“Pwede Bata”: Children as Niche Market and the Commodification of Childhood in the Time of Covid (An Analysis of the Linguistic Landscape of Shopping Malls Upon the Implementation of More Relaxed Covid-Restrictions in Metro Manila)
“Pwede Bata”: Children as Niche Market
and
the Commodification of Childhood in the
Time of Covid
An Analysis of the Linguistic Landscape
of Shopping Malls
Upon the Implementation of More Relaxed Covid-Restrictions in Metro Manila
1. Introduction
In a span
of two years, the COVID-19 virus has brought the Philippine economy to a near
halt. Efforts to quarantine it led to many business establishments regulating,
if not losing, the number of customers or clients they cater daily. Big and
crowded shopping malls in Metro Manila—the place where Filipino families coming
from different socioeconomic status go to shop, be entertained, be pampered, or
do anything to while away the hours of the day—are absolutely no exception to
the economic impact of COVID-19. As per government mandate, mall merchandisers had
to temporarily lay off their workers, limit their operations, or shut down.
However, the worst-case scenario happening in other parts of the world like the
US—that is, the permanent closure of shopping malls—still seems unlikely to
happen in the metropolis. In a country where the habit of mall-going or
“malling” is deeply ingrained in the collective consciousness of its people,
shopping malls—the microcosm of a modern capitalist society—continue to thrive,
notwithstanding the pandemic. Following guidelines on social distancing and
domestic travel, their doors remain open to as many guests as possible,
including and especially children, who currently form a big part of the
unvaccinated population.
When the IATF placed Metro Manila under a more relaxed Alert Level 2 on November 5, 2021, all minors aged 17 and below were allowed entry in mall establishments, which came after two years of home isolation. In this blog post, I will analyze how public signs in shopping malls as a kind of linguistic landscape are employed to capitalize on this advantage as businesses target children as a niche market, thereby commodifying their childhood but risking their health.
2. Data and Methodology
With the
unpredictability and perplexity not necessarily of the spread of the virus but
of the government’s fight against it, many changes continue to destabilize
sociolinguistic environments such as shopping malls. Changes on public
guidelines on access and mobility tend to happen as frequently as 3-day sale
events, appropriately translating to alterations on signs within the linguistic
landscape. With the assumption that mall establishments necessitate some time
to adjust to new regulations and standards, I purposefully had not gathered
data for this paper until the 25th of November 2021, providing an
ample period of twenty (20) days after the IATF-IED announced the effectivity
of Alert Level 2.
For both
personal and practical reasons, one specific mall was preselected for data
gathering: SM Megamall in Mandaluyong City. Even before the pandemic, I had
frequented SM Megamall—sometimes, I would bring my child along—and I can be
considered more as an experiencer of this particular social space, rather than
an observer. In fact, the signs of particular interest here were photographed
from establishments families like mine would go to. More importantly, I chose
this site because it is the third biggest shopping mall in Metro Manila, which
is home to about 1000 shops. What casual mallgoers find in other malls may most
likely be found in “Mega”, hence it strongly represents the social and economic
climate of malls in general.
There was a
natural impulse to pass through the walkways of Mega and look for signs from one
shop to another, but it did not appear as a safe, appropriate, and pragmatic
course of action. The idea of transitorily going in and out of every shop
without the proper business of purchasing a product or availing of a service
may not only unnecessarily expose me and others to the virus but may also take
hours to accomplish. This is, of course, one of the hurdles that linguistic
landscape researchers confront during this difficult time. On that account, I
focused on shops children most certainly visit—toy stores and amusement
centers.
A total of 33 shop signs pertaining and addressed to children were
photographed for this research, but only 7 of them will be presented here. Most
of the collected signs share similar characteristics in terms of content and
language, so they are brought down to only three (3) representative sets. To
some extent, the child-related signs obtained from the aforementioned shops
exemplify the kind of public objects currently pervading the linguistic
landscape of shopping malls today. Therefore, rather than measuring how
frequent children-related signs appear in malls, applying a qualitative
approach is better suited for this case of linguistic landscaping.
While these
children-related signs appear in places with highly sensorial imagery in the
background—the colors and shapes of playthings and the sounds and textures of
game equipment—the signs themselves are overtly verbal. Considering the notion
of multimodality (Iedema, 2003) without necessarily adopting a thorough
multimodal analysis, I argue that verbal language is systematically
foregrounded in these signs, making it appear as the dominant semiotic resource
in the linguistic landscape of shopping malls during the pandemic. Iedema
describes multimodality as “the de-centering of language as favoured
meaning-making” (2003, p. 33). Yet, the prominent verbal materiality of the signs
in this research suggests otherwise—verbal mode takes over and realizes its
full meaning-making potential, rendering other forms of semiotic display such
as images negligible, if not unwarranted. Hence, this research is limited to
the analysis of written verbal language alone—and such data aptly calls for a
discursive analysis. I am of the opinion that current linguistic
landscapes are heavily influenced by various discourses that are relevant to
the pandemic, including the public discourses of safety and childhood in the
wake of COVID-19. A discursive analysis potentially reveals why verbal language
appears to be the predominant semiotic mode in the linguistic landscape of
shopping malls today and how the linguistic landscape transforms to reflect,
maintain, and promote a particular pre-COVID-19 behavior—the contemporary
sociocultural practice of mall-going—amid a national health crisis that
circumstantially makes unvaccinated children part of the most vulnerable and
affected.
The
two standard dichotomic classification of signs: (a) private and government
(Landry and Borhis, 1997); and (b) top-down and bottom-up (Ben-Rafael, et al.,
2006) cannot be directly applied in the analysis of these child-related signs.
Since they were found on various spots within the premises of their respective
shops and they contained logos and slogans of merchandisers, an impression that
these signs are private or bottom-up can easily be made. After all, they are
produced by shop owners so they can disseminate accurate information on how
their businesses operate during a lower COVID-19 alert level. However, the use
of language in these signs is too complex for the data to be summarized into
two simple categories. If any, these child-related signs can be better
classified as hybrids—being private or bottom-up signs in form but government
or top-down signs in essence. Yet, categorically calling them hybrids rather
discredits the transformative, discursive quality of these signs, which is an
aspect that I will highlight in my analysis. I find the traditional dichotomic
classification of signs inadequate for a discourse analysis, especially when considering
that the signs in question are prone to government impositions on crisis
management and/or are overshadowed by government-produced signs that appear
alongside them in both public and private environments. Inside a mall, for
instance, shop owners are expected to enforce safety protocols, which they
primarily achieve through signages that must be aligned with that of the
Philippine government, whether or not the shop owners agree with them.
Meanwhile, as part of their institutional mandate, the government is bound to
create Covid-related rules and regulations with total regard of their potential
impact on the economy. On this account, I shall move beyond merely finding an
answer to the question of who creates these signs or whether they are top-down
or bottom-up in favor of answering the more important question of how the
language of these signs are used—particularly as instruments that ultimately
serve their creators (the sign-makers—both the private and the public sector of
the economy) more than their target audience (the sign-readers—the consumers,
especially children).
Finally, to afford a more discursive investigation of children-related signs in shopping malls, this paper is guided by Scollon and Scollon’s (2003) geosemiotics—a linguistic landscaping practice which entails that public signs are “situated in the material world and shaped by social and cultural use” (Al Zidjaly, 2014). This notion of geosemiotics allows linguistic landscape researchers to make sense of public signs in terms of their surrounding physical and social contexts. By exercising this, I can elucidate how the meanings of these child-related signs are constructed by power structures that dictate the present kind of language pervading the linguistic landscape of malls. The following discussion of child-related signs reveals the connections among ongoing public discourses about childhood and the pandemic, the situated use of the public signs pertaining to them in shopping malls, and the actual physical world that these signs attach to.
3. Analysis and Discussion
Using Scollon and Scollon’s geosemiotics, this paper
reports that the language used in children-related signs in SM Megamall index
existing pandemic-related discourses that go beyond the premises of a shopping
mall—it is reflective of the intersection between hyper-consumerism that pushes
new market mechanisms in the face of travel bans, curfews, and other
restrictive policies on the one hand and the governing political system that
struggles both in protecting the people from the virus and in achieving
economic recovery from the pandemic on the other. As the point of convergence
between the powerful forces of capitalism and policymaking during the pandemic,
the linguistic landscape of shopping malls has transformed itself to
accommodate their demands and ideologies in order to reinvigorate the
socio-economic quality of the public space of shopping malls—all at the expense
of vulnerable children as target consumers.
As previously mentioned, the data derived from my collection of child-related signs in SM Megamall are slimmed down and arranged into three (3) interrelated discursive categories. I believe that it is important to note that the some of the textual data presented and analyzed here do not only match the others derived from my own fieldwork in Mega, but also correspond to more signs available in public places including but are not limited to train stations, churches, and community markets.
3.1 The Discourse of “Safe”
 |
| Picture 3.1a. Notice attached to a coin-operated gaming machine in an arcade center. |
 |
| Picture 3.1b. Notice hanging on the ceiling of an arcade center. |
Except for the presence of images in Picture 3.1a, the two
signs are textually identical. In fact, several of the signs displayed in the
same arcade center appeared to carry exactly the same message of “spread[ing]
fun” and “priorit[izing] safety”. Also, these heavily verbal signs were found
everywhere–glass windows, vending and slot machines, gift-and-toy cabinets,
etc. How these signs are situated in this public place indicates the emergence
of verbal language as the preferred semiotic mode to deliver pandemic-related information.
Moreover, it can be argued that the language of the signs in this category has
a two-fold function that is intrinsically contradictory. On the one hand, they
inform sign-readers on protection and “safety” against COVID-19; on the other,
they encourage the sign-readers to enjoy and “spread” fun, say, while
maintaining social distance. The duplicitous character of these signs
illustrates why, as aforementioned, it is pragmatically difficult to place them
into traditional categories of public signs. Thus, I turn to discourse
analysis.
With
the declaration that children are no longer restricted from going to malls, a
concerned parent might ask, “How can we stop the spread of virus if everyone
leaves their house to have some fun at the mall?” Another might ask, “If
children’s safety is truly prioritized, what are they doing in risky crowded
places like malls?” As far as the particular use of language in child-related
signs is concerned, these pandemic-relevant issues are indexed within the
linguistic landscape of shopping malls.
First,
the language used to talk about COVID-19 reveals how the pandemic is
conceptualized—it indexes the ideas that more or less shape public opinion and
behavior surrounding the pandemic. In the public signs above, for example, the
use of words “spread” and “priority” points to a larger sociolinguistic
discourse that interrogates the present reality of children as susceptible
members of the population in the time of COVID-19. From a geosemiotic lens, the
fact that the same signs are profusely displayed everywhere inside the arcade
center can be interpreted as an effort to forward the notion that the virus is
literally everywhere, not only in malls, and that there is nowhere a child can
be that is not infiltrated by it—not even their own homes. The situatedness of
the signs in the arcade center does not only support such perception but also
ties with the social action that businesses and the government aim to foster
within the public space of malls, such as the consumption of goods and services.
Second, the language used in public signs reveals how the pandemic is dealt with in its current milieu of loosening restrictions. The language in the signs above reinforces an emerging impression that while the virus is still spreading, it is now being managed and everything is turning back to its previous state of normalcy. From this ideological perspective, sign-readers may potentially arrive at the understanding of the pandemic as a manageable situation that is not as fearsome and miserable as it used to be—another opportunity to entice children back to malls. To illustrate, in pandemic-related discourses, the word SPREAD is colloquially attached to the word VIRUS, but the sign-makers attach it with the word FUN instead, creating a tongue-in-cheek yet innocuous expression. There has not been any opportunity to determine whether or not there is an intentionality to offer a counter-discourse that supersedes a fear-and-risk-inducing word with another that stands for pleasure in the spirit of consumerism. Nevertheless, it is clear that public signs are radically and creatively employed by both businesses and the government in an attempt to liven the sociocultural practice of mall-going for economic advantage, despite the risk that it poses on children’s health.
3.2 The Discourse of “Allowed”
 |
| Picture 3.2a. A notice on the wall of an arcade center. |
 |
| Picture 3.2b. Another notice on the wall of a different arcade center. |
 |
| Picture 3.2c. Another notice occupying the same space as that in Picture 3.2b. |
 |
| Picture 3.2d. A door frame banner standing beside the entrance of the
same arcade center as Picture 3.2a. |
The next set of child-related signs indicates how
transformative public signs can be in the linguistic landscape of shopping
malls today. Notice how the signs in Picture 3.2a and Picture 3.2b show the
number of customers “allowed” or “accommodated” in the arcade center—65 and 40
respectively—at the same time. These numerical figures appear to have been printed
on a separate piece of paper, patching themselves onto the signs. In terms of
marketing, this technical strategy allows businesses to save promotional
material—they do not necessarily have to reprint new signs in case changes on
quarantine guidelines require it, i.e., the allowable number of customers
inside the place at once. At the same time, it is also likely that businesses
fail to make the necessary changes on their shop signs. Still showing the
discrepant age range of customers allowed in arcade centers—18-65 in Picture
3.2c; 15-65 in Picture 3.2d—the signs had apparently not been updated at the
time they were photographed, deviating from the newly announced rule letting
kids enter these places. Nonetheless, it makes perfect sense to presume that,
as products of marketing, these signs would end up incorporating such new
information. In the future, a piece of paper might be used to cover the
outdated part up, applying changes to them. From the standpoint of linguistic
landscaping, this efficient business scheme ultimately evokes the temporariness
and irregularity of knowledge regarding the management of the pandemic, thereby
fueling much of the transformation of the signs in this article, as well as other
pandemic-relevant signs in linguistic landscapes recently.
|
The temporal placement of these signs in the space of
malls—how they seem to occur as fleeting accessories that provide a valid, if
not equitable, justification as to how businesses like arcade centers continue
to operate during this time—points to a larger discourse—one that interrogates
what physical spaces children are momentarily allowed to embark into. As they
go out—thanks to easing restrictions—parents and children themselves ask in
Filipino, “Pwede bata?” or in English, “Are kids allowed?” As might be
expected, mall merchants do not just participate in this discourse but may also
exploit it. Most definitely, businesses detest quarantine limitations, yet they
devise strategies to market and make profit. Consider how language is capitalized in the signs herein.
Using affirmative statements, they encourage customers, particularly children,
to reckon the finiteness of the time they are allowed inside the mall, pushing
them to savor the opportunity to amuse themselves in arcade centers and other
establishments. The language leans towards positive scripting, another
marketing practice used to change customer’s frustration into a favorable one. See
the difference between the actual positive script (1) and its negative yet more
direct alternative (2) below: For Picture 3.2c: 1.
Only
customers 18 to 65 years old are ALLOWED inside. 2.
Children
17 and below are NOT ALLOWED inside. For Picture 3.2d: 1.
We
are only ALLOWING individuals that are 15-65 years old to enter. 2.
We
are NOT ALLOWING children 14 years old and below to enter. The alternatives of negation are
linguistically more aligned with the language used in government signs and
other discourses, yet businesses twist the usual for commercial propaganda.
Through positive scripting, for example, businesses like arcade centers can
still follow quarantine protocols without necessarily excluding and upsetting
children, who happen to be their niche market. The choice of nominative—rather
than explicitly using “children” as the grammatical subject matter, the signs
vaguely refer to “people”, “individuals”, or “customers” without
prejudice—creates the impression that, after all, businesses remain
inclusive—they are still child-catering and child-friendly, no matter what
government protocols say. 3.3 The Discourse of “Essential”
Now that mall restrictions have been
lifted, a new discourse of essential has emerged. To illustrate the importance
of this discourse, take the case of lugaw (rice porridge), a Filipino staple
food that recently stirred a lot of controversy, following the news of a baranggay
official who prevented a food delivery rider to bring it to a customer during
curfew hours, inaccurately and preposterously proclaiming that lugaw was
not considered essential, that is, certain goods and services that exempt
anyone from travel or curfew restrictions. Even the authorities, including the
executive body of the government itself, had to reiterate what these essential
goods are—food items (including lugaw), water, medicine, etc. The fact
is, toys and gaming do not make the cut. All the same, the child-related sign
above tells customers otherwise.This ad standee appears adjacent to the
entrance of a toy store in Mega, where visitors can easily see it. On the
surface, this sign promotes a safer purchasing option catering to customers who
would rather have their toys delivered at their doorstep. Similar to the signs
in the arcade center, this commercial banner—one that explicitly says “stay at
home”—seems to prioritize safety of children above anything else. Yet, alongside
it appears the connotative phrase “play essentials”, which can be interpreted,
in a deeper sense, as another profitable mechanism that defends the toy company
against a large-scale health emergency that forces people to engage in another
discourse—central to which is the question: what is essential?
While others say that play is essential in child development—toys and gaming foster creativity and other skills—others believe that its essence cannot be equated with that of other goods and services policymakers lawfully deem as essential in this time of crisis. Considering the prevailing public sentiments about it, the catchphrase “play essentials” linguistically demonstrates the intersection between commercial discourse and public discourse within one sign, establishing Scollon and Scollon’s idea that “all signs operate in aggregate” (2003). Ultimately, this allows me to construe the current linguistic landscape of shopping malls as a visual reflection of a regenerating mall culture and a visual field of disaster capitalism. Apparently, taking advantage of the public opinion that, because of the pandemic, children are deprived of material and experiential things they ought to enjoy, mall businesses now embrace childhood as a profitable sociocultural concept, in which children become the objects of intense commercial activity, all with litte consideration of its impact on their health. From this view, to essentialize toy products and arcade gaming (most of which are even more expensive than basic necessities) in the context of the pandemic means to endanger children and increase the commodification of childhood. |
As Filipino
families continue to ask the question “Pwede bata?” in this time of confusion
and uncertainty, they turn to linguistic landscapes for answer—no matter how
indefinite the answer may be. As discussed here, the public signs of SM
Megamall demonstrate a trend that may reveal an answer to that question—there
is an increasing attention to children as a niche market in a time of opposing
views about their well-being.
Indeed, the
pandemic has lasting impact on the mall culture of the Philippines, but
hyper-consumerism, as manifested and maintained by these public signs, is on
its way to reverse the social and economic aftermath of the pandemic, even at
the expense of children. The current linguistic landscape of shopping malls—both
in spite of and because of strong stay-at-home discourses that continuously
interrogate what is safe, allowed, and essential in the time of COVID-19—implies
that Metro Manila will remain to be a site of active consumerism in the future.
References
Al Zidjaly, N. (2014). 8. Geosemiotics: Discourses in place. In S. Norris & C. Maier (Ed.), Interactions, Images and Texts: A Reader in Multimodality (pp. 63-76). Berlin, München, Boston: De Gruyter Mouton. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781614511175.63
Ben-Rafael, E., Shohamy, A. M. H., & Trumper-Hecht, N. (2006). Linguistic landscape as symbolic construction of public space: The case of Israel. International Journal of Multilingualism, 3(1), 7-30. https://doi.org/10.1080/14790710608668383
Iedema, R. (2003). Multimodality, resemiotization: Extending the analysis of discourse as multi-semiotic practice. Visual Communication, 2(1), 29-57. https://doi.org/10.1177/1470357203002001751
Landry, R. & Bourhis, R. Y. (1997). Linguistic landscape and ethnolinguistic vitality: An empirical study. Journal of Language and Social Psychology, 16(1), 23-49. https://doi.org/10.1177/0261927X970161002
Scollon, R. & Scollon,
S. W. (2003). Discourses in Place: Language in the material world. Routledge.
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