Why China’s Gen Z Migrant Workers Are Leaving the Assembly Line

Roman Kierst (小罗)

More educated, autonomous, and aware of their rights than the previous generation, China’s newest migrant workers are ditching factory work for the digital economy

This is the second part of our series on the future of migrant work in China. Read Part 1 here.

Xiao Ying, from rural Jiangxi province in southern China, is only 23 years old and already belongs to a dying breed. “A girl born in the 2000s working in a garment factory, do other people my age find this embarrassing?” she asks in the title of one of her vlogs on the Chinese video platform Bilibili.

The question might seem absurd to the millions of migrant workers who have filled China’s factory assembly lines since the 1980s, leaving their hometowns in search of work and opportunity in urban areas and manufacturing hubs. But Xiao Ying’s generation, known in China as linglinghou (零零后) or “the post-00s”—more educated, independent, and ambitious than their parents—are different, and fewer and fewer of them are drawn to factory work now.

The regimented work of the assembly line is partly to blame. As Xiao Ying, who dropped out of middle school at 14, explains in her videos, every day at the factory is the same. She gets up shortly before 8 a.m. in her dorm room in central Jiangxi’s Ganzhou city. The sides of her bed frame are covered with thick blankets to create the tiniest of private spaces and shield her from the view of her coworkers who occupy other beds like this in the same room. It only takes Xiao Ying a few minutes to get to work across the street in the garment factory where she will sit at her workstation and repeat the same motion hundreds of times over the course of the next 12 hours.

By 9.30 p.m. when her workday ends, she will have sewn sleeves onto hundreds of shirts before passing them along the assembly line. Eventually, the shirts will be sold for 129 yuan on e-commerce platform Taobao. To earn that amount of money, Xiao Ying has to process about 280 shirts, earning less than half a yuan per piece. “My life is the same every single day, the sewing machine never stops,” she says in one of her vlogs.

China now has nearly 4.6 million migrant workers born after 2000, according to a 2020 report by the National Bureau of Statistics. Instead of Xiao Ying’s humdrum routine, many prefer working in the digital platform economy and other new gig-based opportunities for the promise of more autonomy and flexibility. According to domestic media, some factories in south China’s Pearl River Delta, the powerhouse of light manufacturing, are even reported to be struggling to staff assembly lines. Where once young people lined up out the door to apply to assemble clothing and electronics, bosses now go out on the street holding recruitment placards promising flexible hours and tasty meals.

Young and yearning for autonomy

Migrant workers have played a vital role in China’s economic development since the 1980s, when the country began to transition away from the planned economy and encouraged the development of private enterprise and foreign trade. As factories supplying foreign markets with manufactured goods sprouted up in China’s eastern coastal areas, workers from rural villages and poorer hinterland regions (usually central and western China) provided the cheap labor to fuel the manufacturing and construction boom. More recently, these internal migrants have also staffed the service industry, taking jobs as delivery drivers, restaurant workers, and hairdressers in big cities.

They are now demanding more from their employers. “The long working hours and strict supervision in a factory go against young people’s desire for more freedom. They have their own social circle, they are eager to socialize, and they also need to have their private space,” a consultant with Shenzhen adult education firm Sincere Education, who did not give their name, tells TWOC via an online chat, explaining why young Chinese may be less and less attracted to such work.

“This year finding workers is more difficult than last year,” one recruiter for an outdoor gear factory in Yongkang in eastern China’s Zhejiang province told China Newsweek this February, observing a 20 percent decrease in workers under 25 compared to the previous year. The recruiter explains that their monthly salary, at around 5,000 yuan, is no longer significantly higher than in west-central China, so there are fewer people willing to migrate there for work.

Where once young people lined up out the door to apply for factory jobs, bosses now go out on the street holding recruitment placards promising flexible hours and tasty meals.

Factories have responded with creative ways of drawing people in. In Yongkang (where around half the 1.2 million population are migrant workers who produce over 60 percent of China’s thermos bottles, among other things), factories offered cash and other prizes for workers who returned to the factories after the Lunar New Year holiday, including a prize draw for vouchers worth 59,800 yuan to buy a Chinese-made electric car. The conditions for participating in these lotteries were lowered this year to allow fresh recruits and those not working in manufacturing to participate.

Managers have also loosened disciplinary measures like fines for showing up late or not meeting quotas. Working hours and holiday allowances may also be more generous, according to the recruiter.

Preview Mode - Subscribe to unlock full content

Beijing’s Snowy Spell in Photos

View a vivid collection of images showcasing the arrival of the first snow in Beijing in 2023

Cold Fashion: How Ancient Chinese Kept Warm in Winter

From paper to straw to fur coats...these are the clothes that people wore to keep warm in ancient China

Haven of Humor: How Chinese Migrants Find Comfort in Comedy

Chinese-language comedy clubs abroad emerge as a haven for migrants to humorously share and find solace in their common experiences of discrimination and personal hardship

Flying Blind: Visually Impaired Tourists Still Face Barriers

Poor accessibility still hinders visually impaired tourists in China, despite the efforts of a few volunteer groups

Crowning Glory: China’s Floral Headdress Tradition

From the women of Xunpu to ancient emperors, the floral hairpin has been a cherished tradition among both men and women for centuries, serving as decorative ornaments and symbols of authority

Beijing’s Snowy Spell in Photos

Cold Fashion: How Ancient Chinese Kept Warm in Winter

Haven of Humor: How Chinese Migrants Find Comfort in Comedy

Flying Blind: Visually Impaired Tourists Still Face Barriers

Crowning Glory: China’s Floral Headdress Tradition

The World of Chinese Magazine

Categories

Social Footprints