DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

BY LIU JUE (劉玨)

DESTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

BY LIU JUE (劉玨)

The birth of the art of complaining, whining, and moaning

學(xué)會(huì)遠(yuǎn)離散發(fā)“負(fù)能量”的抱怨

When it comes to the art of conveying our discontent, we Chinese are learning. I mean, who can blame us, we only discovered a permissible level of dissatisfaction a few decades ago. We had no idea our lives weren’t perfect and now there’s so much discontent we need to get out of our system. In the old days we referred to our good old Confucian values to dispel any trouble: respect and listen to your elders no matter what. To 抱怨 (bàoyuàn, complain) was an alien concept in the workplace, too. As a small cog in the grand machine that is the glorious socialistmotherland, one was proud to be put to any task so long as he or she was needed.

Everything has changed in this new age—with, proverbially, the squeaky wheel getting the grease rather than the nail that sticks out getting hammered down. But, we are still novices in the subtle art of complaints and how to deal with them. Surely, we are well versed in the technique of praise—to raise an individual to the state of immortal is a piece of cake to us. We can criticize, too—condemning our enemies with all kinds of grand gestures and fl owery language. It is that middle ground, constructive criticism, that’s so hard to grasp. Be it the passive-aggressive grandstanding of Chinese newspapers or every online comment section in the whole of the world, so much of our planet is geared toward an economy of complaining.

The barrage of complaints one has to deal with effectively starts early in life—very early, childhood even. Chinese parents have become known for their harsh criticism of their children; thus, kicking and wailing, we are born into a whinging world. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Asian grading system, where “A” stands for “adequate”. That is the logic of many Chinese parents: you will never be good enough. To convey this point loud and clear, they lean on a semi-fi ctional fi gure with whom you will be compared in every aspect of your life: “the other family’s kid”. At school, your parents will say:

Look at Xiao Li next door, so self-disciplined at studying! Nǐ kàn gébì de Xiǎo Lǐ, xuéxí duō zìjué a !你看隔壁的小李，學(xué)習(xí)多自覺(jué)啊！

My co-worker’s daughter made it into a key high school this year. Why can’t you be like her?

Wǒ tóngshì de nǚér jīnnián kǎo shàng zhòngdiǎn zhōngxué le, nǐ zěnme jiù méi rénjia zhème zhēngqì ne?

我同事的女兒今年考上重點(diǎn)中學(xué)了，你怎么就沒(méi)人家這么爭(zhēng)氣呢？

The others can make it, why can’t you? Biérén néng zuò dào, nǐ wèishénme zuò bú dào?

別人能做到，你為什么做不到？

Well, thanks mum and dad for reminding us that everyone is exactly the same (although back in your day, it was probably true). People often say that your worst enemy is yourself; in our case, it’s defi nitely “the other family’s kid”, the bastard. When we are fi nally done with school, our parents’complaining stays with us.

The other family’s kid is going out with someone really nice, and you don’t even have the shadow of a boy/girlfriend. Biérénjia de háizi tán le ge tè yōuxiù de duìxiàng, nǐ lián ge nán/nǚpéngyǒu de yǐngzi dōu méi qiáojiàn.

別人家的孩子談了個(gè)特優(yōu)秀的對(duì)象，你連個(gè)男/女朋友的影子都沒(méi)瞧見(jiàn)。

The other family’s kids are making good money and becoming bosses, and you are still working for other people. Biérénjia de háizi dōu zhèng dàqián、dāng lǎobǎn le, nǐ hái zài gěi biérén dǎgōng.

別人家的孩子都掙大錢(qián)、當(dāng)老板了，你還在給別人打工。

Just in case we want to express our disagreement and explain how stressful our parents’ complaints have made us, they switch the strategy to emotional manipulation.

Mum and dad only do this for your own good. Bàba māma zhèyàng dōushì wèi nǐ hǎo.

爸爸媽媽這樣都是為你好。

Mum and dad worked so hard and worried endlessly for you growing up; why don’t you understand us in return? Bàba māma zhème xīnkǔ, cóng xiǎo dào dà bùzhīdào wèi nǐ cāo le duōshao xīn, nǐ zěnme jiù bùzhīdào huíbào ne?

爸爸媽媽這么辛苦，從小到大不知道為你操了多少心，你怎么就不知道回報(bào)呢？

As befi tting a son or daughter, you should recognize this as your cue to shut up and nod with guilt, which, truth be told, is the only response parents will ever get. Of course, if you have clever parents, they may use a combination of guilt and self-deprecation to explain the reasons you are an utter disappointment, leaving you with a feeling of both complete misery and futility.

Seeing you in this state, I admit that the fault is mine because of the old saying“l(fā)ike father like son”. Kàndào nǐ zhèyàng, wǒ jiù zhīdào yídìng shì wǒ cuò le. Yīnwèi “yǒu qí fù bì yǒu qí zǐ” ma !

看到你這樣，我就知道一定是我錯(cuò)了。因?yàn)椤坝衅涓副赜衅渥印甭铮?/p>

Complaining in the workplace is even trickier. In an employer’smarket, the relationship between the employer and the employee is fragile to begin with. Any amateurish complaints from the staff could break it entirely. It is not the time for poetic sentiment and ornate rhetoric in an attempt to paint yourself as the protagonist of a tragic play. However, in 2013, an unfortunate Ms. Li who worked in a Beijing beauty salon learned this the hard way when she posted a complaint in her WeChat, forgetting the virtual existence of her boss.

[I] am lying in bed, asking myself; I believe I’m strong but don’t know how long I can keep going. Maybe it will end soon; tears running down my face. Tǎng zài chuáng shàng, mén xīn zìwèn, zì rèn jiānqiáng, bù zhī hái néng jiānchí duō jiǔ, yěxǔ kuài le, lèi liú mǎnmiàn.

躺在床上，捫心自問(wèn)，自認(rèn)堅(jiān)強(qiáng)，不知還能堅(jiān)持多久，也許快了，淚流滿面。

Then, she took it up another notch:

[I] have a clear conscience, not afraid to face heaven and earth; the thunder is roaring outside my window: the gods are crying for me. They are watching your every move! Wúkuì liángxīn hé tiāndì, cǐshí chuāngwài léishēng bú duàn, lǎotiān zài wèi wǒ liúlèi. Rén zài zuò, tiān zài kàn !

無(wú)愧良心和天地，此時(shí)窗外雷聲不斷，老天為我在流淚。人在做，天在看!

In all fairness, to whom this impressive message was addressed is not exactly clear, but Ms. Li’s boss, Ms. Tang, immediately took offense. She replied to the post by saying: If a job is making you so sad, there’s no point in keeping it! Rúguǒ yí fèn gōngzuò ràng rén rúcǐ bēishāng, bú zuò yě bà !

如果一份工作讓人如此悲傷，不做也罷!

The boss’s message was clear: she fi red Ms. Li on WeChat. The whole incident later turned into a lawsuit (which Ms. Li ultimately won), becoming a piece of popular online news fueling much discussion. Bosses are naturally sensitive about workplace complaints. After all, they have the power to turn into a united force and start a “revolution”, and at the very least they result in “negative energy” or 負(fù)能量 (fùnéngliàng), which is detrimental to morale.

In life generally, we talk to our friends and family about what is bothering us and ask for their advice. However, there is also the gloomy type who buys into the“glass half-empty” philosophy. To them, complaining is an obsessive, emotional compulsion. A million heartfelt pieces of advice won’t stop them. If you don’t want to be an emotional garbage can, here are some typical complaints you need to recognize: I feel so sad. Wǒ hǎo nánguò.

我好難過(guò)。

You have no idea how much I did for him. Nǐ dōu bùzhīdào wǒ wèi tā fùchū le duōshao.

你都不知道我為他付出了多少。

I remember that it was not like this before. Wǒ jìde cóngqián shìqing bìng búshì zhèyàng de.

我記得從前事情并不是這樣的。

As you can see, complainers love to dwell in the past, drowning in their emotions while refusing to view the situation with even a little bit of reason. Sometimes, they will get your hopes up in the middle of their long, tedious complaining sessions by saying:

I don’t even want to talk about it. Wǒ dōu bù xiǎng shuō le.

我都不想說(shuō)了。

But of course, that’s just a fi gure of speech, which will be followed by even more complaints. Just like:

I don’t want to complain all the time, but…Wǒ yě bùxiǎng lǎoshì bàoyuàn, kěshì……

我也不想老是抱怨，可是……

All in all, complaining is an intricate art form we desperately need. One suggestion of the phrase 對(duì)事不對(duì)人(duì shì bú duì rén) is “to treat it as an issue instead of taking it personally”. That’s as good a place to start as any.