China fights SARS -- and spitting
A venerable tradition falls into disrepute because of the danger of spreading disease
BEIJING -- As Liu sped along the path at Bei Hai Park, the rumbling in his throat became louder and more intense. A restaurant cleaner, Liu had a dollop of phlegm to dispose of, and was rushing around the lake to go out the park's west gate.
"No one would dare spit in here these days -- you'd get fined a lot and no one's paying wages," said Liu, who claimed he was recently laid off because SARS had decimated his restaurant's business.
"In the past, no one cared. You spat where you liked. But with SARS, everyone's paying a lot of attention."
In its battle against severe acute respiratory syndrome, China is tackling a unique challenge: Spitting is a longstanding Chinese tradition, and spitting potentially spreads SARS.
As a result, to supplement temperature checks and hand-washing posters, the Chinese government has contributed a new weapon to the world's war against SARS: Little white plastic spit bags that are handed out in parks and malls, the hardware for a wide-scale anti-spitting campaign.
Last week, on Wanfujing shopping street, volunteers dressed as Lei Feng, the legendary Chinese soldier and do-gooder, pressed bags into the palms of passers-by. At the gate of Bei Hai Park last weekend, pretty girls wearing sashes promoting the 2008 Olympics manned a table where bags were dispensed.
The bags read: "Spitting on the ground is dangerous to your health and spit contains infectious diseases. But with one small bag in your hands your health will always be invincible."
This week, the Communist Party Central Committee's Spiritual Civilization Office gave its imprimatur to the war against spit, issuing a "Directive on Launching Activities to Transform Vile Habits."
But old habits die hard and in China there is hardly an older or more visceral habit than this one, practiced frequently by lowly peasants as well as powerful leaders. Deng Xiaoping, the Chinese leader who ushered in the era of economic reforms, was a famous spitter, renowned for his aim.
Until recently, in fact, Chinese leaders had ceramic spittoons placed by their chairs during banquets and ceremonies to greet kings, politicians and business executives. In Chinese culture, spitting was not regarded as particularly offensive, and was far less disgusting than nose-blowing, for example.
But as China opened its doors to the outside world, its leaders quickly realized that other cultures took a less benign view of the arcs of phlegm that filled China's air.
In recent years, the government has begun several campaigns to discourage the habit, but until now has met with limited success. The floors of train stations and hotel lobbies were still dotted with drying gobs, and the sidewalks have become a kind of obstacle course, to be navigated with care.
Along came a little coronavirus that could live in phlegm, and attitudes quickly changed. Newspapers are filled with anti-spitting propaganda.
Just as New York's new restrictions on smoking have set off battles between smokers and non-smokers, Beijing has seen a rise in nasty brawls between die-hard spitters and their foes.
But no one is suggesting that spitters give up the habit altogether -- just that they avoid spitting on the ground. For most older Chinese men, phlegm is regarded as an unavoidable byproduct of heavy smoking and also pollution, and it is taken for granted that it must go somewhere. The government recommends that phlegm be spat into a tissue or a spit bag, and then thrown in a bin.
"I used to spit, but not anymore since we are paying a lot more attention to ordinary hygiene," said Lu Xiufeng, 68, a retired machinist in Bei Hai. "You wait and then use a tissue when you have to spit."
But as he spoke, he kept clearing his throat, his face becoming uncomfortable and his voice increasingly hoarse as the minutes passed.