When Gen Z meets China: walking, talking and rethinking the world

In a world where people are frequently confronted with familiar perspectives, a group of Generation Z students from Europe and the Americas decided to take a different approach: They traveled to China to listen.

Over 20 international students participated in the "Spot China: Young Explorer Program" in Shanghai and Hangzhou between April 11 and 22.

Despite the intimidating name, the concept was stunningly simple: travel, observe and engage.

The project, co-organized by Shanghai International Studies University's School of Journalism and Communication and the Nouvelles d'Europe UK bureau, led these young travelers beyond the traditional sights and hashtags.

Instead of selfies on the Bund, they explored the lanes where wet markets still thrive; instead of Confucius-themed PowerPoint presentations, they attempted to make dumplings; instead of reading headlines, they sat at genuine dining tables with residents.

And somewhere between the scent of osmanthus and the sting of chili oil, something clicked.

True understanding wears sneakers

The idea was refreshingly analog in a digital world: walk a city to understand it. One participant, after walking through Shanghai's City God Temple area and talking to shopkeepers, observed how different the city felt from its representation in Western media. Another participant reflected on the warmth and resilience they found after engaging with senior folks at a local community service center.

No sweeping speeches or diplomatic jargon – just the kind of mundane magic that happens when curiosity overrides caution.

Which raises the uncomfortable question: What are we missing when we don't bother to walk?

Vision matters more than velocity

Many Gen Z participants grew up under the long shadow of globalization, and recently, they have been immersed in the noise of its purported decline. Trade wars, tariff walls, and rising nationalism have made the term "open exchange" feel almost nostalgic. And yet, here they were, eager not just to visit China but to understand it.

That desire reflects a broader generational mindset. This cohort isn't looking for ideological conversions or neat binaries. They're looking for perspective and perhaps even contradiction. They understand that decisions about the future will not only come from Silicon Valley, Brussels, or Beijing, but also from the spaces in between.

Several students expressed a willingness to spend time in China, not out of political loyalty, but out of intellectual curiosity. The complexity draws them in. They are drawn to a place where tradition and technology are in constant conversation, and where a 5G-powered delivery robot might roll past a temple that is older than most European universities.

This type of thinking isn't idealism. It's a strategic form of open-mindedness.

Globalization may be wounded, but it's not dead

Amid headlines lamenting the rise of decoupling and derisking, Gen Z's reality is more nuanced. There's growing skepticism of Western narratives that paint Chinese products as threats. Instead, what these students articulated was a value-based pragmatism: If a product or idea delivers quality and innovation, where it is made does not matter.

They're not wild about "made in China," but they're not against it either.

This willingness to recalibrate assumptions feels radical in an age of ideological rigidity. And it underscores a point we often forget: Globalization isn't just a macroeconomic force; it's also an accumulation of small, human encounters.

Soft power wears sneakers, too

An afternoon conversation between Shanghai students and their overseas peers was one of the trip's most powerful moments. Over coffee and fruit, they discussed architecture, anime and algorithmic censorship in a bright room by the Huangpu River. Despite their diverse backgrounds, the group instantly connected over memes, cuisine, and confusion over local slang.

One comment stood out: "We may live on opposite sides of the world, but our phones look the same." Though simplistic, the phrase was telling. Not all soft power comes from state-sponsored campaigns. Shared playlists and WeChat emojis occasionally reveal it.

Connection is the antidote to cynicism

It would be easy to dismiss this program as a feel-good gesture or soft diplomacy dressed in Gen Z fashion. But the real takeaway was simpler: connection works.

By the end of the program, most participants had already formed Instagram groups, planned future meetups, and promised to stay in touch. They weren't just exchanging contacts – they were building context. And in a world that increasingly confuses information with knowledge, that matters.

It also serves as a quiet rebuke to the idea that we're doomed to drift apart. Yes, there are ideological gulfs. Yes, the internet can amplify division. But when young people sit in the same room, eat the same dumplings, and scroll through the same memes, the distance shrinks.

The local is global, and the global is local

At the heart of this experience lies a paradox: The more specific a culture is, the more universal it becomes. Instead of seeing "China" in Shanghai and Hangzhou, Gen Z visitors saw how culture changes, adapts and welcomes.

Maybe that's the point. Grandstanding or protectionist walls won't define the future. It will be shaped by those willing to sit down, reach out, and rethink.

Not all understanding comes from think tanks or treaties. It can come from walking down the street, talking to a stranger, and finding you're not so different.