Tag Archives: culture


5 Oct

Everyone’s heard of it. There’s a paragraph about it in any China book. It’s essential in all business and personal dealings. It’s a key to understanding Chinese behaviour. Face.

Face is not just something you have. Face is something you can lose, or give. Win or deny. Face is about social interaction. Face is relational. Face is something money can buy. Face is what success brings you.

Make up can give you more face. So can expensive clothes, expensive cars, holidays abroad, any status item, really. The success of luxury brands in China is directly connected to face.

But face is not all about money. Making money can make you lose face. And face matters more than money. I was talking with Aaron one day about bad service in China – particularly North China. I was proposing what seemed a rational option, saying: service jobs are underpaid, so you can’t get able staff. What if businesses paid more for these jobs, so more competent and dynamic people would do them? That would improve the service, and improve the business. Aaron said ‘even if it paid better than my current job, I would never work in a restaurant. I would completely lose face if I did.’

He added a little story. When he finished high-school – a posh Tianjin high-school – two of his friends got a job in a restaurant. To mock them, he went there the following day, and started ordering lavishly. They served him; then quit the job. They were saving face.

Face is a form of collective property. Chinese parents would rather give their children money than have them work in face-losing jobs. Because if their children lose face, they lose face too. Your face is a common goods, that each of your relatives, friends and neighbours can enjoy, in proportion to their closeness. Any loss of face on your part will affect them, again, depending on how close they are. Then economic rationality plays out. Your relatives would rather give you 100 kuai than let you lose 150 kuai’s worth of face. And if you risk a huge loss of face – your whole network might go bankrupt on it – like a ‘face’ financial crisis. So they find a way; or all take a dive.

But what do you get from having face? To illustrate what face is, Aaron said: for instance, my grand-mother talks to the people in the Xiao Qu everyday. She likes to talk of her grandson making good studies and working for a multinational company. That gives her a lot of face. If I was working in a restaurant, she couldn’t talk about it. If others knew that, she would lose face. So she would just have to be silent, and let them speak.

Face is power. It is, precisely, the power to tell a story. The more face you have, the more you can face others; face them down if necessary. The more face you have, the more people will listen to you. Face has the same function as a mask in Greek and Roman theatre. Face amplifies your voice. It attracts attention to you.

But face is more than just a mask. One common form of mockery – read social control – is to tell people that they are ‘Mian Pi Hou’, literally, that they have ‘thick skin on their face’. That is what you hear when you brag too much, or don’t listen to others’ judgements on your actions. If your face is not affected by the community – then the community will re-assert its power by discarding it as a fake, or as low quality face. The worst scenario being: to not even have face. To pursue your own interest, without any care for what others will think. To build up your own little story, whether others accept it or not. Accepting facelessness.

This is how a shame culture builds itself. That is how social control operates.

(and for those who want further reading on face, there’s a great wikipedia article to read.)

Museum space – the space

16 Sep

As a result of the massive economic boom – and to assert its new super-central position on the world stage – China has built a number of museums in its big cities, showcasing the high achievements of Chinese culture to national and international visitors.

These museums are heavy with symbolic value. They are the nodal point of ideology turned aesthtics – power talking directly to the heart of people. They are deliberate symbols of the new China. As such, they could not be just a square shape with a few paintings and calligraphies hanging on the walls.

Designing a museum must be one of the most exciting assignments for an architect: shaping a building for pure display. The new Tianjin museum is built in the shape of a giant swan, winds open, taking off.

The front part is a futuristic atrium – flooded with light from the windows; at the back are the display rooms, with artificial light exclusively; a controlled environment for better preserving the fragile artifacts.

Even in a playful environment, architects have to think of everyone. In a corner of the Tianjin atrium, they had to carve in a little side room for the curators and Museum workers.

The new Capital Museum in Beijing is not such an obvious feast of architectural playfulness. From the outside, it is a large quadrangle with overhead roof and a bronze tube sticking out on the left.

But inside, the space is interestingly arranged around a large, building high atrium in two distinct areas: a wooden cube on the right has history, a metal cylinder, aslant on the left, has art.

These new Chinese museums are free, but you’re supposed to book a ticket on the internet. As a foreigner (read, ‘white person’), you can easily get away with a ‘Bu Dong, Bu dong’, and simply get in. But there are remarkably few white people in these Museums. In Tianjin, I was one of eleven; in Tianjin, I was alone. But then, the Tianjin Museum is part of a new ‘cultural precinct’, still under construction.

The swan museum has a certain appeal – but you wouldn’t stumble upon it by accident – or spend some time in the area, after your visit, for the pleasure of discovering a Chinese neighbourhood.