Mobile Resistance: The Rise of Digital Nomadism in COVID-19 China

In a world where state power is tightening its grip, how do we make sense of the desire for mobility? And what does digital nomadism look like in the Global South, especially in a country like China during the COVID-19 era? While the pandemic may feel like a thing of the past, the lockdowns and their ripple effects continue to shape our lives, offering valuable lessons on human movement—or the lack thereof.

China’s experience with COVID-19 was anything but typical. Extensive testing, recurring lockdowns, and stringent zero-COVID policies kept millions of people confined to their homes. Businesses struggled, and the economy took a hit, with the future uncertain for many.

For younger generations in China, the physical and social restrictions made digital nomadism an appealing alternative. The government stopped publishing youth unemployment rates after they hit a staggering 21.3% in June 2023. At the same time, a growing number of Chinese youth began aspiring to a nomadic lifestyle. A 2022 report from Peking University found that 76.4% of Chinese born after 2000 wanted to become digital nomads. This trend underscores how a Western lifestyle has taken root in China at a time when physical mobility is a prized commodity.

Digital Nomadism as Mobile Resistance

The drive toward digital nomadism is more than just a trend; it represents what I call “mobile resistance.” Anthropologist Biao Xiang (2023) argues that China’s “logistical power”—rooted in decades of investment in infrastructure, logistics, and communications—has become increasingly arbitrary and oppressive. The pandemic turned this power into “logistical violence,” as seen during the man-made famine in Shanghai’s January 2023 lockdown. The push for mobile resistance reflects a desire to reclaim control over one’s own mobility in the face of state-imposed restrictions.

But there is more to the story. Mobile resistance also stems from the state’s developmental needs and the pressures of tech capitalism, which have long justified the grueling 996 work culture (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week) popular among engineers. Digital nomadism offers an alternative to the rat race, a way out of the “involution” of meaningless hypercompetition. As a popular Chinese saying goes, “Life is more than just making a living; there’s poetry and distant landscapes.” This sentiment is at the heart of mobile resistance.

Mobile resistance is not just about escaping from cities—it is about reaching a higher level of consciousness in one’s life. One of my interviewees described it this way: “I’m focused on self-cultivation, aligning my mind, body, and spirit. I don’t see being a digital nomad as ‘lying flat.’ It’s about thinking on a higher level, being more clear-headed, not wasting energy. There’s too much information draining our mental energy these days. Becoming a digital nomad is about pursuing a better life. A lot of city dwellers today find that work has made them lose touch with life.”

However, not everyone can make the leap to digital nomadism. Among the 35-year-young Chinese professionals I interviewed, most were graduates from top universities with remote-capable jobs, such as programmers, consultants, designers, and language tutors. The lockdowns reminded many that location-independent work and study were possible, but only those with certain skills and resources could sustain a mobile lifestyle in the long term. One informant commented, “Digital nomadism has a funky, elitist tinge to it.”

Digital Nomadism in the Global South

French economist Jacques Attali (2011) proposed a polarized model of nomadism: on one side, the global elite would become privileged nomads, moving freely with the latest tech gadgets; on the other, vulnerable groups in the Global South would face forced nomadism. While his prediction seems to have come true, Attali’s view oversimplifies the situation by overlooking the diversity within the “global elite.”

In the West, not all digital nomads belong to the global elite. American sociologist Beverly Yuen Thompson (2021) argues that the “digital nomad movement” is a product of neoliberal work practices, the gig economy, and neo-colonial tourism. It offers certain groups within Western welfare societies—those who can’t achieve or maintain a middle-class status—a way to balance freedom and risk, taking advantage of global inequalities and the privileges of “strong passports.”

In the Global South, the challenges of digital nomadism are more complex. Chinese nomads, for example, face three major hurdles: a lack of a mature welfare system, relatively “weak passports,” and income disparities rooted in global inequality. Additionally, sociocultural nuances add another layer of complexity. For many ordinary Chinese, especially older generations, digital nomadism seems unreliable—after all, the Chinese translation of “nomad” (youmin) historically connoted someone without a stable job or permanent home, and often stigmatized by the ruling class as a source of social unrest.

Good Citizenship

Digital nomadism raises questions about what it means to be a “good citizen.” Mancinelli and Germann Molz’s (2024) study of digital nomads in the West highlights how nation-states engage in “border artistry” to control who can move, enter, or stay, pushing mobile individuals to embody qualities like self-sufficiency, consumer citizenship, and depoliticization.

In China, border artistry plays out within the existing policy framework for population mobility. The long-standing household registration system (hukou) demarcates urban-rural citizenship, perpetuating social inequality. Rural-to-urban migrants, for example, are often denied access to the same social services as local residents, including healthcare and education. Yet, the Chinese state has embraced digital nomadism as a positive development, recognizing its potential to contribute to the digital economy and rural revitalization. In the wake of economic downturns, local governments have launched new campaigns to attract tourists and talent, with the increasingly prominent digital nomad movement in mind.

The rise of digital nomadism in China serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring human desire for freedom. Yet, beneath the surface of this trend lies a complex and multifaceted phenomenon that deserves a closer look. This is not just a story of young professionals with laptops in search of adventure—it is a reflection of deeper social shifts that merit serious attention from scholars and policymakers alike.

Jinjin Zhang is a Ph.D. Candidate at The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Her research explores digital transformation and its impact on work, mobility, and local communities in East Asia, particularly in Japan and China. She is a visiting researcher at Waseda University, supported by the Japan Foundation Fellowship 2023-2024.

This blog post is based on Jinjin Zhang’s work selected to participate in the Neuchâtel Graduate Conference 2024.

References:

–Attali, J. (2011). A brief history of the future: a Brave and Controversial Look at the Twenty-First Century. Skyhorse Publishing Inc..
–Mancinelli, F., & Germann Molz, J. (2024). Moving with and against the state: digital nomads and frictional mobility regimes. Mobilities, 19(2), 189-207.
–Thompson, B. Y. (2021). Digital Nomads Living on the Margins: Remote-working Laptop Entrepreneurs in the Gig Economy. Emerald Publishing Limited.
–Xiang, B. (2023). Logistical power and logistical violence: lessons from China’s COVID experience. Journal of Contemporary East Asia Studies, 12(1), 315-330.