For the fourth consecutive year, China has recorded more deaths than births, stressing a demographic crisis that has quietly but inexorably reshaped the world’s most populous nation. The country’s birthrate has collapsed to its lowest level since the founding of the People’s Republic in 1949, raising fears of an aging population, shrinking workforce, and mounting economic pressures.
On Monday, the National Bureau of Statistics reported that 7.92 million babies were born in 2025, down from 9.54 million in 2024. At the same time, 11.31 million people died last year, marking another increase in the death toll. The official birthrate — the number of births per 1,000 people — fell to 5.63, the lowest on record, a stark symbol of China’s demographic decline.
The announcement came alongside economic data showing that China’s economy grew 5 percent in 2025, suggesting that the demographic challenges are emerging even as Beijing seeks to stabilise growth. Yet the long-term implications of a shrinking population could overshadow any short-term economic gains.
Globally, falling birthrates are a familiar challenge, from Japan to parts of Europe. But in China, the problem is especially acute. A declining number of babies today translates to fewer workers in the future to support a rapidly expanding cohort of retirees. That combination could place unprecedented strain on pensions, healthcare, and social welfare systems.
“China is facing a severe challenge posed by an extremely low fertility rate,” said Wu Fan, a professor of family policy at Nankai University in Tianjin. “It is not simply a question of encouraging couples to have more children — the societal, economic, and cultural factors are overwhelmingly discouraging fertility.”
The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has pulled virtually every lever at its disposal to boost births, yet the results have been disappointing. Once notorious for its one-child policy, Beijing relaxed the rule in 2016 to allow two children and later increased the limit to three in 2021. Despite these policy reversals, fertility rates continue to decline. Demographers now suggest that China may have crossed a demographic threshold beyond which population shrinkage is effectively irreversible.
President Xi Jinping has called for the promotion of a “new type of marriage and childbearing culture,” urging officials to influence young people’s attitudes toward love, marriage, fertility, and family. Local governments have responded with increasingly intrusive measures, from tracking women’s menstrual cycles to issuing directives aimed at reducing medically unnecessary abortions.
But these initiatives have been met with widespread indifference or quiet resistance. On January 1, officials imposed a 13 percent value-added tax on contraceptive drugs and condoms. While the policy was not explicitly aimed at encouraging births, the public immediately interpreted it as yet another misfired attempt to boost fertility.
Jonathan Zhu, 28, shrugged off the tax. “I’ll still use them,” he said. “Financial pressure means we’re not thinking about having kids until marriage.” His girlfriend, Hu Tingyan, 26, agreed: “The cost doesn’t influence our decision. We just don’t feel the time is right yet.”
Social media in China erupted with scepticism and derision. One lawyer, Ke Chaozhen from Guangdong, joked: “Which ‘genius’ came up with this brilliant move? Are they afraid we marriage and family lawyers will go out of business?” Many comments critical of the government were swiftly removed by censors.
Other measures — including cash incentives, subsidised housing, and even cash rewards for matchmakers — have also failed to significantly raise birthrates. Wang Feng, a sociology professor at the University of California, Irvine, notes that such policies rarely succeed. “Empirical evidence from other countries shows that monetary incentives have almost no effect on fertility,” he said.
For many young Chinese, the decision to postpone parenthood is driven by stark economic realities. The cost of raising a child has risen sharply amid a property market crisis and a slowing economy. Youth unemployment remains high, and many graduates struggle to secure stable work, forcing them to remain financially dependent on their parents.
“With China’s economic woes, young people may want to wait and see, and that’s not good news for raising fertility,” said Professor Wang.
The problem has emerged faster than the government anticipated. When China relaxed the one-child policy more than a decade ago, officials expected a modest uptick in births over time. Instead, the fertility rate has fallen sharply, leaving the state with insufficient time to adapt its underfunded pension and healthcare systems.
The decline of the working-age population has been dramatic. By 2035, China’s citizens aged 60 and older are projected to reach 400 million. At the same time, young people are often reluctant to contribute to a pension fund that may not provide long-term security, further complicating the state’s ability to manage the ageing population.
Efforts to extend the retirement age have met resistance. Last year, the government raised the retirement age for the first time since the 1950s, and it plans to gradually increase it to 63 for men, 58 for women in office jobs, and 55 for women in factories by 2040. Despite these measures, China’s official retirement age remains among the lowest in the world, further straining the workforce-to-retiree ratio.
Some officials have resorted to more creative solutions, such as rewarding matchmakers for helping people marry, in hopes that it will spark a baby boom. Jia Dan, 46, who runs a matchmaking business in Beijing, has witnessed the limitations firsthand. While his events initially helped him find a partner, he now notes a stark change in attitudes among young people.
“You can really feel that the number of people in Beijing who actually want to get married is shrinking,” he said. “More and more young people just don’t want to do it anymore.”
His observation mirrors a broader social trend. Many young Chinese prioritise careers, financial stability, and personal freedom over marriage and children. Changing social norms, urban living costs, and cultural expectations have all contributed to the reluctance. In cities such as Beijing and Shanghai, the pressure of housing costs and education expenses makes starting a family a daunting prospect for most couples.
The government faces a profound dilemma: policies alone are unlikely to reverse decades of demographic decline, and time is not on its side. Even with continued economic growth and targeted incentives, reversing population shrinkage may prove impossible.
As China confronts the consequences of its population crisis, the implications extend far beyond its borders. A smaller workforce may slow China’s economic growth, affect global supply chains, and challenge Beijing’s ambitions to maintain its position as a major world power. Meanwhile, policymakers are left grappling with questions that cannot be solved simply through edict or cash incentives — questions about culture, economics, and the changing priorities of an entire generation.
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