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‘Visiting friends and relatives is murder- suicide. Partying is looking for death.’ Source: social media
‘Visiting friends and relatives is murder- suicide. Partying is looking for death.’ Source: social media

SocietyApril 11, 2020

‘If you love your parents, lock them up!’ The story behind China’s bizarrely aggressive Covid slogans

‘Visiting friends and relatives is murder- suicide. Partying is looking for death.’ Source: social media
‘Visiting friends and relatives is murder- suicide. Partying is looking for death.’ Source: social media

China’s culture of catchy slogans has been vital to its Covid-19 recovery efforts. Shanghai resident Asen Velinov explains the rich history behind some of the bizarre slogans seen on social media.

“Pick where you will be resting – on your couch, in jail, in hospital or in an early grave.”

“Take a walk today and grass will soon cover your grave.”

“Take a bite of a wild animal today – find yourself in hell tomorrow.”

Slogans play a big role in China. The ones above are from Covid-19 banners seen across the country and shared on social media. They can be seen all over the world too, as the power of a soundbite is clear. A pithy short slogan often trumps a well-reasoned explanation if it paints a strong image and uses humour, absurdity or exaggeration to make a point. Here in China, we see them in front of churches and at rallies, hear them chanted by crowds and used by governments to sell messages and ideas.

While in other countries slogan-bearing signs are usually temporary and handheld, in China they are more permanent – often seen on banners (white or yellow characters on red cloth), hanging on walls, fences or between traffic signs or trees.

These slogans have a long history, are still common, and this year played a role in the fight against Covid-19.

‘Take a bite of a wild animal today – find yourself in hell tomorrow’ (Source: social media)

Professor Liu Yuntong, director of the Research Institute of Applied Linguistics at Tongji University in Shanghai, traces the history of such slogans to what some consider to be the first: it comes from the Shang Dynasty (1600 to 1046 BC), and says, “When the sun dies, I will die with it” – the sun being Emperor Zhou.

Slogans, especially the ones on banners, first found real widespread popularity between 1840 and 1949, when various political and social movements started using them to spread their message. After 1949, the Communist Party of China (CCP) further expanded their use, and started using them across the country to mobilise the population for various initiatives. “Their continued use represents an interesting intersection of Chinese language, Chinese culture and the Chinese political system,” says Prof Liu.

The meaning of the banners is best understood with some background information about the language in which they are written. Mandarin is a tonal language, the writing system is based on characters, and the relationship between meaning, pronunciation and written representation is less “natural” than in languages with alphabets. A character is always one syllable (and sometimes a one syllable word), and the number of syllables is limited (as they can only end in a vowel, -n or -ng) to only 410, as opposed to about 15,831 possible syllables in English. As a result, many words sound the same or rhyme, allowing for various puns, double entendres and jokes. The tonality of the language means that phrases often have a catchy rhythm, and the characters further add a visual element, strengthening the “catchiness” of the slogan.

This introduction was necessary because to a Western audience, the slogan-banners below might seem like relics of times long gone. They are still very common in China, but the styles in big cities differ from those in smaller cities and rural areas. In places like Beijing and Shanghai they are prescriptive and dry: “Stay home, wear a mask, wash your hands!” In other areas of the country they can be much more blunt and dramatic. Some of the examples below are from Malaysia, a country with large ethnically Chinese population. The slogans and banners shared in this article are gathered from social media posts; a testament to the power of these short and pithy admonitions.

‘A mask or a ventilator: your only two choices’ (Source: social media)

Translation does not do justice to these slogans. In translation they are often clumsily worded and too literal, but there is a reason that in China they are still a common way for the authorities to communicate with the people: in their original versions many of them are witty, funny and memorable – and as with poetry, their essence is what’s lost in translation. Not all of them are great, of course. Many are cliched, awkward or inappropriately threatening. 

Professor Song Lijue, vice dean of political science and law at the International School of East China University, and professor of translation studies, considers this sort of high-context language the “most difficult to effectively translate” and warns that literal translations can be misleading and awkward sounding to a non-Chinese reader. She says that “finding a balance between ‘spirit’ and literal meaning of the phrases in a foreign language is an art in itself”. 

In China, almost three months after steps were first taken to control the Covid-19 epidemic, these slogans are not so common any more. They were most widespread in early February when then measures were strictest and calls for compliance the most urgent. Unfortunately, since then, words and expressions such as quarantine, isolation, social distancing, lockdown and ventilator have entered the daily vocabulary of many people around the world.

The slogans are a reminder of the measures the Chinese authorities took and warn about the dangers of not complying with them. Even though they are extremely China-specific, they show the framework of an aggressive and comprehensive epidemic management initiative – arguably one of the more successful ones. They were being mostly put up by local government agencies in rural areas and smaller cities.

The translations provided for the slogans in this piece are perhaps not the best possible ones – but they are true to the content and, when possible, the tone and style of the slogans.

‘Visiting friends and relatives is murder-suicide. Partying is looking for death’ (Source: social media)

Prof Liu emphasises that in the eyes of Chinese intellectuals the slogans made by local authorities are vulgar, harsh and aggressive, but also “reasonable and somewhat effective in the sociolinguistic framework that creates them. They do not do a good job ‘reasoning’ with and persuading their intended audience, but they are effective in putting it on notice, and achieving acceptance and desired compliance and/or action.”

Dr Nora Chileva-Xiao, an expert in ancient Chinese literature at Beijing Language and Culture University (BLCU), reminds us that this type of short, memorable speech is still everywhere, and while in Western societies slogan-style propaganda is considered outdated, it does tend to reappear during stressful times or when a soundbite is needed.

‘Report your parents’ illegal gatherings to play mahjong like they used to report illegal internet cafes!’ (Source: social media)

Slogan propaganda also has a place in international relations. The packages containing masks and other donations sent to and from China by governments, companies or individual donors regularly feature slogans offering support and optimism in the efforts against Covid-19. Chileva-Xiao compares them to road signs, “ever-present and usually mandatory: you might be in a hurry, but you have to wait patiently at the red light, or there would be a punishment”.

Xiao Jin, editor-in-chief of Driving Tour Magazine and a tourism industry thought leader, describes them as the simplest form of media. People of all education levels can understand them and that fulfils an important governmental function: informing the public. In recent years ‘banner language’ has moved closer to the type of language that becomes popular on the internet, and aims for humour, levity and self-deprecation. Just like online language, some slogan-banners are rude, improper and vulgar.

‘Go out and your legs will be broken – try to explain yourself and your teeth will get knocked out’ (Source: Weibo)

Banners are used in all sorts of contexts in China: on streets, in schools, in companies and offices, during meetings, events, exhibitions, weddings and travel. They are often present in group photos (which are also very common in China) and make the event, date and group of people easily identifiable. For casual occasions, the banners are usually colourful, but the ones used by government entities are in the traditional and more formal red and white or red and yellow colours. While they can add a strong visual element that maximises the message, banners can also turn into visual pollutants. It’s a sadly common occurrence for tour groups arriving at scenic spots to unfold huge banners that shift the focus from the natural landscape. 

The slogan-banner format is deeply ingrained into the life of Chinese people. Everyone is used to them being around in all sorts of contexts, but they have most significant use and presence in less-developed areas of the country – and are most interestingly worded there too.

During the Covid-19 measures, church signs in some countries have come even closer in content, tone and function to the Chinese slogan banners – like the one below from the US reminding us that “6 feet apart today is better than 6 feet under tomorrow”.

It is difficult to evaluate how truly effective this type of communication is, especially in the context of a public health crisis. The witty, interesting or overly aggressive slogans get shared on social media, and are widely discussed or made fun of. In that sense, they are effective; they keep the conversation going about the reality of the epidemic and the quarantine, and are a reminder about social responsibility and the measures everyone needs to comply with.

Keep going!
A scene from the infectious diseases Biocontainment unit at Middlemore Hospital (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)
A scene from the infectious diseases Biocontainment unit at Middlemore Hospital (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)

SocietyApril 11, 2020

David Galler: Life on the other side of a health crisis

A scene from the infectious diseases Biocontainment unit at Middlemore Hospital (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)
A scene from the infectious diseases Biocontainment unit at Middlemore Hospital (Photo by Hannah Peters/Getty Images)

With each new day, it is becoming increasingly clear that we cannot and should not return to the normality we have come to know in health, writes ICU doctor David Galler.

Over the past few weeks, our lives have been turned upside down and inside out in ways we could never have anticipated. Many of us are contemplating things that we have lost and are aghast at the easy complacency that allowed us to take so much for granted for so long; and now, all of a sudden, we wonder about what life could be like on the other side when the immediate impacts of this pandemic pass.

In this weird transition between a familiar past and an uncertain future, some still expect a quick return to the normality we have known, but with each new day it is becoming increasingly clear, even to them, that cannot and should not be the case.

For our leaders, the decisions they are making now will define their legacy forever. For each of us this is a time we will never forget and the way we respond will define us as individuals in the eyes of our families, and communities. How we behave, and how we continue to respond, will determine the nature of our immediate future – at best one where most of us remain well but living differently until there is a vaccine.

There are some, though, who continue to disregard advice and behave as though nothing has changed. Perhaps they should spend some time with us on the webinars with our intensive care colleagues in Italy, the US and UK to better understand the horror of what they are dealing with and then to know how their actions undermine our collective effort. The stakes are too high for that kind of arrogance and complacency.

I don’t know about you but with so much happening and so much at stake, I am working hard to stay sane. Like riding a roller-coaster, we can choose to fight every turn gripping the bar with white knuckles, or loosen our grip and roll with it. That’s where I have landed, grateful to be still alive and well in this blessed land, knowing that as part of a lucky generation I am not alone in feeling this sudden loss of liberty and luxury perhaps more acutely than those more familiar with such things. The people of Christchurch immediately come to mind, so too do many of my patients and their families whose lives have been cut short or derailed by illness and injury, and of course the experiences of my parents and their generation who suffered so much in the past in war-torn Europe.

At the end of the second world war, my parents were refugees finding their own safe havens on opposite sides of the world, before they found each other and moved to New Zealand where they made a new life. Once here, they were forever grateful to the fine people of this place who welcomed them so warmly. They often spoke of their feelings of wonder and gratitude at having washed up here on these shores, and I will always be grateful for what they sacrificed for me.

Gratitude is a grounding emotion and one that thankfully seems more prevalent in these feverish times. For my part, I am an intensive care doctor and like most people at the frontline of our healthcare services, I am deeply grateful to our government for their skilled, well-informed and expert management of this crisis that has dramatically slowed the spread of Covid-19 within our population, so far preventing the horror that is so evident in Italy, Britain and the United States. I am deeply grateful that New Zealand has a prime minister who respects science and acknowledges and follows the advice of experts. I want to thank my colleagues in public health and the public service for their tireless work.

As bad as this is in so many places, across the broadsheets of the world’s newspapers and on every radio programme, commentators everywhere are talking about a new and in many cases a better life on the other side of this, a future that is for us to imagine, design and build – yes, including for dolphins and fish in the canals of Venice, and less carbon in our atmosphere and nitrogen and algae in our waterways.

With all this happening on the eve of receiving the much-awaited review into our health and disability system led by Heather Simpson, many of us on the front line are talking about the future of healthcare and what we are doing differently now because of this pandemic, and how we might hold onto those things when we reach life on the other side.

Prominent in those conversations are a number of themes, including the need to rebuild capacity and capability in our public health workforce that has performed so admirably to date in helping suppress the spread of Covid-19, especially in my community of South Auckland.

That workforce, and its crucial role in providing a foundation for keeping New Zealanders well, was significantly eroded by the last government, who saw little value in the critical work it did. This crisis hopefully will help restore the mana of that important specialty group. Significant and ongoing resourcing should follow, to restore the capacity and build the capability of that workforce.

Much of its work should and must be directed toward a strategy for the primary prevention of disease, to decrease the appalling rates of harm to communities like mine in South Auckland from unhealthy food, tobacco and alcohol.

That community, like others in the Far North, Te Tairāwhiti, Porirua and elsewhere are particularly vulnerable to the impact of this pandemic. We know from other countries that this virus has a preponderance to kill those with chronic illness and now more and more evidence is pointing to a greater impact on the obese.

Sadly, most global calamities disproportionately affect the poor and those with chronic illness. In New Zealand, our Māori and Pacific populations make up a good proportion of those people and the greatest proportion of those in my area of South Auckland.

The appalling health status of so many here is a complex issue and not helped by poverty, overcrowding, poorly insulated houses, and an extremely high density of fast food outlets, liquor stores and pokie machines. All of my colleagues are deeply anxious that should this virus escape into the community of South Auckland, many will suffer, and our health services will be overwhelmed. Once we reach the other side, it will be time to develop and implement an evidence-based strategy to address the drivers of obesity and the other chronic health conditions that arise from it.

With so much attention diverted to prepare for the fallout from this pandemic, many other services have been put on hold, notably access to necessary, euphemistically called “elective”, surgery – there are few on a public hospital waiting list who don’t need their surgery urgently. This was the case too with the influx of seriously burned patients from the Whakaari/White Island eruption. We learned a lot from that disaster, liaising and working closely with other district health boards to match demand for services with supply regionally and nationally. Perhaps once we know more we will do that again here, such that those who most need an “elective” intervention will get it. I will be surprised if that doesn’t become part of the new mode for managing services on the other side of all of this.

Finally, a shout-out to the prime minister and director general of health for the manner in which they have kept the public informed of their plans and progress in combating this virus to keep people safe and save lives. Their communication has been exemplary; their openness and the transparency that they offer in all matters should reset the bar for public institutions in how they deal with the public. “Nothing about me without me” is a well-known catch cry of the quality in healthcare movement – perhaps when we get to the other side, it will become the norm for all of our health and social services.

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