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Beijing — Back when Deng Kun was in college, studying biomedical engineering, he imagined himself working for a company like GE by now, helping to design state-of-the-art medical equipment. Instead, he spends a lot of his time in the cramped and chilly room he shares with a friend in the outskirts of Beijing, playing video games or trying to line up a job as a salesman.
Mr. Deng moved to the capital when he graduated, he says, because “I thought there would be a lot of opportunities here.” He soon found out, though, “it is not very easy to find a job as an engineer.” Deng is a member of the “Ant Tribe,” as sociologist Lian Si has dubbed the swelling ranks of underemployed or underpaid Chinese university graduates frustrated by their failure to fulfill their ambitions.
“Ants are smart,” Dr. Lian explains. “They are relatively weak individually but if you don’t pay attention to them they can cause a big disaster. There is a Chinese saying that a 10,000 mile dam can be breached by a swarm of ants.” That threat has not escaped the attention of the government. Earlier this year the State Council, China’s cabinet, issued a notice warning that the financial crisis had “increased the pressure on graduate employment” and urging ministerial and regional authorities to “put college graduates at the top of their employment agenda.”
Bottleneck grows each year
Lian, whose recent book “The Ant Tribe” drew attention to the phenomenon, estimates that there are upwards of three million graduates in China without jobs, or doing work for which they are overqualified. The problem has been building since 2003, when a record number of students graduated four years after a dramatic expansion of further education in 1999.
China’s student population has continued to skyrocket since then, outpacing the ability of even China’s fast-growing economy to absorb them. Six million students graduated last summer, up sixfold from a decade ago, and two million of them are still looking for a proper job, competing with still-unemployed graduates from earlier years.
“There are lots of people going for each job,” complains Deng. “That means that companies raise the bar.” GE, for example, told him they would need a Masters degree for an entry-level position, they say.
Plan B: Join the Army
Students have got the message, and many are doing what they can to avoid the commercial job market. The number of college graduates who enlisted in the military this year rose more than threefold from 2008 figures, according to Defense Ministry figures. More than a million graduates took this year’s Civil Service exam —— nearly twice as many as in 2006.
At the same time, fewer high school students this year took the NEMT, the college entrance exam, thus turning their backs on the magic key that Chinese young people have always prized for unlocking the door to prosperity. Even those graduates who have found jobs to suit them are finding life a lot harder than they had expected.
Bent over a plate of five yuan noodles in a crowded restaurant one recent Saturday lunchtime, Zhang Haijuan is one of them. Like Deng, she also studied biomedical engineering. But instead of rushing to Beijing after graduation four years ago, she stayed in the province of Henan, where she had studied, and did a boring job in a yeast factory for a couple of years. That gave her the work experience she needed to land the job she has now, as a quality controller in a Beijing factory making medicines, Zhang says.
But she still earns only RMB 2,500($370) a month, which is no more than the average urban worker earns in China regardless of their academic achievements. The only place she can afford to live is a tiny bed-sit in Tangjialing, a warren of dorm-style buildings on the very edge of Beijing where an estimated 50,000 young people like Ms. Zhang have found cheap lodgings.
She buys only what she really needs, she says, so as to be able to afford food and clothes and medicine for her parents, peasant farmers who never dreamed of going to university themselves but put all three of their children through college. Her parents would never say anything about her salary, Zhang says. “But I sometimes talk with her friends about whether it’s been worth it; we made so much effort in college and now I earn less than some of my classmates who didn’t go higher than middle school. That frustrates me.”
Running on determination
Most of the“Ant Tribe” in Beijing are like Zhang, says researcher Lian —— single twenty,something from the provinces, with degrees from minor universities but ambitions in the major leagues. “The big gap between the cities and the countryside means that talent and resources all go to the big cities,” Lian explains. “The graduates do not want to go back; they prefer a single bed in Beijing to a house in their hometown.”
Most of them, like Deng —— are confident that they will make a career in marketing, or get into grad uate school, or both —— and Zhang, who has just moved into a more comfortable bed-sit, closer to the bus stop, seems optimistic about the future, says Lian. “But if their dreams collapse and they cannot find a good explanation for their failure it could be dangerous,” he predicts. “They were taught that knowledge could change their fate, but they find that is not true. If they can’t even find a job, they may oppose society.”
For the time being, Lian says, he sees no great threat to social stability, and the government is moving to head off any danger. “But the future depends on how society guides this group,” he adds. “If society treats them badly…how will they pay society back? Paying attention to the ‘Ant Tribe’ is paying attention to society’s future.”
For her part, Zhang Haijuan is focusing only on her own future. “This is the way things are, we have to face facts,” she says bluntly about her parsimonious lifestyle.“I feel that since I have worked so hard, all I can do now is to work even harder and learn more skills for a better future,” she adds. “I have no other option.”
早在邓坤上大学学习生物医药工程专业时,他想象着自己毕业时能在一家和(美国)通用电气公司差不多的公司工作,参与设计最先进的医疗设备。而今,他和朋友在北京市郊合租了一间又冷又挤的小屋。他的大部分时间都是在这个小屋里度过的,打打电玩,或是尝试着也竞聘销售类似的工作。
邓坤大学毕业后就到了北京,他说,因为“我想这里会有很多的机会。”可是,没过多久,他发现“要找到一份做工程师的工作并非易事”。邓坤是“蚁族”中的一员。“蚁族”这个词是社会学家廉思所创造的,用以称呼大材小用或是收入过低的中国大学毕业生,他们往往因为不能实现自己的理想和抱负而深受打击。
廉博士解释说,“蚂蚁是很厉害的动物,单个的蚂蚁显得相对微弱,然而,如果你稍不注意,这个群体就可能带来巨大灾难;正如中国的一句古话所说,千里之堤毁于蚁穴。” 这样的威胁也同样引起了中国政府的注意。今年年初,国务院,即中国的内阁,发布了一则通告。通告警告说,金融危机“增加了大学毕业生的就业压力”,并督促各部委和当地政府“优先聘用高校毕业生”。
制约因素逐年增加
廉思的近作《蚁族》关注到了这一现象,他估计现在中国有超过三百万的大学毕业生没找到工作,或是正在从事让他们有些大材小用的工作。这一问题从2003年起开始出现,因为那年正是那些于1999年高校大幅度扩招后进入大学的大学生毕业,毕业人数创历史新高。
自那以后,中国的大学生数量持续飙升,远远超出了迅速增长的中国经济吸纳大学毕业生的能力。去年夏天,大学毕业生人数多达六百万,和十年前相比翻了六番。其中两百万人仍在继续找合适的工作,与前几年毕业的未就业的大学生们一道展开竞争。
“每个职位,求职的人实在太多了。”邓坤抱怨道,“这就意味着许多公司只能抬高门槛。”他说,例如通用电气的相关工作人员就告诉他通用电气招聘的最低学历要求是硕士研究生。
B计划:参军
毕业生们也发现了这些问题,于是许多人开始另辟蹊径以避开商业类职场竞争。根据国防部的相关统计,和2008年的数据相比,今年大学毕业生报名参军人数增加了三倍多。今年,还有超过一百万的毕业生参加了公务员考试,差不多是2006年的两倍。
与此同时,今年参加高考的人数有所下降。大学入学考试,即高考,长期以来被广大中国学生看作是打开财富之门的神奇钥匙,现在似乎不再如此。即便是那些已经找到适合自己的工作的毕业生们也逐渐发现,生活比他们所想象的要艰难得多。
在一家拥挤的小餐厅,弓着背吃一碗5块钱的面条,就算是周六的午餐。张海娟的情况就是这样。和邓坤一样,张海娟也是学生物医药工作的。然而,不同的是,张海娟四年前毕业之后并没有跑到北京来工作,而是选择留在了她上学的河南省,在一家酵母工厂干了几年单调无聊的工作。张海娟说,那份工作积累的经验帮助她找到了现在的工作。现在她在北京的一家制药厂当质量监督员。
现在,她的月收入只有两千五百块(约合370美元),还比不上没有学历要求的中国城市普通工人的平均工资。她只能在唐家岭的寝室式大杂院租了一间狭小的单间住着。唐家岭位于北京城边,那里有许多拥挤的公寓式的楼房,据估计,约有五万个像张小姐这样的年轻人在那里租住相对廉价的房子。
张海娟说,她只买必需品,剩下的钱才够给父母买食品、衣物和药物。她的父母都是地地道道的农民,他们自己从来没梦想过上大学,却让家里的三个孩子全都上了大学。张海娟还说她的父母从来不会谈及她的收入,但她有时会和朋友说说,看自己的付出是否得到了回报;他们为了上大学付出了那么多的努力,而现在却比一些没考上大学的同学收入还低。这一点真的让她觉得自己很失败。
靠意志生存
《蚁族》的作者廉思说,大多数北漂的“蚁族”都和张海娟的情况差不多——20多岁,单身,来自各省市的二类院校,胸怀在大城市立足的大志。廉思解释道,“城市和农村的巨大差距意味着人才和资源都流向了大城市,因此毕业生们毕业会后不想回到自己的家乡;他们宁愿在北京只有一张单人床,也不愿意要家乡的一套房子。”
廉思说,和邓坤一样,他们中的大多数人都相信自己能找到一份和市场营销相关的工作,或是考上研究生,抑或两者兼顾;或似张海娟——刚刚搬进了一间更舒适的单间,离公交车站也更近了,对于未来,她显得比较乐观。“但是如果他们的梦想破灭了,并且不能对于自己的失败找不到一个合理的理由,情况就会很危险了。”他预测道,“以前他们都接受过‘知识能够改变命运’的教育,但是现在发现事实并非如此。如果他们不能找到一份工作,他们就有可能反对社会。”
廉博士分析说,“蚁族”这个群体暂时不会对社会稳定带来巨大的威胁,而且政府也正在努力去防止可能出现的任何危机。“但是,我们的未来取决于社会对这个群体的引导,”他接着说,“如果社会不好好对待他们……他们会怎么报复呢? 关注‘蚁族’就是关注我们社会的未来。”
对张海娟来说,她只专注于自己的未来。她直言不讳自己紧衣缩食的生活方式,“事已至此,我们只能面对现实。”她补充道,“我觉得既然自己已经非常努力的工作了,现在我所能做的就是为了自己更好的未来更加努力的工作,学习更多的技能,我别无选择。”
Mr. Deng moved to the capital when he graduated, he says, because “I thought there would be a lot of opportunities here.” He soon found out, though, “it is not very easy to find a job as an engineer.” Deng is a member of the “Ant Tribe,” as sociologist Lian Si has dubbed the swelling ranks of underemployed or underpaid Chinese university graduates frustrated by their failure to fulfill their ambitions.
“Ants are smart,” Dr. Lian explains. “They are relatively weak individually but if you don’t pay attention to them they can cause a big disaster. There is a Chinese saying that a 10,000 mile dam can be breached by a swarm of ants.” That threat has not escaped the attention of the government. Earlier this year the State Council, China’s cabinet, issued a notice warning that the financial crisis had “increased the pressure on graduate employment” and urging ministerial and regional authorities to “put college graduates at the top of their employment agenda.”
Bottleneck grows each year
Lian, whose recent book “The Ant Tribe” drew attention to the phenomenon, estimates that there are upwards of three million graduates in China without jobs, or doing work for which they are overqualified. The problem has been building since 2003, when a record number of students graduated four years after a dramatic expansion of further education in 1999.
China’s student population has continued to skyrocket since then, outpacing the ability of even China’s fast-growing economy to absorb them. Six million students graduated last summer, up sixfold from a decade ago, and two million of them are still looking for a proper job, competing with still-unemployed graduates from earlier years.
“There are lots of people going for each job,” complains Deng. “That means that companies raise the bar.” GE, for example, told him they would need a Masters degree for an entry-level position, they say.
Plan B: Join the Army
Students have got the message, and many are doing what they can to avoid the commercial job market. The number of college graduates who enlisted in the military this year rose more than threefold from 2008 figures, according to Defense Ministry figures. More than a million graduates took this year’s Civil Service exam —— nearly twice as many as in 2006.
At the same time, fewer high school students this year took the NEMT, the college entrance exam, thus turning their backs on the magic key that Chinese young people have always prized for unlocking the door to prosperity. Even those graduates who have found jobs to suit them are finding life a lot harder than they had expected.
Bent over a plate of five yuan noodles in a crowded restaurant one recent Saturday lunchtime, Zhang Haijuan is one of them. Like Deng, she also studied biomedical engineering. But instead of rushing to Beijing after graduation four years ago, she stayed in the province of Henan, where she had studied, and did a boring job in a yeast factory for a couple of years. That gave her the work experience she needed to land the job she has now, as a quality controller in a Beijing factory making medicines, Zhang says.
But she still earns only RMB 2,500($370) a month, which is no more than the average urban worker earns in China regardless of their academic achievements. The only place she can afford to live is a tiny bed-sit in Tangjialing, a warren of dorm-style buildings on the very edge of Beijing where an estimated 50,000 young people like Ms. Zhang have found cheap lodgings.
She buys only what she really needs, she says, so as to be able to afford food and clothes and medicine for her parents, peasant farmers who never dreamed of going to university themselves but put all three of their children through college. Her parents would never say anything about her salary, Zhang says. “But I sometimes talk with her friends about whether it’s been worth it; we made so much effort in college and now I earn less than some of my classmates who didn’t go higher than middle school. That frustrates me.”
Running on determination
Most of the“Ant Tribe” in Beijing are like Zhang, says researcher Lian —— single twenty,something from the provinces, with degrees from minor universities but ambitions in the major leagues. “The big gap between the cities and the countryside means that talent and resources all go to the big cities,” Lian explains. “The graduates do not want to go back; they prefer a single bed in Beijing to a house in their hometown.”
Most of them, like Deng —— are confident that they will make a career in marketing, or get into grad uate school, or both —— and Zhang, who has just moved into a more comfortable bed-sit, closer to the bus stop, seems optimistic about the future, says Lian. “But if their dreams collapse and they cannot find a good explanation for their failure it could be dangerous,” he predicts. “They were taught that knowledge could change their fate, but they find that is not true. If they can’t even find a job, they may oppose society.”
For the time being, Lian says, he sees no great threat to social stability, and the government is moving to head off any danger. “But the future depends on how society guides this group,” he adds. “If society treats them badly…how will they pay society back? Paying attention to the ‘Ant Tribe’ is paying attention to society’s future.”
For her part, Zhang Haijuan is focusing only on her own future. “This is the way things are, we have to face facts,” she says bluntly about her parsimonious lifestyle.“I feel that since I have worked so hard, all I can do now is to work even harder and learn more skills for a better future,” she adds. “I have no other option.”
早在邓坤上大学学习生物医药工程专业时,他想象着自己毕业时能在一家和(美国)通用电气公司差不多的公司工作,参与设计最先进的医疗设备。而今,他和朋友在北京市郊合租了一间又冷又挤的小屋。他的大部分时间都是在这个小屋里度过的,打打电玩,或是尝试着也竞聘销售类似的工作。
邓坤大学毕业后就到了北京,他说,因为“我想这里会有很多的机会。”可是,没过多久,他发现“要找到一份做工程师的工作并非易事”。邓坤是“蚁族”中的一员。“蚁族”这个词是社会学家廉思所创造的,用以称呼大材小用或是收入过低的中国大学毕业生,他们往往因为不能实现自己的理想和抱负而深受打击。
廉博士解释说,“蚂蚁是很厉害的动物,单个的蚂蚁显得相对微弱,然而,如果你稍不注意,这个群体就可能带来巨大灾难;正如中国的一句古话所说,千里之堤毁于蚁穴。” 这样的威胁也同样引起了中国政府的注意。今年年初,国务院,即中国的内阁,发布了一则通告。通告警告说,金融危机“增加了大学毕业生的就业压力”,并督促各部委和当地政府“优先聘用高校毕业生”。
制约因素逐年增加
廉思的近作《蚁族》关注到了这一现象,他估计现在中国有超过三百万的大学毕业生没找到工作,或是正在从事让他们有些大材小用的工作。这一问题从2003年起开始出现,因为那年正是那些于1999年高校大幅度扩招后进入大学的大学生毕业,毕业人数创历史新高。
自那以后,中国的大学生数量持续飙升,远远超出了迅速增长的中国经济吸纳大学毕业生的能力。去年夏天,大学毕业生人数多达六百万,和十年前相比翻了六番。其中两百万人仍在继续找合适的工作,与前几年毕业的未就业的大学生们一道展开竞争。
“每个职位,求职的人实在太多了。”邓坤抱怨道,“这就意味着许多公司只能抬高门槛。”他说,例如通用电气的相关工作人员就告诉他通用电气招聘的最低学历要求是硕士研究生。
B计划:参军
毕业生们也发现了这些问题,于是许多人开始另辟蹊径以避开商业类职场竞争。根据国防部的相关统计,和2008年的数据相比,今年大学毕业生报名参军人数增加了三倍多。今年,还有超过一百万的毕业生参加了公务员考试,差不多是2006年的两倍。
与此同时,今年参加高考的人数有所下降。大学入学考试,即高考,长期以来被广大中国学生看作是打开财富之门的神奇钥匙,现在似乎不再如此。即便是那些已经找到适合自己的工作的毕业生们也逐渐发现,生活比他们所想象的要艰难得多。
在一家拥挤的小餐厅,弓着背吃一碗5块钱的面条,就算是周六的午餐。张海娟的情况就是这样。和邓坤一样,张海娟也是学生物医药工作的。然而,不同的是,张海娟四年前毕业之后并没有跑到北京来工作,而是选择留在了她上学的河南省,在一家酵母工厂干了几年单调无聊的工作。张海娟说,那份工作积累的经验帮助她找到了现在的工作。现在她在北京的一家制药厂当质量监督员。
现在,她的月收入只有两千五百块(约合370美元),还比不上没有学历要求的中国城市普通工人的平均工资。她只能在唐家岭的寝室式大杂院租了一间狭小的单间住着。唐家岭位于北京城边,那里有许多拥挤的公寓式的楼房,据估计,约有五万个像张小姐这样的年轻人在那里租住相对廉价的房子。
张海娟说,她只买必需品,剩下的钱才够给父母买食品、衣物和药物。她的父母都是地地道道的农民,他们自己从来没梦想过上大学,却让家里的三个孩子全都上了大学。张海娟还说她的父母从来不会谈及她的收入,但她有时会和朋友说说,看自己的付出是否得到了回报;他们为了上大学付出了那么多的努力,而现在却比一些没考上大学的同学收入还低。这一点真的让她觉得自己很失败。
靠意志生存
《蚁族》的作者廉思说,大多数北漂的“蚁族”都和张海娟的情况差不多——20多岁,单身,来自各省市的二类院校,胸怀在大城市立足的大志。廉思解释道,“城市和农村的巨大差距意味着人才和资源都流向了大城市,因此毕业生们毕业会后不想回到自己的家乡;他们宁愿在北京只有一张单人床,也不愿意要家乡的一套房子。”
廉思说,和邓坤一样,他们中的大多数人都相信自己能找到一份和市场营销相关的工作,或是考上研究生,抑或两者兼顾;或似张海娟——刚刚搬进了一间更舒适的单间,离公交车站也更近了,对于未来,她显得比较乐观。“但是如果他们的梦想破灭了,并且不能对于自己的失败找不到一个合理的理由,情况就会很危险了。”他预测道,“以前他们都接受过‘知识能够改变命运’的教育,但是现在发现事实并非如此。如果他们不能找到一份工作,他们就有可能反对社会。”
廉博士分析说,“蚁族”这个群体暂时不会对社会稳定带来巨大的威胁,而且政府也正在努力去防止可能出现的任何危机。“但是,我们的未来取决于社会对这个群体的引导,”他接着说,“如果社会不好好对待他们……他们会怎么报复呢? 关注‘蚁族’就是关注我们社会的未来。”
对张海娟来说,她只专注于自己的未来。她直言不讳自己紧衣缩食的生活方式,“事已至此,我们只能面对现实。”她补充道,“我觉得既然自己已经非常努力的工作了,现在我所能做的就是为了自己更好的未来更加努力的工作,学习更多的技能,我别无选择。”