At the China Development Forum on March 23, Chinese Premier Li Qiang laid out an ambitious road map for the nation’s economic recovery, emphasizing consumer spending, innovation, and foreign investment. The message was clear: China’s priority is economic stability, not geopolitical conflict. For many young Chinese elites, Li’s focus mirror their own shifting concerns.
As China grapples with slowing growth and rising youth unemployment amid its ongoing post-COVID economic recalibration, the urgency of unification with Taiwan appears to be fading among young elites. My research, conducted among Chinese university students in Beijing, suggests that young elites—typically assumed to be increasingly nationalistic “little pinks” for their apparent pro-party, or “red,” views—are in fact becoming more pragmatic, inward-looking, and skeptical of war and conflict. This is in contrast to the nationalistic views espoused by the working-class, middle-aged Chinese cab drivers I interviewed from Beijing and Xiamen.
New U.S. policies, however—such as U.S. President Donald Trump’s ever-shifting tariffs—may increase resentment toward the United States and paradoxically increase support for unification as a defensive response.
While the opinions of Tsinghua University students are not a bellwether for Chinese President Xi Jinping’s actions, the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has demonstrated an interest in cultivating youth opinion, particularly given the party’s emphasis on “patriotic education” in the past decade of slowing economic growth.
And as potential future leaders of the CCP (Xi is an alumnus of Tsinghua), elite university students—and the factors affecting their attitudes—hold important implications for U.S. policy.
In the spring of 2023, when I set out to test the assumption that nationalism was driving Chinese youth support for unification, I expected students at Beijing’s elite Tsinghua and Peking universities to reflect the growing hawkishness—or willingness to use force against Taiwan—seen in state rhetoric.
Instead, my findings revealed a striking reality: Students rarely discussed Taiwan at all.
“Taiwan? The topic doesn’t feel important,” one student said. “It feels far away from me—both geographically and mentally.”
This mindset was reflected in the results of an anonymous survey shared with students, which received more than 140 responses. When asked to rank eight “domestic” issues facing China from most to least pressing, Taiwan was second to last, only above climate change.
The other issues listed were, in order of most to least pressing: post-COVID economic recovery, socioeconomic inequality, social stability, attracting foreign direct investment, combating corruption, and improving education.
The cab drivers I interviewed, on the other hand, spoke of Taiwan in terms of its national significance, often referencing historical grievances. “If we lose Taiwan, we lose face,” one Beijing driver said. Yet even among this demographic, economic concerns loomed large. Many drivers shared that they had seen their incomes halved during the zero-COVID years, and though they were more likely than students to express support for unification by force, it was not their top concern.
The difference in attitude between students and cab drivers—generally middle-aged male yellow cab drivers I found via ride-hailing apps—may also reflect a broader generational shift. Many students noted that they felt notably “less hawkish” about Taiwan than their parents.
Other recent research on Chinese youth opinion has reinforced this anti-conflict and apathetic sentiment toward Taiwan, contradicting the common view of Chinese youth as increasingly nationalist.
“Our parents have ancestral ties to Taiwan and remember a time when the mainland and Taiwan had more exchanges. We don’t,” one student said. Others cited China’s shift away from a planned economy, arguing that their generation was more economically pragmatic and less driven by ideological nationalism.
Despite the popularity of this view, some students admitted that they still felt like outliers among their peers for their dovish views.
Many students described a political environment on their campus or in online forums in which “politically incorrect” talk led to criticism. One student said: “Taiwan is rarely brought up and discussed among friends, so I actually don’t know how others feel. We are only seeing the online posts and public comments. It’s more politically correct to say you’re pro-force these days, so it’s less common for those who are wary of war to speak their minds.”
Li’s speech at the China Development Forum reflected the government’s recognition of growing domestic anxieties and the need to boost consumer spending and consumption. He stressed the need for sustainable domestic economic growth despite rising global instability, reinforcing a sentiment I heard repeatedly in my interviews: Economic hardship has made young Chinese more inward-focused.
“Zero-COVID policies felt like wartime policies. It made me realize I don’t want war,” one student said. Another explained that after experiencing financial struggles firsthand during the pandemic, political abstractions such as Taiwan seemed less important. “If you are living well, it’s easier to look at the big picture,” the student said.
One student described viewing unification as a “merger and acquisition for China,” explaining: “After you weigh the costs and benefits of unification, it’s clear it’s politics, not rationality, driving this—there is not much clear benefit to unifying.”
China’s youth unemployment rate has hovered at record highs, with nearly 17 percent of young urban Chinese (a statistic that excludes students) struggling to find jobs. Even recent graduates from elite universities are disillusioned, with many embracing a “lying flat” or “letting it rot” mentality—phrases used to describe passive resistance to societal pressures. In this environment, a hypothetical war over Taiwan feels unwise and irrelevant.
Social discord within China could also influence this view; several students referenced Tsinghua and Peking universities’ participation in China’s White Paper Protests in November 2022 as evidence that Chinese society was less stable and therefore not ready to successfully pursue unification.
These apathetic sentiments disappeared, however, when unification was viewed as a defensive action in response to U.S. aggression. In the hypothetical scenario of Taiwan declaring independence, for example, students were more than twice as likely to support forceful unification. This was because students perceived a Taiwanese declaration of independence as dependent on U.S. support.
“The United States is the biggest reason for cross-strait tensions, not Taiwan,” one student said. “If America weren’t involved, unification would happen peacefully over time.”
Many students viewed Taiwan as just another “card to be played” by the United States in its mission to suppress China’s rise—no different, as they saw it, from Hong Kong, Tibet, or tariffs.
The language of these student views echoed the more nationalistic sentiments of cab drivers. One Beijing driver detoured to drive past Yuanmingyuan Park while answering, gesturing toward the garden that had been destroyed by French and British forces in the 1800s. “We Chinese have been bullied by foreign powers for too long,” he said. “When another power like the United States is knocking at your front door, you have to knock back.”
As China’s government emphasizes economic recovery, it may align with the attitudes of young elites. But China’s economic challenges today are different from those in 2023—primarily, the threat of tariffs and export controls by Trump.
While Trump’s recent 90-day reduction on China tariffs has provided momentary relief, uncertainty looms over future negotiations. And, the administration still maintains significant tariffs on certain Chinese imports — including technology and manufacturing. These tariffs, combined with its sluggish post-COVID recovery, could further strain consumer confidence and youth unemployment.
If Chinese policymakers continue to prioritize economic growth and domestic stability, the likelihood of the government’s aggressive push for unification may decrease. Yet U.S. tariffs are also inspiring nationalism that could fuel greater support for state-driven action—including potential aggression toward Taiwan.
Young Chinese today may not view unification with Taiwan as a priority. As China’s government again shifts its focus toward economic recovery, it may find itself aligning with the attitudes of its younger generation. However, external pressures such as tariffs, export controls, and U.S.-China tensions could alter these dynamics.
If the Chinese public begins to view Trump’s tariffs on China as related to U.S. support for Taiwanese independence, the United States risks inadvertently consolidating public support for unification—including among the rational, war-wary young elites who would otherwise oppose it. This support would provide Chinese leadership with domestic cover to further squeeze the island’s sovereignty—or tempt Beijing into pursuing a rally-around-the-flag moment.
The U.S.-China economic relationship is likely to only become more volatile throughout the next four years. As tensions (and tariffs) rise, it will be tempting for U.S. officials to issue strong language regarding cross-strait conflict and support for Taiwan. But they must be careful to keep separate their rhetoric on trade from that on Taiwan to ensure they do not bring about the very conflict they dread.
In an era of heightened tensions, the question is no longer, “Do young Chinese care about Taiwan?” but rather: “What U.S. policy—such as Trump’s tariffs—could change their apathetic mindsets?”
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