2003: A marketing odyssey

SHANGHAI

Thirsty? Try the “official milk of the Chinese spaceman.” Running late? Maybe you need the “official chronograph of the Chinese astronaut.” Or perhaps just a taikonaut calendar to mark off the coming months.

This is China’s final frontier of modern marketing. Its most recent one, at least.

After joining Russia and the United States last month in sending a human into space, China is eagerly marketing its space program’s name and logo to companies looking to share the reflected glory.

Sponsorships are splashed on billboards, product packaging and in radio and television ads. At least two magazines have appeared focusing exclusively on the Chinese space program. One newspaper, China Space News, sells a 2004 Shenzhou 5 calendar.

There’s “space” milk from Mengniu (“Mongol Cow”), which promises to “fortify the Chinese people” and shows a space-suited boy clutching a glass of white liquid. Mengniu is headquartered in Inner Mongolia, where Shenzhou 5 and astronaut Yang Liwei landed Oct. 16 after a 21-hour mission.

There’s the “Chinese Inaugural Manned Space Flight Command Watch,” produced in a limited run of 2,003, available by mail for $120 complete with compass and pedometer. Another manufacturer claims to offer the model Mr. Yang wore in space — less flashy but costlier.

In the United States, marketing the space programs is a decades-old tradition. Commercial tie-ins with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration have produced product endorsements from Tang and Velcro to Omega watches and Parker pens.

In China, though, an odd blend of enthusiastic marketing and zealous secrecy reflects the paradox of the “socialist market economy” — Beijing’s moniker for its current mix of rigid communist control and uncharted, free-form capitalism.

The space program is a huge source of prestige for the government and seems to be genuinely popular — although public opinion isn’t always easy to discern in China, where media are tightly controlled. But the potent mix of pride and popularity makes it a safe bet for hungry companies.

A space-program endorsement is “definitely good for establishing brand name,” said a director of promotions at Fiyta, which made the watch the taikonaut Mr. Yang wore in space. The man gave only his surname, Liu.

China’s space program is run by the military and shrouded in secrecy, so it isn’t known how endorsements have been awarded. The program has no known publicity office.

Yet its managers are eager to exploit potential windfalls and avoid unscrupulous operators in a country where piracy is rampant. A body called the China Aerospace Foundation has demanded approval for commercial uses of the program’s name and logo and threatened legal action against violators.

It isn’t known how much money endorsements have earned for the program or how the funds have been used.

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