“I laughed at first but in the end I felt a sense of great sadness. He is resisting by giving up his reproductive rights,” said a user on Weibo, China’s Twitter-like platform.
Carrying on the family line has long been a filial duty in traditional Chinese culture. But in today’s China, not having children — or delaying it — has become a form of soft resistance and silent protest against what many see as the disappointing reality they live in, with deep-rooted structural problems stemming from a system that they have little power to change.
“
It is a tragic expression of despair of the deepest kind,”
Zhang Xuezhong,
a human rights lawyer and former law professor in Shanghai,
在推特上写道 about the video.
“We’ve been robbed of a future that is worth looking forward to. It is arguably the strongest denunciation a young man can make of the era he lives in.”
Over the past decade,
an increasing number of Chinese millennials have delayed — or outright rejected — marriage and childbirth,
as they confront high work pressure,
skyrocketing property prices,
rising education costs and discrimination against mothers in the workplace.
去年, 只是 7.6
million Chinese couples registered for marriage — 一个 44%
drop from 2013
and the lowest in 36 年份. 同时,
the country’s birthrate dropped to 7.5
births per 1,000 人,
a record low since the founding of Communist China,
with nine provinces and regions registering negative population growth.
The Chinese government is worried. 数十年, it had strictly enforced a one-child policy that forced millions of women to abort pregnancies deemed illegal by the state. But as China’s birthrate plummeted, demographers warned of a looming population crisis.
Beijing scrapped the one-child policy in 2016 and relaxed it further to allow couples to have three children last year, with local governments churning out a flurry of propaganda slogans and financial incentives to encourage more births — but the birthrate has continued to nosedive.
Some officials and policy advisers have appeared tone deaf to young people’s demands. 上个月, a law professor and delegate to the Jinzhou municipal People’s Congress in Hubei province suggested that in order to promote marriage and childbirth, the media should reduce or avoid reporting on “independent women” 和 “double-income-no-kids (DINK) 生活方式,” because they are not in line with the country’s “mainstream values.” The suggestion drew a backlash online.
As the pandemic drags on, the sense of disenchantment among the many of the country’s younger generation has only grown.
The increasingly frequent and stringent lockdowns — and the chaos and tragedies that arose from them — have made citizens realize how fragile their rights are in the face of a state apparatus that brooks no dissent and a callous bureaucracy trained to take orders from above with little flexibility.
That is especially so in Shanghai, which is reeling from seven weeks of stringent lockdown. In the country’s wealthiest and most glamorous city, residents have been subject to widespread food shortages, lack of medical care and forced quarantine in spartan makeshift facilities. Authorities initially separated young children from their parents in isolation — and only reversed course after a public outcry.
The mounting frustration and anger erupted on Chinese social media —
and in some cases, 审查员
struggled to keep up.
Some residents protested from their windows,
banging pots and pans and shouting in frustration.
Others clashed with police and health workers in the streets —
something rarely seen in a country where dissent is routinely suppressed.
过去一周, local officials forced residents to hand over their keys after they were taken away to quarantine, so that health workers could go in and soak their personal belongings in disinfectant — with little scientific justification for their actions or regard for private property rights.
For many residents,
that was the last straw.
Even their homes —
their private space and last refuge —
could not be spared the zealous enforcement of the government’s zero-Covid policy.
Some say their lives have become dispensable in the pursuit of what officials deem the “
greater good,”
with residents left powerless to protect their loved ones.
To many young people, the crisis unfolding in Shanghai is setting off alarm bells. If even China’s most developed city with the largest middle-class population, the supposedly most open-minded bureaucrats and the most cosmopolitan culture could not be spared such authoritarian treatment, will other cities fare any better?
“Who is willing to have children when things have come to this? Who dares to have children?” asked a user on Weibo.
“Your reign ends with me. And the suffering you have caused also ends with me,” 另一个说.
The fast-spreading anger soon attracted the attention of censors. By Thursday evening, most of the videos had been scrubbed from the Chinese internet. On Weibo, several related hashtags, 从 “We are the last generation” 至 “Last generation,” have been censored after attracting heated discussions.
But suppressing what young people want to say will not help persuade them to have children. [object Window], that is likely only to add to their disaffection.