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bàofā

bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

On February 24, 2022, Russia sent significant military forces into Ukraine, resulting in the largest scale open warfare in Europe since World War II. Knowing certain Mandarin expressions will help us in the Mandarin field as we hear about and talk about Ukraine in the time ahead.

The Mandarin version of the article “Russia Invades Ukraine”, recently featured on the home page of jw.org, twice uses the expression “bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發)”, this week’s MEotW. As can be seen from the Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus information above, saying “zhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war] 战争 戰爭) bàofā (bào·fā exploding · issuing → [erupting; breaking out] 爆发 爆發)” in Mandarin is like saying “war erupting/breaking out” in English.

A Verb That Can Be a Noun

While the morphemes making up “bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發)” are literally verbs, “bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發)” can also at times be used as a noun. For example, saying “zhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war] 战争 戰爭) de (’s 的) bàofā (bào·fā exploding · issuing → [erupting/eruption; breaking out] 爆发 爆發)” in Mandarin is like saying “the eruption of war” in English.

Such verbal/gerundial nouns were discussed in the MEotW post on “jiàodǎo (jiào·dǎo teaching · {guiding [→ [instructing]]} 教导 教導)”:

One interesting thing to note about “jiàodǎo (jiào·dǎo teaching · {guiding [→ [instructing]]} 教导 教導)” (and about “jiàoxun (teaching → [reprimanding | knowledge gained from an error] 教训 教訓)”, for that matter) is that their component morphemes seem to basically be verbs. In certain contexts, however, they are used as nouns. An example of this being done in English is that “teach” and “teaching” are verbs (e.g. “Jesus was teaching the crowd.”), but in certain contexts, “teaching” is used as a noun (e.g. “The crowd was amazed at the teaching Jesus shared with them.”). When a word is used this way, it’s called a verbal noun, or a gerundial noun. Verbal nouns are quite common in Mandarin.

Backwards and Forward

Another interesting thing to note is that in the article mentioned above, the first occurrence of “bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發)” has it coming after the word “zhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war; warfare] 战争 戰爭)” (“zǔzhǐ (zǔ·zhǐ {to prevent} · {to stop} 阻止) zhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war] 战争 戰爭) bàofā (bào·fā exploding · issuing → [erupting] 爆发 爆發)”), but in the second occurrence, “bàofā (bào·fā exploding; bursting · {sending out}; issuing → [erupting; bursting/breaking out | explosion; eruption] 爆发 爆發)” comes beforezhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war; warfare] 战争 戰爭)” (“rúguǒ (rú·guǒ if · {fruit → [if indeed]} 如果) bàofā (bào·fā explodes · issues → [erupts] 爆发 爆發) zhànzhēng (zhàn·zhēng war · contending → [war] 战争 戰爭)”). The first occurrence, with some context, is like saying “to prevent war (from) erupting” in English, while the second, with some context, is like saying “if erupts war” in English.

This reminds us that while word order is sometimes reversed in Mandarin compared to English, there is also a certain elasticity, or flexibility, in how words can be ordered in Mandarin, as indeed there also is in English. (While “if erupts war” isn’t quite idiomatic (natural to a native speaker) in English, I don’t think it’s actually wrong, word order-wise—I’m pretty sure constructs with similar word order can be found in English poetry or song lyrics, for example.)

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Culture Current Events Language Learning

nànmín

nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

On February 24, 2022, Russia sent significant military forces into Ukraine, resulting in the largest scale open warfare in Europe since World War II. Knowing certain Mandarin expressions will help us in the Mandarin field as we hear about and talk about Ukraine in the time ahead.

As of this writing, the article “Refugee Crisis​—Millions Flee Ukraine” is being featured on jw.org. In the Mandarin version of that article, the English word “refugee” is translated as “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, this week’s MEotW.

While it may seem odd to say in the Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus information that a refugee has an “occupation”, note that an occupation can be defined, not just as a job or profession, but also as “any activity that occupies a person’s attention”. Unfortunately, being a refugee certainly “occupies a person’s attention”.

(By the way, in the Mandarin version of the above-mentioned article, “refugee crisis” is translated as “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity · {persons of a certain occupation} → [refugees] 难民 難民) cháo (tide → [(social) upsurge] 潮)”. “Cháo (tide [→ [(social) upsurge; current; trend]] 潮)” literally means “tide”, which is an easily understood metaphor, similar to how in English we may speak of a “wave” of refugees.)

A Shifty Character

One may notice that the first Chinese character used to write “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, “难/難”, is also the Chinese character used to write “nán ({[is] difficult}; {[is] hard} | difficultly | {make difficult/difficulties})”, a common word that basically means “difficult”. One then can hardly fail to notice that whereas with “nànmín (nàn·mín calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee] 难民 難民)”, “难/難” is pronounced with a fourth tone, with “nán ({[is] difficult}; {[is] hard} | difficultly | {make difficult/difficulties})” it is pronounced with a second tone. But, aren’t characters supposed to be the grand clarifiers of meaning in a Mandarin language awash in homophones (words that sound the same, but that have different meanings)?

Yes, it has become customary to rely (too much) on characters that are seen to disambiguate or clarify pronunciations that are heard, but the truth is that characters themselves can also be ambiguous on their own, since, as our example above shows, characters can have multiple pronunciations and meanings.

What is the real ultimate clarifier of meaning in Mandarin, even when it has been allowed to develop as many homophones as it has? The ultimate clarifier is context, not characters! For example, when we see that “难/難” is followed by “民”, that context tells us that here, “难/難” is pronounced as “nàn”, with its associated meaning, not as “nán”, with its different associated meaning. On its own, without context, the character “难/難” is ambiguous.

For more information on why it’s problematic to rely on characters to disambiguate homophones in Mandarin, see the subheading “But There Are So Many Words That Sound the Same!” in the article “Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Was Plan A”.

“Context is God”

Regarding context, the MEotW post on “yǔjìng (yǔ·jìng language · {(set of) boundaries → [(bounded) place; area] → [condition; situation; circumstances]} → [context] 语境 語境)” had this to say:

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} · 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} · 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} · 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} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) rightly rely on context, not on Chinese characters, just like we rightly rely on God, not on merely human kings.

Categories
Culture Current Events

rùqīn

rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

On February 24, 2022, Russia sent significant military forces into Ukraine, resulting in the largest scale open warfare in Europe since World War II. Knowing certain Mandarin expressions will help us in the Mandarin field as we hear about and talk about Ukraine in the time ahead.

The article “Russia Invades Ukraine” has been featured on jw.org since not long after the crisis began, and the Mandarin translation of that article’s title is “Éluósī (Russia 俄罗斯 俄羅斯) Rùqīn (Rù·qīn Enters · Invades → [Invades] 入侵) Wūkèlán (Ukraine 乌克兰 烏克蘭) 🔗”. So, we can see that this week’s MEotW, “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”, corresponds with the English word “invades”.

To Be Resultative…

Another way to say “invade” in Mandarin is “qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)”, which has the same morphemes as “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”, but in reversed order. There may be a difference between these two words, since the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary refers to “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)” as a verb, while it refers to “qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)” as a resultative verb, in which “ (enter; {go into}; join 入)” is taken to mean “into”, as opposed to the verb “enter”.

Or Not to Be Resultative?

On the other hand, the dictionaries I have checked re “ (enter; {go into}; join 入)” itself, including the ABC Chinese-English Dictionary, emphasize its meaning as being the verb “enter”, and not so much as being the preposition “into” (although I think it can be used that way). If we indeed take both their morphemes to be verbs, then it would seem that the case of “rùqīn (rù·qīn enter; {go into} · invade; {intrude into} → [invade; intrude into] 入侵)”/“qīnrù (qīn·rù invade; {intrude into} · {enter | [go] into} → [invade; intrude into] 侵入)” is similar to the case of “fǎlǜ (law 法律)”/“lǜfǎ (law 律法)”.

Regarding “fǎlǜ (law 法律)”/“lǜfǎ (law 律法)”, the MEotW post for “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” had this to say:

But, Why?

If “lǜfǎ (law 律法)” and “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” both mean basically the same thing, why did the world’s Mandarin-speaking population bother to switch the order of “ (law; statute; rule; regulation 律)” and “ (law | method; way; mode | standard; model | {magic arts} | {follow; model after} 法)” in popular usage? Who knows? Appendix A2 of the Mandarin NWT Bible, probably wisely, does not get into the why of it, just mentioning that “fǎlǜ (law 法律)” is now the more common usage. Even if it turns out that there was a reason, it may not be what most would consider a good reason. Sometimes people are just weird, and, speaking as a Chinese person myself, that includes Chinese people—just look at some of the arbitrary ways in which Chinese characters have been designed, that have turned trying to figure out the pronunciations and meanings of unfamiliar Chinese characters into a guessing game.

Speaking of what’s commonplace or popular and why, I am reminded of this quote from William Goldman, who wrote the screenplay for The Princess Bride as well as the screenplays for several other successful, well-known movies:

Nobody knows anything…Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what’s going to work. Every time out it’s a guess

Speaking of The Princess Bride, that movie is a treasure trove of quotable quotes, including this one that serves as a precautionary admonition to us Mandarin language-learners:

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.