“Mom, if I’m going to take care of you when you’re old, I won’t be able to raise my own kid—and vice versa.”
— Kuan, 30s, mortuary worker, Taipei
What does it mean to grow old in a society where the youth can’t – or won’t – reproduce the life scripts of previous generations? What happens when caregiving becomes a burden too heavy to bear? And what kind of policies could restore not just birthrates, but hope?
These are the questions quietly haunting Taiwan’s demographic future.
A Crisis Beyond Numbers
Taiwan becomes a “super-aged” society in 2025, when the share of people 65 or older goes over 20%. Policymakers respond with housing subsidies, AI-driven labor policies, and childcare incentives—but these solutions miss the core of the crisis: an emotional and existential disillusionment.
“I moved from the countryside to Taipei for opportunity, my ‘rented home’ is just a place to sleep,” said Bruce, 37, who works in insurance. “I joined a local youth group to feel something beyond work. As long as things don’t get worse, I’m fine. That’s what enough looks like now.”
In Kaohsiung, Jun, 29, a logistics worker, shared a similar outlook: “My parents believed life would get better if you worked hard. That doesn’t apply to us anymore. Everything feels stuck.”
They don’t see a future worth passing on. In Taipei, households spend up to two-thirds of their monthly income on mortgage payments, making family formation less appealing.
“Lying Flat” and Refusing the Script
Marriage and long-term relationships are losing appeal. Marriage rates in Taiwan have been declining, with only 50% of individuals aged 25-34 married in 2021. The younger generation increasingly rejects what they see as a rigid, outdated system—one that demands endless sacrifice without promising reward.
The term “tang-ping” (lying flat 躺平), borrowed from Chinese youth culture, has taken root in Taiwan. It reflects quiet defiance—not laziness, but resistance to a life that feels pre-scripted and unsustainable.
Worse, having a sustainable and meaningful relationship that can evolve to marriage seems dim. As the saying goes, where the older generation might fix a broken machine out of habit, the younger generation sees little point – and simply moves on.
Even as the young refuse to play the old game, the other half of the crisis looms: eldercare.
Grandpa Yen, 84, has been the sole caregiver for his 81-year-old wife, who has had dementia for the past three years. The constant stress has left him exhausted. He sometimes wonders whether the end of life should really mean years of suffering – for both patient and caregiver.
A Future Worth Choosing
Despite the gloom, this moment may also be an invitation for deeper reckoning.
Taiwanese youth are not simply rejecting family life—they are interrogating its meaning. What kind of life is worth building? Can dignity exist without conformity? In a system designed around productivity, is there still room for joy, agency, and rest? And how do we begin to address this?
The first answer that comes to mind is finding a better balance between the tangible and intangible. Economic incentives—like childcare subsidies—are helpful, but they only scratch the surface. If we want people to want children, we must make society baby-friendly—not just in material terms, but by fostering a culture that is loving, supportive, safe, and kind.
What truly needs healing is our collective mental health, our ability to build and sustain meaningful relationships, our sense of fulfillment in doing what we love, and above all, our mutual trust. These may sound abstract or even cliché—but from a woman’s point of view, safety isn’t just about money or housing. It’s about the intangibles. And if we are to solve this crisis, we must begin by rebuilding the emotional foundations of our society.
Read also:
Taiwan’s demographic crisis is not just a numbers game—it’s a reflection of how people feel about the future. For many young people, the decision not to marry, not to have children, or even not to pursue longevity isn’t rooted in apathy or selfishness. It is a deeply considered response to emotional fatigue, systemic rigidity, and a world that often feels unworthy of the next generation.
To reverse this trend, we must look beyond economic fixes. A sustainable society isn’t built on birthrates alone, but on a shared sense of purpose, trust, and care. If we want people to choose family life, we must create a world where love is sustainable, relationships are meaningful, and individuals feel safe—emotionally, mentally, and physically.
Demographic change is inevitable. But whether it leads to decline or renewal depends on whether we can restore not just systems, but hope. A happy, meaningful life takes time—and intention—to grow.
Examples from other democracies show how dangerous it is to neglect the struggles of an increasingly large age group. It amounts to offering them on a silver plate to politicians with unscrupulous goals. For Taiwan, this is a matter of survival: younger generations need a country worth standing up for.