Falling birth rates and the story of young Chinese living in cities.
Source: CCTV, all rights belong to their respective owners.
A happy family.
On the eve of the 31st of January, China’s largest domestic television broadcasting station, CCTV (中央广播电视台), aired their annual New Year’s Gala (abbr. 春晚) to an estimated 1.3 billion viewers across 170 countries. The very first performance of the night, a short comical act called a Xiaopin (小品), told the story of a young man and his wife returning home to visit his father. Their relationship appeared conflicted, which was particularly noticeable when the young man told his father about his career aspirations - investing into autonomous driving - a waste of money and talent, said his father who a retired cab driver.
Viewers would resonate with the plot; A generational struggle caused by different sets of values. A “代沟” (generation gap), as the Chinese call it, with the potential to reignite during the Spring Festival, a time when family members, the old and the young, come together for the holidays. Fortunately, the story would have a happy ending when the young man’s wife announced that she was pregnant, which filled the young man’s father with joy, and they were finally a happy family.
The underlying message was clear, and older generations should dutifully “remind” their younger family members about having more children. While today’s young people long for greater autonomy, some are nonetheless heavily dependent of their family for finances, hence parents are a useful leverage.
Why the hurry, one might ask?
According to data released by the National Statistics Bureau, China’s birth rate fell to 7.52 new births per 1000 people in 2021. The natural growth rate was at its lowest since 1960. This statistic adds pressure on the Chinese government who are dealing with a declining workforce and an aging society.
At the prospect of further encirclement and awkward questioning during the holidays, young users of the Chinese microblogging platform Weibo (微博) expressed embarrassment and annoyance. Some users are reminded of a 2018 government proposal for a “singles tax” (单身税), and the outcry it caused. Meanwhile, discussions continue whether the reasons for China’s rapidly declining birth rate are more than just societal values shifting away from a traditional concept of the family.
More than a conflict of beliefs.
Chinese Millennials (born between the years 1981 and 1996), of which there are an estimated 400 million, enjoyed wider access to higher education, many of them studying overseas in Europe, Australia and in the US. Naturally, they are ambitious about their futures. Young Chinese women in particular prioritize their education and careers and have their own understanding of self-fulfillment.
While their parents still belong to a generation when enduring hardships was common, Chinese Millennials grew up during China’s economic boom and have gotten used to an increasing standard of living. Equally, China’s Generation Z (born between 1996 and 2006), the oldest being 26 years in 2022, grew up witnessing a growing and more confident China.
Many young Chinese and fresh graduates have high hopes of improved social mobility when entering society, but oftentimes they find that their expectations and reality are quite far apart. Today, Millennials and Generation Z’s find themselves part of a “内卷” (nei juan), a popular Chinese buzzword describing an environment of constant pressure to outperform themselves and others in the face of competition.
Perhaps a more visual depiction of “nei juan” would be of someone running inside a hamster wheel, day in day out, only to outrun the people next to them who are also running inside their wheels. For some, “nei juan” is the difficulty of securing a well-paying job, affording property and the cost of raising children. For others, it might be being stuck in a “996” working-hour routine, a modern phenomenon where employees work from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm, 6 days per week, all the while they live from one paycheck to the next.
The cost of marriage.
Opinions about marriage are shifting; Younger generations have started to question typical marriage age, as well as the necessity of marriage itself. While most parents aren’t impressed by broader social trends, their children start to prioritize emotions and finding a lifelong companion above practicality.
Disagreement about who might be a suitable match remains a key source of conflict between Chinese parents and their children, however, the costs associated with marriage might be an even greater deterrent from marriage after all.
In many cases, getting married is far more than just acquiring a certificate of marriage (领结婚证), but a string of mandatory practices like organizing a wedding banquet (酒席) that can cost some 30,000 USD or more (the sky is the limit), presenting expensive betrothal gifts (彩礼), as well as buying a house, which is oftentimes a prerequisite for marriage or part of the gift.
Big city life.
According to the 2021 National Census, 63.89% of the population in China live in urban cities, and life in the big cities can be expensive.
Property prices in China have skyrocketed in the past ten to twenty years, with prices in the most advanced first tier cities (超一线城市) Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou and Shenzhen (北上广深), increasing well above what some can afford. In new first tier cities (新一线城市), a group of cities like Hangzhou, Chengdu, Chongqing and Wuhan, all attaining first tier city status in 2021, prices of apartments located in the more popular districts have increased significantly, exceeding what an average salary can pay for. This leaves many young people concerned about how to plan their futures, especially since living in the city means having to overcome more than just financial hurdles.
China has a household registration system, or the “hukou” (户口). People are required to register their household origin, the “huji” (户籍), to a certain region in order to formally classify as its permanent resident. For instance, if your “huji” is registered to Shanghai, then you classify as a permanent resident. If you live and work in Shanghai, but your “huji” is in a different place, you’d be considered a temporary resident, a “外地人”, and aspects of life may be subject to limitations.
Nowadays, millions of young Chinese who live and work in first-tier cities are so called “drifters”, or “…漂” (“北漂” or “bei piao” for Beijing drifters, “沪漂” or “hu piao” for Shanghai drifters etc.). Many drifters are young working people who earn a living in the cities, but who would struggle to sustain a family there. In addition, obtaining a “hukou“ in cities like Shanghai or Beijing is full of administrative hurdles and financial burdens, and even if one can afford to buy property, a “hukou” may still be out of reach.
Raising children.
The location of one’s household registration determines one’s child’s eligibility for public education there. Children of migrant workers in Beijing may be able to attend kindergarten and junior school in Beijing, however, without meeting the all of the requirements, they’d have to return to the location of their “huji” for high school and their college exams.
This system made property in certain areas located near schools, so called “学区房”, a sought-after commodity. For instance, apartments near schools in Beijing’s Haidian district would list between 10,000 USD to 14,000 USD per sqm, dazzling numbers when considering the average annual disposable income in Beijing was 12,000 USD in 2021. While the government did announce to tackle real estate speculation (炒房) of this kind, prices remain high.
Education is an issue too; While fees are steep, the more well-off families from non-first tier cities could send their children to private school in order to overcome not having a local “huji”. However, several places tightening up regulations about student recruitment. For instance, the Departments of Education of the provinces Sichuan and Zhejiang have already disallowed private schools (民办学校) from recruiting students who aren’t from the local area (跨市跨省招生).
Uncertainties.
While life in the larger first tier cities is full of excitement and opportunities, the dream of “making it” comes at a high price, and today’s fresh graduates enter a society under even more challenging circumstances.
While China’s economy performed relatively well during the pandemic, domestic demand still lags and confidence within the private sector is low, which is reflected by an unemployment rate of 15.4% among the 16-to-24-year-old population in June 2021. Some industries, such as education and entertainment, were subject to considerable policy change, and companies only survived by cutting costs, including mass lay-offs.
In a recent post, I wrote about the Chinese government issuing the “Double Reduction” policy (双减政策), an educational policy to lessen students’ study burdens, which resulted in the number of China-wide tutoring companies decrease by 83.8%. Ultimately, the sector seized to exist the way it did. New Oriental Education, one of China’s largest private tutoring companies, had to lay off 60,000 alone, and the estimated number of sector wide lay-offs reaches the millions.
Is China’s falling birth rate just a case of social values changing?
Partially. However, for most young Chinese, marriage remains one of the most important goals in adulthood.
Instead, the falling birth rate can be understood as a reaction to mounting financial burdens of a generation that live in a more competitive environment. A low birth rate is also not unheard of in other countries, including some of China’s neighbors.
At the same time, young people must understand that their parents pushing them to start a family certainly hasn’t much to do with China’s low birth rate. Today, China’s social welfare system is thin, and the prospect of an aging society causes parents to be concerned about who will care for them in old age. Of course, parents also worry about their children not being able to establish a reliable network - a social safety net - if they insist on staying single.
The falling birth rate is a complicated issue, and it ultimately comes down to a single persons’ or families’ given circumstances. Though for some, having a family must wait for now.