[Big read] Too ‘cool’ to resist: China’s soft power captivates Taiwan’s youth

(Edited and refined by Candice Chan, with the assistance of AI translation.)

Second-year Taiwanese university student Han (pseudonym) enjoys crocheting, and has taught herself through videos on the Chinese mainland social media platform RedNote (Xiaohongshu). She has noticed that friends who frequently use mainland Chinese social media often adopt different expressions in their daily speech, occasionally using mainland terms such as shipin (视频) for “video” and lima (立马) for “immediately”, whereas people in Taiwan would more commonly say yingpian (影片) and like (立刻).

This has led her to worry that Taiwan’s distinctive linguistic characteristics may gradually fade over time. The wary Han says that when searching for specific information, she consults multiple social media platforms simultaneously, “to avoid being influenced by a single source of information”.

To academics, such shifts in everyday habits among some Taiwanese reflect the growing influence of China’s soft power.

In recent years, Beijing has repeatedly highlighted how more and more mainland Chinese technology, video games and cultural offerings have gained global popularity, and that the world is beginning to perceive China as increasingly “cool”. And Taiwan, separated from the mainland by a narrow strait and with its similar culture and language, is the first to feel the influence from across the strait.

Two mainland Chinese lifestyle applications — RedNote and navigation app Amap — have topped Taiwan’s app download charts over the past six months, but both are embroiled in political controversies. Mainland Chinese television dramas such as Pursuit of Jade and The First Frost have repeatedly set streaming records in Taiwan, frequently cited by Beijing as evidence of the unbreakable “cultural identity and emotional bonds” across the Taiwan Strait. Many mainland Chinese consumer brands with no formal business operations in Taiwan — including Chagee milk tea, Luckin Coffee and Atour Hotel pillows — have likewise become popular topics on Taiwanese social media.

Lizzi Lee, a fellow on the Chinese economy at the Asia Society Policy Institute, told Lianhe Zaobao (LHZB) that while all this would not necessarily make young people in Taiwan admire China’s political system, they would make the mainland feel more familiar, less distant, and more relevant to daily life. These products can normalise China as a source of modernity, convenience, creativity, and fun, making certain narratives about the mainland easier to accept.

National security or overreaction?

In April this year, Amap, the mainland’s most widely used navigation platform, introduced features in Taiwan such as traffic-light countdown timers. While many Taiwanese were eager to try the new functions, it also drew concern within the ruling Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) government.

At the end of May, Taiwan’s Ministry of Digital Affairs released the results of a cybersecurity risk assessment, claiming that Amap continued transmitting data externally even when not in use and exhibited 11 categories of potentially risky behaviour, including accessing users’ contact lists. The ministry urged the public to use the app with caution. The ministry urged the public to use the application with caution.

The government’s cybersecurity concerns quickly became the subject of political debate. Cheng Li-wun, chairperson of the opposition Kuomintang (KMT), accused the DPP government of treating anything related to mainland China as a “monster”, arguing that such overreactions would only create public anxiety. Meanwhile, China’s Taiwan Affairs Office criticised the DPP, saying that in pursuit of “Taiwan independence”, the DPP authorities have gone so far in their opposition to the mainland that it has become anti-intellectual and anti-technology.

In December last year, RedNote was hit by a similar controversy, as the Taiwanese government imposed a one-year restriction on access to the platform, citing efforts to combat online fraud.

The restrictions on RedNote and the warnings about Amap prompted criticism from some Taiwanese internet users. Many questioned whether the authorities were “over-politicising” cybersecurity concerns. Some even joked that RedNote should simply be renamed “Little Green Book”, a reference to the DPP’s party colour.

Tzeng Yi-suo, an associate research fellow at the Division of Cyber Security and Decision-Making Simulation under Taiwan’s Institute for National Defence and Security Research, said when interviewed that the government has a responsibility to inform the public about potential risks associated with applications. However, if everything is prohibited in the name of security, “the government effectively becomes a market enforcer”, thereby undermining market competition.

He believes that the Taiwanese government’s current approach towards Amap is primarily about fulfilling its responsibility to warn users of risks, rather than saying, “This is from China, so don’t use it.”

As for the common criticism that fraud is far more prevalent on platforms such as Facebook and Instagram than on RedNote, yet these platforms have not faced equivalent restrictions, Tseng noted that such platforms cooperate with Taiwanese authorities on anti-fraud efforts, whereas “RedNote has never sent representatives”. In his view, the core issue is not whether fraud is most rampant on RedNote, but whether the platform is willing to cooperate with local regulation and judicial oversight.

‘Treat China as a good guy’?

Yet, cooperation on anti-fraud measures and regulation is ultimately a governance issue. For Taiwan’s ruling authorities, the deeper concern is whether these mainland platforms, which command enormous traffic and influence, are subtly shaping younger generations’ perceptions of mainland China and their understanding of Taiwan’s democratic values.

According to official Taiwanese figures, RedNote has more than three million users in Taiwan — about one in every ten residents — mostly women and young people.

TikTok, the short-video platform owned by Chinese technology giant ByteDance, has also become increasingly popular among Taiwanese youth. A market report released by Taiwan’s National Communications Commission (NCC) earlier this year showed that the proportion of Taiwanese who watch TikTok has risen steadily, reaching 47.5% last year. Among all age groups, the largest increase occurred among those aged 16 to 25, whose usage rate surged from 24% in 2019 to 72.5% in 2025.

Speaking at a youth forum with senior high school students in late May, Taiwanese President Lai Ching-te urged students to cultivate critical thinking skills and avoid passively accepting ideas “instilled by China” through TikTok and RedNote. He warned that if not handled properly, Taiwan could lose its will to safeguard democracy, and to “treat China as a good guy”.

‘Entertainment is entertainment, politics is politics’

Tai Yu-hui, an associate professor in the Department of Communication and Technology at National Yang Ming Chiao Tung University, found in preliminary research that Taiwanese users who frequently use mainland Chinese social media are more likely to subscribe to the view that “entertainment is entertainment, politics is politics”.

However, she emphasised that media environments are never neutral containers. The presentation, framing and systematic choices of content all shape people’s perceptions of reality. She noted that under mainland China’s censorship system, media representations tend to emphasise modernity, prosperity, positive energy and consumer vitality. “However, within this ecosystem, issues such as political repression, Xinjiang and restrictions on speech in Hong Kong are invisible.”

Her research found that some users of platforms such as RedNote and Douyin deliberately avoid political content. Although Douyin does not officially provide services to the Taiwanese market, users can still download it by changing their phone’s regional settings to mainland China.

Tai observed that such people may be more inclined to accept censorship systems, which should be respected. “It also means they may be more receptive to the Chinese government’s narrative.”

She went on to stress that such influence is often long-term and subtle, and may not immediately manifest itself in changes to political views, voting behaviour or national identity. She also cautioned that interpreting these developments solely through the lens of national identity could provoke psychological resistance among younger people and push the discussion into a polarised, black-and-white confrontation.

Lee also felt that the key question is not whether Chinese soft power can change the political positions of Taiwanese youth, but whether it is gradually reshaping how younger generations understand mainland China, view democratic institutions and imagine their own futures.

Developing ‘China literacy’

To address the subtle cognitive influence that mainland Chinese apps and consumer culture may have on Taiwanese society, scholars have suggested systematically cultivating what they call “China literacy”.

Tai Yu-hui, who advocates this approach, argues that in an environment shaped by algorithmic recommendations, platform content filtering and AI-generated content, responsibility for information consumption and judgement should not be placed entirely on individuals.

She said people should understand mainland China’s governance at the institutional and structural levels — how its political system operates, how censorship shapes content and the role commercial platforms play. Only then can society respond to the influence of mainland narratives without treating every development as a threat or fearing that Taiwanese culture is “doomed to disappear”.

Last year, the Taiwan-based NGO Doublethink Lab conducted 16 in-depth interviews with teenage TikTok users. The study found that young users reported using “Not Interested” and “Report” features to improve their algorithms, particularly to avoid social or political content.

To some extent, these features gave teenagers a sense that they understood what they were watching and could control what content they saw. Nevertheless, some interviewees noticed a surge in political content appearing, particularly during the 2024 Taiwanese presidential election.

This suggests that even when users actively adjust recommendation settings, they may not fully understand how platform algorithms operate. As mainland platforms and content become increasingly embedded in the daily lives of Taiwanese youth, media literacy and platform literacy become ever more important.

From propaganda to pop culture

From drinking hot water to changing into slippers before entering the house, an internet meme trend known as “Chinamaxxing” has recently taken off on TikTok, the globally popular Chinese-owned short-video platform. Chinese state media have praised the phenomenon as evidence that young Gen-Zs in the West are becoming fascinated by an increasingly “cool” China.

Yuan Shaoyu, a visiting professor at New York University who studies Chinese soft power, told LHZB: “Chinamaxxing is merely the tip of the iceberg, not the iceberg itself. Beneath it lies a broader structural transformation. Chinese games, short dramas, consumer products and platform ecosystems are entering global markets on every front.”

After the Chinese historical romance drama Pursuit of Jade debuted on Netflix in March, it remained in the global top ten non-English-language television rankings for four consecutive weeks, setting a new record for Chinese-language dramas. Even Patti Smith, the nearly 80-year-old American musician often referred to as the “Godmother of Punk”, was drawn in. Google data show that global search interest in Chinese dramas surpassed that of Japanese dramas for the first time over the past year, although they still lag considerably behind the popularity of Korean dramas.

In January this year, Chen Peiqin, a professor with the School of Journalism and Communication at Shanghai International Studies University, wrote in the state-affiliated journal Governance (《国家治理》) that online television dramas, online literature and gaming constitute China’s “new trio” of cultural exports. These sectors have enabled China to move from “paying to spread culture” to “earning money through cultural dissemination”, while also creating “new opportunities for telling China’s story well”. The concept of “telling China’s story well” was first proposed by Chinese Communist Party General Secretary Xi Jinping at the National Conference on Propaganda and Ideological Work in 2013 and has since become a guiding principle of official Chinese publicity and education efforts.

However, Yuan also cautioned that China previously spent heavily establishing Confucius Institutes around the world, only to see international favourability decline rather than improve. When information is clearly perceived as coming from a government, he said, audiences instinctively become suspicious and resistant. “No amount of money can buy trust.”

By contrast, he believes that China’s cultural and consumer products are winning fans globally because they are genuinely competitive in commercial terms. “They are designed to compete in global markets, not produced for the purpose of telling China’s story.”

Pop Mart is often cited as a benchmark example of a successful Chinese consumer brand expanding overseas. The company now operates in more than 100 countries and regions, with over 700 stores worldwide. Its flagship character, Labubu, sold more than 100 million units last year.

Chinese brands make Chinese trends more acceptable

Ma Chujun, the regional general manager for Singapore and Malaysia at Joy Group, a globally expanding Chinese company, said in a video interview with LHZB in May that Chinese consumer brands such as Haidilao, Chagee and Luckin Coffee “have indeed made consumers increasingly receptive to broader Chinese trends”.

Noah Smith, a former assistant professor of finance at Stony Brook University, wrote in his blog in April that food and design are inherently apolitical, so it is a lot easier for Chinese creativity to reach the world through these items. “So in fact, I do see some real signs of China’s soft power growing organically,” he wrote.

Even so, he maintained his earlier stand: “China’s closed political system meant that its cultural influence would lag its technological and geopolitical might.”

Yuan argued that China’s censorship system is not monolithic and has not eliminated all creativity. In the platform era, soft power increasingly operates through everyday consumption and lifestyle content — forms of “low culture” that are less affected by censorship.

“No one censors a TikTok review of an air fryer. No one censors a vlog of a foreigner eating breakfast on a Shanghai street. These are the real engines of China’s soft-power exports today, and they are largely untouched by political censorship.”

Comparing China with East Asia’s two established cultural powerhouses, Japan and South Korea, Yuan argued that China has already surpassed them in certain respects. Neither Japan nor South Korea has produced a global platform comparable to TikTok. “China not only produces content, it also owns the channels through which content circulates. That is a structural advantage.”

Nevertheless, he acknowledged that China still lags behind Japan and South Korea in creating emotional connections through cultural products. Its political system remains a structural constraint, as censorship limits the kinds of content with the greatest emotional resonance: personal narratives, social criticism, the voices of marginalised groups and unconventional expressions that challenge mainstream perspectives.

Yuan said, “Whether China can break through this ceiling ultimately depends on whether it is willing to grant creators greater freedom. That is a political decision, not a market decision.”

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as “软实力入岛入户入心 中国大陆变酷搅动台湾？”.

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