Martin Jacques - When China Rules the World

Why have the Japanese and Chinese so comprehensively abandoned their sartorial traditions? Clearly the influence of Western modernity — in this case primarily European — has extended to what people choose to wear. If people want to be modern they feel they must dress in a Western way: Western dress is the sartorial badge of modernity. Another frequently offered explanation is practicality: that traditional forms of dress are seen as largely impractical for modern living. But that does not explain why traditional elements have not found expression in a popularized and modernized form: that is what, after all, has happened with the relentlessly innovative tradition of Western dress. Long dresses and petticoats, doublets and breeches, top hats and tails, may all have disappeared, along with much else, but the Western tradition of dress thrives and prospers. In the Japanese case, traditional (and simplified) forms of dress never came to be regarded as fundamental to the Japanese way of life, or Japanese ‘realm’, [367] [367] Kosaku Yoshino, Cultural Nationalism in Contemporary Japan (London: Routledge, 1992), p. 112. as Kosaku Yoshino puts it, unlike language, food, sake (rice wine) and tatami mats, for example. As a consequence, dress was one of the elements that the Japanese were prepared to forsake and see Westernized as part of the process of post-Meiji modernization. In China, in contrast, traditional forms of dress were condemned to virtual extinction by their association with the old dynastic order. After 1978, it was a relatively short sartorial journey from the ubiquitous style of dress of the Maoist era to the Western styles of today.

A similar picture of Western influence holds throughout North-East Asia, including South Korea and Taiwan. Much the same is true of most of South- East Asia as well. The main exception is Malaysia (and to a lesser extent Indonesia), where a majority of Malay women now cover their head with the tudung (headscarf) and wear the baju kurung (a Malay style of dress consisting of sarong and upper tunic). With rapid urbanization and in a highly multiracial environment, this represents a strong statement of cultural identity. In part the style represents a return to Malay tradition, but it is also an appropriation of various Islamic traditions, which have been given a distinctively Malay flavour by the use of strikingly bold colours: [368] [368] Interview with Abdul Rahman Embong, Kuala Lumpur, March 2001. Malays have a highly developed sense of fashion, certainly when compared with Indian and especially Chinese Malaysians, with their somewhat drab mimicry of Western dress codes.

If Western dress has been widely adopted in China, Japan and elsewhere for the reasons outlined, why has this not been the case in India, or amongst Malay women, for example? It would seem that in both instances religion has played a crucial role in sustaining traditional forms of dress. A distinctive feature of both China and Japan — and North-East Asia generally — is the lack of any strong tradition of organized religion. This contrasts markedly with India, where Hinduism and to a lesser extent Islam, for example, exercise an extremely important cultural influence. In both, dress plays at least two roles: first, it is a reflection of religious teaching, not least in the rules governing gender dressing, and second, it may act as a means of distinguishing followers of a religion from others. Both these considerations, for example, apply to Malay women and also to Punjabi men, with their uncut hair and turban. Religion has proved a formidable obstacle to Western-style dress in South Asia, whereas in China and Japan it barely constitutes a factor in dress codes.

Tokyo fashion shows use many white models, as well as Japanese, but rarely anyone of darker skin. Comme des Garçons only ever uses white models at its shows. [369] [369] Interview with Valerie Koehn, Tokyo, May-June1999. White models are common at Hong Kong fashion week, along with Chinese, but there are rarely, if ever, black or brown models. The local fashion magazines — which are often versions of Western magazines like Vogue or Elle — carry text in the vernacular but the models are overwhelmingly white. [370] [370] Otto Pohl, ‘The West’s Glossy Magazines “Go Forth and Multiply”’, International Herald Tribune , 14–15 February 2004. A majority of fashion advertising in Hong Kong — though no longer in Japan — uses white (rather than Chinese) models, as does Giordano, the local equivalent of Gap; black or brown models are never to be seen. A walk around the underground shopping mall beneath People’s Square in central Shanghai paints a not dissimilar picture: the advertising mainly features Chinese models but there are plenty of Caucasians and never anyone of darker skin. In India, on the other hand, the models on the catwalks and in the fashion magazines are overwhelmingly Indian, usually of fair complexion. [371] [371] Suzy Menkes, ‘Whose Sari Now?’ International Herald Tribune , 17 May 2008.

In an interview with Yang Qingqing, a beauty expert and cult figure amongst Shanghai women, I sought to understand the profusion of white models and the total absence of models with darker skin.

Chinese culture is very open. We can accept things from outside. When we look at a foreigner we will be more tolerant of their beauty. But if they are Chinese we will be more critical. Maybe distance generates an appreciation of beauty, that’s why we like Western features. [372] [372] Interview with Yang Qingqing, Shanghai, April 1999.

Despite my best efforts, she refused to be drawn on why this apparent openness did not include women of darker skin. Mei Ling, a Taiwanese beauty expert who advises Max Factor and acts as a consultant to Chinese pop singers and film stars, was altogether more forthcoming:

In Hong Kong, Taiwan and the mainland, Chinese girls like white skin products. They think white is beautiful. People have a dream and it is about the West. We are yellow, but we don’t want to be. For Max Factor, Lancôme and the rest, every season it is the same colour — white. It is very boring. We try and sell them a new colour each season, but they just want white. Asians like white skin. For seventy years — the period of make-up — the choice has always been the same — white. Because of the shape of the Chinese face — a small nose, high cheek bones, narrow eyes and absence of facial hair — skin is more important to the Chinese than to Westerners. [373] [373] Interview with Mei Ling, Taipei, March 1999.

There is a huge demand for such whitening products amongst Chinese, Japanese and Korean women and they dominate cosmetic advertising on television and in the press. [374] [374] ‘What Price Glamour? A Hard Lesson in Asia ’, International Herald Tribune , 2 May 2006. It is estimated that the Japanese market for whitening products was worth $5.6 billion in 2001, with China (the fastest growing market) valued at $1.3 billion. Much of the advertising aimed at Asian women by Western cosmetic companies uses images and narratives with implicit references to the aesthetic ‘inferiority’ of the ‘dark’ and ‘yellow’ skin tones of Asian women. [375] [375] Amina Mire, ‘Giving You a Radiant White Skin “Because You Are Worth It”: The Emerging Discourse and Practice of Skin-whitening’, unpublished abstract for PhD, University of Toronto, 2004, p. 16. It is not unusual to see Chinese and Japanese women smothered in white foundation cream and looking — to Western eyes — somewhat ghostly. The racial subtext of all this is clear: black is repel lant, yellow is undesirable and white is good. The desire for whiteness takes other forms. On a sunny day in China, Japan, Singapore and elsewhere, it is very common to see Chinese or Japanese women using parasols and umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun; they do not want to have tanned skin. [376] [376] Ibid., for a fascinating account of the racial subtext of the whitening cosmetic industry, and the central role of East Asia. Also, Amina Mire, ‘Pigmenta tion and Empire: The Emerging Skin-whitening Industry’, A CounterPunch Special Report , 28 July 2005, pp. 6–8. Umbrellas carried by women as protection from the sun remain a peculiar and distinctive Chinese and Japanese preoccupation.