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fā yǔyīn

({send out})
yǔyīn (yǔ·yīn {language → [speech]} · sounds → [voice message] 语音 語音) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

While doing research for the MEotW post on “tíbǐ (tí·bǐ {carry (hanging down from the hand) → [raise; lift]} · pen; pencil; {writing brush} [→ [start writing; write]] 提笔 提筆)wàng (forget 忘) (character 字), I came across the web article “Why is character amnesia in China considered problematic?”. One of the points it makes involves this week’s MEotW, “fā ({send out}) yǔyīn (yǔ·yīn {language → [speech]} · sounds → [voice message] 语音 語音) (send voice message):

Another feature that has gained huge popularity in China recently is that of ‘sending voice messages’ (发语音, fā yǔyīn). Chinese Whatsapp equivalent ‘WeChat’ was the first in the world to introduce this feature in its app. Social media research by University College London has shown that Chinese WeChat users find voice messaging convenient because it eliminates the need to text. Informants have reported that sending written messages always takes more time, and that inputting Chinese characters was a struggle (Wang & McDonald, 2013). With voice messaging, or even with pinyin input, people do not need to memorize the exact order of each stroke of a character when typing a text. They can just rely on knowing the pronunciation and recognizing the character. The prevalence of typing and texting on cellular devices has been correlated to reduced active-character knowledge by Chinese natives, leading to the tibiwangzi-phenomenon (Williams, 2016).

Sending, Language, Sounds

The “fā ({send out}; issue; emit [→ [deliver | utter; express | become rich]]) in “fā ({send out}) yǔyīn (yǔ·yīn {language → [speech]} · sounds → [voice message] 语音 語音) literally means “send out; issue; emit”, and it can also be used to mean various things such as “deliver”, “utter; express”, and “become rich”. With such a variety of meanings, it shows up in various expressions, such as:

  • fāchū (fā·chū issue; send; emit · out 发出 發出)
  • fāchòu (fā·chòu emit · {being stinking} → [smell bad; stink] 发臭 發臭)
  • fāshēng (fā·shēng {issue forth} · {come to life} → [happen] 发生 發生)
  • fācái (fā·cái {issue forth} · wealth; riches → [get rich; make a fortune] 发财 發財) (“Fā ({issue forth (riches)} → [become rich]) used on its own to mean “become rich” is probably an abbreviation of this expression.)
  • fāyīn (fā·yīn {sending out; issuing → [uttering] [of]} · sound → [pronouncing/articulating/enunciating | pronunciation; articulation; enunciation] 发音 發音)
  • etc.

The “yǔ (language; speech; tongue | saying; proverb | words; expression | speak; say) in “fā ({send out}) yǔyīn (yǔ·yīn {language → [speech]} · sounds → [voice message] 语音 語音) basically means “language”. It can also particularly mean “speech”—according to a basic principle of linguistics, speech is the primary aspect of human language. This “yǔ (language; speech; tongue | saying; proverb | words; expression | speak; say) is used in:

  • yǔyán (yǔ·yán language; tongue · {(type of) speech} 语言 語言)
  • Guóyǔ (Guó·yǔ National · Language → [(Modern Standard) Mandarin (term commonly used in Taiwan)] 国语 國語)
  • Hànyǔ (Hàn·yǔ {Han (Chinese)} · Language [→ [(Modern Standard) Mandarin]] 汉语 漢語)
  • Hányǔ (Hán·yǔ Korean · Language 韩语 韓語)
  • Yīngyǔ (Yīng·yǔ English · Language 英语 英語)
  • etc.

(Note that while “Yīngyǔ (Yīng·yǔ English · Language 英语 英語), for example, refers to English language speech, “Yīngwén (Yīng·wén English · Writing 英文) refers, not to English speech, but to English language writing.)

The “yīn (sound [→ [musical note/sound; tone; pronunciation | syllable | news; tidings]] 音) in “fā ({send out}) yǔyīn (yǔ·yīn {language → [speech]} · sounds → [voice message] 语音 語音) basically means “sound”, and it can also be used to mean “musical note/sound”, “tone”, “pronunciation”, “syllable”, and “news; tidings”. It is used in:

  • shēngyīn (shēng·yīn sound; voice · sound 声音 聲音)
  • yīnyuè (yīn·yuè {(musical) sound} · music → [music] 音乐 音樂)
  • Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音)
  • Zhùyīn (Zhù·yīn {Annotating of} · Sounds → [Zhuyin] 注音 註/注音)
  • Mǎtài (Matthew 马太 馬太) Fúyīn (Fú·yīn Blessings · News 福音)
  • etc.

Speech is Natural, Characters, Not So Much

Writing is by now an age-old technology for recording and transmitting human speech. Now, in 2023, audio recording and transmitting technology has been available for a long time that actually allows one to directly hear the recorded speech pretty much as it originally sounded. Additionally, such technology is getting more and more common and accessible, to the point that many are finding that it often is faster and easier to send audio voice messages than to write and send written messages, especially when using as complex and cumbersome a writing system as Chinese characters.

True, in some situations, writing has some advantages over speech, but overall, the linguistic principle remains true that when it comes to human language, speech is primary and writing is secondary. Indeed, if God had meant for us humans to mainly use writing to communicate, then he could easily have designed our bodies with built-in screens that are able to dynamically display writing, like even humans know how to make. Instead, God designed our brains and bodies such that parts of them are specialized for directly understanding and producing speech.

Thus, it is quite natural that people would often take advantage of technology that has become available that allows one to actually hear recorded speech, instead of always settling for the visual abstractions of writing. And, when writing is appropriate, it is similarly relatively natural for people to make use of writing systems like Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together of} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) that are primarily phonetic, that is, focusing on directly representing the sounds of speech.

The National, the Political, the Universal(?), the Individual, the Rituals

On the other hand, rather than naturally reflecting divine wisdom, the attachment of many to Chinese characters instead reflects some human shortcomings. On a national level, the justification that characters are helpful in politically unifying China in spite of it being comprised of groups speaking different languages is yet another example of a human ruling authority prioritizing its own political power and survival over what’s actually good for the people. Besides, there’s actually nothing special about characters when it comes to being usable by people who speak different languages. As John DeFrancis put it in his book The Chinese Language: Fact and Fantasy, in the chapter entitled “The Universality Myth” (p. 159),

Chinese characters used by Asians speaking different languages are no more universal than are Latin letters used by Europeans who also speak different languages.

For example, while it’s true that the character “台” is recognized by both Mandarin-speakers and Cantonese-speakers as meaning “table”, it’s also true that “table”, written in Latin alphabet letters, is recognized by both English-speakers and French-speakers as meaning “table”.

(In China specifically, rather than characters, say, allowing Mandarin-speakers who don’t know Cantonese to understand written-out Cantonese speech, with its unique vocabulary and characters, and vice versa, what has actually happened is that the politically dominant Mandarin-speakers have basically forced speakers of Cantonese, Shanghainese, etc. to learn and use written Mandarin instead of actual written Cantonese, Shanghainese, etc.)

On a more individual level, many who are attached to characters show that they cling to what is old and familiar, even if it is problematic, instead of reaching out for and embracing positive change and progress. Also, many who cling to characters and the intricate procedures required to handwrite them show that they prioritize traditions, rituals, and procedures over what really brings better results. As Jesus said, though, “wisdom is proved righteous by its works”, not by its traditions, rituals, and procedures.—Matthew 11:19.

Categories
Culture Current Events Language Learning Science

bǎilàn

bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

In 2022, this week’s MEotW, “bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛)”, gained popularity among some young people in China as an expression that represents their approach to life in view of the difficult, even seemingly hopeless work culture, societal expectations, etc. that they are faced with. “Bǎilàn (Bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛)” represents a progression beyond “tǎngpíng (tǎng·píng lie; recline · {[to be] flat} 躺平)”, a past MEotW—just compare the cats!

Screenshot of some image results from searching for “摆烂” (“bǎilàn”) on Google

Some image results from searching for “摆烂” (bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛)) on Google

Reports from Around the Internet

Here are some of the many media reports about this expression:

The rise of ‘bai lan’: why China’s frustrated youth are ready to ‘let it rot’ | China | The Guardian

Here are some quotes from the above article:

In recent days, this phrase – and more previously ‘tang ping’ (lying flat, 躺平), which means rejecting gruelling competition for a low desire life – gained popularity as severe competition and high social expectations prompted many young Chinese to give up on hard work.

But bai lan has a more worrying layer in the way it is being used by young people in China: to actively embrace a deteriorating situation, rather than trying to turn it around.

Prof Mary Gallagher, director of the Centre for Chinese Studies at the University of Michigan, says ‘bai lan’ is not necessarily a sentiment unique to China. “It is a bit like the ‘slacker’ generation in America in the 1990s. And like ‘tang ping’ last year, it is also a rejection against the ultra-competitiveness of today’s Chinese society.”

More than 18% of young Chinese people aged between 16 and 24 were jobless in April – the highest since the official record began. “Hard to find a job after graduation this year? Fine, I’ll just bai lan – stay at home and watch TV all day,” wrote one netizen who struggled to find work, despite China’s top leader urged young people to fight for the future.

Language Log » “Let it rot”

For a really deep dive into “bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛)”, check out this extended video news report from CNA, an English language news network based in Singapore:

“Letting It Rot” in the Mandarin Field?

Perhaps we can apply “bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {place; arrange → [assume; put on (air of) | exhibit; display]} · {being rotten; decayed; spoiled | worn out; broken; ragged; crappy | mushy} 摆烂 擺爛)” to how some may be resigned to being “crappy”, or at best mediocre, at the language-related aspects of being in the Mandarin field.

Some Mandarin field language learners have noticed that after an initial period of progress, they—and perhaps some/many of their fellow workers—may have plateaued, or leveled out in how good they are with the Mandarin language. Instead of moving on to a reasonable level of fluency or mastery, they may have gotten stuck for a long time at a “crappy” or at best mediocre level.

They may be resigned to this situation, or they may even actively embrace it, perhaps reasoning that the Great Wall of Characters is what it is, or that Mandarin just sounds too different from what they’re used to (e.g., with its tones), or that they personally just don’t have the intelligence or the talent to do any better. They may thus quit trying to do any better, or they may even quit the Mandarin field altogether. Such ones have effectively chosen to “bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {arrange → [exhibit]} · {being crappy} 摆烂 擺爛)” with regard to their Mandarin and their service in the Mandarin field.

The Great Wall of China

Can we do better than to bǎilàn (bǎi·làn {arrange → [exhibit]} · {being crappy} 摆烂 擺爛) when faced with the Great Wall of Characters?

Note, though, that changing to focus on first principles of language rather than sticking to played out traditional learning methods can provide fuel and energy for progress beyond being “crappy” or just mediocre at using the Mandarin language in your service to Jehovah God and your Mandarin-speaking neighbours. For example, while traditional Chinese culture dictates that Mandarin learners must focus on learning the extraordinarily and unnecessarily complex Chinese characters, first principles of language–as illuminated by linguistics, the scientific study of language—hold that SPEECH is actually the primary aspect of any human language, not writing, even if that writing is as traditionally and culturally entrenched as Chinese characters are. Indeed, I can personally testify that I have found that changing focus from the traditionally mandated crazy-complex characters to Mandarin SPEECH, with the help of the simple and elegant Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) writing system, is working to help me make noticeable ongoing progress in how much Mandarin I understand, and in how much I speak and sound like a native speaker of Mandarin.

Of course, such progress is personally satisfying, but as Jehovah’s dedicated servants and fellow workers, we should be even more concerned about how Jehovah views our efforts. Here are a couple of scriptures that may help us to understand Jehovah’s view of unnecessarily “crappy” or mediocre ‘sacrifices of praise’ (Hebrews 13:15) that some may offer in the Mandarin field:

6 “‘A son honors a father, and a servant his master. So if I am a father, where is the honor due me? And if I am a master, where is the fear due me?’ Jehovah of armies says to you priests who are despising my name.

“‘But you say: “How have we despised your name?”’

7 “‘By presenting polluted food on my altar.’

“‘And you say: “How have we polluted you?”’

“‘By saying: “The table of Jehovah is something to be despised.” 8 And when you present a blind animal as a sacrifice, you say: “It is nothing bad.” And when you present a lame animal or a sick one: “It is nothing bad.”’”

“Try presenting them, please, to your governor. Will he be pleased with you or receive you with favor?” says Jehovah of armies.

9 “And now, please, appeal to God, that he may show us favor. With such offerings from your own hand, will he receive any of you with favor?” says Jehovah of armies.

Malachi 1:6–9.

15 ‘I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were cold or else hot. 16 So because you are lukewarm and neither hot nor cold, I am going to vomit you out of my mouth. 17 Because you say, “I am rich and have acquired riches and do not need anything at all,” but you do not know that you are miserable and pitiful and poor and blind and naked, 18 I advise you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may become dressed and that the shame of your nakedness may not be exposed, and eyesalve to rub in your eyes so that you may see.

Revelation 3:15–18.

We should also remember that moving beyond “crappiness” or mediocrity in our Mandarin can help us to be more able to give spiritual help to the people in the Mandarin field who looking for something beyond the crappiness and mediocrity of this old system of things, something beyond the selfish, materialistic, and ultimately meaningless rat race promoted by Satan’s world. These people need the good news of God’s Kingdom, and they need people like us to share it with them in a language that they will understand and respond to from the heart.—Mark 6:34.

Categories
Culture History

chá

chá (tea 茶) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

Long before drinking tea became a big part of English culture, it had been a big part of Chinese culture. As Wikipedia summarizes:

An early credible record of tea drinking dates to the third century AD, in a medical text written by Chinese physician Hua Tuo.[source] It was popularised as a recreational drink during the Chinese Tang dynasty [(618–907 CE)], and tea drinking subsequently spread to other East Asian countries. Portuguese priests and merchants introduced it to Europe during the 16th century.[source] During the 17th century, drinking tea became fashionable among the English, who started to plant tea on a large scale in British India.

Similarly, the English word “tea” and its doublet “chai” originally came from the words for “tea” in different Chinese languages. This week’s MEotW, “chá (tea 茶)”, is the word for “tea” in Mandarin.

“Tea” and its Doublet

Hold on, you may say, what’s a doublet? Here is a definition:

doublet

One of two (or more) words in a language that have the same etymological root but have come to the modern language through different routes.

So, how did “tea” and its doublet “chai” both end up in the English language after having come from the same root through different routes?

Linguists Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne discussed this on their podcast Lingthusiasm:

Lauren: One of the things I always find interesting about these loanwords that come to us in batches from particular domains is how it highlights global history, and usually global histories of trade and different power dynamics that have operated over that history. One of my absolute favourite stories is the story of tea. We’ve already talked about “chai” and “chia” in Nepali, “tea” in English. The words for “tea” in many of the world’s languages appear to be related. They’ll either have some kind of /te/ or /ti/ pronunciation or some kind of /t͡ʃ/ – “chia,” “chai” pronunciation. That’s because there were two main places in China from which tea travelled to all the different markets in the world.

Gretchen: In Mandarin, which is historically more spoken towards the centre of China, the word for tea is “cha,” but in Min Nan, which is also a variety of Chinese as spoken in the coastal province of Fujian, it’s pronounced /te/. They use the same character, but they’re pronounced differently, which is very common for how Chinese gets written. The key thing here is “coastal” because people who encountered the plant and the drink tea via the sea, via Fujianese traders, learned to pronounce it /te/ or variants on /te/. In French and German, it’s /te/. In English, it used to be /te/ until the vowel shifted. Whereas people who encountered tea through Central China, through land routes like the silk road – so through Sinitic “cha” – you get Mandarin “cha,” Korean “cha,” Japanese “ocha,” but also Hindi “chai,” Persian “chai,” Arabic “shai,” Turkish “chai,” Russian “chai,” and you’re down to Swahili “chai,” all goes through that land route, and sometimes via Persia, to get from “cha” to “chai.” The great maps that people have produced where you can tell if people encountered tea through the land route where they get “cha,” which becomes “chai,” or through the sea route, which becomes “te” and variants on “te” like “tea.”

The Development of Modern Mandarin

The mention above of historical Mandarin reminds me of a book that I read a while ago, A Billion Voices: China’s Search for a Common Language, by David Moser. Here is an excerpt:

After the fall of the Qing Dynasty and the establishment of the Republic of China in 1912, an urgent priority for the new Chinese government was the task of establishing a common language for a linguistically fractured China. When Mao took power in 1949, language unification continued to be of vital importance to the nation building agenda. Faced with the challenge of unifying a vast country populated with hundreds of ethnicities, languages, and dialects, these political leaders were confronted with some of the same linguistic problems and conundrums raised above: Is there such a thing as ‘the Chinese language’? Should the Chinese people share a common tongue? How should it be defined? How should pronunciation, vocabulary, and correct usage be determined? Should one standard language replace the numerous other regional variations, or should all other forms of Chinese continue to flourish? Should written Chinese continue to use the centuries-old character system, or should it be replaced with an alphabet, or some other phonetic system? And who, after all, is the final arbiter for such decisions?

In the PRC, the twentieth century quest for a solution to these problems has resulted in a version of Chinese called Putonghua. How did China arrive at this common language?

In what follows, I will present a brief historical overview of that process, and trace the trajectory of Putonghua as it moved into the twenty-first century.

The Cantonese Connection

Getting back to how historical words for “tea” in different Chinese languages ended up leading to the words “tea” and “chai” in English, here is some other information, that I found on the World Atlas of Language Structures website:

Most words for ‘tea’ found in the world’s languages are ultimately of Chinese origin, but they differ significantly in their form due to their coming via different routes. The differences begin already on Chinese soil. Most Sinitic languages have a form similar to Mandarin chá, but Min Nan Chinese, spoken e.g. in Fujian and Taiwan, has instead forms like te55 (Chaozhou). The Dutch traders, who were the main importers of tea into Europe, happened to have their main contacts in Amoy (Xiamen) in Fujian. This is why they adopted the word for ‘tea’ as thee, and in this form it then spread to large parts of Europe. The influence from Amoy is also visible in many languages spoken in the former Dutch colonies, as in Malay/Indonesian and Javanese teh. However, the first European tea importers were not the Dutch but the Portuguese, in the 16th century; their trade route went via Macao rather than via Amoy, and consequently Portuguese uses chá, derived from Cantonese cha.

Thus, as in other aspects, it seems that the first contact between the West and China when it comes to tea involved the Cantonese.