【外交政策 20121113】黑衣人 － 中国政客的着装

满仓

【中文标题】黑衣人－中国政客的着装
【原文标题】Men in Black Inside the fashion of Chinese politics
【登载媒体】外交政策
【原文作者】NELS FRYE
【原文链接】http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2012/11/13/men_in_black?page=0,1




一个中国官员每天早上穿衣服的时候，他必须谨慎选择。不能太招摇，戴错表或者领带都会招致批评，甚至更严重的后果。但是也不能选择那些让人联想到高度共产主义时代农民风格领导人的服装，现在穿毛式中山装，会让那些对中国发展起至关重要作用的外国人感觉不舒服。在双方面的限制下，中国人的政治着装倾向于最低调的选择：黑色套装、白衬衫、沉闷的温莎结领带。这就是驻北京记者Nels Frye在《外交政策》上的文章中所提到的，所谓“彻底低调的外表”。

现在，中国正在面临十年一度的领导人换届，着装的选择标准或许比平常更严格了。必须彰显沉稳和统一的特征，稳定——即使是服装上的稳定——是至高无上的。


2012年9月，习在现任主席胡身后等待入席宴会。


目标是尽一切可能同质化：一模一样的墨黑色掩盖了年龄，四四方方的套装隐藏了体格的区别。上图，中国最高决策层、中央政治局的9位常委在2007年与媒体见面。反叛的紫色领带（右4）是吴。

上一代中国领导人似乎并不刻意回避装饰品。比如坐在常委第二把交椅上的吴，就喜欢那种在中国年轻一代嬉皮士中充重新流行起来的大框眼镜。


吴在2011年。


李和吴一样，也喜欢顶到脑门的大框眼镜。上图，李在1988年。


但是，或许最令人印象深刻的是前主席江（右）的那副巨大无比、玳瑁框的眼镜。他在2002年退休之后，中国主席专用眼镜似乎缩小了点，尽管胡自己也戴大框眼镜，但毕竟是不大显眼的金属框。上图，胡和江在十八大开幕式上。


作为1981年到1987年党的最高领导人，胡让中国领导人开始选择西式正装来取代本土的毛式服装。作为中国最富改革意识的领导人之一，胡的解放思想导致了他被革职的结局，但他对西式服装的偏爱保留了下来。上图，1981年，胡身着西式服装站在身着传统服装的邓旁边。


领导人的休闲装也颇为单调：在非正式场合通常会穿一件短袖白衬衫，下摆塞在裤子中。秋天和冬天的休闲装是黑色、齐腰长、普通人造织物的拉锁夹克衫。上图，温在2003年展示党的标准造型。


领导人在自己的国家里，冬天会穿上宽松的羽绒服。但是如果到国外出访，通常的服装是经典的羊毛大衣。上图，胡在2011年访问华盛顿。


目前身败名裂的薄喜欢裁剪得体的西装和个性化的领带，这让他在衣着单调枯燥的同事面前显得出类拔萃。薄最终还是没能延续他出众的品味——没有别的意思。上图，2005年薄出席新闻发布会。


前总理李之女李小琳是人大代表，也是中国最成功的商界女性之一。但她曾经因为喜爱收集香奈儿、爱马仕等外国奢侈品而遭到批评。上图，李在2009年。


即使习即将登位，人民共和国领导们的衣着似乎更加保守了。胡的时代结束了，四四方方的套装遗留了下来。上图，胡在周四开幕的第十八届人民代表大会上讲话。




过去十年里中国发生了巨大的变化，从数百万农民跻身中产阶级，到普拉达、爱马仕和古驰等精品店挤满了北京和上海的购物中心，但是中国顶层领导人的服装风格没有任何变化。海军单排双纽扣上衣、半开领白色衬衫和颜色黯淡的温莎结领带，依然是规定装束。几乎毫无例外，领导人都喜欢炫耀被染成墨黑色的头发，就像四四方方的西服隐藏了体型一样来掩饰自己的年龄。在领导层换届之际，中国共产党更加坚定地表现出团结、持续和稳定，让任何奇装异服没有容身之地。

如果非要说有一些变化，那么这些领导人越来越缺少品味了。因为有一样东西不见了，那就是曾经让布鲁克林的威廉斯堡、伦敦的肖尔迪奇和北京的789潮人们对中国大佬纷纷侧目的东西：能让人们联想到亨利•基辛格的那种巨大、方框的眼镜，这东西可是潮人圈力的社交必备服饰。中国最高决策机构中央政治局的常委吴，就是这东西的大力推行者。他在本周将退居二线，连同大框眼镜一起带走。在他之前，前总理李也戴着一模一样的眼镜，这与他刷子般浓密的眉毛形成绝妙的搭配。最令人难忘的是性格友善、总会给人带来欢乐的前主席江的巨大无比、玳瑁色眼镜。中国人把这种大框眼镜视为老气横秋的代名词，或者顶多算是过于学者气和严肃的派头——而绝非复古别致。但是，过度泛滥的眼镜带来的问题是，中国领导人似乎无法用它们来掩饰自己的低调。

即将离任的胡主席的眼镜也很大，尽管是稍显别致的金属框。当胡和他的大部分同事在11月14日离任之后，进入政治局常委的一些人中，有的也会戴那种小型的、更时尚的、不甚招摇的眼镜。但是，大部分人一定做过激光视力矫正手术，要么就是天生视力极佳，或者戴着隐形眼镜。去掉了书呆子气的眼镜和那些标志性的装饰物，新一代领导人显得更现代，而不像是赖在岗位上的老一代革命家。同时，新皇被完全隐没在沉闷平淡的同僚中——九个（或者七个）几乎穿着一模一样的人。

1981年到1987年的党总书记胡耀邦首先穿上了西式正装，从那时开始，中国的高级领导人逐渐放弃了本土的毛式服装 ，也称中山装（以中华民国创始人孙中山的名字命名）。作为中国最富改革意识的领导人，胡试图让政府变得更加透明、更加负责任。他要求西藏的汉人学习汉语，甚至号召用刀叉代替筷子，那么他成为第一个穿西装打领带的主要中国领导人，也就毫不奇怪了。他的解放意识招致了被革职的结局，但是对西服的青睐延续了下来。在80年代和90年代，出现在照片中的领导人越来越少穿中山装了。胡也只会在阅兵时穿中山装，而且未来的主席习也不大会喜欢这种装束，这或许会让他联想到自己和同事在文化大革命期间的痛苦经历。

对西式服装的钟爱与给中国带来巨大发展的经济开放政策同步前进，它就好像一只伸向西方的手、一种对现代化的展望、一个“开张营业”的牌子、一种通过接受全球惯例而提升自身的渴望情绪。然而，印度、伊朗、沙特阿拉伯和尼日利亚等国家领导人传达出的却是不同的信息，他们偶尔还会选择与西装截然不同的服饰。北京一位服装设计师说：“中山装会让外国人格外关注，他们面对的是中国共产党的官员。”她要求匿名，因为谈论领导人太敏感了。她开玩笑说：“而且，在饭桌上你还可以解开西装的扣子，而中山装一般要把扣子系到领口。”（她还说，现在的领导人比从前的领导人胖多了。）

一些中国人认为，领导人的西式装束似乎表示中国在国际舞台上缺少特立独行的性格和发言权。一位IT销售在接受采访时要求匿名，他的女朋友在一家时装公关公司工作，他希望领导人能穿上中国的传统服装，但是“很可惜，他们不能不表现出现代和进步的一面，中国已经没有当代特色的服装和礼节了。”一位经营装修公司的北京人经常为政府官员提供服务，他认为现代中国缺少个性：“取人之长补己之短是好事，但目的是让我们更好地生存和发展。”

高层官员的休闲装同样缺少特色。当他们需要把一个人展示给公众时，通常会给他穿上一件白色短袖衬衫，下摆塞在裤子里作为夏装。冬天，则是一件臃肿的羽绒服，当然，领导人在正式场合也会穿上羊毛大衣，尤其是在国外出访时。春秋季的服装是一件黑色、齐腰长、普通人造织物的拉锁夹克衫。这件夹克衫，与其说其中带有什么文化内涵，还不如说仅仅是为了显示出与其它服装的不同——运动衫、皮夹克和传统中国服装。它廉价的原料、宽大的风格、昏暗的色调，似乎在刻意彰显其凡夫俗子的本意。

这些服装是最安全的选择，缺乏特性，恰恰是共产党领导人所追求的目标。那些衣着品味与众不同的专制国家领导人，似乎都没有善终。招摇的前伊拉克独裁者萨达姆•侯赛因喜欢订做的细条纹套装，配上大方格口袋。前利比亚强人穆哈迈尔•卡扎菲在衬衫上绣上非洲大陆的地图。前埃及总统侯赛因•穆巴拉克品味更加出众，他甚至在订做的西装条纹中绣上自己的名字，公众肯定会将这种行为解读为“我偷窃的国家的资源”。身败名裂的重庆市委书记薄，是毛之后最富有个性的共产党精英。他穿着裁剪得体的三粒扣西装，喜欢大结领带，有时候还会刻意让领带结有凹陷的痕迹。这些其实绝算不上奇装异服，但是加上他的个人魅力、魁梧的体格、丰富的表情、俊朗的外表，薄在他碌碌之辈的同僚中显得鹤立鸡群。就像一个华尔街金融企业家被俗气的中西部中层管理人员围在中间，用一个经常接触他的纽约咨询师的话来说，薄具有迷人的魅力。

不管是哪些原因最终导致了薄的下台，他英俊的外表没有起到任何帮助的作用。相貌是让他容易被公众所接受的原因之一，让他更具有煽动性。人们觉得那些深藏不露的高层领导人不招人喜欢，几个年轻的中国人对我说，他们领导人的着装差劲，甚至给中国“丢人”。其实他们的服装即使算不上俗气，恐怕也不会引起很多争议，所以民众的反应似乎主要是针对领导缺乏亲民行为，而不是厌恶他们的服装。

但是具有讽刺意味的是，任何与政府有关的人一旦穿着与众不同，公众的反应——至少在互联网上——往往颇为激烈。李（带傻瓜眼镜的那位）的女儿李小琳是中国最成功的商业女性之一，也是中国立法机构人民代表大会的代表。她曾经因为喜爱收集香奈儿、爱马仕和其它昂贵的外国品牌产品而遭到批判。山西运输部官员杨达才的手表引起了公众的反对，政府内部不得不下达非官方的命令，禁止佩戴昂贵的手表。这些事情，都让官员本来已经极为有限的表现自我个性的机会又少了一个。北京那位服装设计师说：“在中国，官员都是奢侈品店的VIP客户。”但是他们的消费能力，必须借助家庭成员的名义来行使。这个原因，或许让官员们不能自由地展示他们的着装品味，因为公众立即会联想到这些官员的家人积累的财富，往往大幅度地超越了他们表面上的工资收入。

说到时尚问题，官员们的确没有更好的选择。鉴于他们与民众之前脆弱的关系，以及与同僚竞争更高职位的高额赌注——竞争获胜与否往往取决于远离争议和取得广泛的认可——目前的隐身斗篷或许是最好的选择。爱马仕领带和阿玛尼西装或许会招致贪污腐败的谴责声，而毛式中山装似乎又有让历史倒退的嫌疑。总之，单调和乏味的感觉比这些风险都要来得小。



原文：

When a Chinese official gets dressed in the morning, he must choose his outfit with care. Don't be too flashy: the wrong watch or tie, and he could find himself criticized -- or worse. But nor should his fashion choices be too reminiscent of the peasant-style garb of leaders from the high-Communist era: wearing Mao suits today would make foreigners --vital to China's recent rise -- uncomfortable(not to mention those who suffered under Mao's rule). Constrained on both sides, Chinese political dress has trended toward a sort of lowest fashion denominator: black suits, white shirts, worn with dull, Windsor-knotted ties. It's what Beijing-based style blogger Nels Frye, writing in Foreign Policy, calls an "utterly unnoticeable look."

Now, with China facing its first leadership transition in a decade, clothing options are perhaps more rigid than ever. Calm and unity must be projected; stability, even of the sartorial kind, is paramount.

Above, President-to-be Xi Jinping waits behind current President Hu Jintao at a banquet in September 2012.  

The goal is homogeneity: identical jet-black dye-jobs conceal age, while boxy suits hide any differences in physique. Above, members of the nine-member Politburo Standing Committee, China's top decision making body, greet the media in 2007. The rebel in the purple tie, fourth from right, is Wu Bangguo (see next slide).

Previous generations of Chinese leadership did not always so thoroughly eschew accessorizing. Some, such as Wu Bangguo, the second-ranking official on the Standing Committee (and due to step down this week), favored the huge square glasses that have had somewhat of a rebirth among young Chinese hipsters today.

Above, Wu in 2011.

Li Peng, the leader most associated with the Tiananmen massacre, also shared Wu's penchant for sizeable browed eyewear. Above, Li in 1988.

But perhaps most memorable are the enormous tortoise-shell glasses of former President Jiang Zemin (right). When he retired in 2002, Chinese presidential eyewear was scaled-back: though outgoing President Hu Jintao wears large specs himself, they're a less visible wire frame. Above, Hu and Jiang at the opening session of the 18th Congress.

It was under Hu Yaobang (right) -- top man in the Party from 1981 until 1987 -- that Chinese leaders first began choosing Western business suits over home-grown Mao suits. One of China's most reformist leaders, Hu's liberalism brought his ouster, but his preference for Western dress stuck. Above, Hu, stands in Western clothing next to the more traditionally garbed Deng Xiaoping in 1981.

Leaders' casual wear, too, tends toward the dull: informal occasions call for a short sleeve white dress shirt, usually tucked in. Autumn and spring bring a black, zippered, waist-length jacket in a generic synthetic material. Above, Premier Wen Jiabao rocks the Party look in 2003.

Back at home during winter, leaders might wear a puffy down jacket; trips abroad, however, usually call for the classic wool overcoat. Above, Hu Jintao during a visit to Washington in 2011.

Now-disgraced Chongqing Party Secretary Bo Xilai favored well-cut suits and stylish ties that made him stand out against the boring backdrop of his colleagues. Bo would eventually fall out of favor in spectacular fashion -- no pun intended. Above, Bo Xilai at a press conference in 2005.

Li Xiaolin, daughter of former Premier Li Peng, is a delegate to the National People's Conference and one of China's most successful business women, but has been critized for her collection of Chanel, Hermes and other expensive foreign brands. Above, Li in 2009.

Even with Xi Jinping due to take office, the fashion outlook for leaders of the P.R.C. appears to be further sartorial stagnation. The Hu era has ended; the era of the boxy suit goes on.

Above, Hu Jintao speaks during the opening ceremony of the 18th Party Congress on Thursday.

BEIJING — Much has changed in China over the past decade, from the tens of millions of former peasants who are now members of the middle class, to the Prada, Hermès, and Gucci boutiques that now crowd the malls of Beijing and Shanghai -- but not the fashion stylings of China's top leaders. The single-breasted navy two-button suits, semi-spread-collar white shirts, and unmemorable ties in a Windsor knot remain obligatory. Almost without exception, top leaders still sport iconic jet-black dye jobs, intended to conceal age just as the boxy suits conceal differences in physique. At a time of transition, the Chinese Communist Party is all the more determined to show unity, continuity, and commitment to stability, making sartorial adventurism inappropriate.

If anything, top leaders are even less stylish now. Gone is the only item with personality, the one that might have endeared China's heavyweights to hipsters in Brooklyn's Williamsburg, London's Shoreditch, or Beijing's 798: the huge, square nerd glasses reminiscent of Henry Kissinger that are now de rigueur all over the hipster world. These define Wu Bangguo, since 2002 the second-ranking man in the Politburo Standing Committee, China's top decision-making body. He will step down this week and take with him the brow-line frames. Before him, former Premier Li Peng, the leader most associated with the Tiananmen Square massacre, wore nearly identical glasses, which meshed strikingly with his bushy eyebrows. Most memorable are the enormous tortoise-shell glasses of the jovial former president, Jiang Zemin. Chinese today view the huge glasses as more old-mannish or, at best, professorial and serious -- certainly not retro chic. Still, it's a shame; the over-the-top frames were all that prevented China's leaders from achieving an utterly unnoticeable look.

Outgoing President Hu Jintao's specs are large, though in a more subtle wire frame. A few of the men likely to reach the Standing Committee when Hu and most of his colleagues step down on Nov. 14 wear smallish, contemporary, very unremarkable frames, but most must have gotten laser surgery, have perfect eyesight, or are wearing contacts. But the absence of nerd glasses, or indeed of any stylish flourish, marks the current leaders as contemporary men rather than holdovers from a previous generation. It also puts the new emperors in the dullest camouflage possible: nine (or seven) nearly identical men in suits.

China's top leaders have been choosing Western business suits over the native-grown Mao suit, or Sun Yat-sen suit as it is known in China (after the founding father of the Republic of China, Sun Yat-sen), ever since Hu Yaobang, top man in the Communist Party from 1981 until 1987, wore them. China's most reformist leader, Hu tried to bring accountability and transparency to the government, requiring Han Chinese in Tibet to learn Tibetan and even supporting the use of forks instead of chopsticks. So it's no surprise that he was the first major Chinese leader to choose a suit and tie. His liberalism brought his ouster, but the preference for Western dress stuck. As the 1980s and 1990s wore on, fewer and fewer photos depicted leaders wearing the Mao suit. Hu Jintao only deployed it for military parades, and it's unlikely that incoming President Xi Jinping will favor the look, which he might associate with the suffering he and his peers experienced during the Cultural Revolution.

The preference for Western attire is in line with the economic openness that has brought tremendous growth to China. It represents a hand extended to the West, an interest in modernization, an "open for business" sign, an indication that China is eager to rise to the top by accepting much of the prevailing world order. The message is different from that of leaders from countries like India, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Nigeria, who occasionally choose distinctly non-Western dress. "Wearing a Mao suit reminds foreigners too explicitly that they are facing officials of the Communist Party," says a fashion designer in Beijing, who asked to remain anonymous because of the sensitivity of speaking about top leaders. "Besides," she jokes, "at the end of a meal, you can open the buttons on a Western suit. Mao suits are always worn buttoned up to the collar." (And current leaders, she notes, are somewhat portlier than their predecessors.)

Some Chinese citizens see their leaders' Western dress as representing China's lack of a distinct style and voice on the world stage. An IT salesman whose girlfriend works in fashion PR and who asked to remain anonymous wishes the leaders would wear Chinese clothing, but "unfortunately, they have to appear modern and there is no modern Chinese form of dressing or sense of etiquette." A Beijing resident who runs a business renovating high-end villas, often for government officials, observes that modern China lacks its own personality: "It can only absorb from others, but this also makes us better able to survive and prosper."

High-ranking officials' casual wear also lacks character. When they need to appear one with the masses, a short-sleeve white dress shirt, usually tucked in, functions as the summer uniform. Winter comes with a lumpy navy puffy coat, though the leaders do wear wool overcoats when being officially photographed, especially on the tarmac when landing in foreign countries. Autumn and spring bring a dark, waist-length jacket in some generic synthetic material. This jacket is more notable for all the things that it isn't -- a blazer, a leather jacket, traditional Chinese dress -- than for any cultural associations it does have. Given its cheap material, dumpy cut, and grim color pallet of dull gray or black, this item really does seem to say "everyman."

These uniforms are the safest options. Lack of personality is precisely what Communist Party leaders are going for. Heads of autocratic countries who have dressed in more interesting ways have not been meeting good ends of late. Just ask flamboyant ex-Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein, who favored tailored pinstripe suits paired with loud silk pocket squares, and former Libyan strongman Muammar al-Qaddafi, famous for his shirts with custom prints of the African continent. Even former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, a man with more subtle taste, had his name woven into the pinstripes of his bespoke suits, a message that the public must have read as "I pilfer national resources." Disgraced Chongqing Communist Party Secretary Bo Xilai, the most colorful Communist Party elite personality since Mao, wore well-cut, three-button suits and favored a very large tie knot that he sometimes even dimpled. These are hardly extravagant sartorial flourishes, but with his charisma, imposing physique, and expressive, handsome face, Bo stood out against the boring backdrop of his colleagues. Like an entrepreneur or Wall Street financier surrounded by dowdy Midwestern middle managers, Bo was pretty enthralling, according to a New York-based consultant who frequently met with him.  

Whatever combination of factors brought about Bo's demise, his good looks could not have helped. His appearance was one of many factors that made him appealing to the masses, underscoring his demagogic persona. Still, the citizenry do not find the facelessness of other top figures endearing. Several young Chinese have told me that their leaders dress badly or even in a way that "embarrasses" China. Given the uncontroversial -- if not outright dowdy -- nature of their attire, these reactions seem more linked to the unreachability of the leadership than actual dislike of their dress.

But, ironically, when anyone associated with government does dress distinctively, the reaction -- on the Internet, at least -- is usually outrage. Li Xiaolin, daughter of Li Peng (of the nerd glasses), one of China's most successful businesswomen and delegate to China's legislative body, the National People's Congress, has been criticized for her collection of Chanel, Hermès, and other expensive foreign brands. The outcry over the watch collection of Shaanxi transportation official Yang Dacai has also led to an unofficial ban on expensive watches for anyone in government, thus eliminating one of the few ways an official could express a degree of individuality. "Officials are the main VIPs at all the luxury stores in China," says the Beijing designer, but their spending power must be used on behalf of family members, similar to the way Premier Wen Jiabao's influence brought wealth only for his wife and relatives, and not himself. This speaks to perhaps the main reason officials cannot put on much of a sartorial display: It would be an immediate reminder that official families usually have much greater wealth than their low formal salaries would allow.

There really may be no good option for officials when it comes to style. Given their fragile relationship with the governed and the high-stakes race with colleagues to achieve higher rank -- a race in which success comes from avoiding controversy and building consensus -- the current cloaks of invisibility may be their best choice. Hermès ties or Armani suits would probably invite accusations of graft, while Mao suits seem a dangerous throwback. In the end, it's just better to be boring.

我是老百姓

看着在中国做官还是挺难的…