Studying migrant workers

My work as an ethnographer and sociologist is all about living with people and listening to their stories. Most recently, I’ve done research in China and Mexico. My objective is to come up with socially and comercially relevant insights for companies and organizations into how people use digital tools (like cell phones and the Internet) in their daily lives. I’m looking at the topic holistically, so I pay attention to the absence of use too. I also spend time with more elite users such as students. Though my time with Li Jie’s family [in this story, Wang wrote about living in a migrant slum] may seem like it has nothing to do with digital tools, it actually tells a lot about the future of online sociality.

Li Jie and her family relied completely on people they knew for information, from Ray’s friend telling them about the site to Ray asking his other friend to help out. When they did rely on strangers, such as buying the used freezer, they were cheated. It’s easy to understand why it’s safer for people to rely on those they know. Relying on people you know for advice and connections is Chinese tradition. But things change over time, and one thing I’m keeping an eye on is what sources people trust for information.

After tracking migrant job-search patterns for more than seven years, I’m noticing a shift toward impersonal sources for job leads. Although this story doesn’t illustrate that, I have many others that do. While in the West we’re used to the idea of relying on impersonal sources for referrals, only in recent Chinese history have the risks of interacting with unknown sources been minimized.

When people are more willing to trust sources they don’t have personal relationships with, there’s market opportunity that makes starts-ups like Daguu.com possible. Daguu is the world’s first job search service via text message for blue-collar workers. The entire service is contingent on migrants trusting Daguu for referrals as opposed to family. Daguu’s motto is “At home rely on the parents, outside rely on Daguu.”

Many people will see Li Jie and her family as a story of disadvantage, but that’s not how I see it. When I ask her about the chengguan, she tells me that they aren’t reflective of the central government’s policies. Central government has no idea to what extent local authorities mistreat migrants, she says.

The people on the bottom have the most patience for change. They endure unsanitary working and living conditions because they trust hard work will lead to a better life. But I can see a generational difference. Li Jie’s generation works in the hope that they will one day retire to their village, enjoy their air and land and see their kids succeed. Their hope is defined in terms of what they’ve already experienced, village life and children. Ray’s generation has hopes that are more defined. Migrants like him don’t want to return to the village. They want to participate in the urban middle class.

These are two different sets of hopes. Hopes articulate expectations about the future. The entire global economy hinges on people’s expectations of how markets will perform. The future of China also depends on people’s expectations and trust. I would not underestimate the power of 300 million Li Jies and Rays. Their hope is so enduring, yet, if history shows us anything, it’s also so fragile.

Tricia Wang blogs about her work at [url=http://bytesofchina.com/]bytesofchina.com[/url].