Slogans

Despite the recent death of my original research plan, my time in Nanchang has not been wasted. The five months I’ve spent here as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American has taught me a few things. First, cultural adaption is absolutely necessary for research success. It is important, however, to understand that as a foreigner, unconditional acceptance is an impossible goal; being white in this city (and country) means that you will always be treated as an outsider. This often works in your favor, but it also severely limits the scope of topics/depth of conversation people are willing to have with you. In this regard, Mandarin skills are awesomely valuable and act as testimony to the considerable effort and tremendous energy you’ve invested into being a serious researcher/cultural ambassador. However, the hard work that earns you respect is the same thing that on occasion may also cause some to view you as a threat, i.e., the stupider you are, the fewer questions you are going to ask. Likewise, the worse your Mandarin, the less you are going to understand. It’s when you are dealing with politically sensitive issues such as schistosomiasis that being able to read between the lines is seen more as a danger and a menace than as an asset. As such, direct questions are not always the best way to get direct answers and a direct approach does not always yield the best results. Embracing this truth in combination with a generous curiosity and some newly created downtime has led to the development of my latest side-project.

标语, or slogans.

When people ask what I’m doing here and why my Mandarin is “more standard than most Chinese,” (see note #1 at bottom of post) I tell them that I study public health and I’m here to help raise the living standard of those who call the edge of Poyang Lake their home. For those not satisfied with that answer, I mention that I’m here specifically to research prevention and control measures for schistosomiasis (at least that’s what I used to say). Without fail, I’m met with an inquisitive look and a question in the form of statement: “But this disease was eradicated back in Mao’s time.” “Well,” I answer, “that’s not right.” I suggest that those who doubt me log on to Xinhua’s website and search for the term ‘xuexichong,’ or schistosomiasis in Chinese. Easier yet, I offer to them the following challenge: If schistosomiasis isn’t an issue anymore, why does the Jiangxi Institute of Parasitic Diseases exist? (see note #2 at bottom of post) Moreover, why is it that when I go to the countryside I can see newly painted slogans on the walls of houses warning residents that schistosomiasis is an epidemic disease that seriously threatens their lives?

It is with these rhetorical questions that I recently realized there is great potential for a research project that focuses on collecting and cataloguing slogans from all across China. The logic of this approach is very simple. Clearly, sensitive issues such as schistosomiasis are not left unguarded. My research was blocked for a reason, and I doubt it was because I honestly wanted to help. Could it be that schistosomiasis represents a bigger problem than most believe? The slogans on the wall, I contend, provide a hint to that answer. In this vein, one might be able to generate a catalogue of sorts - by location - of government-acknowledged problems. Let me provide a tame example: For someone who has never been to China before it would be impossible to comment on the state of traffic safety, or use of pedestrian crosswalks. One look at the slogan in the picture to your right (人过马路口，斑马线内走), however, and you immediately know that the Nanchang Public Safety and Transportation Management Office wants less people to jay-walk. While this investigation by slogan-hunting fails to provide any absolutely clear data on the degree to which a certain problems exists, it’s a good start. For further analysis, 1) frequency of the slogan’s appearance, 2) its hanging site (provincial and rural/urban location are revealing, as is the actual physical position of where the slogan is hung or written), 3) the size of the banner/lettering, 4) and most importantly the reaction and response of locals to questions regarding the slogan, would provide valuable insight from a novel perspective into the social, political and economic problems that China is currently facing. Also, in many rural areas, slogans from decades ago are stilling peeling slowly from brick walls. Time and economic development are their greatest enemies. In this light, a collection of slogan photos and associated stories are an invaluable contribution not only to understanding modern China, but to remembering its past.

In order for this project to resonate with my intended audience (scholars of China, outside of China), it is necessary to develop an understanding of the historical significance of slogans in China, as well as the scope of their presence today. Perhaps I will address this in a later post.

Also, it may be helpful to start by defining some terms. Well, at least one term…标语, or slogan. First, what 标语 isn’t (in both pictures and words):


The targets of my research are not signs or banners produced by a private company or organization to promote sales or raise awareness of some internal activity/campaign. This includes restaurant and storefront signage, as well as, for example, spirited English school advertisements. Additionally, while the slogans I will be hunting for may be painted on walls, they are not graffiti. They are also not signposts or road signs for construction sites, parks, museums, etc. Lastly, while often side-splittingly hilarious, the slogans I will be looking for will not be found on t-shirts or other articles of clothing. In cities, I will be looking specifically for red banners with white lettering that convey not only government-approved, but government-endorsed messages. In more rural areas, these slogans will often be found, as mentioned early, painted or drawn on the walls of buildings or houses.

If there is interest in this idea, or blog post, I will periodically update The Wang Way In with related photos and stories. If not, I’ll save the work for post-Fulbright publication in some form or another.

Note #1: Having spent a lot of time around foreigners who speak Mandarin at different levels, I’ve found a negative correlation between the amount of praise one gets for his/her Chinese, and the actual level of that person’s fluency.

Note #2: 江西省寄生虫病防治研究所是江西省唯一省级寄生虫病专业科研及防治机构,系省卫生厅直属单位. 主要开展血吸虫病,其它寄生虫病和麻风病的科学研究和应用开发工作,结合全省寄生虫病防治工作实际,引进,吸收,推广国内外防治新技术,新方法.