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Culture Experiences Language Learning Science Technology Theocratic

chuīxū

chuīxū (chuī·xū {puff → [boast; brag]} · {sigh → [praise]} → [boast; brag; lavishly praise oneself or others] 吹嘘 吹噓) ← 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.]

I have long especially liked 1 Corinthians 13. It contains counsel on what really does and doesn’t matter in life, an extensive description and definition of the most important kind of love, and a sublime discussion about the need to become complete, mature, as a person. As these apply to life in general, so too do they apply to our lives as Mandarin field language learners.

As Mandarin field language learners, it can benefit us greatly to consider what we can learn from 1 Corinthians 13, and along the way, we can also consider some of the Mandarin expressions used in that chapter in the current version of the Mandarin New World Translation Bible (nwtsty).

Tooting Your Own Horn?

This week’s MEotW, “chuīxū (chuī·xū {puff → [boast; brag]} · {sigh → [praise]} → [boast; brag; lavishly praise oneself or others] 吹嘘 吹噓)”, is used in verse 4 (WOL) of 1 Corinthians 13:

Screenshot of “_chuīxū_” in 1 Co. 13:4 (nwtsty, CHS+_Pīnyīn_ WOL)

(Dark mode for the Watchtower ONLINE LIBRARY (WOL) website, as shown in the above image, can be enabled in the Safari web browser by using the Noir Safari extension. Other web browsers may also have extensions with similar functionality.)

For comparison, here are the current English and Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus renderings of 1 Corinthians 13:4:

English:

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous. It does not brag, does not get puffed up,

Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus:

📖 📄 📘 Ài (love), yǒu (has 有) nàixīn (nài·xīn {being (of/with) enduring} · heart → [patience] 耐心), yòu (also 又) réncí (rén·cí {is kind} 仁慈). Ài (love), (not 不) jídù ({is jealous} 嫉妒), (not 不) chuīxū (chuī·xū {does puff → [does brag]} · {does sigh → [does praise]} → [does brag] 吹嘘 吹噓), (not 不) zìdà (zì·dà {(does consider) self} · {to be big → [to be great]} 自大),

The “chuī (blow; puff [→ [play (a wind instrument) | boast; brag | flatter | break off; break up; fall through]] 吹) in “chuīxū (chuī·xū {puff → [boast; brag]} · {sigh → [praise]} → [boast; brag; lavishly praise oneself or others] 吹嘘 吹噓) literally means “blow” or “puff”. For example, it’s used this way in “chuīhào (chuī·hào blow · {brass wind instrument} 吹号 吹號)”, which means “blow a brass instrument”, such as a trumpet. In “chuīxū (chuī·xū {puff → [boast; brag]} · {sigh → [praise]} → [boast; brag; lavishly praise oneself or others] 吹嘘 吹噓)”, “chuī (blow; puff [→ [play (a wind instrument) | boast; brag | flatter | break off; break up; fall through]] 吹) is used to effectively mean “boast” or “brag”, kind of a Mandarin version of “toot your own horn”.

The “xū (sigh; {breathe out slowly/gently} [→ [praise]]) in “chuīxū (chuī·xū {puff → [boast; brag]} · {sigh → [praise]} → [boast; brag; lavishly praise oneself or others] 吹嘘 吹噓) literally means “sigh” or “breathe out slowly/gently”. It can be used to effectively mean “praise”, and in this week’s MEotW, it’s evidently used to mean “praise oneself”.

Characters for the Bragging Rights?

A while ago, a young brother said to me that he felt that Chinese characters may be a test for us. I suppose he meant that characters may test our resolve and determination to serve Jehovah in spite of the presumably unavoidable difficulties presented by them. I replied to him that I think characters help show whether we are serving God in the Mandarin field out of pride, or out of love.

Why did I say that? Well, the truth is that, especially now, and more and more so as time goes on, the difficulties traditionally presented to us Mandarin field language learners by Chinese characters are usually avoidable—much of the organization’s core published Mandarin material is now available with Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音), and more and more of its material is becoming available with Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) as time goes on. Also, more and more unofficial material with Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is also becoming available.

So, if a Mandarin field language learner uses characters rather than Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音), it is more and more becoming a choice, not a necessity. When faced with this choice of writing systems, pride will cause one to gravitate towards choosing the system that has difficulties—even if they are unnecessary and avoidable—that one can brag about overcoming, and that brings with it widespread social and cultural prestige that one can bask in. As Lǔ Xùn ((Lǔ Stupid; Rash (surname)) (Xùn Fast; Quick; Swift 迅) (pen name of Zhōu Shùrén, the greatest Chinese writer of the 20th cent. and a strong advocate of alphabetic writing)) explained:

In addition to the limitations of social status and economic means, our Chinese characters present another high threshold to the masses: their difficulty. If you don’t spend ten or so years on them, it’s not easy to cross this threshold alone. Those who cross over it are the scholar-officials, and these same scholar-officials do their utmost to make writing as difficult as possible because it makes them especially dignified, surpassing all other ordinary scholar-officials. …

…If the characters were easy to recognize and everybody could master them, then they would not be dignified, and the scholar-officials would lose their dignity along with them.

So, one of the main reasons why characters are the way they are, and why the Chinese people of the world in general have stuck with characters even though much simpler and more reasonable systems like Zhùyīn (Zhù·yīn {Annotating of} · Sounds → [Zhuyin] 注音 註/注音) and Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) have been around for decades, boils down to pride. Chinese people may show pride in different ways than Westerners are used to, but, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, “proud is as proud does”. Does one keep using an old, overly complex system that one’s ancestors invented and that one has invested much time and effort into, even though a new system has become available that is objectively much simpler and better, and even though lives are at stake? That’s very evidently foolish human pride in action. If a Mandarin field language learner adopts the possibly Christendom-derived attitude of “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” when it comes to characters, then that one will generally be following what turns out to be a prideful course.

The Great Wall of China

Why keep bashing your head against the Great Wall of characters when Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) makes available a way around it? When all is said and done (and written and read), could it be that the reason many do so boils down to pride?

Choices, Consequences

Of course, some situations call for a nuanced view. For example, one may still encounter situations in the Mandarin field in which certain material is only available in characters, so it’s still the practical course for one to learn as many characters as one reasonably can. However, what writing system does one choose to use when one can, and why?

Also, some in the Mandarin field have already been learning characters for so long that they can already recognize most of the ones they encounter, most of the time. So, such ones may feel that they may as well continue to struggle on with characters. However, with the inhuman number and complexity of characters, unfamiliar characters may still occasionally ambush even highly-experienced native Mandarin-speakers, let alone Mandarin field language learners. Also, even the best of us are still human, so we are all susceptible to occasionally being struck by character amnesia because of the aforementioned inhuman number and complexity of the characters.

Even more seriously, as even the young brother mentioned above acknowledged, experience shows that those who focus on learning characters often end up neglecting their Mandarin speech. This can, and often does, result in their not being able to speak Mandarin very powerfully or persuasively when trying to preach to or teach Mandarin-speaking people. However, linguistics (language science) and the Bible itself both testify that being able to “use speech that is easily understood” is a primarily important requirement in the preaching and teaching work that God has assigned to us.—1 Corinthians 14:8–11.

“Love…Does Not Brag”

In contrast to the prideful course chosen by many in the world, and perhaps unwittingly adopted by some in the Mandarin field, love will move one to, when possible, use the system that through its simplicity and elegance enables one to serve Jehovah and one’s Mandarin-speaking neighbours better, faster, regardless of how it is still often looked down on in the traditional popular culture. As the scripture says, “ài (love) (not 不) chuīxū (chuī·xū {does puff → [does brag]} · {does sigh → [does praise]} → [does brag] 吹嘘 吹噓)”.—1 Corinthians 13:4 (WOL, Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus).

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Culture Language Learning Science Technology Theocratic

shěshēn

shěshēn (shě·shēn {give up}; abandon · {body [→ [life]]} [→ [give/sacrifice one’s life/oneself | become a monk (Buddhism)]] 舍身 捨身) ← 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.]

I have long especially liked 1 Corinthians 13. It contains counsel on what really does and doesn’t matter in life, an extensive description and definition of the most important kind of love, and a sublime discussion about the need to become complete, mature, as a person. As these apply to life in general, so too do they apply to our lives as Mandarin field language learners.

As Mandarin field language learners, it can benefit us greatly to consider what we can learn from 1 Corinthians 13, and along the way, we can also consider some of the Mandarin expressions used in that chapter in the current version of the Mandarin New World Translation Bible (nwtsty).

“If I Hand Over My Body…”

This week’s MEotW, “shěshēn (shě·shēn {give up}; abandon · {body [→ [life]]} [→ [give/sacrifice one’s life/oneself | become a monk (Buddhism)]] 舍身 捨身)”, is used in verse 3 (WOL, Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus) of 1 Corinthians 13:

Screenshot of “_shěshēn_” in 1 Co. 13:3 (nwtsty, CHS+_Pīnyīn_ WOL)

(Dark mode for the Watchtower ONLINE LIBRARY (WOL) website, as shown in the above image, can be enabled in the Safari web browser by using the Noir Safari extension.)

In “shěshēn (shě·shēn {give up}; abandon · {body [→ [life]]} [→ [give/sacrifice one’s life/oneself | become a monk (Buddhism)]] 舍身 捨身)”, “shě ({give up}; abandon捨/舍/捈) means “give up; abandon”. As for “shēn (body [→ [self]] 身)”, it literally means “body”, and is sometimes used to effectively mean “self”, as the MEotW post on “shēn (body → [self] 身)lín ({being present (in)}) (his/her/its/their… 其)jìng ({(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place; area] → [condition; situation; circumstances]} 境) pointed out:

In “shēn (body → [self] 身)lín ({being present (in)}) (his/her/its/their… 其)jìng ({(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place; area] → [condition; situation; circumstances]} 境)”, “shēn (body [→ [self]] 身)”, which literally means “body”, is used to effectively mean “self”. Another Mandarin expression in which “shēn (body [→ [self]] 身) is used this way is “xiànshēn (xiàn·shēn {offer → [dedicate]} · {body → [self]} | {offering of → [dedicating of]} · {body → [self]} → [dedication] 献身 獻身)”, which literally means “offer body”, but which effectively means “dedicate self”, as one does before getting baptized.

However, it seems that “shēn (body [→ [self]] 身) is used in 1 Corinthians 13:3 to actually mean “body”, especially considering that the English translation of the phrase it appears in is “hand over my body”:

English:

And if I give all my belongings to feed others, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I do not benefit at all.

Mandarin:

📖 📄 📘 (I 我) jiùsuàn (jiù·suàn {even if} · {figuring → [considering]} 就算) biànmài (biàn·mài changing · sell → [sell off] 变卖 變賣) yíqiè (yí·qiè {one (whole)} · {corresponding (set of)} → [all] 一切) cáiwù (cái·wù (my) wealth · things → [(my) belongings] 财物 財物), ràng ({to allow}) rén (people 人) yǒu ({to have} 有) shíwù (shí·wù eating · matter → [food] 食物) chī ({to eat}吃/喫), hái (also) shěshēn (shě·shēn {give up} · {(my) body} 舍身 捨身) juānqū (juān·qū {relinquish → [contribute]} · {(my) human body} 捐躯 捐軀), yǐcǐ (yǐ·cǐ using · this 以此) zìkuā (zì·kuā {(about) self} · {to boast} 自夸 自誇), què (but) méiyǒu (méi·yǒu not · {do have} 没有 沒有) ài (love), zhè (this) duì (towards → [to]) (me 我) (even 也) háowú (háo·wú {(even) a fine hair (of)} · {does not have} → [does not have even a little] 毫无 毫無) yìchu (yì·chu beneficial · place → [benefit] 益处 益處).

In other contexts, “shěshēn (shě·shēn {give up}; abandon · {body [→ [life]]} [→ [give/sacrifice one’s life/oneself | become a monk (Buddhism)]] 舍身 捨身) could effectively mean “give/sacrifice one’s life/oneself”, or, as used by Buddhists, “become a monk”.

“…So That I May Boast”?

Some Mandarin field language learners may feel that they deserve credit (and maybe a little glory) for the blood, sweat, and tears they have shed to acquire extensive knowledge of the Chinese characters. Perhaps so, but the taking of such pains is not in itself a guarantee that what these pains were taken for is completely and truly worthy and commendable. Colossians 2:23 comes to mind:

Although those things have an appearance of wisdom in a self-imposed form of worship and a false humility, a harsh treatment of the body, they are of no value in combating the satisfying of the flesh.

In other words, just because something is hard, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s good, or was done with good motive, whether that something involves spiritual things, like Paul was speaking of, or technical matters such as which writing system technology to use in a particular situation.

Yes, Chinese characters are hard, and they are the traditionally used writing system for Mandarin Chinese, so a certain amount of hard work may be needed at times to learn (and sometimes relearn) certain Chinese characters if one is to function well in the Mandarin field, and many Mandarin field language learners have shown love by being willing to put in the necessary effort in such situations. However, in other situations, such as when an easier alternative like Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) is readily available, as is becoming more and more the case these days, what would be proved by continuing to bash one’s head against the Great Wall of Chinese characters when it’s not actually necessary?

Besides, as linguists (language scientists) and God’s Word the Bible (at 1 Corinthians 14:8–11) both tell us, what’s really of primary importance in how we use language in God’s service is, not writing systems like Chinese characters, but understandable speech. With points like the above in mind, let us continue to make sure that we are using our precious, limited, dedicated time well, out of love, and not just so that we may “boast”.

The Great Wall of China

Why keep bashing your head against the Great Wall of characters when Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) makes available a way around it?

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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.