Photo “NA” by Annie Church

by Julie Wu

Read the Faculty Introduction.

In his widely celebrated film Raise the Red Lantern, Zhang Yimou portrays the withering of concubines in their toxic competition for the master’s sexual favor in early twentieth-century China, lamenting over patriarchy’s ferocious enslavement of women’s sexuality. Among all the victims mired in endless torment, the fourth mistress Songlian, an assertive former college student, bizarrely complies with sexually exploitative rituals in the traditional Chinese courtyard (Zhang). However, beneath Songlian’s façade of everyday subservience lies her agenda to seize control of the household through the master’s sexual partiality. The ambivalent power dynamics underlying women’s ostensible submissiveness also occur in Lessons for Women composed by Ban Zhao, the most influential female scholar in the Eastern Han dynasty. In this behavior manual for young wives, Ban pedagogically appeals to her female descendants to abide by oppressive Confucian norms in the household. Yet, her simultaneous advocacy of education for women substantially challenges the then-Confucian doctrine. A close examination of Songlian and Ban Zhao’s seemingly paradoxical deeds reveals that women’s apparent obedience in Confucian patriarchy not only helps them reconcile their existence but also empowers them to subtly undermine the omnipresent oppressive forces.

Confucian discourse permeated the social fabric of the Eastern Han dynasty, the time when mainstream scholars established women’s subordination to men as both natural and fundamental to the “ordering of society,” as Lin-Lee Lee insightfully describes in “Inventing Familial Agency from Powerlessness: Ban Zhao’s Lessons for Women” (L. Lee 52). Ban’s narrative in Lessons for Women echoes this suppressive trend in her justification of the wife’s unconditional submission to the husband. In chapters two and three, Ban compares the relationship between the husband and the wife to that between “yang and yin,” two antithetical yet interrelated principles regulating the natural world in Chinese culture (Swann 180). As she claims, the quality of yin that women represent in the male-female relationship is inherently “yielding” (Swann 181). Here, Ban delineates submissiveness as women’s intrinsic attributes by adopting the “essentialist gender definitions” that Jana Rošker observes in “Confucian Humanism and the Importance of Female Education: The Controversial Role of Ban Zhao” (Rošker 25). This narrative helps Ban rationalize the wife’s absolute subordination to the husband, as she argues that the “natural order” of the family would be disrupted if the wife fails to “serve her husband” (Swann 181). In short, in Lessons for Women, Ban not only complies with but also staunchly supports the dominant Confucian discourse by advocating for women’s subservience in domesticity. 

However, a close examination of Ban’s life trajectory reveals her compliance as a strategy to terms with the social pressure imposed on her special identity. With a prestigious family background and profound knowledge of Confucian classics, Ban ascended to great political power as a lead royal consultant for Empress Deng (Rošker 26). At that time, considering the Confucian zeitgeist’s reluctance to women’s involvement in “traditionally masculine activities” (L. Lee 52)—for example, Ban’s political clout in her alliances with Empress Deng could easily provoke male politicians’ antagonism (Rošker 27). Facing the imminent threat to her political career, Ban’s “public acknowledgment” of women’s secondary status in society outwardly expresses her “loyalty towards the patriarchal state,” as Rošker analyzes in her discussion of Ban’s obedience to Confucian rules (Rošker 27). Hence, Ban’s allegiance to patriarchal values on the surface conceals the subversive aspect of her participation in politics, shielding herself from social restrictions. 

Concurrently, not only driven by her personal interest, Ban’s apparent submission deliberately undermines Confucianism’s hegemonic constraints on women’s education. The Book of Rites, the accoladed orthodox Confucian classics in ancient China, explicitly states that “only male children should be educated” (qtd. in Rošker 27). To chisel away this rigorous principle without provoking a widespread backlash, Ban capitalizes on the Confucian scholars’ emphasis on the indispensability of a stable marriage in maintaining social order. In Lessons for Women, Ban states that education for girls equips them with “proper customs for married women” (Swann 179). Without knowledge of regulated rituals, as she claims, the wife would not know how to “serve her husband,” thus destroying the “harmony and intimacy” of the marriage (Swann 184). Here, Ban argues that education helps foster “a submissive wife, and an ideal member of her marital family” (L. Lee 55), whose virtue would contribute to a harmonious family and thus consolidate the stability of the society. Hence, leveraging the importance of women’s education to the ritual-regulated Confucian household and society, Ban subtly undermines a pillar of gender subordination during the Eastern Han period. 

The Eastern Han dynasty marked the near-total subjugation of women, requiring them to exert immense effort to attain any semblance of agency. Almost two thousand years after, as the 1911 revolution toppled the Qing dynasty, marking the end of Chinese monarchy, the 1920s witnessed unprecedented progress for women’s liberation, especially in education. As Lianfen Yang documents in “New Ethics and Old Roles: The Identity Dilemma of May Fourth New Women,” the May Fourth movement played a pivotal role in promoting nationwide “co-education [of men and women] at college and social intercourse between sexes” (74). Despite the emergence and thriving of “equality” and “freedom” discourses in urban areas, the vestige of Confucian value still prevailed in traditional Chinese courtyards, mandating women’s “three obedience [to husband, father and son] and four virtues” (Yang 75). Through Songlian’s story, the film Raise the Red Lantern manifests the tension between Confucian social practices and burgeoning revolutionary values that women grappled with in 1920s China. As a former college student forced to become a concubine for a landlord, Songlian gets inundated with these patriarchal values the moment she enters the Chen compound.  

Zhang portrays Songlian’s gradual submission to the sexually exploitative norms in Chen’s compound through his directorial emphasis on the shift of her facial expressions. In Chen’s family, foot massage serves to arouse mistresses’ sexual desire by stimulating their sensitive and private body parts, preparing them to “better serve their man” on the bed (Zhang). Here, women’s sexuality simply constitutes a tool to satisfy the master’s desire, implying the asymmetrical sexual relationship between the master and the mistresses. In both foot massage scenes, Zhang juxtaposes close-up shots of Songlian’s face with the resonating tinkling sound of the massage tools in the background. The change in Songlian’s facial expression thus becomes the sole distinctive element in the two scenes. In Songlian’s first foot massage, she almost imperceptibly frowns her eyebrows with the corners of her mouth turning down, indicating her discomfort (Zhang). Her micro-expressions ground in her aversion to this custom that abruptly stimulates her sensitive parts in front of other people. As Songlian accustoms herself to this exploitative ritual in the household and realizes the sexual privilege this custom embodies, her facial expression experiences a drastic change. The second time Songlian receives the foot massage, she fully closes her eyes with her shoulder relaxed, slowly and deeply inhaling (Zhang). Songlian’s compliance with and even enjoyment of the foot massage implies her “passive demeanor,” as Joann Lee observes in “Zhang Yimou’s Raise the Red Lantern: Contextual Analysis of Film Through a Confucian/Feminist Matrix” (122). The shift in Songlian’s reaction to the foot message thus marks her acceptance of the sexually exploitative norms operating in the courtyard’s arrangement of concubines’ life. 

By submitting to sexual exploitation and catering to the master’s sexual appetite, Songlian seems to transform into a soulless puppet manipulated by oppressive norms in Chen’s household. Yet, in essence, she strategically uses submission to cope with the conflicts between her past freedom as a college student and her present imprisonment as a concubine. Songlian’s dilemma culminates in her interactions with Feipu, the master’s son with the privilege to attend college. In their first encounter, Feipu directly addresses Songlian by her name when all other people in the courtyard call her fourth mistress. Surprised by Feipu’s recognition of her individuality, Songlian directly stares at him in the face with reserved joy (Zhang). Here, the conversation drags Songlian out of the competition for the master’s sexual favor, reminding her of her past autonomy. Yet, the sparkle immediately extinguishes as Songlian says: “you should not call me by my name,” with her eyes drifting away in melancholy and embarrassment (Zhang). In this scene, Songlian’s sorrow originates in the Confucian household’s relentless annihilation of her freedom: after the transient sense of escape from reality, eternal enslavement awaits. The camera’s occasional shift from the medium close-up shot of Songlian and Feipu to the long shot of the enclosed courtyard they are situated in, along with the low-key lighting, echoes this reality. By reminding Feipu of her status, Songlian submits to her irrevocable and suffocating marital bond with the master, accepting her identity as the fourth mistress. Hence, Songlian chooses submission as a coping mechanism to subdue her longingness for college life and freedom.

Behind Songlian’s apparent submission also lies her attempt to break away from the ever-present constraint inflicted upon her in the household. In the Confucian household, the male master not only plays the role of the husband but also “the patronizing father” whom “all the power” in the household derives from (J. Lee 121-123). In this specific cultural background, from a psychoanalytic perspective, “power is male, is phallus” (J. Lee 123). Then, in this case, only through alliances with male power can Songlian seize agency amidst patriarchy’s pervasive control. In the film, Songlian temporarily succeeds by tricking the master with her feigned pregnancy (Zhang). With patriarchy’s obsession with reproduction, Songlian’s “pregnancy” indicates that she has the master’s “seeds” in her, helping her generate much stronger power than simply catering to the master’s sexual appetite (J. Lee 123). Thus, she could enjoy a foot massage whenever desired, humiliate her maid, have her lanterns lit all day long, and order the second mistress to massage her like a servant (Zhang). By “enforcing these customs and rules on other less powerful women in the household,” Songlian receives privileges from the source of male (J. Lee 121). In short, Songlian retains temporary release from the suffocating oppression of the Confucian household through the manipulation of patriarchal rules and alliances with male power.

However, having been exposed to the taste of true freedom during her short stay at the university, Songlian’s strategy is doomed to fail. Approaching the end of the film, Songlian accidentally blurts out the secret that Meishan, the third mistress, has been cheating on the master, directly leading to the cruel execution of Meishan (Zhang). Witnessing the horrendous death of Meishan, Songlian realizes the impossibility of reaching substantial agency as a female subordinate in the Confucian compound. Her rage against the brutal patriarchal system coupled with her lifelong incarceration ultimately drives Songlian to hysteria. As she becomes the “walking ghost” (J. Lee 126) aimlessly pacing back and forth in the courtyard with her student outfit on and braids, her lunacy helps her escape the cruel reality, bringing her mind back to college life. Zhang’s intensive use of red in these scenes signifies both the madness of Songlian and the relentless and devouring nature of Confucian patriarchy. Hence, even through her strategies of submission to and manipulation of patriarchal norms, Songlian still fails to reconcile her existence in the courtyard and claim autonomy of her life.  

A juxtaposition of Lessons for Women and Raise the Red Lantern unveils that while submission helps women living in absolute subordination partially seek some rights within the system, what they have gained still contains limitations. In Lessons for Women, Ban strategically appeases the dominant Confucian scholars who may vehemently oppose the education of women with her obedient tone. Strictly adhering to the patriarchal principle of women’s subordination to men, Ban successfully calls for the education of women. Ban’s subservience helps chisel away an important pillar of the suppression of women in the Eastern Han dynasty. However, concerning the restrictions imposed by the rigorous patriarchal order at that time, Ban’s agency remains within the patriarchal system, failing to step further. Almost two thousand years later, despite the all-around advancement of society, Confucian patriarchy still reigned in the household. Songlian in Raise the Red Lantern adopts the same strategy as Ban to reconcile her desire for freedom with the oppression in real life. Yet, she attempts in vain to manipulate the patriarchal rules for her own interests, which the failure of her feigned pregnancy and her ultimate madness exemplify (Zhang). Women’s persevering yet bitter struggle for the limited agency that Lessons for Women and Raise the Red Lantern portray seems to be far away from the contemporary world: women are no longer prohibited from entering the public sphere or considered as absolute subordinates to men in China. However, the analysis here entails implications stretching beyond gender inequality to conformism embedded in the Chinese context. As Hsiu-Chuang Deppman analyzes in “Body, Space, and Power: Reading the Cultural Images of Concubines in the Works of Su Tong and Zhang Yimou,” in Raise the Red Lantern, Zhang uses a “critical-realist approach” to delineate people’s everyday life in the current society (126). In this sense, the overwhelming and omnipresent Confucianism that Ban and Songlian submit to sneakily finds new expression in contemporary China, encroaching upon everyone. Society can create a perfect illusion that true egalitarianism would be achieved as long as people temporarily sacrifice their own interest and submit to its order, beguiling every individual into unconditional conformity. Perhaps, what Zhang attempts to warn us in the movie is that: conformism might grant us temporary agency, but what we cede to the subjugator may in turn empower it to ferociously devour us.

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Works Cited

Deppman, Hsiu-Chuang. “Body, Space, and Power: Reading the Cultural Images of Concubines in the Works of Su Tong and Zhang Yimou.” Modern Chinese Literature and Culture, vol. 15, no. 2, 2003, pp. 121–53.

Lee, Joann. “Zhang Yimou’s Raise the Red Lantern: Contextual Analysis of Film Through a Confucian/Feminist Matrix.” Asian Cinema, vol. 8, no. 1, Mar. 1996, pp. 120–27. intellectdiscover.com, https://doi.org/10.1386/ac.8.1.120_1.

Lee, Lin-Lee. “Inventing Familial Agency from Powerlessness: Ban Zhao’s Lessons for Women.” Western Journal of Communication, vol. 73, no. 1, Feb. 2009, pp. 47–66. Taylor & Francis Online, https://doi.org/10.1080/10570310802636318.

Rošker, Jana S. “Confucian Humanism and the Importance of Female Education: The Controversial Role of Ban Zhao.” Asian Studies, vol. 9, no. 1,  Jan. 2021, pp. 13–29. journals.uni-lj.si, https://doi.org/10.4312/as.2021.9.1.13-29

Swann, Nancy, translator. “Lessons for Women.” By Ban Zhao. Images of Women in Chinese Thought and Culture: Writings from the Pre-Qin Period through the Song Dynasty, edited by Robin R. Wang, HackettPublishing Company, 2003, pp. 177-188.

Yang, Lianfen. “New Ethics and Old Roles: The Identity Dilemma of May Fourth New Women.” Translated by Feng Shize. Social Sciences in China, vol. 33, no. 1, Feb. 2012, pp. 71–91.

Zhang, Yimou, director. Raise the Red Lantern. Era International (HK) Ltd., 1991.

Read “Weapons of the Weak: How Women’s Apparent Submissiveness Undermines Confucian Patriarchy’s Pervasive Control in Lessons for Women and Raise the Red Lantern“.

Julie Wu, in her final PoH research essay “Weapons of the Weak,” confronts Zhang Yimou’s twentieth-century masterpiece Raise the Red Lantern with Ban Zhao’s second-century BCE  Lessons for Women, with illuminating results. She adroitly harnesses the essay’s broad guidelines—put two course texts “into meaningful conversation”—to serve her specific critical interest: the exploration of Chinese women’s “apparent obedience” to Confucian patriarchy, one nonetheless riddled by “paradoxical” motives and consequences. In doing so, Julie expertly fulfills our PoH’s fundamental essay-writing “musts”: thesis statement is driven by tension and conflict, even “danger”; essay organization unfolds in a tightly knit line of reasoning such that no paragraph may be moved; paragraph main claims all line up sequentially to form the essay’s “spine”; and the conclusion meaningfully addresses the significance—the “So what?”—of the essay’s key insight.

Julie wisely, if ambitiously, chose two texts in which she perceived a consequential, not tangential, relationship, though nearly two thousand years separate them. Even, her essay’s analysis comes to give explicit, even painful, relevance to that wide historical spread, laudably avoiding the ever-present fault line in simplistic “compare and contrast” essays: a mere enumeration of similarities and differences. Instead, aggravated by her sense of paradox in the words and actions of the women in her study—Ban Zhao and Songlian—and their outcomes, Julie plunges into the dark realm of Chinese gender oppression and its costly compromise at once psychological, social and, ultimately, political.

The result is highly original, even daring. Julie’s tight organization and the interconnected, intense unfolding of her argument—each sequential paragraph rooted in meticulous, probing analysis and highly relevant evidence—powerfully anchor the courage and strength of her essay’s closing insight. Extending beyond a historically contingent analysis of gender, Julie finds the “omnipresent Confucianism that Ban and Songlian submit to sneakily [expressed] in contemporary China, encroaching upon everyone.” Arriving at this conclusion, I exclaimed “Wow!” And thoroughly expect many who read Julie Wu’s essay will too.

—Amy Goldman, Clinical Professor in the Writing Program

Photo “Look” by Zhang Cheng

by Enkhjin Nerguibaatar

Read the Faculty Introduction.

Abstract

The identity of a specific region is defined by its semiotics, particularly its linguistic landscape, which represents the residents and culture. Using the evidence that Korean culture has been prominent around cosmopolitan cities like Shanghai, this study explores the Korean language representation in Korean Street (韩国街) located in the Minhang District in Shanghai, China, as Korean immigrants densely inhabit it. I hypothesize that the repetition of Korean language usage in signs can elucidate language predominance and the presence of Korean culture representation in Shanghai. By utilizing Scollon and Scollon’s theory of semiotics as the main method of analysis (Scollon and Scollon 91), the linguistic landscape of Korean Street depicts predominance in the Korean language. The multilingual usage of commercial and noncommercial signs on buildings reflects the presence of Korean immigrants and the representation of their culture by adopting both Korean and Chinese languages in the signage. Therefore, this study explores the diversity of signs on commercial buildings on Korean Street as an attempt to extend the understanding of multilingualism in a regional context by analyzing the linguistic landscape.

Introduction

In recent years, the focus of sociolinguistics research has shifted toward the linguistic landscape of urban areas. The written language on the sign transmits information to an “unspecified group of in public space” (Backhaus 8) and it can convey and represent meaning since it is permanent. The linguistic landscape study refers to the social environment where multiple languages are used, and the signs of large cosmopolitan cities are linguistically diverse and representative of local culture (Huebner 32). The linguistic landscape of cosmopolitan cities in China, Shanghai, and Guangzhou (An and Zhang 2), are currently being studied. Shanghai is considered the cosmopolitan capital of China with around 19 million people in an area of around 6,300 square kilometers. It is a “cosmopolitan, entrepreneurial metropolis” (Wang 87), also a global hub in East Asia (Ye and Jeon 2). 

According to statistics released in 2018 by the Consulate General of the Republic of Korea in Shanghai, there are a total of 32,000 Korean nationals residing in Shanghai, accounting for 15% of foreign residents. This study explores the multilingual landscape of Korean Street (韩国街) which is located in Minhang District, Hongquan Road, and it is one of the most concentrated international communities in Shanghai with 10,000 Korean people. The study of the linguistic landscape holds significant importance, particularly as it represents a public space where various aspects of social life are investigated (Ben-Rafael 41). Therefore, the linguistic landscape research of Korean Street provides insight into the understanding of the linguistic diversity of this region. First, by categorizing the language representation in signs based on their combinations, this study provides a general understanding of the linguistic landscape of Korean Street and its linguistic diversity. Second, by understanding the linguistic diversity of this region, this study explores the arrangement of visual semiotics of signs which can elucidate the relationship between multilingual signs and local cultural representations. 

The significance of this study lies in its examination of the understudied linguistic landscape of Korean Street, a cultural landmark for the Korean community and a renowned tourist attraction. Through the categorization of sign language representation by combinations, this study aims to offer insights into the linguistic diversity of Korean Street and provide a comprehensive overview of its linguistic landscape. As such, this study highlights the linguistic character of  the Korean Street, particularly in metropolis cities like Shanghai, China. 

The linguistic landscape is perceived as the representation of a certain region (Ben-Rafael 42) and visitors remember the characteristics and special elements of the specific area through its semiotics. The research questions that this study aims to address are:

1. How do the Korean-Chinese and Korean-English signs in Korean Street (韩国街) reflect the linguistic representation of the Korean community in Shanghai and contribute to the broader linguistic landscape?
2. What are the patterns of language use on signs in Korean Street?

Linguistic Landscape Studies

The study on Tokyo conducted by Backhaus (Backhaus 53) indicates the historical significance of the language around the signs in Tokyo, analyzing the geographical correlation between semiotics and multilingualism by emphasizing the accessibility of the languages. Also, the comparative approach to exploring the diversity of Tokyo’s linguistic landscape in different neighborhoods and defining the identity of the environment. Backhaus’s analysis can reflect geographical correlation and how the region intends to be represented, specifically on Korean Street, where Korean and Chinese languages are commonly used. Since the signs of Korean Street have linguistic variations, the accessible language can be established by the language and representation of the Korean community in Shanghai.

According to the sociological study of the linguistic landscape by Eliezer Ben-Rafael, the linguistic landscape qualifies as a “social fact” and the elements in the linguistic landscape provide information about the particular place, thus it is a gestalt (Ben-Rafael 43). The individual multilingual signs with different variations of languages are studied by observing the languages on the signs, which are Korean-Chinese, Korean-English, and monolingual signs. As such, the variety of languages and elucidation of the predominant language in those signs illustrate the “whole” identity of the region where the signs have been studied. Therefore, the whole identity of Korean Street can be elucidated by the linguistic environment and the relationship between signs and languages. 

The “symbolic value condition,” which reflects the preference for the language written on signs and other public displays, illustrates the intention of how a specific sign wants to be identified. Thus, the language choice of multilingual signs in the study area can be identified using this “symbolic value condition” (Spolsky 33). In some cases, monolingual usage of signs demonstrates that it is following local regulations of signs, thus it represents the governmental signs. For example, a sign with only the Korean language is either a copy of the original brand advertisement or targeted toward the Korean audience. Therefore, the language preference among the multilingual variations provides information about the context and what the sign is indexing. The patterns of commercial signs on Korean Street can indicate the identification of the environment and the intention of how Korean signs want to be conveyed. As such, Korean cultural representations and language prominence in Korean Street can be recognized by the condition of the sign.

In their research on Bangkok’s linguistic landscape, Huebner examines the linguistic landscapes with a specific emphasis on the presence of environmental print and the use of contact languages (Huebner 48), including Thai, English, and Chinese, in public areas. The author contends that these linguistic features signify the evolution of language and the emergence of a more all-encompassing Thai identity that acknowledges linguistic diversity (Huebner 50). The linguistic diversity of Korean Street reflects the interaction between Korean and Chinese languages and how this language contact contributes to the status of languages in the study area.

Methodology

For the analysis of Korean Street, photographs of signs were collected and analyzed. Over 80 pictures of the signs were taken, including shop signs, road signs, and other signs within the visible scope of the study area. The variation of languages and linguistic contact of the signs were considered. The linguistic variations on the signs included Korean-only, Korean-Chinese, Korean-English, and Korean-Chinese-English trilingual signs. 

The overall study area considered Jingting Building as the main point since it has been established as the central section of Korean Street (YICAI 2020). The perimeter of the study took commercial buildings for analysis because the commercial area (Figure 1) is bordered by the Jinxiu Jiangnan residential area which is 300 meters east of the Jingting Plaza. Therefore, commercial buildings in proximity to the Jingting Building have been taken into consideration such that mostly commercial signs are taken into account in this study.

Photographs were taken of the signs located on the Jingting Building, situated on Hongquan Road to the east, and Tianle Place, situated on Yinting Road to the north. Moreover, a total of 6 buildings were covered and analyzed in the study area. Jingting Plaza and Tianle Plaza were taken into consideration because these buildings are the market hub and the main tourist attraction of this area, the remaining buildings are hotels and other commercial buildings that are less crucial than the market hubs. 

The study analyzed the signs on the exterior side of Jingting Plaza, also known as Jingting Seoul Plaza, located at Hongquan Road. The interior signs also represent the environmental print of Jingting Plaza; however, the signs on the exterior side of buildings were chosen as a “social fact,” to convey the direct visual perception of the visitors and demonstrate the language used on public display. The east side of the Jingting Plaza is where Shanghai Fortune Hotel is located, and it is a Chinese hotel with multiple multilingual signs which suggests the significance of the Korean language as the identity or essential element of this region.  

Tianle Place is located at Yinting Road, and it is a square-shaped building with a myriad of restaurants and stores, which indicates the end of Korean Street because the buildings beyond this area are apartment complexes and other government buildings. The photographs of the signs were collected, and the collected data match the variety of languages on Korean Street.

The Variation of Languages on the Signs of Korean Street

The determination of language prominence in multilingual signs is distinguished by the placement and composition of the sign (Huebner 35), and the composition of the sign plays an essential role in signifying the variation of languages. Moreover, the language mixing was observed in the name of the sign and lexical borrowing of the Korean language was also discerned. The variation of languages reveals the identity of the region, as such the Korean language is abundant in this area compared to the other areas in Shanghai, which use Chinese as the main language. Though the predominant use of the Chinese language can be seen in surrounding areas, the Korean also co-exists with other parts of Shanghai and does not elicit such bilingual scenarios. The Korean “한글” (hangeul) and Chinese “汉字” (hanzi) characters are predominantly used in signs and brochures on Korean Street.  The variations are (a) Korean-Chinese signs, (b) Korean-English signs, (c) Korean-Chinese-English signs, and (d) Korean-only signs.

Korean-Chinese Signs

The prominent language in the multilingual signs is analyzed by Scollon and Scollon’s theory on the composition and modality of visual semiotics. In Figure 2, “제주식당” (je ju sik dang) in Korean and “济州食堂” (ji zhou shi tang) in Chinese are written on this sign, and then the Korean name is repeated at the bottom right corner. The Korean letters are color differentiated, and written in a bigger font, and their prominence is determined as the text is placed above the Chinese characters. According to the composition diagram by Kress and van Leeuwen (Scollon and Scollon 91), the bottom right corner indicates “real and new” information while the placement of the main idea or logo tends to be placed at the bottom right corner. Therefore, the main language of the sign in Figure 2 is Korean.

Moreover, in Figure 3, the characters of both languages are placed adjacent to each other in such a manner that prominence is determined by the sign’s modality. “날마다쏘맥” (nal ma da so maek) is positioned at the central part of the sign and is reiterated in the logo. “실내포차” (sil nae po cha) and “室内大排档” (shinei da pai dang) hold the same meaning in both languages and are positioned on either side of the Korean text. Additionally, “sil nae” and “shinei” convey the same meaning in Korean and Chinese, suggesting potential lexical borrowing from either language. “哈啤哈烧” (ha pi ha shao) is placed on the right side of the logo, and the Korean text exhibits color modality and different character placement to establish its prominence. Therefore, the Korean language is the main language of this sign.

However, the prominent language in Figure 4 is Chinese because of the position and modality of the text. “厨房用品” (chufang yongpin) in Chinese is at the top of  “남영주방” (nam yeong ju bang) in Korean, and the Chinese text is written in bold which suggests that it is the prominent language of this sign. Also, other Chinese texts are placed on the right side of the sign which are “厨房用品” (chufang yongpin) and “生活用品” (shenghuo yongpin) is “new information” (Scollon and Scollon 92) which supports and adds a new idea to the central Chinese text. As such, the Chinese text gives more information than the Korean text so one could argue that Chinese is the prominent language in this sign.

Korean-English Signs

The use of English in Korean-prominent signs is scarce in this region. In Figure 5, “세탁소” (sae tak so) in Korean is written on top of “Urban Laundry” in English which clearly shows that the main language of this sign is Korean. Also, “Urban Laundry” is the direct translation of “세탁소” (sae tak so), and the texts are accompanied by an icon of clothing, which further conveys the main point of this sign. In Figure 6, a hotdog place sign is displayed, and its main purpose and meaning are expressed through its icon, color modality, composition, and language use. In this case, the Korean language is the main language here because the text “썽스핫도그” (sseong seu hat do geu) has been written twice, and the Korean text is highlighted. “Hotdog,” “Hotdog & Coffee,” and “Since 2013” serve as additional information about this sign because of their placements, and color differentiation which the English text is uniformly colored. Also, “hat do geu” and “hotdog” show Korean lexical borrowing from the English language.

In Figure 7, the prominent language of this sign is English because both “Ksports” and “Those who play badminton well take decisions quickly” are emphasized, with the central text being in English. The Korean text, “배드민턴 용품점” (bae deu min teon yong pum jeom), is placed under the English text, and its pronunciation also suggests the lexical borrowing from the English language. However, signs on Figure 5 and Figure 6 are the only Korean-English signs in the study area which implies the scarcity of English language use in the linguistic landscape of Korean Street.

Korean-Chinese-English Signs

The Korean language has been influenced by the globalization of English, which has led to the formation of ‘Konglish’. Konglish is a form of language that has evolved from borrowing lexical elements from English. Korean signs are typically mass-produced and written in English, often incorporating a combination of Chinese and Korean characters, and it transparently showcases the linguistic landscape of Korean streets (Malinowski 201).

A sign displayed in Figure 8 conveys the same meaning in three different languages: “市井婆豆腐牛乳” (shijing po doufu niuru) in Chinese, “팥고물우유” (pat go mul woo yoo) in Korean, and “Grandma Bean Paste Milk” in English. The characters “市井婆” are emphasized to express that the bean paste milk is “grandma’s” or “grandma’s special.” In terms of color saturation, composition, and color modality, the prominent language of this sign is Chinese, and the central idea is “bean paste milk” and “grandma’s” highlighted on the left part of “豆腐牛乳.” However, in the Korean characters, the word “grandma” is not mentioned, which alludes to bean-paste milk being the significant component of this sign.

Korean-only Signs

Korean characters dominate the monolingual signs displayed on the upper level of every building on Korean Street, such as the one in Figure 9 located on the 4th floor of Tianle Place. The sign’s composition and color differentiation are notable features, with Scollon and Scollon’s visual semiotics theory explaining that the narrative of the sign is conveyed through the symbols “superstar” and “microphone.” These symbols index “수퍼스타” (shyu po seu ta), which is dialectically similar to the English word “superstar,” and “가족노래방” (ga jok no rae bang), which translates to family karaoke in English. The Korean character on the sign effectively highlights the importance of the Korean language, while the symbols provide context for the sign’s meaning. The phone number on the sign is located in the lower-right corner, which according to Scollon and Scollon (2003), signifies “real news” information. The main symbol of the sign, the superstar, is prominently displayed in the center with saturated color and a different font from the setting. The use of bold Korean text and the superstar logo highlight the sign’s color modality.

Figure 10 is an example of a monolingual sign on Korean Street where the meaning of the sign is targeted toward a specific audience. For instance, in Figure 10, “담배가게 아가씨” (tam bae ga ge a ga ssi) and “아카펠라 엑시트” (a ka pel la eg si teu) means “tobacco girl” and “acapella exit” in English, and it suggests that this sign is aimed for particular groups of people who understand the context of this sign.

In Figure 11, “옛날 노래방” means “a long ago karaoke,” and it is an example of a monolingual sign. The monolingual signs were not as abundant as multilingual signs in this region, and it could be speculated that the target audience of this sign would be Korean speakers.

Conclusion

The linguistic landscape of Korean Street in Minhang District, Shanghai, is representative of Korean immigrants living in Shanghai, reflecting the local Korean culture and identity. Through the analysis of commercial and noncommercial signage on buildings in the study area, this research has explored the region’s linguistic diversity, highlighting the significant use of Korean language signs in this area. The arrangement of visual semiotics of signs has also been examined, further expanding on the portrayal of multilingualism in signs by using Scollon and Scollon’s theory of visual semiotics. The findings of this study indicate that the Korean language is the main language and represents the identity and origin of residents in this region. Aside from the Korean language, Chinese and English languages were present among the signs. The multilingual use of Korean and Chinese languages was more prominent among other signs, and such signs were not as abundant as they are on Korean Street. However, Korean and English language use on the signs might be related to Korean linguistic derivation from some English words. Furthermore, the position of texts among the signs was analyzed using the visual semiotics theory by counting the visually significant language as the prevailing language of the sign. Further study could explore the sociolinguistic dynamics influencing the prevalence and distribution of multilingual signage in this area.

This study aimed to portray Korean cultural representation through the linguistic landscape of Korean Street. However, the location of commercial buildings was sparse, and the perimeter of the study needed to fully include every commercial building on Korean Street. Additionally, Korean Street itself has no defined perimeter as it is surrounded by residential and other secluded buildings that do not include any signs. Potential setbacks include a lack of local Chinese sources and in-depth research on Korean immigrants in Shanghai, specifically those surrounding Korean Street. Though additional questionnaires were conducted with locals, the result did not contribute to the main claim since local residents were unaware of the exact statistics and history of this region. Furthermore, historical data and numerical data in terms of the population and migration of Korean people in this region need to be studied. Moreover, old signs were abundant in this area, so there was a limitation in terms of counting every sign accurately, further elaborating on accurate numerical data. Future studies could employ ethnographic approaches or engage with the Korean community on Korean Street to gain an understanding of linguistic practices and cultural dynamics within this region.

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Read “The Linguistic Landscape Analysis of the Jingting Plaza and Tianle Place of Korean Street  (韩国街) in Shanghai, China”.

Great cities gather people from all over the world. In these dynamic centers, diverse cultures and languages mix and mingle. We hope that such contact avoids devolving into conflict and, instead, grows into an ethic of cosmopolitan openness. What are some concrete and material strategies that people use to navigate and negotiate linguistic differences in cosmopolitan cities like Shanghai, especially in public spaces? Studies of linguistic landscapes investigate some ways that written language found in street signs, shopfronts, and advertisements negotiate these differences. 

Enkhjin’s paper is an ambitious study of an area in Shanghai’s Minhang District that’s commonly known as Koreatown. Her research reveals how Korean immigrants and Chinese residents are negotiating linguistic differences in public spaces. She clearly defined her data set, thoroughly collected her evidence, and insightfully analyzed the signs. Enkhjin confirmed her hypothesis that the presence of Korean speakers in the area would affect the presentation of visible languages within the space. More importantly, she discovered specific strategies people use to negotiate linguistic and cultural differences in this Shanghai neighborhood. Enkhjin’s study is original research, and it contributes new knowledge to discussions of public spaces and sociolinguistics.

—Mark Brantner, Clinical Associate Professor in the Writing Program