If you’ve attended any events of the Beijing Olympics, you’ve heard it: “Jiayou!” Maybe you can even hear it on TV: throngs of red flag-waving fans chanting the two-syllable cheer with one voice whenever China scores, slam dunks, pings or pongs.
Now, with China winning more gold medals than ever before, Chinese certainly have a lot to shout jiayou for, leaving foreign fans and sports media wondering what this jah-yo, jah-yo business is all about.
“Jiayou,” as it is rendered in English according the most widely used Romanization system, conceals a very picturesque meaning. In Chinese, “Jia” (加) means “to add”. “You” (油) means “oil.”
So how do we translate jiayou into English? Should we even try?
You’ll usually see it conveyed in English media as “…the Chinese fans shouted ‘go, go’” or “come on!” Seems easy enough. My personal favorite was, “pump it up,” which can be used in a cheering context and also alludes to the term’s gas station imagery.
But a recent article in the Beijing News made me think differently. An article in the August 22 edition entitled, “How to say ‘jiayou’ in English,” explains how translators run into problems when using “go, go” or “come on,” which don’t cover the full extent of jiayou’s meaning. For example, when China mourned the victims of the devastating earthquake earlier this year, the crowds gathered for a commemoration at Tiananmen Square burst into shouts of “Zhongguo (China) jiayou!” and “Wenchuan (the location of the epicenter) jiayou!” How can we translate the voice of a solemn vigil as “pump it up?”
I am proposing that we English speakers do the only thing to do when one’s language lacks an appropriate translation: import. I’ve been told that this has already begun taking place during the Beijing Olympics, with American fans shouting “U-S-A jiayou!” In fact, jiayou has already made it into one English (sort of) dictionary: the Urban Dictionary (http:www.urbandictionary.com), where it is listed under A for “add oil.”
What’s the harm of borrowing a word from Mandarin? Chinese have certainly picked up plenty from English. Just take the Chinese word for Coca-Cola, “Kekou Kele,” or sofa, “shafa.” And it’s no secret that “baibai” is now a perfectly acceptable Chinese translation for “bye bye.”
Think about the range of expression this word would add to the English language. Jiayou is akin to shouts of “Viva la…”, which express solidarity. Except jiayou doesn’t need to be attached to the name of any particular leader or cause. It simply expresses a surge of support, all in a compact six-letter package. You’re favorite team is about to win the Super Bowl, Superman is recovering from a bad case of kryptonite or even you’re consoling someone over a loss: Jiayou!
The only bad thing about this buzz word is that it doesn’t reflect Beijing’s commitment to hold a “green” Olympics. “Add oil!” sounds more like an anthem for U.S. President George Bush’ energy policy (and foreign policy).
Maybe Chinese should start using a more environmentally friendly phrase like the Mandarin word for recharging batteries, “chongdian.” I would like to know I’m shouting “U-S-A add electricity!” rather than “U-S-A add oil!” But jiayou has got a certain ring to it, which etymologists will tell you is ultimately the deciding factor in whether or not a loan word sticks. Webster’s: add “jiayou.”
You gotta “jiayou” for the home team … even when it’s not your home. Though at this particular match (Brazil vs. Norway in girl’s soccer), there was no home team. But Chinese tend to go for the underdog. I overheard one Chinese fan say, upon Norway losing the ball, “they have wasted the emotion of the Chinese people” (浪费中国人民的感情).
From the audiences’ point of view.
That’s Ning and I with her parents. Ning’s father, the consumate sports fan, celebrated his birthday on the day of the Opening Ceremony. Except for the Olympic matches we went to, I understand that he hasn’t taken his eye off the TV since. And I hear from Ning’s mom he’s taken to sleeping on the couch where he falls asleep watching the Olympics.
In the background, the basketball stadium where the U.S. dream team played China’s b-ball hero, Yao Ming. Chinese basketball fans, devoted to watching the NBA, didn’t know who to cheer for. In fact, when Kobe Bryant came out during the Opening Ceremony, he drew home-team levels of applause. Over here, basketball is the new ping pong.
There’s been a lot of weird things popping up all over the city during the Games. For example, this “Hippie Bus” parked outside my apartment. Don’t quite know what to make of this.
Finally, Ning. She’s been working for Olympics sponsor McDonald’s as a producer. I lent her my black cap to give her more of a Michael Moore feel. I think it works. Here she is filming cultural exchange on the Great Wall.
The city is aglow with Olympics fever … people are taking two-hour lunch breaks and spending the whole time at their office front desk to watch the Games, watching the Games on the Internet at work, and rushing home to watch the Games after work.
Every once a while we get a ticket to go see an Olympic match up close and personal. Check out these images from badminton, sand volleyball and a surprise run in with Carl Louis!
Ning is working for Olympic sponsor McDonald’s as a production assistant. In the course of filming some documentary about how much the athletes love scarfing down Big Macs (yes, it’s true), she met U.S. Olympian Carl Louis!
Who knew that sand volleyball had cheerleaders? They don’t broadcast this part. A cross-cultural troupe of bikini-clad cheerleaders … as if the crowd can’t handle a few non-bikini moments between matches.
Walked in just in time to see Chinese badminton star Lin Dan (or “Super Dan”) cream his opponent. The best part of the Olympics for me is watching Chinese people go totally mental when the home team wins.
By now, the opening ceremony of the Beijing 2008 Olympics has been broadcast all around the world. At the risk of being biased in favor of my current residence, I have to say that this was the best opening ceremony I’ve ever seen.
Check out this little video about my experience trekking around Beijing on the day of the ceremony. The Chinese people took to the streets in full force — and I even caught sight of a little cross-cultural revelry … all in the spirit of the Games.
One of my recent post, “How to hate the government and love the people,” really generated a lot of buzz. (To my chagrin, that probably had more to do with the controversial photo captions than my article.)
Pipsquek pointed out that the greatest impediment to separating politics and people in one’s mind is stereotypes:
The real issue is that every country is associated with a stereotype, a perception in media. Sometimes it’s a flattering one, other times, discomforting. But the perception often prompts a snap judgment of who we are.
Joel commented that China seems to not separate politics and people—for example, taking leader’s comments to be representative of people’s view:
Distinguishing people from government is an American specialty - we do it naturally. But for Mainlanders, the ‘face’ of the people is inextricably connected to the face of the government. That’s why people freak out (and mis-translate/paraphrase pundits like Cafferty) when foreigners publicly criticize Chinese government policy - they are more likely to feel it as a national/cultural/racial offense, with little important distinction between the three when face is involved.
I agree and disagree. On one had I think Joel is right that in a country like China where more than 90 percent of your population belongs to one ethnic group, it’s hard to separate the nation from the ethnicity (which coincidently is why they’ll never give me a Chinese green card).
However, I really, really, really don’t think that Americans just make this politics-people split “naturally” as Joel says. Yes, on home soil, Americans know that what happens in Washington D.C. doesn’t necessarily represent the American people’s points of view. But do we extend the same courtesy overseas?
I don’t think so. I think we maybe subconsciously sometimes lump China with Chairman Mao and even Stalin for that matter. I’m not asserting that Americans don’t like Chinese people—that’s not the case. There are many Chinese people who are Americans. I just mean that it’s very easy for us (including “I”), when seeing a huge red flag or hearing people addressed as comrade or seeing a security guard, to think—bad guy. Enemy. Commie.
In reality, Chinese people like their red flag because red was a lucky color in China long before the communist revolution, the word “comrade” today most often refers to members of the Chinese gay community, and the security detail you see everywhere are merely part-time teenage door hops.
Another of Joel’s comments is interesting, and I want to agree with it at one level, but I’m not sure:
[Chinese] people freak out (and mis-translate/paraphrase pundits like Cafferty) when foreigners publicly criticize Chinese government policy - they are more likely to feel it as a national/cultural/racial offense.
You see, whenever someone make a speech and says anything critical about China, the Foreign Ministry has three token responses:
• It is not right to meddle in other countries internal affairs
• We urge ______ to abide by the three joint communiqués
• (and finally, my favorite) You have hurt the feelings of the Chinese people
Number three really means is that, “You’ve embarrassed the central government, but we’re not going to attack you because the economy is great. But we’re really, really pissed.”
What I’m saying is that the Chinese government often tries to package its response as representative of the Chinese people. I’m just not sure if that’s reality or propaganda. In fact, Chinese people often criticize their leaders, but no one likes to get criticism from abroad, including Americans.
What do you think?
By the way, check out Joel’s blog, www.chinahopelive.net, for more cultural insights and some great photography.
最近新闻提到北京的交通控制。听说一些周围的工厂也临时关掉。都是因为中国要做“绿色奥运”。因为我们不知道这个绿色是按照什么标准，这样的说法太容易来批评。很多人还想这么污染的城市怎么能叫绿色呢。如果你要说北京是红色，没问题。但是绿色可能过于乐观。
Recently the news has been reporting on Beijing traffic controls. I heard that surrounding factories have also been temporarily shut down. It’s all for the “Green Olympics.” Since it’s impossible to know what the standard for “green” is, this motto is all too easy to criticize. A lot of people are asking how such a polluted city could ever be called “green.” If you want to call Beijing red, no problem. But green? That may be kind of a stretch.
但是这个单日单号的效果很明显我觉得。看如下的照片。我在北京的这段时间没见过有蓝色和白云自一起的天。
But the effects of this even-odd numbered license plate control system are obvious. Check out this picture. During the time that I’ve been in Beijing, I’ve never seen white clouds on a blue sky like this.
有的人还不承认传球变暖（其实，他们没有科学道理，只是钱，商议或政治的原因）。但是不管你对传球变暖或绿色的政策是什么样，我们不能不成人蓝天的好处。
Some people still don’t believe in climate change (actually, there’s not much science behind them. It’s usually because of money, business or politics.). But no matter what your views are toward climate change or green policies, we should all be able to recognize the benifit of having a blue sky.
In addition to the trans-Pacific adventures in counter culture and China blogging that you read about on Go Too Far East, I’ve started contributing to another blog, www.allaboutadvocacy.com. This is a blog started by Weber Shandwick, the PR firm where I work, which is literally, “all about advocacy.”
The premise is that people’s opinions are more important than ever to companies’, organizations’ and governments’ bottom lines. In short, the big guys need to start paying way more attention to the little guys. It may sound strange for a PR firm to tell its clients what to listen to rather than what to say. But that’s the spirit of advocacy, that in the age of Facebook and Moveon.org “controlling the message” is impossible—rather, organizations should participate with their stakeholders in the ongoing conversation that is defining their brand.
Here’s an excerpt from an article I just wrote called “Badvocacy at the epicenter in China” (“Badvocacy” is, as you probably guessed, is the opposite of advocacy).
Someone once told me that integrity is doing the right thing when no one is watching. But in the Internet age, integrity is obsolete. With everyone logging on, there’s always someone watching. And the sharing abilities of social networks, blogs and BBS means that any tale — true of false — can have a destructive ripple effect.
I wrote an article entitled, “Harnessing the people power of social media in China,” for the Asia Pacific e-newsletter of the company where I work, Weber Shandwick. Here’s an excerpt:
Social media has proved, more than anything, that people are the Internet’s ultimate application. China—with the world’s largest population—promises to push the power of social media to the 1.3 billionth degree. So going forward, it is just as important to watch how Chinese netizens shape the development of social media as it is to see how social media transforms Chinese society.
There comes a point in every traveler’s journey when he or she has to make a distinction to keep going.
Before boarding a plane, it is necessary to part with your things—the distinction between the traveler and the souvenir. When climbing a mountain, it is necessary to let go of the camera—the distinction between getting a view and getting a shot. And after you start learning a foreign language, it is necessary to forget about ever sounding fluent—the distinction between communicating and connecting.
Here’s another distinction we all learn to live with: the difference between a country’s government and a country’s people.
That’s how people all around the world perceive America. In my travels, I have found that there is indeed a palpable force of resentment against the United States, which is felt to varying degrees by people in many places on Earth. But the term “Anti-Americanism” is not accurate.
Large groups of people resent the fact that America invaded Iraq without the permission of the UN Security Council. They resent the fact that America is the planet’s No. 1 polluter but still refuses to ratify the Kyoto Protocol. And people really, really don’t like President Bush.
But what we in America often don’t realize—without traveling overseas that is—is that people in other countries, often those very people who harbor deep hatred for America’s foreign policy, love McDonald’s. They watch re-runs of “Growing Pains” and know the name of every Seaver. They would love to take a trip to America. And sometimes they will even show you extra hospitality simply because you’re from the country they think is coolest: America.
(For the purpose of this discussion, I’m excluding those individuals such as radical Islamic fundamentalist whose hate for America—based on ideological reasons—includes a hatred for its culture and people. However I believe this group of people, despite capturing a disproportionate amount of news coverage, represents a very small minority.)
So, can we (Americans or anyone talking about a country they don’t like) learn to love the people?
I’m certainly familiar with the politics-people split. There’s a lot of things in the People’s Republic of China that I’m not pleased with. To name a few: the government’s interpretation of “free” speech, the lack of real religious liberty and still not having Indian Jones in the theater! But the people—it took me a while to figure this out—they’re just like us (Americans, etc). There are good guys, bad guys and bad guys who are good sometimes and good guys who are bad sometimes—which includes me.
More than merely accepting people in China, I really love them and their culture. You’ve got to take a stroll along the street at night to appreciate Chinese people: old couples dancing on the sidewalk, young couples kissing on their bicycles. And you won’t see their crazy side come out until Chinese New Year when young and old alike turn out to transform the night sky into the world’s largest (and loudest) fireworks display, as if to proclaim, “We invented gun powder!”
It may seem strange with so many countries claiming to be representative democracies that we must face this fork in the road—the point where we allow our perception of politics and people to part ways. But I propose that it is the only way to understand the world; it is the only way to keep going.
The reason we tend to connect the government and the people in our minds is because regimes look for legitimacy through their people’s cultural heritage. Some governments are certainly worse than others (cough, Zimbabwe). They try to attach national pride to nationalism (two very different things). And they snatch up everything sacred to a society to decorate their unholy political pin-ups.
Of course the politics-people split is not even; it’s valuing human beings above their passports. In the words of one U2 song, it’s seeing “the world in green and blue,” instead of a patchwork of political colors. And there is at least some possibility that such a point of view is exactly what our countries, governments and politics are lacking.
Here are some examples that illustrate hating the government and loving the people:
You don’t have to like Mao to love Yao.
You don’t have to like a leader who has been around since the 50s to appreciate cars that have been around since the 50s.
You don’t have to agree with an anti-Semite to enjoy a good soccer game.
Finally, you don’t have to put up with a defeated leader in Zimbabwe who is acting like a child to buy a newspaper in Zimbabwe from a child.
New buildings usually get noticed for attempting to be the world’s tallest. But the most eye-catching construction project on Beijing’s skyline doesn’t need to break a height record to get noticed. It’s the absolutely absurd new headquarters for China Central Television.
Click any of these pictures to zoom in:
The jury is still out on rather this new building is eye-candy or an eye sore. My first reaction was to admire it’s architectural boldness. Beijing is a hodgepodge of styles–from Ming dynasty hutongs to Soviet-era museums and tacky tile monuments of the 90s. So it could use a bit of style.
The CCTV Tower, as it is called (”CCTV” standing for China Central Television, not Closed-circuit television–though the quality of their programming could be likened to the security camera footage of a well-lit parking lot), aims to deliver style. But what style? One Beijing taxi driver told me he thought it looked like a pair of pants; another likened it to squatting bird about to lay an egg.
Check out the close-up:
What do you think? Does this building represent a new direction for the Beijing skyline? Of is it a cross between the Borg Cube and a crash-landed Decepticon?
可能是第一次我最喜欢的餐厅不是墨西哥菜。我最近终于去北京的一家非常有名的餐厅，“Alameda”。如果你也还没去的话，快去看吧。
This may be the first time my favorite restaurant has not been a Mexican place. I finally went to a really famous restaurant in Beijing, “Alameda.” If you also haven’t been yet, go check it out.
这个西餐不是汉堡这类的快餐。菜单都像有真的厨师安排的。里面装修的style非常好。很多窗户让里面亮亮的（我真讨厌在黑黑的地方吃饭！）。可以把客人带过来给很深的影响。如果你找有意思和浪漫的地方，我觉得也可以满足你的要求。
This restaurant doesn’t serve hamburgers or that kind of “fast food” Western food. The whole menu looks like it was designed by a real chef. The inside is stylish. A lot of windows let in the light (you know I hate eating in the dark!). You can bring your guests here to impress. It’s also an interesting and romantic place for a date.
最好中午去。有套餐。说这样的餐厅，价格还合理。但是你还是喝果汁——葡萄酒比菜还贵。它在三里屯北街。电话号码是（10）64178084。
It’s best to go at lunch; there’s a lunch menu. For this kind of restaurant the price is reasonable. But you had better drink some juice instead of wine–it’s more expensive than the whole meal. Located at Sanlitun North Street. The phone number is (10) 64178084.
This week, Ning and I secured all the necessary paperwork for an international marriage in China. What could be more “Go Too Far East” than marrying someone from another country? The next step is get the Great State of Texas to recognize these nuptials (for tax purposes). And of course there’s the whole wedding itself on October 10!
I want to tell the story, so far, backward.
Riding in a taxi to a very late lunch, Ning and I look through our brand new little red marriage certificate booklets. What’s this page say, I ask. The bearers of this book are legally married, husband and wife. They probably write that so that people take it seriously and don’t change their mind before the wedding, I say. Then, I look out the window and express out loud my astonishment that, “I’m married to a Chinese person!”
When the Civil Affairs Bureau came back from lunch, we were first in line. Here’s my passport, her hukou, my marriageability affidavit from the U.S. Embassy… They make us fill out a statement that we’re not blood-related—as if that’s not obvious enough. The procedure is pretty cordial. Just us and the officer. We sign here, place our finger prints there, and that’s it. I had imagined that we might have to read some vows like when you go to the Justice of the Peace in America—and was fully prepared to swear on my Mao book! The only question she asked: What’s this? (producing several of bottles of Bath and Body Works products from beneath her desk—inevitably a gift from someone just returned from America). No vows, but there was a RMB 9 marriage fee (USD 1.2). What a deal!
Oh no, I thought as we entered the Public Security Bureau branch at Peking University. Lights, dimmed; oscillating fan, oscillating. The officer at the front desk was asleep in her chair. But thankfully we seemed to have caught them just before the rice-and-garlic cloud totally overtook these tired, hot bureaucrats ahead the afternoon slumber. They retrieved a copy of the first page of Ning’s hukou, and we were on our way.
Arriving at the Civil Affairs Bureau at 11:29… they agreed to look over our documentation before the two-hour lunch break began. We also found out they don’t take pictures, so we would need that time for a snapshot and lunch. Here’s my passport, her hukou, my marriageability affidavit from the U.S. Embassy… Where’s the font page of her hukou, asked the officer. You need a copy of the front page? (Hukou is a Chinese person’s residency permit—like a Social Security Card in America.) So after taking some pictures at Fuji Film across the street, we get in a taxi to Peking University where Ning’s temporary Beijing hukou is kept. Lunch would have to wait.
Ning and I decided to go apply for the marriage certificate on July 3. It’s another thing on the wedding checklist that we had been needing to take care of, and this day was convenient for me to take off work. Why not make a day of it and grab a nice lunch afterward, I thought. Ning just finished her term paper. And with the whole city gearing up for the Olympics, we thought it would be best to handle all the administrative aspects of the marriage sooner rather than later. There’s no time like the present!
How do you like the changes to the look-and-feel of Go Too Far East? I call it the “East is Read” edition.
Beside the obvious visual changes, I have upgraded to the latest version of Wordpress. There are improved “Widgets” in the sidebar, such as a Twitter stream that I can update from my cell phone (how do you like “micro-blogging”?), photo albums directly from Facebook, a Go Too Far East “favicon” in your address bar, and — what I think is most cool — the ability to have the blog e-mail you when someone posts feedback to your comment. Just check the box when you leave a comment.
Hope you will like these updates. No, it’s not pink. If you’re monitor is like mine, it’s a real edgy “West Red.” If you’re monitor is like Ning’s, it’s raspberry (not pink!). Anyway, it’s “cb3b3b” as far as Photoshop is concerned.
Advocacy is a buzz word in the world of PR right now. My company, Weber Shandwick, has done a pretty good job of identifying it as the “next big thing.” It’s one of the things I’m really, really excited about. Is the Internet amplifying people’s voices as they make their views known about governments, organizations and companies? Should brands and businesses consider Average Joes as the most important factor on their balance sheet? Go Too Far East things so.
The director of Weber Shandwick Shanghai, Darren Burns, recently did a vodcast about how advocacy is making a difference in China. You can watch it on our UK Web site, here.
Here’s some of my own thoughts. China’s unique, and it’s going to become the capital of advocacy for better or for worse. The power of the Internet is people, and in China you can multiply that to the 1.3 billionth degree. Advocacy, I mean the voice of everyday people for or against anything, has always been around. But it’s your YouTubes, your Facebooks and MSNs that are making their voices heard.
Coincidently, those communication platforms (or their Chinese equivalents like Toudou, Xiaoyou and QQ) are hitting it big in the Middle Kingdom because newspapers, magazines and television suck so bad and are trusted so little. A lot of young people spend way more time watching Prison Break on Tudou than they do reading People’s Daily.
Problem is that rumors spread fast. So you have companies like Carrefour - one of the most loved supermarket chains in China - getting their reputation smashed because someone said their French shareholders donated funds to the Dali Lama. Probably didn’t happen. But brands have got to be all that more diligent now. And that goes for government and other organizations, too.
It is mostly fans supporting their favorite stuff. But the implications for social welfare and consumer rights are robust. What do you think: Could the second coming of democracy be in the form of a text message or blog post?
Went to dinner at a nice little French place last night with my laowai colleagues. “Laowai,” literally means “old outsider,” but it’s an affectionate term that Beijingers use to describe foreigners. Check out the best looking bunch of expats on this side of the Pacific!
From left to right: Richard Liu, Canada; Santana Wulsin, Arizona; Diana Price, various U.S. states; Abby Fitzgibbon, Maryland; and me … Tim Gingrich, Texas.
Nothing beats discussing the national sovereignty of Canada and Taiwan over a glass of wine and a plate of goose liver. France assumes presidency of the EU next Tuesday, so GET USED TO IT!
