Writing Boots

On communication, professional and otherwise.

Search Results for: Chinese idiom

You know whose jobs are in jeopardy from AI? Chinese speechwriters’

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Prominent Professional Speechwriters Association member Felcity Barber—whose new weekly speechwriting newsletter you should subscribe to—asked her techie husband if he thought her job might be taken by AI.

My job is safe for now and my husband was able to explain why. AI tools are only as good as what’s already out there on the internet. I often write about niche topics that are not widely explored online. If there’s not that much that’s publicly available AI won’t generate anything useful. And if the leader you’re writing for doesn’t have much content publicly available, AI can’t replicate their tone of voice. Furthermore, AI can only look back at what you’ve said about a topic previously. It can help with ideation, but it can’t come up with a new perspective. “It can be a thought partner, but it can’t be a thought leader,” were my husband’s words.

Chinese speechwriters, however, toil in a notoriously cliché- and idiom-addicted cultural tradition. Chinese presidents and premiers remind me of a government tour guide I had there 15 years ago, who spoke strictly in starchy idioms: He discouraged us from attending a local theater performance in Lijiang, which he compared to “a wet blanket on a long-suffering yak.” He compared a worrier in our group to “an ant on a hot stove.” He referred to his wife as “my better half,” his 93-year-old grandmother as “no spring chicken,” the local police as “stuffed shirts.” He called the disastrous and deadly summer flooding in China as “par for the course” and hotel prices “highway robbery” (because “you pay through the nose”). When he bid us farewell in the evening, he advised us to, “Sleep tight. Do not let bed bugs bite!”

That’s pretty much how Chinese political speeches sound. Check out these passages from a speech delivered by Chinese Premiere Li Qiang at the opening plenary of a World Economic Forum conference in Tianjin, China, last month:

Second, having experienced the shocks of global crises, we should all the more cherish solidarity and cooperation. The history of human society is a record of human battles against and victories over challenges and difficulties. In face of a momentous crisis, no country can stay unscathed, or solve problems single-handedly. Solidarity and cooperation is the right way forward. …

As a community with a shared future, we must cherish the gains of our cooperation, embrace the concept of win-win cooperation, and work together to tackle these global challenges and promote human progress. …

Third, having experienced the ups and downs of economic globalization, we should all the more cherish openness and sharing.

Without peace, nothing can be achieved. This is a hard lesson humanity has learned from history.

Let us be united in our wish for win-win cooperation, paddle together with one heart and one mind, and steer the giant ship of the world economy toward a brighter future!

Great Scott, is that brutal. Not only could AI create that—AI could beat it.

Which gets me back to the point I made about six months ago in Fortune: ChatGPT will write speeches for leaders who don’t care to communicate original ideas with an audience, but only want to get up and say the expected thing. And we’re about to find out just what percentage of leaders that is—foreign, and domestic.

Chinese speeches: Like a wet blanket on a long-suffering yak

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A lot of Americans are worried about competition from China. And I suppose a lot of us ought to be.

Not speechwriters, boy.

Have you seen the shit that comes off the pens of Xi Jinping’s scribes?

Last month the Chinese president made a speech at an event sexily branded, the “Virtual Summit to Commemorate the 30th Anniversary of Diplomatic Relations Between China and Central Asian Countries.”

Xi’s opening line, “The Chinese people often say, ‘One should be able to establish himself at the age of 30.’ The exchanges and cooperation between China and Central Asian countries, now in their 30th year, have been established on the basis of sincerity, mutual trust, equality and mutual benefit.”

Clank.

Then, in the least-inspiring example of anaphora I have ever seen, the next five paragraphs of the speech each begin, “Over the past 30 years …”

It goes like this:

“Over the past 30 years, we have followed the trend of the times, honored commitment and promoted amity … Over the past 30 years, we have joined hands in a common pursuit of development. … Over the past 30 years, we have shared weal and woe and pursued common security. … Over the past 30 years, we have enhanced mutual understanding and affinity through mutual exchanges. … Over the past 30 years, we have stood by each other and staunchly upheld justice. …”

Rumble-rumble, clatter-clatter, boom-boom-boom. This speech doesn’t need an editor, it needs a mechanic.

The speech contains such classic Chinese oral rhetoric as: “Time rolls on just like the flow of water.” And: “Second, we need to build a cooperation belt for high-quality development.”

The words “mutual” and “cooperation” make up approximately 70 percent of the words Chinese leaders publicly utter. “Exchanges” makes up the rest.

Chinese speeches contain no humor, no stories, no humanity. They are like a General Motors speech, in about 1959. (Or a Chuck Grassley speech, today.)

Instead, Chinese speeches are chockablock with paragraphs like this:

Fourth, we need to build a family with diverse interactions. Exchanges make civilizations colorful, and mutual learning makes them prosper. We need to foster a multi-faceted framework of people-to-people exchanges, speed up the establishment of culture centers in each other’s country, actively conduct dialogue on cultural heritage, and continue to promote exchanges between women, think tanks, media and in other fields. We need to step up tourism cooperation.

This speech does contain some specifics, but the listener’s mind is so benumbed by the time they come along that any actual information beads and runs off the brain, like water of a Peking Duck’s back.

And speaking of bland bromides, Chinese speeches often conclude with one (although not usually butchered quite this badly):

As an ancient Chinese saying goes, “Even the shortest journey can’t be finished without taking the first step. Even the most trivial task can’t be completed without taking actions.” To promote the well-being of the people of our six countries, let us renew our friendship, advance cooperation, and work together to create a brighter future for the relations between China and Central Asian countries and build a community with a shared future for mankind.

I have written about Chinese speeches before, and I said they are getting better. And indeed they are. But like a long journey on which you have only taken the first step—there’s a hell of a long way to go!

An idiom-addicted Chinese government tour guide in Lijiang once taught me an expression that comes to mind when I read Chinese speeches:

They are like a wet blanket on a long-suffering yak.

Even in speechwriting, the Chinese are gaining on us

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For years we've been hearing how the Chinese are stealing intellectual property from the West. 

It's starting to show up in their speeches.

After about a decade of trying and failing to find discernible meaning in Chinese speeches (for publication in Vital Speeches International), I can report that they are becoming less ceremonial, coded, symbolic and platitudinous than they always were—and more communicative, evocative and persuasive.

Chinese presidents and premiers used to remind me of a government tour guide I had there 15 years ago, who spoke strictly in starchy idioms: He discouraged us from attending a local theater performance in Lijiang, which he compared to “a wet blanket on a long-suffering yak." He compared a worrier in our group to “an ant on a hot stove." He referred to his wife as “my better half,” his 93-year-old grandmother as “no spring chicken,” the local police as “stuffed shirts." He called the disastrous and deadly summer flooding in China as “par for the course” and hotel prices “highway robbery” (because “you pay through the nose”). When he bid us farewell in the evening, he advised us to, "Sleep tight. Do not let bed bugs bite!"

I would later come to understand that, whereas in the West, the overuse of clichés and colloquialisms was discouraged—in China, using familiar idioms was a way for a writer, or a speaker, to show linguistic mastery. 

This year, China president Xi Jinping opened his New Year's speech in the traditional Chinese style—with a quote, unattributed: "Time stops for no one, and seasons keep changing."

He went on to utter many bromides:

"China, as a country of people on the move, is energetically pursuing prosperity. We are running at full speed towards the realization of our dreams."

"And now, looking forward, despite the complexities and difficulties we may face on the road ahead, we shall always closely rely on the people and stick to self-reliance and hard work."

"Our country has braved thorny paths and confronted stormy weather over the past seventy years."

"2019 will see both opportunities and challenges that will require us to work together shoulder to shoulder."

So far: par for the course!

But there are unmistakable signs, in the speech, of rhetorical Westernization.

For instance, the imagery in this passage would never have been seen in a Chinese speech even five years ago:

During my inspection tours around the country, I was pleased to see the lush green banks of the Yangtze River, the ocean of rice sprouting at the Jiansanjiang agricultural base, the lively Shenzhen Qianhai Harbor, the bustling Shanghai Zhangjiang High-tech Park, and the bridge that brings together Hong Kong, Zhuhai, and Macao. These achievements are all thanks to the hard work of people from all of China’s ethnic groups, who are the trail-blazers of the new era.

There was even—and this truly is a cultural revolution in China—some rudimentary personal storytelling:

My heart goes out to the people living in hardship. In Sanhe Village of Liangshan in Sichuan Province, I visited the families of two villagers from the Yi people. In Sanjianxi Village in Jinan City in Shandong Province, I sat down with the family of Zhao Shunli to hear about their day-to-day lives. In the Donghuayuan community in the city of Fushun in Liaoning Province, I visited Chen Yufang’s family to learn about how they were settling in after being relocated from a dangerous area. In Lianzhang Village in Qingyuan in Guangdong Province, I discussed with a villager named Lu Yihe how we could help to relieve his household’s poverty. I can vividly recall their down-to-earth sincerity. I would like to wish all of them and their fellow villagers a prosperous and thriving New Year.

(Did Xi really visit those poor people in their villages? In the Chinese media environment, does it matter?)

And then the very next day, Xi gave another speech, using much stronger language to signal that the country would take back control over a sovereign Taiwan, insisting a "one country, two systems" scheme, saying, “Different systems are not an obstacle to unification, and even less are they an excuse for separatism,” and adding, “We make no promise to abandon the use of force, and retain the option of taking all necessary measures."

Now that's the kind of rhetoric Americans are used to hearing.

For decades, the Chinese have been building their economic might. For years they've been building their military. Now that their rhetoric seems to be catching up, even a Western speechwriter might be forgiven for feeling like an ant on a hot stove.