When the Chinese government announced that it would be ending its One-Child Policy in the summer of 2015, 36 years after it was first implemented, the topic exploded on Weibo. Many netizens applauded the news and considered it a step forward in people’s personal freedom and individual rights.
The Two-Child Policy (二孩政策) allows all couples to have a maximum of two children. But now, over a year after it has gone into effect, there are also voices saying that the new family planning policy is actually a setback for women’s rights in China and that the One-Child Policy, as controversial as it might have been, has greatly improved the role of women in society in multiple ways.
THE TWO CHILD POLICY: A YEAR LATER
“The vigorous propagation for women to return home to have children goes against the image of the emancipated Chinese woman.”
One of the consequences of China’s One-Child Policy, designed to curb the growth of China’s population, is that Chinese society is now ageing. The latest population statistics after the introduction of the ‘Two-Child Policy’ show that 17,86 million children were born in 2016; an increase of 7.9% compared to the year before (when the One-Child Policy was still in place).
But the current population growth might not be enough to combat demographic challenges in the decades to come. Chinese state media are now encouraging couples to have more children, something that became particularly clear during this year’s CCTV Gala and a recent lengthy People’s Daily article that hinted at the legalization of surrogacy to increase the country’s birth rates.
It led to angry reactions on Chinese social media, where many women felt that they were being degraded to “breeding machines”, and that the “vigorous propagation” for women to “return home to have children” goes against the image of the emancipated Chinese woman.
ONE-CHILD POLICY: THE SIGNIFICANCE FOR WOMEN
“Slogans propagated that daughters could also carry the honor of the family line, and that girls and boys were equally important for the future of China.”
The Feminist Webforum (@女权主义贴吧) recently posted an article (link in Chinese) on Weibo titled “The One-Child Policy’s Three Major Contributions to Chinese Women’s Status,” in which it argued that the China’s One Child Policy (1979-2016) has significantly emancipated Chinese women.
The article looks back at different government’s slogans that were widely propagated during the One-Child Policy, and explains how and why they contributed to a bettered women’s status in China.
It also indicates that the recent developments around the Two Child Policy, with increasing media emphasis on reproduction, is negatively affecting the status of women in Chinese society.
The slogans “It is all the same whether you give birth to a boy or give birth to a girl” (生男生女都一样) and “Daughters also carry on the family line” (女儿也是传后人) were propagated throughout China since the 1980s up to the most remote parts of rural China.
In the patriarchal Chinese society, there is a deep-rooted preference for sons. Boys are expected to carry on the family line, become the laborers, and support the older generations (Sudbeck 2012, 44).
With the implementation of the One-Child Policy, the government strongly pushed the idea of male-female equality. Slogans propagated that daughters could also carry the honor of the family line, and that girls and boys were equally important for the future of China.
The Female Webforum article argues that this widely propagated government stance improved the status of women, as daughters came to play a more important role in the family and received more attention and a better education.
This is also reiterated by Kristine Sudbeck in the article “The Effects of China’s One-Child Policy: The Significance for Chinese Women” (2012), in which she writes that China’s One-Child Policy has indirectly benefited the role of women in society because, among others, singleton daughters received greater parental investment in terms of wealth, pride, and education (43-44).
The improved education levels for women also opened the doors to more non-traditional jobs for women, with which came a greater gender equality – not just within the family, but within the society at large.
In 2014, 64% of Chinese women were in the labor force, and the percentage of women in management positions in China is much higher than that of neighbouring countries like South Korea, Japan, India, or Taiwan (Catalyst 2016, CS 2014: 8).
But the Feminist Webforum writes that since the introduction of the Two-Child Policy, the calls for extended maternity leaves and for women to return home to be a good mother are growing louder every day, potentially harming the (economic) position of women in China in the long run.
Another propagated principle during the One-Child Policy was that of later marriage and later childbirth.
Although the legal age of marrying in China is 20 for women and 22 for men, late marriage (23+ for women and 25+ for men) have been specifically encouraged by Chinese authorities to benefit the state, the family, and the individual.
The propagation of late marriage and childbirth meant that women could first concentrate on their studies and career before taking on the role as wife or mother.
Since January 2016, it seems that getting married later on is no longer encouraged. At the same time the Two-Child Policy was implemented, the Chinese government canceled the ‘late wedding leave’: a 30-day paid work leave to encourage getting married after the age of 25.
The Feminist Webforum article writes that Chinese media have started to encourage women to have children while still attending college, as in this widely published article (link in Chinese) titled: “University students have children while still in school: third-year students already have 2 children, majority does not regret.”
Articles such as these falsely suggest that it might be easier to find a job when women are already married with children. But according to the Feminist Webforum, the employment rate of women without children is actually much higher than of those who have had a baby.
Getting married and having a baby after the age of 25, the article argues, is better for a woman’s mental and physical health, as well as for her future education and career. Encouraging women to start having children early on might negatively influence her future and her independence – a setback for female emancipation.
A third and final point mentioned in the article is that under the One-Child Policy the slogan “Superior Birth, Superior Childrearing” (优生优育) was propagated, in which there was an emphasis on conceiving and raising a ‘quality child.’
The article points out that with a general heightened focus on prenatal and postnatal care, thousands of women were saved from maternal death.
Before the One-Child Policy and in its early years, there was a great lack of prenatal care, and many women only relied on midwives while giving birth – if they could afford one at all. The rate of in-hospital delivery increased from 43.7% of women in 1985 up to an in-hospital delivery for rural women of 96.7% in 2011.
The Feminist Webforum points out that in the first half year since the implementation of the Two-Child Policy, there was a staggering 30% increase in maternal mortality. This increase relates to a larger proportion of elder pregnant women, causing more health problems during pregnancy and childbirth. It also has to do with health care resources being unable to deal with the rise in births, and, according to the article, is another reason why the Two Child Policy is not improving the situation of women in China.
A ROSE-COLORED PICTURE?
“Although China’s One-Child Policy is known for creating hardships, it has helped to greatly improve the position of women in China.”
Is the Feminist Webforum right? Was the One-Child Policy really so beneficial for women? Although China’s One-Child Policy is mainly known for creating hardships for women, studies have shown that it has indeed helped to greatly improve the position of women in China in terms of gender equality, parental investment, educational attainment, career, and in terms of their familial, societal and political participation (Sudbeck 2012, 55).
Although providing very valid points, the Feminist Webforum’s article is making the decades of the One-Child Policy appear somewhat more rose-colored than they were. For example; even if the rate of prenatal complications and maternal deaths greatly improved after the implementation of the One-Child Policy (and have worsened after ending it in 2016), the article does not mention that women with unapproved pregnancies received less prenatal care and had a much higher risk (2.5 x) of maternal death than with an approved pregnancy (Nayak 2008, 14).
It also does not mention female infanticide or the large number of female-selective abortions. In the 1980-2000 period alone, it is estimated that the total number of female selective abortions was around 4 million (Sudbeck 2012, 47). Nor does it mention the abandonment of children, who were mostly girls. Around the turn of the century, China had around one million almost exclusively female orphans.
The One-Child Policy also had other far-reaching consequences. Some couples moved away from mainland China to have more freedom in their reproductive rights, while others paid for expensive fertility drugs (under the policy, having twins or triplets would still count as ‘one’ legal birth).
When placed into a larger perspective, it is apparent that Chinese women have indeed made advantages towards more gender equality within China as a by-product of the One-Child Policy, but that this advancement has come at a high price.
“Our reproduction rights are taken from us, step by step.”
On Weibo, the Feminist Webforum’s article received over 50,000 views and many comments shortly after it was posted. Many commenters seemed to share similar concerns as the Feminist Webforum, and praised the One Child Policy era while expressing their concerns over the Two Child Policy.
“The Two-Child Policy is the worst news I have heard in years,” one person writes.
“Now they enthusiastically promote for us to return home and have a second baby. Will they promote us to obey our fathers, husbands and sons, and to bind our feet hereafter?”, one commenter writes.
Another female netizen says: “Since the introduction of the ‘two child policy’, male-female relations have been more out of tune, the mortality rate of pregnant women has gone up, and the discrimination on the employment market has increased dramatically. Our reproduction rights are taken from us, step by step.”
Someone else writes: “The family planning policy was not bad, it had so many benefits (..). It was not only in line with the state of society, it also gave women the right to stop giving birth [to multiple children] and to give birth safely.”
But not all netizens agree that the role of women in Chinese society today is all owed to the One-Child Policy.
“It needs to be said that there are many ways to improve women’s status,” one person writes: “and the One-Child Policy is the most inhumane one, which has caused a lot of damage to women’s health. It was never intended to improve the status of women, and is just a by-product.”
Another woman writes: “All I can think of is that one colleague of my mum who was caught with a second (unapproved) pregnancy when she had a big belly of 7-8 months. She was forced to have an abortion.”
Many netizens refer to themselves as ‘the last generation of singleton daughters.’ They suggest that with China’s new family planning policies, there will always be couples having just one son, but if they have one daughter they will try hard to have a second child that is male: “This was the last era of the only daughters – every era is that of the only sons.”
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Catalyst. 2016. “Women In The Workforce: China.” Catalyst, July 8 http://www.catalyst.org/knowledge/women-workforce-china [5.2.17].
Credit Suisse. 2014. “Women in Senior Management.” Credit Suisse, September https://publications.credit-suisse.com/tasks/render/file/index.cfm?fileid=8128F3C0-99BC-22E6-838E2A5B1E4366DF [5.2.17].
Feminist WebForum [女权主义贴吧]. 2017. “独生子女政策对中国女性地位的三大贡献 [The One-Child Policy’s Three Major Contributions to Chinese Women’s Status].” Feminist Webforum / Weibo, February 4 http://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404071219883321876#_rnd1486322999846 [5.2.17].
Nayak, Satyam. 2008. “An Overview of China’s One Child Policy and Health Consequences on Society.” Master of Public Health, The University of Texas School of Public Health.
Sudbeck, Kristine. 2012. “The Effects of China’s One-Child Policy: The Significance for Chinese Women.” Nebraska Anthropologist: Paper 179.
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Why Trump Has Two Different Names in Chinese
Why does ‘Trump’ have multiple names in Chinese?
First published , updated version published March 7, 2019
Donald Trump has two most commonly used different names in Chinese. In Mandarin*, they are Tèlǎngpǔ (特朗普) and Chuānpǔ (川普). Both names have been used by Chinese mainstream media and netizens for years.
*(Due to the scope of this article, we’ll just use the Mandarin pinyin here.)
In the Chinese translation of Donald Trump’s autobiography The Art of the Deal (1987), the ‘Tèlǎngpǔ’ transliteration is used, whereas the translation of the George Ross book Trump-Style Negotiations (2008) uses ‘Chuānpǔ’ as the Chinese name for Trump.
Considering that Trump is making headlines every day, more people are wondering why Trump has two Chinese names, and which one is the correct name to use. There are even discussions about the topic on Chinese social media.
Why are foreign names translated?
Why are non-Chinese names actually translated into Chinese at all? With English and Chinese being such vastly different languages with entirely different phonetics and script, the majority of Chinese people will find it hard to pronounce a foreign name that is written in English.
Writing foreign names or terms in Chinese script has a long history and practical reasons which won’t be further elaborated on here. At present, aside from being standardized, it does not just help Chinese speakers to pronounce these words, it also makes it easier to remember them. Most Chinese names usually consist of two or three characters; the first character is the surname, and the last character(s) is the given name.
Translating a name to better adapt to the culture in which it is used does not only happen with English names in China; you often see the same happening with Chinese names in foreign countries.
In that case, the first character (surname) is moved to the back, and the given name changed into an English one. Alibaba’s Ma Yun, for example, has become globally known as ‘Jack Ma.’ Film star Zhao Wei is called ‘Vicky Zhao’, Tencent’s Ma Huateng is known as ‘Pony Ma,’ and the popular actress Lin Yun is called ‘Jelly Lin.’
The right way to translate a foreign name in Chinese
There are multiple ways to translate a foreign name to Chinese. Most commonly, a name is translated into Chinese characters that are phonetically similar to the original name, without necessarily being very meaningful. The transliteration of ‘Hillary’ (Clinton), for example, is ‘Xīlālǐ’ (希拉里). ‘Bush’ is translated as ‘Bùshí’ (布什).
Another option is to choose a name purely based on meaning rather than phonetics. One example is Elvis Presley, who is called ‘Cat King’ (Māo Wáng 猫王) in Chinese, which stays close to his nickname “The Hillbilly Cat.”
The best option when translating a foreign name into Chinese, however, is to make sure it stays close to its original pronunciation while also using elegant characters. In other words; it is nice when a name’s translation makes sense both phonetically and semantically. Marilyn Monroe’s last name in Chinese is Mènglù (梦露), for example, which sounds like ‘Monroe’ and has the characters for ‘Dream Dew’ – a perfect transliteration for such a dreamy actress.
Even when the characters used for a foreign name in Chinese are not necessarily intended to convey a certain meaning, it is important that they do not have any negative connotations. Nobody wants a character in their name associated with divorce, disease or death – it is believed to bring bad luck.
Another thing is that it is considered helpful for foreign names in Chinese is to maintain a ‘foreign flavor’ to it, to make it clear that the name is actually a transliteration. To give an example raised in this Nikkei article: President Reagan’s name is generally translated as Lǐgēn 里根 in Chinese – the characters being somewhat uncommon for a Chinese name.
The same name could also be written with the characters 李根, very common for a Chinese name, but then it would be difficult to know whether a media report is talking about Reagan the President or just a local Chinese person by the same name. Transliterations of foreign names, therefore, are often easily recognizable as foreign names on purpose.
Trump, Tèlǎngpǔ, and Chuānpǔ
In the case of Trump, his Chinese names are mainly chosen for phonetic reasons, with different sources using different characters. Part of the challenge in deciding the right Chinese translation for his name, is the fact that Chinese does not have consonant cluster ‘tr’ as one sound.
The Chinese-language Nikkei newspaper dedicated an op-ed written by Chinese scholar Ke Long (柯隆) to the matter, who argues that although it may all seem trivial, it is actually quite confusing and unpractical for president Trump to have more than one name in Chinese.
The Chinese media in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and most overseas Chinese-language media, refer to Trump as ‘Chuānpǔ’ (川普).* According to the World Journal, the biggest Chinese-language newspaper in the US, it is the only proper way to translate this name, yet most Chinese state media and Chinese-language UK media (such as BBC) all use ‘Tèlǎngpǔ.’
* (The Chinese version of The New York Times 纽约时报中文版 is an exception, as ‘Tèlǎngpǔ’ 特朗普 is generally also used in this publication.)
Author Ke Long explains that Chinese translations of foreign names try to stay as close as possible to the pronunciation of a name in its original language. This is why the name of the city ‘Paris’ is pronounced ‘Bālí’ (巴黎) in Mandarin Chinese, staying close to the French pronunciation, and ‘Amsterdam’ being ‘Āmǔsītèdān’ (阿姆斯特丹), which follows the city’s Dutch pronunciation.
If the British would pronounce ‘Trump’ as ‘te-lan-pu,’ then it would thus perhaps be more understandable why media such as the BBC would write Tèlǎngpǔ. But they don’t pronounce it like that, Ke Long argues, saying that the use of ‘Tèlǎngpǔ’ thus does not make sense, and is actually closer to the Japanese way of writing Trump’s name (‘トランプ’: to-ra-n-pu).
More so, the author writes, it does not make sense for Chinese media to take over the British transliteration of the Trump name. Considering Trump is American, Chinese media should follow the translations made by American media. He also notes that if it would be about the Prime Minister of Britain, the Chinese transliteration should follow the one used by the media in the UK.
Although the Nikkei author seems to advocate for a singular use of ‘Chuānpǔ’ by all media, no Chinese media are necessarily ‘wrong’ in their transliteration of the name Trump. The ‘Tèlǎngpǔ’ 特朗普 translation follows the example of outlets such as the BBC, while Chuānpǔ 川普 follows that of other media.
Some Chinese bloggers argue that Chuānpǔ 川普 is the best way to write Trump’s name, because the first character, that actually means ‘river,’ is commonly used in Chinese, making the name sound more ‘natural’ and easy to pronounce than ‘Tèlǎngpǔ.’ Moreover, they argue that the Mandarin ‘chuan’ sound is more appropriate to convey the pronunciation of ‘tr’ than the ‘te-lang’ way.
In the end, the reason why Trump has two names most commonly used in Chinese is just a matter of media, with various mainstream outlets adopting different names since Trump first made headlines, and without there being any clear consensus on which Chinese name to use across all these different Chinese-language media platforms around the world.
Chuángpù and Chuángpò?
On Chinese social media, President Trump even has more than two names. There are also netizens referring to him as 床鋪, 闯破 or 床破 (Chuángpù/Chuángpò); these are all transliterations that contain strange or negative characters, making the name unrefined and harsh-sounding on purpose to make the name ‘Trump’ look and sound bad.
Although there have been online discussions on the right transliteration for the name Trump, it is unlikely that there will be one official Chinese name for the US President in the near future. Xinhua News, China’s official state-run press agency, has consistently been using Tèlǎngpǔ 特朗普 for years, and will probably continue to use it.
Many netizens simply use both versions of his name in one post to avoid confusion, and some news reports have even started using both names in its headlines (image below).
Despite the somewhat confusing situation at hand, there are also those who do not seem to mind at all. “Who cares if it is Tèlǎngpǔ or Chuānpǔ anyway?” one netizen says: “In this day and age, we all know who it is we are talking about.”
This article first appeared in 2017 and has been republished with various corrections:
– The first version did not properly convey the argument made by author Ke Long in his Nikkei piece, which is more clearly laid out in this version.
– This version has added some extra information coming from sources after 2017.
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The Chinese Animation Dream: Making Made-in-China ‘Donghua’ Great Again
The Chinese animation industry is a much-discussed topic in the media and on Weibo. Will China’s ‘donghua’ make a comeback?
The Chinese animated movie White Snake (白蛇:缘起), produced by Light Chaser Animation and Warner Bros, has been under the spotlight since its release on January 11. The fantasy animation, that has raked in 300 million yuan (±$44 million) at the box office, has triggered discussions in the media on the status quo and future of China’s animation industry.
Although China is seeing a steady release of domestic animated films and series, there is still much room for improvement. Not only are many ‘donghua’ (动画) still lacking when it comes to quality and script, but the Chinese animation market is also facing fierce competition from the American and Japanese markets.
‘JAPANESE CULTURAL INVASION’
“Making China’s own animated heroes become examples for the Chinese youth”
A recent Foreign Policy article by Tanner Greer discusses the great popularity of Japanese manga (comics) and anime (cartoons) in the People’s Republic of China. The influence of Japanese popular culture in China is not necessarily appreciated by the Chinese government, which is concerned with maintaining a certain control over matters of cultural dissemination.
Since Japanese comics and films began to gain popularity in China in the early 1990s, there have been various developments that have shown the government’s dislike of the ‘Japanese cultural invasion’ in the country. To counter the impact of foreign animation/cartoon products, the authorities not only attempted to curb the inflow of these products but also to promote the production of its own China-made animations, that should reflect the ideals of the Party.
As early as 1995, President Jiang Zemin wrote a letter to the Shanghai Animation Film Studio (上海美术电影制片厂), writing that “inspiring people through excellent work is an important task of the cultural front,”1 and expressing his wishes that, “under the guidance of the Party’s literary and artistic principles, animation art workers will continue to release ideological, artistic and enjoyable art products, providing more and better spiritual sustenance for the youth and for children, making China’s own animated heroes become friends and examples for the [Chinese] youth” (1995; Saito 2017, 141).
Twenty-four year later, China’s animation industry has seen enormous growth but is still not as well-received by the Chinese public as Jiang had probably hoped for. Meanwhile, the demand for Japanese and other foreign products is still going strong: the animated movies that are in the top 3 of highest box office successes in mainland China are all foreign productions.
The 2018 Chinese animation The King of Football (足球王者) took approximately 60 million yuan ($8.8 million) to make, but became a commercial flop, raking in less than 1.8 million yuan ($267,000) at the box office (Yau 2018).
The new animation White Snake is doing much better than the 2018 Football flop, and has made some Chinese state media note that the overall quality of domestically produced animation is steadily getting better, especially over the past few years. Yet, critics also note that despite several successes since 2015, the Chinese animation has yet to come out of its “low point” (China Daily Culture 2019).
GOLDEN AGE OF CHINESE ANIMATION
“Chinese films should be based on real Chinese traditions and stories”
If the current era marks a certain ‘low point’ in Chinese animation, then when was its ‘high’ performing time? The first so-called “golden age” of Chinese animation actually occurred in the 1957-1965 era. Long before that, in the 1920s, China’s renowned Wan brothers produced their first animated short, inspired by the success of Disney and the Fleischer brothers (Chen 2017, 175; Lent & Ying 2013, 20-22). It led to the production of China’s first fully-animated film Blood Money (血钱) in 1932.
The Nanjing-born Wan brothers (萬氏兄弟) are the twins Wan Laiming and Guchan (1900), Wan Chaochen (1906), and Wan Dihuan (1907), who are generally credited with starting Chinese animation. The first three names are the brothers who later joined the renowned Shanghai Animation Film Studio that was led by cartoonist Te Wei (特伟, 1915).
Te Wei is one of the major names in the Chinese School of Animation; he previously headed the Northeast Film Studio, that was founded in 1949.
Although the Wan brothers were initially inspired by American animation, along with German and Russian styles, they soon focused on finding a more Chinese-oriented style in their work. In a 1936 interview, the brothers stated that Chinese films should be based on “real Chinese traditions and stories,” and should also be “educational” besides entertaining (Lent & Ying 2013, 22-23). Focusing more on Chinese artistic traditions was also something that was encouraged by Te Wei.
The Shanghai Animation Film studio started doing just that, and creators began committing themselves to learn from classical Chinese literature, paintings, and art, to build on truly Chinese animation canon that would incorporate a certain ‘national identity.’ For their 1956 24-minute animation The Conceited General (骄傲的将军), they even invited opera teachers to their work studio to learn from their Peking Opera movements and apply it to their animated characters (Chen 2017, 185; Lent & Ying 2013, 25-26).
The first color animation Why Crows Are Black (乌鸦为什么是黑的, 1956) became the first Chinese animation to be recognized internationally at the 1956 Venice Film Festival. The 1960 success of Where is Momma (小蝌蚪找妈妈) was followed by others, with the 1961/1964 Havoc in Heaven (大闹天宫) winning multiple awards, becoming one of China’s most-praised animation classics.
During the political turmoil of the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), China’s animation industry suffered a huge blow and its first boom was halted. Starting from 1977 to the mid-1980s, a “second wave” of success followed, with new films that also carried that distinct style of Chinese animation; works such as the 1980s Three Monks (三个和尚) and the 1988 Feeling from Mountain and Water (山水情) are some example success stories within this second ‘golden age’ (Chen 2017).
In a 2001 interview, Te Wei stated that there were multiple factors at play that contributed to the success of Chinese animation over the 1960-1980 period. The animation creators at the time, for example, were not pressured for deadlines and had unlimited creative time. There were enough financial resources to fund the studio (state support), little government control, a prosperous production system, and there were multiple generations of animators working together at the studio (Lent & Ying 2013, 27).
LOSING THE MAGIC TOUCH
“You can see Disney in it. But at least they tried”
So what happened to the golden days of Chinese animation? After the Mao era, in 1978, Deng Xiaoping famously initiated China’s Reform and Opening, starting the process which transformed the country and also had drastic consequences for China’s creative industries.
Following the emergence of the market economy, creators of Chinese animation had to focus more on the commercial value of their works. But while concentrating on consumer-based commerce, they also still had to make sure their productions were politically correct and in line with the (censorship) guidelines.
Starting from the 1990s, Chinese animation was officially defined as an “industry” and became a focus in the development of the national economy, with the government paying close attention (Chen 2017, 158; Wu 2017).
As described by John Lent and Xu Ying, animation studios started to struggle to support themselves and sped up productions to satisfy the rising domestic TV market, while also becoming “workstations” for overseas clients (2013, 27).
Although the number of productions went up, the high production pressure affected creativity and the artistic quality of Chinese animation.
Meanwhile, the market came to be dominated by imported, sometimes pirated, foreign animations. Astro Boy, Doraemon, Chibi Maruko-chan and other Japanese popular culture became more influential among Chinese youth in the 1990s. This also changed viewers’ preferences and aesthetic standards, and many Chinese animations adopted more Japanese or American styles in their creations (Ho 2018, 167; Liu 2007, 29).
With the rise of the internet in China, the inflow of (pirated) animations and cartoons from outside of China, and their major impact, began to become much harder to combat.
Some films, such as the 1999 Lotus Lantern (宝莲灯) by Shanghai Animation Film Studio still succeeded in becoming a high-quality commercial success, although Chinese cartoonist Te Wei did note: “You can see Disney in it. But at least they tried” (Lent & Ying 2017).
THE RISE OF CHINA’S ANIMATION?
“Chinese animations keep on getting better and better, and it makes me feel proud”
For the past few years, especially since the propagated concept of the ‘Chinese Dream’ has popularized within Chinese society, an idea that focuses on ‘national rejuvenation,’ the ‘comeback’ of Chinese animation has become a much-discussed topic in state media and on social media.
The main idea disseminated by state media and government, is that Chinese donghua (动画, animation) should be developed with specific Chinese characteristics, should not blindly follow its (foreign) competitors, and should propagate Chinese culture and socialist values. The slogan “Revive the Country’s Creativity” (振兴国创) is repeated in dozens of these articles.
Some media claim that Chinese animation is no longer at its low point now, but has reached a stage of “adolescence” (Xinhua 2019). This resonates with earlier government articles proposing that China should become “an internationally strong animation country” by 2023 (GWP 2008).
There are many ways in which a ‘healthy development’ of China’s animation market is now promoted. Since 2010, animation companies in China enjoy certain tax benefits, there have been national award for the best animations since 2011, and since long there have been measures stipulating that a certain percentage of broadcasted animations must be China-made (Saito 2017).
A noteworthy animation that was released in 2018 is The Leader (领风者), a web series that focuses on the live and work of Karl Marx, commemorating the 200th anniversary of Marx’s birth.
The idea that was promoted with the release of The Leader was that promoting Chinese ‘mainstream values’ could also have a broad audience appeal, “as it can also be thrilling and attractive” (Global Times 2018).
The ‘rejuvenation’ of Chinese animation is not just a cultural and ideological project, there are economic motives at stake too; China’s animation industry is a multi-billion dollar industry.
Some media predict that 2019 might be a pivotal year for China’s animation. The successes of the 2015 Monkey King: Hero is Back (西游记之大圣归来), the 2016 Big Fish and Begonia (大鱼海棠) and the current White Snake film, might been strong indications that Chinese audiences are ready for more high-quality domestically produced animations that are based on classic literary works or historical themes, and incorporate Chinese traditional culture or socialist values.
The Legend of Nezha (哪吒之魔童降世), Jiang Ziya (姜子牙), and Phoenix (凤凰) are some of the much anticipated made-in-China animated movies to come out this year.
On Weibo, Chinese animations are a daily hot topic, and so is their overall development. The phrase “I support made-in-China animations” frequently pops up, but so do the questions (“when will our animations rise?”) and the criticism.
“They are in the stage of imitating and exaggerating to keep up with international standards,” some say: “But their scripts are still unclear and somewhat embarrassing.”
“The dialogues are still their main problem,” others say. Many people on social media express this idea of ‘China-made animations’ being of a certain low quality, although there are also many who say their views have changed after seeing White Snake in the cinema.
Some commenters write that “Chinese animations keep on getting better and better, and it makes me feel proud.” This idea of a strong Chinese animation market also triggers patriotic reactions elsewhere on Weibo.
Many netizens, however, still allege that the animations made during the “golden years” of China’s 1960s to 1980s were simply the best. “In those years, the animations they produced were just all classics. Nowadays, I can’t even bear to watch anymore.”
Others agree, writing: “They were just so Chinese.”
By Manya Koetse
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