China has long made a practice of extolling exemplars identifying individuals who have done good deeds or achieved notable successes and holding them up as shining examples for others to emulate.

The qualifications for paragons have changed with the changing times. In decades past, selflessness and even self-sacrifice were primary virtues of "model" workers, farmers and soldiers; today, industriousness that furthers economic development earns kudos.

In the past, models were not supposed to seek personal gain; nowadays, personal success in the course of endeavors that further national prosperity is perfectly okay.

Still, the notion of singling out models at all seems outmoded. A modernizing society that prizes individual talents and skills is bound to produce a growing number of people who fit no mold. Models belong to an era of standardization. This is an era of diversity.

So why are Chinese feminists looking for exemplars of the "modern man"? Is this quest just another version of the same old search for cookie-cutter paragons?

Not quite, if one is to judge by an awards ceremony held the week before last in Changsha, capital of Hunan, introducing those deemed the province's 10 top "modern men" of the year, along with five runners-up.

The award recipients did not seem like the usual predictable bunch. A good third came from business and government, but the selection also included a single father of a disabled son, an army singer and composer who also trains fashion models, a prison warden, a lawyer, an obstetrician and an elementary school principal.

And while the group was heavily middle-aged, with the top 10 all in their 40s and 50s, among the runners-up was a gregarious, with-it fellow of 24 who teaches English at a women's college. Nor did all the men wear gray or black suits; a couple even wore sports jackets.

The Hunan activity was part of a countrywide project initiated by nine newspapers around China that focus on women's issues, the nationally circulated China Women's News along with eight smaller papers published in other cities and provinces. The editor of China Women's News had asked me to attend as an observer.

Each paper had selected nominees for nationwide recognition, but only two were holding events for their local candidates New Women's News (Xin Nu Bao) which already had done so in Chongqing, and Women Today Weekly (Jinri Nubao), based in Changsha, the event organizer. The editors of those two papers, incidentally, are both men and, as sponsors of the "modern man" project, ineligible for selection - much as their staffs might laud them.

All the papers sent editors to the Hunan ceremony, and a final judging panel met afterwards to determine the national awards - 10 finalists and 10 honorable mentions, to be announced later this spring.

Selected for a variety of contributions to the health and well-being of women and children, for furthering opportunities for women in education and the workforce, and in some cases, for their own commendable labors in the home, the Hunan awardees - one who could not attend was represented by his wife - mounted a stage at the front of a meeting room two or three at a time to accept crystal trophies, plaques, and huge bouquets of roses.

Recipients' remarks were brief, grateful and modest. Zhao Xingyun, 46, warden of a provincial prison for women, characterized his work as "turning bad women into good women". Fu Shenglong, 45, head of an industrial conglomerate with more than a thousand employees, half of them women, expressed pride that women also are represented proportionately at managerial ranks.

"I think I do very ordinary things," said Liu Tianming, 51, head of a Hunan law firm who in 14 years has handled more than 6,000 cases involving the rights of women and children. He added that he looks forward to the day when "women won't need special legal protection".

From a feminist perspective, the ceremony was not flawless. Army singer Deng Dongyuan delivered a song to the accompaniment of a bevy of pretty young women twirling parasols.

But I may have been the only one who thought this unfortunate. Deng's gracious tour around the room shaking hands seemed to make a far greater impression, and his conviviality at lunch afterwards made it clear he is a far cry from the stereotype of the steely soldier.

Most riveting was the last presentation, to Huang Xiaoyong, 48, and his son Huang Ge, 18, who was lifted onto the platform in his wheelchair. Huang Ge suffers from a congenital disease causing muscle degeneration, and his father has cared for him since the boy was 1 year old, when his mother left them.

For three consecutive summers, 2003 through 2005, the two traveled on a jerry-rigged motorized tricycle all over the country, the father driving, the son housed in a metal box perched behind, visiting sights as well as calling on people who had helped them.

In many respects, the choice of Huang Xiaoyong for a "modern man" award most resembled the "model" designations of the past: After a Hunan TV report about his son's medical problems that subsequently aired on China Central TV, benefactors from around the country sent donations to help out; and after their exhausting but exhilarating trips totaling some 13,000 kilometers, in 2006 CCTV named them among 10 people or groups commended for having "moved China" (gandong Zhongguo).

In other respects, the two are the most unlikely of celebrities. Although publicity has helped them get by, the mild-mannered father and son don't fit the commercial glitz that earns fame these days.

Perhaps Huang Xiaoyong, the only one of the 15 Hunan awardees described simply as a Changsha "citizen", is closest of all to what we might seek in a modern person, male or female. He's taken up the most humble of duties under the most demanding of circumstances. Women traditionally have done this, but men obviously can, too.

The author is a professor of journalism at The University of Iowa

(China Daily 04/24/2007 page11)