nànmín
(nàn·mín
calamity; disaster; adversity; distress · {person of a certain occupation} → [refugee]
难民
難民)
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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}
难
難)”, 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}
难
難)” 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.