The concept of professional social work has a relatively short history in China. In fact, it was only in the 1920s that it was introduced to the country, when American missionaries established programs with several Chinese universities. Almost as soon as these schemes began, however, they were abolished. The Communist Party viewed them as tools of Western bourgeois capitalism, and by the 1950s they were gone.
Almost four decades later, in 1988, Peking University re-launched their social work course, marking a new starting point. Since 2006, the central government has made it clear that the country needs to increase the number of trained individuals engaged in the field. After the Wenchuan earthquake in 2008, many different state authorities started to employ social workers. The latter move in particular injected hope that aiding others could become a viable career path.
Seven years have passed since then, and the industry has gone through unprecedented expansion. According to Li Liguo, Minister of Civil Affairs, China now has over 210,000 state-recognized social work organizations, with 159,000 registered social workers offering services to those in need – in addition to many more who have not been formally certified. Three-hundred-and-thirty universities in the country provide social work-related majors, rewarding degrees to 30,000 students on a yearly basis. By 2020, the Middle Kingdom is expected to have two million people involved in the profession.
“All levels of government should work on unveiling policies for government-paid social assistance while further intensifying the role of social workers and volunteers in sustaining societal stability,” stated Premier Li Keqiang at an executive meeting of the State Council. Li’s remarks illustrate the central government’s determination to boost the growth of the new occupation in contemporary China. Such determination is also evident in the RMB10 million that the Ministry of Civil Affairs has allocated annually since 2011 for training social workers.
Signs would seem to indicate that social work is becoming an increasingly attractive, if still challenging, employment option. But is the reality as rosy?
“The public has morally hijacked us, thinking that we should not ask for any personal benefits, as we are doing something great and profound."
Eman Su is a 27-year-old sex education instructor in Guangzhou. Prompted by an urge to pursue justice and a love of psychology, she has been a social worker for four years and is greatly concerned by the gap between pain and gain. “The average salary for a registered social worker is between RMB3,500 to 4,500,” she says. “It is not a high-paid job but comes with stringent requirements.”
Since 2008, those who wish to pursue a career as a social worker in China are required to obtain a national-level qualification certificate before they can offer their services within the protection of the law. “The exam fee is less than RMB100, but reference books are expensive,” says Su. “Plus, even the entry-level qualification requires working experience. That actually increases the cost.”
The same concerns trouble Rachel Lin, a 24-year-old officer working for the Inno Migrant Worker project. Being non-local means her financial burden is doubled. “I am from Zhanjiang City, and that means I have to spend money on renting a house in Guangzhou,” she remarks. “Besides, I need to give some money monthly to my parents, who are still living in my hometown. I am not content with what I am paid.”
Social workers are often associated with being devoted and altruistic. As a result, asking for a salary raise can seem grasping and self-serving. “The public has morally hijacked us, thinking that we should not ask for any personal benefits, as we are doing something great and profound. But does doing charity mean receiving low or even no salary?” says Su with a wry smile.
Another issue that bothers most social workers in China is the unclear career ladder. “You never know when the next promotion is going to happen. There is still no specific regulation for it,” states KK Liu, who has three years’ experience in the industry.
Low social recognition may also be contributing to a brain drain. According to a survey released by Southern Urban Daily in January 2015, nearly 60 percent of the 589 interviewees had no clue what a social worker does. Over 80 percent stated that they had never received any support from a social worker.
The intensity of the job, relatively low income, uncertain future prospects and low public recognition does not seem to have dissuaded Su from continuing to help those in need, however. “The preciousness of the job lies in the moments we witness change. Such moments are beyond words and price.”
Liu is of the same mind. “I have worked for many different disadvantaged groups, from the disabled to drug addicts, from broken homes to leftover kids. Even though they are vulnerable, they have taught me many things which are positive. It is they who are helping me to some extent.”
Even though they each have their own concerns and worries about their jobs, Su, Lin and Liu are all dedicated to their mission and have no intention of giving up. Nevertheless, their troubles are a miniature picture of the issues facing all young people taking up the social work mantle. They may not contribute to the country’s GDP, but their services are vital to the stability and civility of society – a fact that will hopefully be recognized more widely in the years to come.
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