Tag: Taiwan

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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.

Categories
Culture Current Events History

kǒuzhào

kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩) ← Tap/click to show/hide the “flashcard”

[Note: Tap/click on a Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to reveal its “flashcard”, tap/click on a “flashcard” or its Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) expression to hide the “flashcard”.]

As of this writing, early in the year 2022, the subject of the COVID-19 pandemic has been, to say the least, on people’s minds now for a while. So, it would be good to be able to refer to things related to it in Mandarin when speaking to people in the Mandarin field, or when speaking to our brothers and sisters in the truth.

electron microscope image of SARS-CoV-2—also known as 2019-nCoV, the virus that causes COVID-19

An electron microscope image of SARS-CoV-2—also known as 2019-nCoV, the virus that causes COVID-19
Creative Commons Attribution License logo NIAID

This week’s MEotW, “kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩)”, refers specifically to the kind of mask one puts on to cover one’s nose and mouth, as opposed to other kinds of masks. It pretty much has to refer specifically to this kind of mask, since, as its Pīnyīn (Pīn·yīn {Piecing Together} · Sounds → [Pinyin] 拼音) Plus “flashcard” information shows us, “kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩)” literally means “mouth cover”.

To say “wear/put on” a “kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩)” in Mandarin, one would say “dài (wear; {put on} 戴) kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩)”.

Rhotic (R-Like) Coda

A variant form of “kǒuzhào (kǒu·zhào mouth · cover → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩)” is “kǒuzhàor (kǒu·zhào·r mouth · cover · {child | youth | son → [(diminutive) non-syllabic retroflex suffix; pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect]} → [antiseptic/surgical/breathing/etc. mask (worn over nose and mouth)] 口罩儿 口罩兒)”, with an “r ({child | youth | son} → [(diminutive) non-syllabic retroflex suffix; pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect] 儿 兒)” at the end. This is an example of what in Mandarin is called “érhuà (ér·huà {(to have) ér} · transforming → [adding of “r” as a suffix (pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect); erization] 儿化 兒化)”. Wikipedia summarizes this thusly:

Erhua (simplified Chinese: 儿化; traditional Chinese: 兒化; pinyin: érhuà [ɚ˧˥xwä˥˩]); also called erization or rhotacization of syllable finals[source]) refers to a phonological process that adds r-coloring or the “er” (注音：ㄦ, common words: 耳、尔、儿[source]) sound (transcribed in IPA as [ɚ]) to syllables in spoken Mandarin Chinese. Erhuayin (simplified Chinese: 儿化音; traditional Chinese: 兒化音; pinyin: érhuàyīn) is the pronunciation of “er” after rhotacization of syllable finals.

It is most common in the speech varieties of North China, especially in the Beijing dialect, as a diminutive suffix for nouns, though some dialects also use it for other grammatical purposes. The Standard Chinese spoken in government-produced educational and examination recordings features erhua to some extent, as in 哪儿 nǎr (“where”), 一点儿 yìdiǎnr (“a little”), and 好玩儿 hǎowánr (“fun”). Colloquial speech in many northern dialects has more extensive erhua than the standardized language. Southwestern Mandarin dialects such as those of Chongqing and Chengdu also have erhua. By contrast, many Southern Chinese who speak non-Mandarin dialects may have difficulty pronouncing the sound or may simply prefer not to pronounce it, and usually avoid words with erhua when speaking Standard Chinese; for example, the three examples listed above may be replaced with the synonyms 哪里 nǎlǐ, 一点 yìdiǎn, 好玩 hǎowán. Furthermore, Erhua’s presence in Guoyu (國語) in Taiwan is diminishing and it is often not used at all.[source][source]

Also, the excellent Chinese Pronunciation Wiki has a page on “r ({child | youth | son} → [(diminutive) non-syllabic retroflex suffix; pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect] 儿 兒)”, which points out that the Mandarin “r ({child | youth | son} → [(diminutive) non-syllabic retroflex suffix; pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect] 儿 兒)” is different from the “r” in English. It additionally goes into technical detail about how to use your mouth and tongue to correctly make the Mandarin “r ({child | youth | son} → [(diminutive) non-syllabic retroflex suffix; pronunciation feature in Beijing dialect] 儿 兒)” sound.

Western Worldy Politicization

It’s interesting to note how differently many people with an Eastern cultural background view the wearing of masks to help reduce the risk of catching or spreading COVID-19, compared to how some with a Western cultural background view it. One article that I found while researching this post, “Why East Asians Were Wearing Masks Long Before COVID-19”, summarized the situation this way:

Masking up is second nature to East Asian immigrants like Cho. But others haven’t taken so easily to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recommendation to wear a facial covering. The guidelines have incited a nationwide feud about public health and civil liberties. Some Americans refuse to wear masks, claiming its contrary to their personal freedom. The most strident in the anti-mask movement have called them “unconstitutional,” “autocratic” and “muzzles.”

Meanwhile, in East Asian countries, the majority of the public adapted quickly to mask-wearing (or were already wearing them to begin with) ― something experts believe has contributed to lower COVID-19 death rates.

The article also goes into the long history in Asia of using masks to combat the spread of disease, a history that stretches back past the 2002–2004 SARS outbreak to at least the Great Manchurian Plague of 1910–1911.

Interestingly, the article points out who is considered to be the inventor of the anti-epidemic mask:

The invention of the anti-epidemic mask was attributed to Dr. Wu Lien-teh, a Cambridge-educated Chinese physician who led anti-plague operations on behalf of China in the region [during the Great Manchurian Plague of 1910–1911].

Balance and Subjection to the Superior Authorities

Eastern culture can sometimes go too far in prioritizing the collective at the expense of the individual, and Western culture can sometimes go too far in prioritizing the individual at the expense of everyone else, such that in such cases Eastern and Western cultures end up just being different ways for humans to get things wrong. In contrast, as Jehovah God tells us in the Bible:

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So my ways are higher than your ways
And my thoughts than your thoughts.
—Isaiah 55:9.

Thankfully, as Jehovah’s people, we have balanced and wise direction from his Word and his organization that help us to rise above the ways and thoughts of imperfect humans living in Satan’s world. For example:

Jehovah’s Witnesses cooperate with public health officials. For example, since the COVID-19 pandemic broke out, Jehovah’s Witnesses have continued to publish reminders in hundreds of languages on this website, encouraging adherence to local safety guidelines. These include the importance of physical distancing and of following regulations on public gatherings, quarantining, hand washing, and the wearing of face coverings as well as other practical measures required or recommended by the authorities.—Romans 13:1, 2.
—“Are Jehovah’s Witnesses Opposed to Vaccination?” (article on jw.org)