Chinese Youth Smuggle Themselves Abroad in Search of a Way Out

Narrowing Pathways, Uncertain Futures: Chinese Youth “Run” Overseas in Search of a Way Out

After hitting dead ends in the domestic job market, Xiao Guan began seeking overseas work assignments last year. Pictured: a beach and baobab trees in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). (Photo provided by interviewee)

Xiao Bo has spent three years preparing to emigrate abroad. His current plan is twofold: first, switch careers to become a caregiver in Australia; if that fails, join the French Foreign Legion.

Speaking late at night after finishing his shift at 11 p.m., his voice heavy with exhaustion, he said, “If I don’t leave now, it’ll only get harder from here.”

Xiao Bo works in recruitment for a Chinese state-owned enterprise. Over the past few years, he has witnessed firsthand how hiring quotas have continually shrunk, deepening his anxiety about future employment prospects. In 2022, a position paying RMB 3,000–5,000 per month (approximately SGD 450–915) received 400 applications for 15 openings. By 2023, it was 1,000 resumes for just eight spots.

He told Lianhe Zaobao, “Young people today have three choices: lie flat, grind endlessly, or run (‘run’ being slang for emigrating). The ‘grind’ path has already collapsed, and even ‘running’ is starting to crumble. So I need to move faster—pray I can escape before it all collapses completely.”

With China’s youth unemployment rate hovering around 17%, many post-2000s youths like Xiao Bo are turning their job search overseas, becoming the latest wave of Chinese seeking to “run”—following earlier waves of elite emigrants.

Yong Haonan, an 18-year-old studying abroad, has observed this trend from another angle. Since April last year, he has been posting videos online outlining practical pathways for ordinary people to work and immigrate country by country. Within just a few months, his account amassed nearly 30,000 followers.

In addition, Yong created an online community. Since launching the group in September, nearly 4,000 people have joined. He said members range in age from 16 to 35, mostly holding bachelor’s or associate degrees, and are primarily seeking reliable, firsthand information on overseas jobs and immigration.

To avoid drawing too much attention, Yong named all his groups “Language Learning Exchange Groups.” Members can also consult him one-on-one. Those seeking advice include undergraduates from Peking University as well as IT professionals in their 30s who were laid off and now plan to go overseas to work as plumbers or welders.

Unlike expensive immigration agencies, Yong doesn’t charge fixed fees for consultations—users can tip voluntarily, from a few yuan to RMB 50–60. “My goal,” he said, “is to help a new generation of Chinese youth, anxious over unemployment, ‘get out.’”

Overseas Salaries Decline

Twenty-eight-year-old Xiao Guan has already left China. After sending out 200–300 resumes last year without success, he changed tactics and secured an overseas finance position in Indonesia within a month.

Chinese youth Xiao Guan (28) began working in the conflict-ridden Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) in October last year. Shortly after arrival, he contracted malaria. (Photo provided by interviewee)

After a year in Indonesia, Xiao Guan was reassigned in October last year to the still-war-torn DRC. Not long after arriving in Africa, he came down with malaria.

Speaking with resignation, Xiao Guan explained he chose Africa because “you can save two or three times faster than in Indonesia,” allowing him to accumulate enough “seed money” to eventually immigrate to Germany.

However, as more people seek overseas opportunities, competition for these postings has intensified, and salaries have dropped significantly. “Ten years ago, annual salaries of over RMB 1 million for Africa postings weren’t uncommon,” he said. “Now, you can easily find candidates for monthly pay just over RMB 10,000.”

Xiao Bo, who works in human resources, is especially attuned to these shifts. Without consulting any documents, he can recite from memory Australia’s state-by-state lists of occupations in demand. Previously perennial staples—nursing, social work, and early childhood education—saw early childhood education become oversupplied last year.

This narrowing of pathways left Xiao Bo momentarily lost, but he ultimately resolved to leave. “It’s not about whether life will be better elsewhere—it’s about whether you can tolerate the present. My answer is no.”

In fact, economic prospects are only part of the story. In deeper conversations, several interviewees mentioned non-economic concerns as the real pressure pushing them to “run.”

Xiao Bo admitted that while pessimism about employment played a role, what truly broke him was the work environment at his state-owned enterprise. Beyond mandatory ideological study sessions and Party meetings on weekends, the company uses a system called “Divine Sword” to connect employees’ personal phones via data cables each week and scan their social media activity.

During one such inspection, Xiao Bo was discovered to have donated cryptocurrency to Ukraine. He was forced to write a self-criticism letter and had over RMB 800 deducted from his RMB 2,600 monthly salary as punishment.

He thought the matter was closed—until a colleague later warned him it had become a permanent stain on his personnel file. He was no longer seen as “one of us,” and his chances of promotion became virtually nonexistent.

Analysis: Youth Emigration Reflects Deep Disillusionment with Chinese Society

Xu Quan, a current affairs commentator based in Taiwan, told Lianhe Zaobao that the Chinese have traditionally valued staying close to home. “When a people so rooted in their land begin planning life paths centered on leaving the country, the real question is: what’s wrong with Chinese society itself?”

Xu noted that today’s young emigrants are not only willing to take manual labor jobs but are also heading to non-traditional destinations like Latin America and Africa. “That alone shows how profoundly disillusioned they are with the current state of society.”

He pointed out that the lack of upward mobility for youth is not new, but this year it has become especially acute—largely because privileged elites keep flaunting their power and perks, deeply provoking ordinary citizens.

From the Dong Xiying incident in April, the “pricey earrings” scandal in May, to last month’s controversy over a 26-year-old doctoral supervisor at Zhejiang University, Xu argued that China’s privileged class has formed a closed loop monopolizing social resources, leaving little room for middle- and lower-class citizens. “What’s left for them is merely the scraps—the crumbs, dust, and fragments of resources.”

Associate Professor Fu Fangjian of Lee Kong Chian School of Business at Singapore Management University offered a different perspective. He noted that the sense of powerlessness among young people is not unique to China but a global phenomenon—American youth face similarly tough job markets.

“Macro-level improvements are certainly needed,” Fu said, “but for individuals navigating these tides, personal effort matters more, as challenges exist in every era.”

In his view, Chinese youth “running” abroad isn’t necessarily bad. “If it’s so competitive at home, why not try a different environment? As the old saying goes, ‘A person thrives when moving; a tree dies when transplanted.’”

With Chinese trade spanning over 190 countries, Fu added, young people following national strategies overseas “might just fight their way to a better tomorrow.”

As for whether life abroad will truly be better, Xu Quan believes those choosing to leave aren’t naive about the difficulties ahead. “They’ve weighed the risks—and still choose to go. That shows just how determined they are.”