The Economist May 28th 2022 China 55
A generationaldivide
I
n recent days, scholars of culture in China have been locked in
serious argument about a silly claim: namely, that young people
are killing the Chinese language. Their wrangling has filled social
media sites followed by liberal intellectuals, a lively but embattled
online world where blog posts may be censored after an hour, but
still earn hundreds of thousands of views in that time.
A first rock was lobbed into this intellectual pond on May 20th,
with a post entitled “Chinese is probably dead”. The author accus
es younger netizens and writers of adopting the language of “giant
babies” when discussing grave and grownup topics. Using the
penname Wang Zuozhongyou (or Wang LeftCentreRight), he re
serves special loathing for euphemisms that soften the rough edg
es of China’s “zerocovid” policy, in both social media and official
news reports. He notes how pandemic workers in white fullbody
suits are often called “Big Whites”, a reference to a cute robot from
a cartoon film. In a play on words, people who test positive for co
vid19 are called “little sheep” or “twolegged sheep” (the charac
ters for positive and sheep sound the same), and are congratulated
for “graduating” when they emerge from quarantine hospitals.
This is reducing the suffering of others to children’s jokes, the
blogger grumbles. His post was censored within about 24 hours,
but not before it was widely copied and shared.
Many intellectuals share Mr Wang’s worry that China’s public
discourse is being infantilised. Several wellknown bloggers crit
icised a recent fad for posting online videos of children, but also
young adults, dancing and performing “Listen to Me Say Thank
You”, a sicklysweet and popular song, for pandemic workers. Oth
ers, notably former journalists from news outlets once famous for
testing the boundaries of free speech, point to the sentimental yet
censorious reactions of many netizens to fatal accidents and natu
ral disasters. The crash of a China Eastern airliner in southern Chi
na in March, which left 132 dead, saw some bereaved relatives feel
ing obliged to apologise, after being scolded online for sharing
their grief too publicly. At the same time, other socialmedia users
treated the search for the plane’s flight data and voice recorders as
a child’s game, posting and reposting such lines as: “Black boxes,
lots of people are looking for you, don’t hide!”
Intellectuals are largely united in loathing such babytalk. But
astheyrespond to Mr Wang’s recent online blast, several charge
him with focusing on the wrong crisis. It is not the Chinese lan
guage that is dying, they suggest, but freedom of thought. Many
young Chinese “have internalised the standards imposed by cen
sorship and accepted them, and now use them to rein in other
people,” argues a journalistturnedblogger. Rather than dig too
deeply into why bad things happen, young Chinese have been
trained to take refuge in shallow sentiment, “using feeling to re
place thinking,” adds the exreporter. As for bloggers with larger
followings, they see profit and safety in simple, emotive posts that
drive clicks and avoid trouble from the authorities.
This is a proxy argument, in other words. The Chinese lan
guage is not literally dying. With almost a billion people now reg
ularly connected to China’s strictly controlled internet, according
to official figures, there has probably never been so much written
Chinese in existence. Rather, older liberals, scholars and writers
are showing that young people baffle and disappoint them.
Throughout the history of modern China, intellectuals have
pinned high hopes on the country’s youth. In the early 20th centu
ry, young writers and readers helped break the grip of stagnant,
classical forms of Chinese, in favour of new and liberating vernac
ular styles. But there is a difference between youthfulness and
childishness. Young radicals and revolutionaries have shaken
modern China several times, from the nationalist May 4th Move
ment in 1919 to the Cultural Revolution unleashed by Mao Zedong
from 1966 to 1976, and the bloodily suppressed student protests of
1989. In each of those moments of revolt, the young sought to be
the equals of adults. Maoist Red Guards, some of them school pu
pils, were often cruel and fanatical, but they were not infantile. In
1989 hungerstriking university students repudiated the bonds of
filial loyalty as they swore that they would die to secure freedoms
for China, telling their parents: “Please forgive us. Your children
cannot be loyal citizens and worthy children at the same time.”
Baby-talk has its limits
As the Communist Party moved to reassert its authority after the
traumas of 1989, it set out to redefine youth as a time for obedi
ence, diligence and hard work for the Motherland, rather than re
bellion. To that end, propaganda chiefs are not above using child
ish language themselves. In official media aimed at young people,
the decadeslong armed standoff between China and the demo
cratic island of Taiwan is sometimes presented as a family saga,
with “AZhong Gege” (elder brother China) offering lessons to the
little island “Wan Wan” (a diminutive for Taiwan). In President Xi
Jinping’s first years in office, officially endorsed songs and media
posts talked of “Xi Dada”, or Uncle Xi, though such informality is
rarer today, replaced by deferential praise for the “people’s leader”.
A mascot culture popular across East Asia has been coopted by
China’s rulers, with umpteen outfits, from the Communist Youth
League to the police force, creating wideeyed, childlike cartoon
characters to deliver the party line.
Especially online, many young Chinese may sound more con
formist, nationalist and even childish than liberal intellectuals
would like. Cutthroat commercial competition has combined
with oppressive censorship to make much of the Chinese internet
an increasingly shallow and cynical place. Still, it is unfair and un
wise to dismiss all young Chinese as giant babies. These are grim
times to be young in China, with the economyfaltering and gradu
ate jobs in especially short supply. If thosewithout hope find a
voice, their anger will not be safely ignored.n
Chaguan
Older Chinese intellectuals find the young childish, nationalist and scary