The official reasoning behind the ban appears reasonable. In addition to being a distraction, the air of frivolity surrounding selfie sticks threatens to sully the solemn atmosphere required in such a formal setting.

Selfie sticks can also be a source of misunderstanding. In the wake of the catastrophic blast last year in northern China's Tianjin Port, a CNN correspondent paid a high price for carrying a monopod at the wrong time and place.

The reporter was on the air outside a local hospital when an angry mob heckled and charged at him. The outpouring of rage was said to have been triggered by suspicions that the foreigner was "performing" and "posturing" in disrespect to the bodies of dead firefighters nearby.

In this case, the selfie stick only invited unwanted attention. The same could be said for occasions like the all-important liang hui, where high seriousness is required.

The use of smartphones and selfie sticks does offer a respite to photo and video journalists, who have to accept lugging heavy equipment as part of their profession. But whether handheld gadgets cheapen the work of their old-fashioned peers is an open question.

Technological improvements have changed traditional journalism, making life easier for reporters in ways inconceivable in the past. For instance, with digital recording apps, one can sleep through an entire meeting and still manage to get the quotes necessary for a story.

As a journalist trained in the old school methods, I admit to being dismayed at seeing my young peers sometimes relying on recordings or transcripts fed to them instead of taking notes. Many of them have never received training in shorthand, which used to be a valued skill.

Apart from prodding officials, lawmakers and political advisors to buckle down and set aside energy-sapping trivialities, the injunction against selfie sticks should also warn today's journalists against over-dependence on technology.