BEIJING – I remember my second night in Beijing, after having arrived on a long flight from Vancouver.  A friend and I were being put up in the Friendship Hotel and we wandered down the street to one of the city’s many non-descript mini bar streets.  There, we met a guy from New Zealand who wanted to be called “Wazza”.

“Can you guys speak Chinese?” he asked.  Neither of us could.

What startled me at that moment – something I remember to this day – was that he used the word “Chinese” instead of “Mandarin”, a distinction many westerners are taught to make.  In Canada and the United States, we would joke at people who use the term “Chinese” as it betrayed their ignorance about the complexities of China’s languages, particularly Cantonese and Mandarin (although there are obviously hundreds of other dialects).

It wasn’t long before I was calling Mandarin “Chinese” as well, and have continued to do so until this day.  But in developing some writing guidelines for this website, I’ve been wondering if that’s the right thing to do.

One of our contributors pointed out some telling facts:  fewer than 60% of Chinese people even have the ability to speak Putonghua (Mandarin Chinese), according to the People’s Daily.  There are also some 200 dialects spreading out far and wide, and of those some are rather influential:  Cantonese and Shanghainese come to mind.  If we include Taiwan as part of China (like all good “friends of China” must), then we’d have to also include Minnanhua.

Having lived in Shanghai and Guangzhou (Canton), I can say that neither place seems overly consumed with speaking their own languages.  I didn’t detect any political reasons for speaking the local dialect, but rather it was their mother tongue and most convenient.  I’d often sit in staff meetings in Guangzhou while the director would open in Cantonese, only to offer a bu hao yi si and continue in Putonghua.  It is, of course, the law for Putonghua to be spoken in schools and in the workplace.

I’m somewhat surprised by the lack of political resistance, especially when compared to the Quebecois and protection of French language and heritage in Canada.  Quebec has a series of laws and regulations restricting the teaching of English in schools and the size of signs on businesses.  The goal, clearly, is to ensure that Quebecois culture survives the onslaught of English.  In my admittedly limited time (one year) in Guangdong, I found no similar concerns of being overrun by Mandarin.

(To be fair, there are reports from Shanghai that the “proud” Shanghainese would rather keep their own language, and use it to exclude others.  As a foreigner, I have no first-hand experience with this, but am relying on what Chinese associates tell me. Statistics show that 70% of Shanghainese have the ability to speak Putonghua, but only 30% use it in the workplace.)

Mao understood that China, for political reasons, would be more unified if the people shared a common language.  The effort at blanketing the country with Putonghua seems to be paying off, as everyone in Guangdong I came into contact with was able to speak it (with the exception of some older folks who I’d run into over yum cha. They weren’t schooled in Putonghua, and clearly never picked it up) and it is becoming widespread, even in western regions. Today, Putonghua is the most spoken language in the world (by some 800 million people).

But that doesn’t change one simple fact:  Mandarin is a Chinese dialect, not Chinese in and of itself.  In Hong Kong, which is predominantly Cantonese (although I’m amazed at the quick growth of Mandarin there), Cantonese is referred to as Chinese.  An overwhelming majority of overseas Chinese communities speak Cantonese.  So if we attempt to write articles that will be read in mainland China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and beyond, should we have more sensitivity over the meaning of “Chinese language”?

When I first moved to Guangzhou I had no desire to learn Cantonese.  It seemed like a dying language -- spoken only in one province and two Special Administrative Regions where most people could speak Putonghua anyway.  But later I understood that Cantonese – like Mandarin – is much more than a simple language.  It’s part of a broader cultural mosaic that encompasses shared histories and traditions.  Because of this, Cantonese won’t be going away anytime soon.  Neither will Shanghainese, Minnanhua, or any of the other hundreds of dialects dotting the country.

Which brings me to my final point.  This past week I noticed some signs inside Tianjin Television, where I work.  They were posted near elevators and also on the coffee table in the station’s lobby.  As you can see above (that photo was taken outside of an elevator), they urge people to speak Putonghua and write using simplified characters.  I would not be surprised to see this kind of sign in Guangzhou (I didn’t) but I was a little startled to see it in Tianjin, a city that speaks Putonghua anyway.  (Yes, there is a Tianjin dialect which is quite funny and I am learning – but it’s more a collection of local slang than anything else).  And really, does anybody in mainland China write in traditional characters anymore?

That debate can be saved for another day.