The Irksome Over-commercialization of a Chinese Funeral

The Nanjing Funeral Homes feels more like a bustling event space than a solemn location to say the last goodbyes to one's loved ones. Located in the confines of a tree-filled park in the southern fringes of the city, the city's government-run institution for funerals combine last rites, cremation, and burial services under one roof in several grandiose monumental buildings. But despite the massive size of the institution, demand far outstrips demand. At 7am on a Thursday, grieving family members and friends are lining up just to get their few minutes of seeing the washed bodies of the deceased for one last time.

There is a reason that big lines are forming at the funeral homes, and reportedly one needs to have connections within the institution to get a spot for cremation if death happened too suddenly. Running a funeral home a business of state in this part of China, where regulations prevent private firms from doing more than just helping relatives of the deceased to figure out the complex process of navigating the state-owned monopoly. To keep staff busy and profits high, the monopoly has no incentive to lower prices or improve service.

The result is a naked attempt to extract maximum profits from grieving people, who are only too willing to part with more money to make the dead feels royally treated in his or her last journey. The Chinese traditions of filial piety has emboldened the monopolist to commercialize every possible bit of the funeral service, overtly advertising, in the premise of the waiting halls, what can only be politely described as uncompetitive prices for everything from extra services like releasing doves for the dead and a band to accompany the procession to "merchandise" like clothes and boxes to handle the cremated ash.

Of course, the blatant profiteering of the funeral home is also made possible by citizens who are largely alright with the situation. Filial piety aside, much profit can be made by taking advantage of just how little the average citizen knows about how to handle the intricate details of running a "proper" funeral. In a modern China with a clear cultural break from the country's feudal past, the state created the cultural break has ironically became the expert on doing "traditional" funeral. Yet, the clear lack of expertise is revealed by a funeral home that features Buddhist images alongside Western classical procession music played by employees in pseudo-military band uniforms.

The cultural hodgepodge of the funeral home does not seem to mind its patrons, who are just playing along with orders barked by the home's employees. Indeed, the patrons themselves do little to play their part in help maintaining the "traditional" funeral. In a culture that supposedly stipulate the grieving relatives to wear all-black and behave solemnly, there were plenty of clients who were laughing loudly, smoking and wearing colorful clothing even in the waiting halls of the crematorium, one of the most solemn places in the compound where closest family members receive ashes from employees.

Sure, perhaps it is possible to argue that modernity has brought changes in the idea of a "proper" funeral in which the very concept of tradition has evolved beyond recognition in matter of few decades. But the nonchalant and frankly, rather disrespectful attitude of both the funeral home's employees and its clients only encourage an utter disregard for at least attempting to make funerals more of an emotional experience meaningful for all parties involved (not least the deceased), in the all-but-name business of making as much money, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

There is no doubt that as a business model, the funeral home is a roaring success. People don't complain because they have no choice, experience or the cultural understanding to expect better services to handling their loved ones who recently passed away. As a de facto monopoly in an urban area of more than five million people, there are plenty of new customers to sustain the same business model for decades to come. Since funeral services neither have or expect repeat customers, bad reviews by some clients do not affect future revenue.

But considering that death is central to a culture, by promoting ideas of religious beliefs, familial relationships and social continuation, is it right to hand over such an important task to a business institution run by a state that has neither the incentive nor the experience to get traditional culture "right"? And if people are too emotional, at least at the time of the funeral, surrounded by family members and friends that rarely get together in one setting, is there anyone who can really stand up and properly criticize these funeral homes, regardless of the sociocultural backlash s/he might face?

Needless to say, ending the monopoly of the government in the funeral services industry would be a helpful first step. With churches, Buddhist temples and other religious organizations competing to host funerals, other countries provide last rites for the deceased under reasonable pricing, through clear ideologies with historical consistencies, and none of the "this one is done, next!" rashness that characterizes the funeral home in Nanjing. Even for the sake of respecting the deceased and the culture surrounding it, it is essential that the state both deregulated and stay out of the funeral services business.