not learned Chinese characters. Will there ever be a Bible that uses Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) as its main writing system, and not just as a small-print pronunciation aid for the Chinese characters? Perhaps time will tell.