Red means profit somewhere

More than four decades after Mao’s death, and with the market economy now well established, red retains a profound power in China. It is used to avert tragedy, bring luck and celebrate triumph. Red underwear or waistbands ward off the devil; red lanterns are strung up to herald the New Year; front doors are decorated with strips of red paper inscribed with propitious verses; birthday invitations are red, as are traditional matrimonial dresses; wedding gifts are presented in red envelopes or wrapped in red ribbons; the birth of a new child is celebrated by eating red sugar; newborn babies are given red clothing and painted eggshells; award ceremonies are marked with red silk and honours rolls are written on red paper. Its meanings are so positive that China’s stock market shows rising stocks in red rather than black, the opposite of almost every other country.

Green means go, except when it means a falling stock. Red means stop, except when it means a rising stock in China. Universal colour psychology survives these facts by speaking slowly and adding a diagram.

The desire for universality is understandable. If colour carried stable meaning everywhere, design could bypass language, history and habit. A red button would arrive already explained. Sadly, people have been using colour socially for rather a long time.

Meaning accumulates through flags, rituals, interfaces, school markings, religion, roads and repeated commercial use. The same wavelength reaches the eye; the learned instruction differs. Somebody who sees it differently or has learnt a different convention receives a beautiful ambiguity.

This is routinely treated as user error. The designer intended success, so anybody reading danger must be culturally confused. Intent becomes a magic solvent for consequences.

The stock display is particularly rude to this fantasy because both meanings are systematic. Neither audience is randomly misunderstanding red. Each has learnt a coherent convention reinforced by years of exposure. Put them together and certainty disappears.

Ancient Rome, modern traffic lights, Chinese markets, school exercise books and warning labels have all taken turns teaching people what colours do. The lessons overlap badly. That mess existed before the interface and will outlast its launch date. Declaring the association obsolete does not make users instantly obedient; it simply makes their confusion look unfashionable.