The Punk Republic of China(《时代》周刊:北京的“朋克文化”)

《时代周刊》经常会就中国的年轻一代作一些报道，比如现在很“知名”的春树。最近一期的《TIME》里有一篇文章《The Punk Republic of China》(中华朋克共和国），报道的对象就是北京街头的极限运动爱好者，来看看《TIME》记者眼里的这些孩子们... ...
A balmy summer night finds Ma Ziqi and a group of skateboarders weaving and flying around an open square in Beijing. Ma sets himself apart from the crowd, not only by his choice of wheels — he is the lone BMX rider — but by his skills. He pulls long wheelies, his front wheel far off the ground as he arcs around the rows of large flowerpots. He hops his bike, pivots it around, then starts riding again, standing up on the pedals and lazily making circles around the square, his ears filled with punk rock blasting through his headphones... ... 中文译文：
在夏季一个凉爽的夜晚，一群滑板爱好者在北京某广场内上下翻飞，潇洒地玩耍，其中一个叫马子旗(音)的显得与众不同，他玩的是特技单车。

精神上奉行我行我素

与北京其他地方相比，这个广场对马子旗和那些滑板爱好者而言没有多少障碍物，只有花盆、地灯、旁观者和王府井(行情论坛)教堂前的树木。在北京当一名朋克可以有许多含意。尽管马子旗喜欢朋克精神，但他不喜欢被人贴上“朋克”的标签。在北京赞助朋克乐队的乔恩·坎贝尔说，今天北京的“朋克文化”已经发展成一种多层次的亚文化群，在这些群体中，人们遵循特殊的朋克思维。例如，在制作服装和录音时奉行我行我素的精神。坎贝尔说，一些中国朋克甚至自称为“光头仔”。

经济上一切依赖父母

北京的朋克可能有全球性的思维方式，但他们依然像其他世界各地的伙伴一样，面临生活方式上的局限性。22岁的马子旗独自住在一所老房子里，他的家人已经搬进了更现代化的住宅，但他除了自已的车技之外，经济上一切都依赖父母，他的大多数伙伴也是如此。北京只有少数几家商店出售滑板和特技单车，朋克音乐会也只有少数几个俱乐部举行。

子旗表演单车特技的教堂广场位于北京著名的王府井大街，广场两侧有数十家商店和宾馆。在夏季的夜晚，街灯全都亮着，人们在这里逛街购物。肯德基、珠宝、药品等等，在这座购物天堂里应有尽有。从许多方面来看，王府井代表的消费主义正是朋克文化所抵制的。可正是王府井为马子旗过的那一种不为主流社会接受的生活提供了场所。

不得不向商业世界妥协

马子旗坐在教堂前的台阶上，一边看同伴玩滑板，一边对记者说，他和伙伴在教堂广场所做的“是年轻和为自己而活的象征”。他说：“我们与普通孩子不一样，他们在学校刻苦学习，而且非常听父母的话。也许在其他人眼里，我们不是好孩子，但我们做我们自己想做的事情，这是真正的生活。人们对此就是不理解。”政府不允许青少年在公开场合玩滑板、骑特技单车，因为他们可能会造成一些伤害。但它最大的缺点是某些更深层的东西：它的反商业哲学。

研究中国不同潮流的销售顾问P·T·布莱克说：“为了使自已变得现实一些，他们已经使自己处于社会的边缘。人们不理解他们为什么不想成为主流社会的一员。”因为消费主义在这里仍可算得上新潮，朋克真正的生活方式，除吵闹的音乐和疯狂的发型外，只有非常有限的吸引力。甚至马子旗也不得不向这个商业世界妥协。作为一名舞台设计专业的学生，他打算找一份与特技单车表演无关的工作。他说：“在这个社会，我不可能像现在这样生活下去。”

英文原文：
A balmy summer night finds Ma Ziqi and a group of skateboarders weaving and flying around an open square in Beijing. Ma sets himself apart from the crowd, not only by his choice of wheels — he is the lone BMX rider — but by his skills. He pulls long wheelies, his front wheel far off the ground as he arcs around the rows of large flowerpots. He hops his bike, pivots it around, then starts riding again, standing up on the pedals and lazily making circles around the square, his ears filled with punk rock blasting through his headphones.

Compared to the rest of Beijing, this square contains few obstacles for Ma and the skateboarders, just the flowerpots, floor lights, onlookers and trees in front of the ornate Wangfujing Church. As in other places, being punk in Beijing can mean many things. Ma doesn't even like to use the label, though he listens to punk music, played in a punk band and admits he has the punk spirit. The Beijing punk scene contains many of the same nuances it has in the countries from which it was imported. Jon Campbell, a promoter for rock bands in the Chinese capital, says that the city's punk culture today has grow into a layered subculture in which groups of people adhere to specific punk ideas such as the do-it-yourself spirit of making clothing and recordings. Some Chinese punks, says Campbell, even claim to be skinheads. "They know a lot about people like them around the world," says the promoter.

And yet, as globally minded as they may be, the punks of Beijing still face the same limitations as their peers do on their lifestyles. Ma, 22, lives alone in a traditional Beijing home vacated by his family, who left for a more modern place. But for everything other than his biking, he is still financially dependent on his parents, like most of his companions. Only a few stores in Beijing sell skateboards and BMX bikes, and the punk music scene here is concentrated around a small number of clubs that sometimes have punk concerts.

The church plaza where Ma rides is located on one of the most famous thoroughfares in central Beijing, Wangfujing Street. It is flanked by dozens of shops and restaurants. On summer nights, the lights are all on as people walk up and down the street, stopping to buy clothing, KFC chicken, jewelry, medicine, and anything else this consumer paradise has to offer. In many ways, Wangfujing represents the sort of consumerist bounty that punk culture rejects. It Also offers a venue for Ma to live out his anti-mainstream philosophy.

As he sits on the steps in front of the church, watching his companions pull tricks on their skateboards, he says that what he and his companions do at the church square is "a symbol of youth and of living for yourself."

"We're not like regular kids who study really hard in school and listen to what their parents want all the time," he says. "Maybe in other people's eyes we're not good, but we do what we want, and that's really the way to live life. People just don't understand."

The punk scene here does grate heavily on modern Chinese society's expectations. Some punks drink and smoke marijuana, and the image they project is to many, as Campbell puts it, "a turnoff." The government doesn't approve of skateboarding and riding in public places because of the physical damage the kids cause. But its greatest drawback is something deeper: its anti-commercial philosophy.

"In keeping themselves real, they've also marginalized themselves," says P.T. Black, a marketing consultant who follows trends in China. "People don't understand why you wouldn't want to be mainstream." Because consumerism is still quite new here, the true punk lifestyle, beyond the loud music and crazy hair, enjoys limited appeal. Even Ma will have to make his peace with the commercial world — a student of stage design, he plans to pursue a career outside his biking. "In this society," he says, "there's no way for me to live like this."

时代周刊原文链接