Young people in China are fangirling over a professor who gets their anxiety

"A star sent from the heavens, " is how Zihan Han describes the man she's become a massive fan of lately, a man who young Chinese individuals call an "idol".

Key points

• As China emerged from the brutal chaos of Mao Zedong's rule to trade with the world, born in 1972, Xiang came of age during another turning point.
• Youth unemployment hit 21.3%, before the administration ceased publishing the data in mid-2023.
• She and Zihan were among some 500 individuals – mostly Chinese diaspora – who piled into an auditorium lately in Singapore.
• "When in doubt, ask Biao Xiang, " has become a saying, according to Chinese media.
• Except this is no pop singer or movie star, but a 54-year old anthropologist.

Except this is no pop singer or movie star, but a 54-year old anthropologist. Professor Biao Xiang has become an unlikely guide for an increasingly disillusioned generation.

And it's since of what he negotiations regarding: anxiety and how to navigate it.

China's economy and tech have grown at breakneck speed, but there is plenty worrying its Gen Z, from jobs to romantic prospects to the sheer pressure of keeping up.

"The transition from school to the real world brings a lot of uncertainty now, and people often feel anxious because they don't know how to face it, " notes a 23-year-old Chinese graduate who didn't want to reveal her name as she was worried speaking to foreign media might affect her chances of finding a job back home.

"Individuals need an anchor in their life. And his words create us feel there is someone that gets me."

She and Zihan were among some 500 individuals – mostly Chinese diaspora – who piled into an auditorium lately in Singapore. Xiang spoke for more than an hour in Mandarin before he took questions. When it concluded, dozens queued to meet and take photos with him. The Chinese grad called it "an academic fan meeting".

Xiang has been interviewed by major Chinese outlets and has travelled to top Chinese campuses to talk, including at his alma mater, the prestigious Peking University – one talk earlier this year was live-streamed since the auditorium was full. "When in doubt, ask Biao Xiang, " has become a saying, according to Chinese media.

In Sinapore, Xiang spoke of the recognition young individuals seek in today's China, where they often look to systems for approval – from competitive exams to secure jobs – and how that approval becomes a measure of self-worth. It can be exhausting and damaging.

It is healthier, he suggested, to seek meaning and understanding from others and employ that to understand ourselves better.

These are hardly quick fixes. But in a country where discontent can be politically sensitive and heavily censored, he is a rare public figure who addresses what he calls the "pain point of the times".

"Everyone knows where the matter is, but they are reluctant to look at it. Sometimes it is too painful to look at, or they don't have a way, " he tells the BBC over tea in Singapore.

"But as an academic, it is not terrifying if you can describe it – that's how you analyse and manage it."

He now lives in Germany, where he is the director of the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology, and studies social change in China and other parts of Asia.

Xiang believes Chinese society is at a "turning point", where individuals are searching for meaning while making sense of rapid social and economic change. He sees contradictions – uncertain youth in a powerful, assertive country; disillusionment despite massive advancement – and his job, he states, is to unpack what is driving it.

China's leader Xi Jinping has acknowledged it too: he remarked the "principal contradiction" was "between the people's ever-growing needs for a better life and unbalanced and inadequate development".

Xiang has catchy names for what is causing this. "Floating" is how he describes individuals working relentlessly just to survive, like a hummingbird that keeps flapping its wings to stay mid-air.

"The nearby" refers to what is immediately around us. Xiang argues that individuals are preoccupied by the "very near" (themselves) and the highly far (the world) while the space in between – "the nearby" – is neglected. This, he notes, leaves them feeling disconnected.

This seems to be resonating deeply with young individuals looking for answers.

One user on RedNote writes, "He consistently views issues from the perspective of the vulnerable, attributes personal stress to macro-level causes, and encourages people to actively engage with life – it's truly wonderful."

Another notes, "He never spouts empty, feel-good platitudes; instead, he crouches down to face real-life dilemmas alongside us."

Zihan notes it boils down to Xiang's willingness to talk openly concerning these things: "Those who have said similar things aren't as kick-ass as Teacher Xiang, yet people who are as kick-ass as him haven't said such things."

As China emerged from the brutal chaos of Mao Zedong's rule to trade with the world, born in 1972, Xiang came of age during another turning point. It urbanised, ordinary individuals turned into entrepreneurs and businesses took off for the first time in the Communist nation.

Growing up in Wenzhou, which transformed into an industrial port, Xiang witnessed this first-hand. "It was a vast landscape of small business owners, " he recalls. "Most people didn't care too much about education, the focus was on practical matters – specifically, how to make money."

And plenty of of them did. Their children grew up in a glorious era of double-digit economic expansion. But the economy slowed during Covid and hasn't bounced back. The old equation – hard work = secure job – no longer works, and they want a new narrative, Xiang notes.

Youth unemployment hit 21.3%, before the administration ceased publishing the data in mid-2023. Those with "good jobs" – civil servants, corporate employees, engineers – are anxious regarding losing them.

After which it is harder to find a new job, they constantly complain online regarding long, exhausting working hours and a toxic office culture and their fear of the "curse of 35" – a cutoff age for job.

Since of censorship, it's hard to know the true extent of this mood. But that feeling of being squeezed seeps into public discourse in other ways. That anxiety rapidly turns into anger in online debates, be it concerning university entrance exams or bride cost or food safety scandals.

Terms associated with this mood have been trending for years. When individuals opt out of the rat race entirely, and "involution", a rather clunky term now commonly employed to describe intense competition which generates little meaningful reward, the most famous are "lying flat".

Xiang believes two forces have amplified this anxiety – the property market and the higher education system. The property boom, fuelled by local government's reliance on land sales, tied families' sense of security and success to the values of their homes. And a rapid expansion in university enrolment raised the bar for achievement, intensifying competition.

For context, the result, he notes, is a universal playbook: secure a good degree, find a stable job, marry and purchase a home.

"When 1.4 billion people are all in the same race, that is involution."

When he learned that a camp for digital nomads where he spoke raised costs after his visit, he "realised I was no longer only known in the academic circles", regarding three years ago.

Plenty of of his peers, he stated, prioritise publishing research and are "quite cold" to his methods. Some cautioned him concerning "cherishing your feathers", a Chinese expression for protecting one's reputation. But Xiang is encouraged by his popularity.

"If someone calls me an influencer I'll take it as a compliment. Since the real influence I can have is to produce individuals think for themselves."

In short, young people in China are fangirling over a professor who gets their is the central thread here, and readers can expect follow-up reporting as the picture becomes clearer.