by Ri Yue
A behavioral manifestation of work fatigue, 躺平 (lie flat) garnered attention in tandem with its antonym 内卷 (involution) when it took center stage in social media discourse in mainland China in recent years. The term arises from negation against the exceedingly competitive pressures of life that spur a meaningless inward-spiraling race, 内卷, that is unproductive and even harmful to the self and collective.
As older Millennials face elimination in certain industries with incoming Gen Zers, the two are forced into inter- and intra-generational rivalry. For instance, programmers who do not graduate into executive roles of their Big Tech firms ultimately fall out of favor at age 35. Meanwhile, Gen Zers who grew up during the years of China's expanding middle-class, upend each other in caliber. This also implies that their game of 内卷 commenced earlier in childhood.
People are tired. Some keep going, some check out. Some do both at the same time.
In a sense, the two conditions are both collective escapisms. 躺平 denies the drive to accomplish by social standards. It echoes the 2017-2018 trending phrase, 佛系, which reflected a social desire for a Buddhist, relaxed attitude towards life. 佛系 became a sensational internet phrase because the notion was acutely absent in the physical dimension. 躺平 takes this further with a layer of nonchalance. If 佛系 is about taking things lightly, 躺平 is about not taking at all, because it–education, careers, marriage, parenthood–doesn’t get anywhere. The escape is a passive acceptance of where one is and an absence of drive to get ahead or somewhere.
"If 佛系 is about taking things lightly, 躺平 is about not taking at all, because it–education, careers, marriage, parenthood–doesn’t get anywhere."
This reciprocates the endlessness of 内卷–a contest in which participants keep increasing in capacities and seemingly improving in capabilities. Yet there is no finish line–more is more. Any prize or recognition, if there is, provides short-lived and insufficient satisfaction. The result is diminishing marginal efficiency against fear that not participating results in disqualification entirely. Involution becomes an escape in itself because one cannot afford to pause and think about where they want to go, they simply must keep going. At the same time, people lower the value of their work or efforts for the same acknowledgement. To many, 内卷 becomes a necessary condition for professional and social survival.
This narrative is not unfamiliar to the West, where discourse on burnout and quiet quitting across industries have been amplified. The parallel is uncanny. Not long after social media welcomed confessions of burnout in pre-Covid times, quiet quitting emerged as a natural progression which received similar attention and acceptance. The fatigue of white collar professionals stretched during the pandemic and the monotony of office routines began to bore. More critically, the isometric inward-spiral of the corporate world stifled once aspirational young professionals, invoking doubt about the teleological value of adulthood. The last straw for many was the unorthodox pandemic working environment which blurred work and rest. Claustrophobic lockdowns brewed stronger questions about priorities in life and the notion of a successful career started to pale in comparison to health and happiness.
Interestingly, the West’s burnout and quiet quitting alongside China’s 躺平 have seen a similar spillover into other territories of life. The lack of desire for marriage, children, home or car ownership begin to manifest in demographic and economic indicators despite the difference in geographical densities and cultural contexts.
At the same time, sprawling out of this pattern is a parasitic behavior known as 摆烂, which literally translates into presenting decay. Its Western counterpart is perhaps “sellout”–when the individual takes no pride, but economic advantages, in their work. 摆烂, typically in the context of profession, recognises the system and games it with no concern about the integrity of one’s work. This passive-aggressive tactic understands how to profit in the easiest way possible. Since there is no out, make the most money out of what is now. This precipitates more dismay in those still involuting, calling it an obscene gobble—吃相难看 which translates literally to having bad table manners, a person so focused on self-interest they act ungraciously or indecently. Meanwhile, the mainstream market is gorged with formulaic replicas of bestsellers, reinforcing Oscar Wilde’s commentary that “everything popular is wrong.”
"This passive-aggressive tactic understands how to profit in the easiest way possible."
There is more attention about improving working environments, schooling systems, and openness of societies as these warring symptoms become chronic. On one hand, the collective loss of steam in attaining conventional goals is almost an autoimmune disorder resulting in paralysis. However, it is also a unanimous reflection of what we value and why. This could produce a new set of values that is more timely, meaningful and inclusive, giving ground to imagine a more integrated network of fluid futures.