As a foreigner in China, one of the strongest early impressions I had of Chinese culture was the way in which ordinary Chinese citizens utilize their public space with such creativity and diversity. Particularly in parks, it is not unusual to see not only sports in action, both small- and large-scale (a two-person badminton match versus an entire Taichi class), but one can also wander past people practicing their instruments, getting individual music lessons, engaging in choral singing, painting on easels, practicing calligraphy with large water brush pens on the pavement or sidewalks, having picnics on the rocks, knitting in groups and even witness small classes attending lectures in the open spaces, each attendee having brought their own stool on which to sit and listen.

To say this is refreshing is an understatement. In my foreign eyes, I see this diverse use of public space as a reflection of the collectivism still omnipresent in the Chinese cultural paradigm. Naturally, a public park should be used to the fullest extent, not only as a placid escape from the dense urbanity of Chinese cities, but also as a place for various activities that can operate independent of one another, seemingly without mutual disturbance.

Guangzhou's recent regulation on quiet zones in parks, targeting group dance activities, may be the beginning of the end of such a colorful park culture in China. While this is not an outright ban on public dancing (and the loud music that accompanies such guangchangwu through crackling and low-quality loud speakers wheeled in by the instructors), it will dissuade its continued practice in public parks and will perhaps even deter new groups from forming in the future.

While neighboring residential areas deserve peace and quiet, perhaps a more effective rule could be enforced regarding "quiet times" rather than "quiet zones." After all, some parks only have a few guangchang areas (or public squares, usually paved and large enough to host group dance activities). If these zones themselves are now unable to host group dancing, then the very image that makes Chinese parks so attractive and welcoming will be lost.

Not only do public dance sessions give people a physical outlet and opportunity to exercise, they also foster cooperation and teamwork. Never have I witnessed a group dance session without seeing an array of smiles. They are filled with people enjoying the outdoors and acting as one collective unit, especially the elderly, thus combating the inevitable isolation that, sadly, can be so prevalent in densely populated urban areas. These activities undoubtedly bring joy to all those involved. It would be a true shame to embark on a national trend that silences such activity simply because a selected group of local residents wishes to silence their neighborhood park. These extreme measures seem in direct contradiction to the harmonious tradition of group dancing -- a casual and inclusive community experience.

What's more, parks do not simply have group dance troupes to blame for volume or sound issues. Many people take their saxophones (and other loud instruments) or karaoke machines into the parks, blasting their tunes or singing through over-reverberant microphones for those who care to listen (or often just for their own practice). This, too, falls into the same noise pollution category. It's unfair to target the guangchangwu as the only source of excess sound hailing from public spaces, especially considering the fact that parks in China are inherently full of people engaged in diverse activities. As stated earlier, this is the source of their charm.

While walking in a park on a particularly warm day this October, a friend pointed to the dance group we passed by and noted that such public dancing may be the very last of its kind; it may die with this generation. I listened with a sadness that I couldn't convey with a response in the moment. To me, the activity, ranging from traditional to ballroom dancing, Latin dancing and even dancing with fans or cloth rackets, embodies the significance of Chinese parks. To lose these groups would be a great loss to what park culture means in this country.

Yet, my friend's observations may well be accurate. Many young people are not drawn to the physical group activities of the past and prefer the more modern, solitary exercise options like jogging or hiking or cycling. Group dancing is seen as something the late middle-aged or senior citizens do. It may not be able to draw new recruits from the next generation.

If such a prediction of group dancing's imminent demise is true, this new "quiet zone" regulation -- especially if such a rule catches on in other cities -- will accelerate the demise of a quintessentially Chinese way of utilizing public space.

The guangchangwu's absence will be felt by all who enjoy a stroll through a public park in China. I, for one, will be sad to see it go.

The author is a columnist with China.org.cn. For more information please visit:

http://www.china.org.cn/opinion/emberswift.htm

Opinion articles reflect the views of their authors, not necessarily those of China.org.cn.

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