‘People Like Me’: We Need to Talk About China’s Invisible Blue-Collar Workers 🦺 | Following the Yuan
China isn’t typically associated with classism, but on some levels, it embodies it even more unapologetically than societies elsewhere actively confronting it.
Talking to Chinese cab drivers can often result in personal or political discussions, and sometimes it’s a combination of both. During one ride in Fuzhou earlier this year, my chat spontaneously veered toward Taiwan with the seemingly reserved middle-aged man, likely in his 50s.
“I wouldn’t mind a war, people like me could only change our status when there are disturbances in the society,” he blurted.
I didn’t respond, or ask him to clarify what “people like me” meant. He might have assumed I understood. However, it wasn’t until I reflected on it more deeply that I realized people like him are striving to keep pace in a race where the finish line keeps moving farther away.
China isn’t typically associated with classism, but on some levels, it embodies it even more unapologetically than societies elsewhere actively confronting it. The current economic slowdown has permeated people’s everyday lives over the past two years and accentuated social and economic disparities, leaving the less privileged invisible in public discourse. It’s problematic when the majority of the workforce is not heard and is left to confront their struggles alone.
The struggles of the Fuzhou cab driver rarely make it to our news and social media feeds. He is among China’s 400 million blue-collar workers waiting to be seen and heard, unlike the stories of the middle-class residents in first-tier cities that are more visible in the media and public discourse — their experiences of mass layoffs, salary cuts, and mounting mortgage pressure.
Moreover, blue-collar workers remain a monolith in media and government reports， often overlapping with the nearly 300 million migrant workers.
And when the mainstream media highlights the stories of blue-collar workers, it’s often through a positive lens — the hardworking delivery worker making over 1 million yuan in three months and runs on three hours of sleep every day, and the livestreaming farmers using social platforms to turn their family businesses around. Their struggles rarely pierce the information bubble. On rare occasions when they do so through social media platforms, they get taken down without any reason.
In January, a NetEase mini-documentary “30 Years of Laboring Away” addressed the issue of senior migrant workers. The 11-minute video featured older workers from rural areas gathering at Zhou Gudui, an agriculture wholesale market, at 4 a.m. in search of gig work. Among them was 49-year-old Wang, who had started working in the city since the age of 16. We see him rushing toward a van, asking about potential jobs. “I’d do anything, with [day rate] of around 100-200 yuan, I’m not picky,” he says, looking into the camera. “There are fewer real estate developers, therefore less work for migrant workers.”
The video was taken down after gaining national attention. Similar social media videos of workers demanding salaries in front of city government offices and construction sites, a delivery worker kneeling to a security guard to avoid punishment from his employer for delays, and truck drivers expressing frustration over being squeezed by gig platforms have met the same fate.
“So far, the disparity between city and rural China only instigates the phenomenon of ‘moving to the city for work’,” wrote Chinese economist Zhou Qiren wrote in a preface for Chinese anthropologist and sociologist Fei Xiaotong’s book “Rural China (乡土中国)”, “They earn money in the city when they are young, but ultimately have to return home when they get older.”
Such top-down censorship, or erasure of their hardships across social media, sends a clear message: Migrant workers, who leave hometowns and families behind, face social stigma and unjust treatment in cities they help build and run, aren’t worthy of attention; they represent “negative energy,” in contrast to the government’s push to “tell good China stories,” where everyone is content and hopeful about the China they live in.
But not everyone is content and hopeful, and the economic indicators signal that mood. With fewer infrastructure and residential buildings being constructed — from January to October this year, China’s new* residential floor space area dropped 67.5% to 445 million square meters, compared with the same period in 2019 — many migrant workers are out of sight and out of mind. (*new = the construction started foundation treatment within the reported period)
That is not to say that the middle class isn’t empathetic with the underserved social group. They are eager to support the workers in spirit, offering encouraging comments online, but the absence of a formal structure, combined with the sensitivity of the topic, limits their ability to provide meaningful assistance.
On Xiaohongshu, better known as a shopping and lifestyle guide, ‘Migrant Worker Brother Chuan’ provides a glimpse of a Sichuan migrant worker’s lunches at his offices (various construction sites). Brother Chuan usually erects a makeshift table with whatever available construction materials, where he sometimes slurps porridge with cold noodles or homemade lunch packed by his wife. On payday, the couple treat themselves to special items, including fried chicken or hotpot. Viewer comments are overwhelmingly supportive, telling Brother Chuan to take care of himself while celebrating milestones of his growing following.
However, very few migrant workers, such as Brother Chuan, have a visible online presence on Xiaohongshu, which is known for its middle-class core audience. Brother Chuan and most of his followers live in a parallel universe. The online solidarity, while commendable, doesn’t necessarily translate into offline support. Their relationship ends with likes and comments.
When it does translate to offline efforts, the daring act could be perceived as an anti-government move. Labor rights activist Wang Jianbing, 41, who hosted gatherings for workers with pneumoconiosis, a lung disease particularly prevalent among those working in coal mines, along with young activists and scholars, was convicted of “inciting subversion of state power.” Born into a farming family in Gansu province, he had been working in the nonprofit sector after graduating college in 2005. His indictment includes joining overseas online groups with references to “Revolution” and “June 4 Massacre” and enrolling in an online course on “non-violent movements,” according to court documents cited by Substack publication Wo Men (means ‘us’ in Chinese). Wang was sentenced to three and a half years in prison.
Theoretically, China backs all workers and has laws protecting workers’ rights — there are rules on 44-hour weekly work hours, gender discrimination, and freedom to form unions. However, in reality, the labor law “lacks effective enforcement mechanisms — like a ‘toothless tiger,’” Wang Tianyu, Deputy Director of the Social Law Research Department at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, said in a media interview after a series of sudden workplace-related deaths raised public concerns in 2021.
This suggests that the law itself wouldn’t be able to grant workers their rights regardless of their social status. Media accountability and the entanglement between local governments and businesses are the real forces at play.
China’s previous economic development has been built on sacrifices. The 400 million blue-collar workers, including the taxi driver in Fuzhou, the gig workers who stand in the cold seeking work at 4 a.m., and the delivery worker who felt that he had no choice but to kneel, are an integral force that has contributed to China’s development. Moving forward in this new economic era requires bringing these workers into the conversation, giving them opportunities where they can support themselves — before it’s too late. 🔚
Editor: Bibek Bhandari.
A correction was made on Dec. 2, 2024: An earlier version of this article misstated that “blue-collar workers are notably missing from China’s two major unemployment rate reports focusing on the youth, and city and township population”. In fact, all residents (regardless of their hukou) would be counted in those figures.
Love your taxi driver chats - and the wider insights yor writings always provide. Now restacked Yaling.
Thanks for your always interesting insights into life in China today.