Moral dilemmas
In the space of a few days, summer has descended on Beijing, and the rhythms of the city are changing. In a Dongcheng district residential compound, life has moved outdoors - pyjamas are once again acceptable street attire; old men play chess by the compound gate; and young couples fight outside at 3am.
All this goes on underneath two banners and a billboard advertising the 'Eight Honours and Disgraces', the most recent government ideological campaign, which includes phrases such as: 'Loving the motherland is honourable, harming the motherland is disgraceful.' As China's political epicentre, Beijing has been inundated with it, in the print media, on television, radio and in street-side advertisements.
But more than a month into the campaign, it seems to be losing steam. The old men parked under the posters give no indication that they even see them. The state media frenzy has begun to die down, the bloggers have had their mocking fun and moved on, and all that seems left are red banners tied to fences, slowly collecting dust.
Of course, the people couldn't act on the campaign, even if they wanted to. It is a classic example of the government's misplaced energy: tell the people how to behave, rather than creating an environment which encourages them to behave that way. Like other statement-oriented campaigns, it seems to misconstrue the very nature of communication. Are you telling us or exhorting us? Is this the way things are, or the way they ought to be?
It's perfectly true that, as the campaign has it, lying and laziness are shameful. But the moral questions facing modern Chinese society are more nuanced than that, and there are already more relevant venues for discussing them.
The TV programme Moral Observation, for instance, tells long stories about knotty problems like divorce or disobedient children, and host Lu Yiming generally ends by saying something like: 'Who was right and who was wrong? We'll let you decide.' Often it's pretty clear but, all the same, there's the crucial phrase: 'You decide.' Then the programme fades to black, and the next thing you hear is the sound of trumpets, and a man announces: 'The Eight Honours and Disgraces!'
If ordinary people tend to ignore these things, it may not be that much of a problem, from the government's viewpoint. Surely this sort of campaign is aimed upwards - its real audience is those who thought it up. After all, how would you even know if it was working?
One Beijing taxi driver, when asked his opinion on the subject, at first didn't seem to understand. He squinted at the little card bearing the honours and disgraces, which was wedged into the plastic folder bearing his taxi licence. 'That?' he said with a grin. 'The company put it there.'
