出國趣

想要出國留學、打工度假還是自助旅行嗎？兩位英文老師跟你一起拓展視野、提升英文實力、討論國際時事，Let's Fun Fun 學英文，爽爽出國去！--Hosting provided by SoundOn

出國趣 is a society podcast hosted by Annie 阿尼、Chloe 克洛伊, with 343 episodes on record and a Required Pod Score of 80. PitchCentric scores this show on Booking Probability, Listen Score, and live audience signals refreshed every 24 hours.

Annie 阿尼、Chloe 克洛伊 hosts 出國趣, a society show with 343 episodes published.

Our AI reads these to draft pitches. Use them as grounding for a pitch that cites a real guest and a specific topic.

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  出國趣

  91-1 你對公司&部門&小團體有多大的認同感?+ 小分享: 人生第一份工作的小圈圈 @~@"

  Sep 19, 202630 min

  Are you committed to your company or your team? Employees have overlapping identities at work. That’s a challenge for bosses Sep 10th 2026|4 min read Humans are conditioned to form allegiances extremely quickly, a type of behaviour sometimes called the “minimal group effect”. In a famous series of experiments, a social psychologist called Henri Tajfel found that you can divide strangers into groups on totally arbitrary grounds—how good they are at estimating the number of dots on a chart, say, or how much they like a certain type of abstract art, or even just on the basis of a coin toss—and they will immediately start to favour members of their own group when then asked to distribute rewards. If people are prepared to start dividing the world into “us” and “them” based on whether someone likes Mondrian, it’s no surprise that they form strong identities and loyalties based on where they go to work every day. One of the small diversions of office life is watching to see how quickly joiners start using the word “we” to refer to their new employer: it’s usually instantaneous and occasionally takes place during the interview. But if you work for a large enough company, you do not belong only to the organisation. You have “nested identities”: you are also a member of a department, and of a team within that department, and perhaps of smaller groups as well. These other in-groups can really matter. A research meta-analysis by Michael Riketta of the University of Tübingen and Rolf van Dick of Goethe University finds that on average employees identify more strongly with their work group than with their organisation. That ought not to be a huge surprise. Proximity, familiarity and shared routines bind people from a specific team together. Identities at work also depend largely on which department you are in. If you are at a staff event for Widget & Sons and a colleague asks what you do, you don’t say “I work for Widget & Sons” but tell them which group you work in. Identifying with a sub-group is not necessarily bad. It makes perfect sense for organisations to divide labour up among departments. A bit of friendly competition between teams can be useful. But a strong sense of group identity can also impede co-operation across the wider organisation. It becomes natural to blame the general uselessness of other departments if things go wrong. Budget allocations are framed as victories and losses. Information may well be hoarded in silos rather than shared. A paper by Jeanine Pieternel Porck of Oklahoma State University and her co-authors finds, for example, that a strong sense of group identification is associated with reduced understanding of an organisation’s strategy. For executives, therefore, the challenge is to reconcile strong bonds within teams with a sense of commitment to the organisation as a whole. An example from outside the office helps explain how to go about this. A long long time ago, when Manchester United was a dominant football club, a group of researchers wondered whether being a fan of the team would affect someone’s willingness to help a supporter of a rival outfit. Mark Levine of Lancaster University and his co-authors ran an experiment in which self-identified fans were first reminded of their allegiance to Man Utd and later encountered a jogger who deliberately slipped and fell in front of them. The participants were more likely to offer help if the stranger was wearing a Man Utd football shirt than if they were sporting a Liverpool one or a plain top. The thought-provoking part came next. The researchers ran the same experiment with another group of United supporters, but this time the participants were primed to think of themselves as fans of the beautiful game rather than of a specific club. Now, when they saw someone appear to injure themselves, they were equally likely to offer help to anyone wearing a football shirt, their own or Liverpool’s. It’s not a watertight experiment. Nor is it a heart-warming story: whatever happens, some poor soul in a plain top is left hurt and unaided. But it is an instructive one. Employees will naturally form in-group relationships with their closest team-mates. Bosses often have to work harder to ensure that people also feel like members of the wider organisation. That might mean making efforts to bring people from different teams into contact with each other, through project-based work or social events or the physical layout of the office. It definitely means explaining to members of departments how their work contributes to the health of the overall organisation. People are quick to divide into “us and them”. “Us and us” takes a bit more thought. ■ 你忠於公司，還是忠於團隊？ 員工在職場中擁有重疊的身份認同，這對管理者的領導能力是一大考驗。 2026年9月10日｜閱讀時間：4分鐘 人類天生具備極快建立陣營的傾向，這種行為有時被稱為「最小分組效應」（minimal group effect）。著名社會心理學家亨利·泰菲爾（Henri Tajfel）在一連串經典實驗中發現，即使根據完全隨機的標準將陌生人分組——例如估算圖表上點數的能力好壞、對某種抽象藝術的喜好程度，甚至只是丟硬幣——一旦要求他們分配獎勵，人們就會立刻開始偏袒自己組內的成員。 如果人們只因對方是否喜歡蒙德里安（Mondrian）的畫作，就準備好把世界劃分為「我們」與「他們」，那麼他們根據每天上班的場所建立強烈的身份認同與忠誠度，也就不足為奇了。辦公室生活的一大樂趣，就是觀察新進員工有多快開始用「我們」來稱呼新雇主：這種轉變通常是立竿見影的，有時甚至在面試過程中就已發生。 然而，如果你在一間規模夠大的公司上班，你所屬的絕不單單只有這家企業本身。你擁有「嵌套身份」（nested identities）：你同時屬於某個部門、該部門裡的某個團隊，甚至更小的群體。這些部門與小團體（內群體）影響至關重大。圖賓根大學的麥可·里凱塔（Michael Riketta）與法蘭克福大學的羅爾夫·範·迪克（Rolf van Dick）在一項後設分析中指出，平均而言，員工對自己「工作團隊」的認同感，遠強於對「公司整體」的認同感。 這其實並不令人意外。近距離的接觸、熟悉感以及共同的工作日常，緊密地將特定團隊的成員凝聚在一起。此外，職場上的身份認同很大程度上取決於你所在的部門。如果在 Widget & Sons 公司的員工活動中，有同事問你是做什麼的，你不會說「我在 Widget & Sons 上班」，而是會直接告訴對方你在哪個部門或團隊工作。 認同次級群體未必是一件壞事。企業將勞動分工落實到各部門完全符合情理，團隊之間保持適度的良性競爭也大有裨益。然而，過於強烈的群體認同感也可能阻礙跨部門的合作。一旦事情出錯，自然而然就會歸咎於其他部門「總是不給力」；預算分配演變成非贏即輸的角力；資訊也極可能被困在各自的「組織氣蜂」（silos）中無法共享。奧克拉荷馬州立大學的讓寧·皮特內爾·波克（Jeanine Pieternel Porck）及其合作者在一篇研究論文中指出，強烈的團隊認同感往往與員工對公司整體戰略理解度的降低存在相關性。 因此，對企業高層而言，挑戰在於如何將團隊內部的緊密纽帶，與對公司整體的凝聚力相調和。一個來自球場外的例子有助於說明該如何達成這一點。很久很久以前，當曼聯（Manchester United）還是英超霸主時，一組研究人員很好奇：成為某一球隊的球迷，是否會影響一個人援助宿敵球隊支持者的意願？蘭卡斯特大學的馬克·萊文（Mark Levine）及其團隊進行了一項實驗，受試者皆為自證身份的曼聯球迷。在實驗中，研究人員先提醒他們對曼聯的忠誠，隨後讓他們目擊一名跑者在面前故意滑倒。結果顯示，如果受傷的陌生人身穿曼聯球衣，受試者伸出援助之手的機率，遠高於對方身穿利物浦球衣或素色上衣的情況。 意想不到的轉折出現在下一步。研究人員對另一組曼聯球迷進行了相同的實驗，但這次，受試者事先被引導將自己定位為「足球這項運動的熱愛者」，而非「特定球會的擁護者」。這一次，當他們看到有人似是受傷時，無論對方穿的是曼聯還是利物浦的球衣，他們提供幫助的機率完全相同。（這並非一個天衣無縫的實驗，也稱不上是個溫馨的故事：無論如何，那個穿著素色上衣的無辜受害者總是得不到援助。但這確實是一個極具啟發性的實驗。） 員工自然會與最親密的團隊夥伴建立同陣營的關係；而主管們則往往需要付出更多努力，來確保大家同樣覺得自己是廣大公司的一份子。這可能意味著要透過專案合作、社交活動或辦公空間的彈性規劃，來促成不同團隊之間的互動；這也絕對意味著必須向各部門成員說明，他們的工作是如何為整個公司的健康發展做出貢獻。人們總是能輕易劃分出「我們與他們」，但要打造出「我們與我們（大家都是自己人）」，則需要投入更多的巧思。 -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

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  出國趣

  90-4 中國的職業媽媽在職場上越來越不利+小分享: 台灣,中國, 芬蘭和美國的母親福利

  Sep 12, 202636 min

  The pressure to have children collides with a fierce work culture Aug 24th 2026|5 min read For those unaccustomed to truth in advertising, employers in China can be astonishingly forthright in their help-wanted notices. Huangshi, a city in Hubei, recently sought investment-promotion officers under 35 years old, specifying “men preferred”. A high-speed rail operator in Lanzhou wanted women, but only so long as they were under 25, over 160cm tall and with a “good appearance”. A Suzhou packaging firm, by contrast, stretched to the geriatric reaches of 45 in its search for a sales representative, adding that female candidates should already be married with children—in other words, please no maternity leave. These are just a few blatant examples of discrimination that women face in the Chinese labour market. More extensive discrimination is largely out of sight. It includes pressure on women to avoid pregnancy, higher pay for male colleagues and fewer opportunities as women’s careers progress. In the 1950s, when Mao Zedong declared that “women held up half the sky”, in narrowly economic terms China looked egalitarian. Men and women had similar jobs as well as incomes, though both were miserable—and that was if you were lucky enough to escape becoming victims of Mao’s revolution-without-end. Today women in China more than match men in educational terms: 51% of university students are female, up by 14 percentage points since 1995. The picture at work, by contrast, has grown worse. Men on average now earn roughly a third more. In 1990 nearly 80% of women aged between 15 and 64 were in the labour force, one of the highest rates anywhere in the world. Today that has slipped to under 70%, below both Japan and the European Union. China’s business leadership is overwhelmingly male. Women are even rarer at the top of politics. For a quarter-century until 2022, the Politburo, the Communist Party’s top body, boasted a woman or two. Since then there have been none. Sexism is part of the problem. For businessmen and officials, the banqueting table is often where deals get done. But long boozy dinners (officially forbidden under Xi Jinping) can be offputting to women, or worse. A senior cadre and a property executive in Hangzhou, a wealthy east-central city, were recently accused of assaulting a young female employee after such a dinner. The incident provoked public outrage, including renewed calls to clean up the practice of banquets. A more common experience for women is less aggressive, though still demeaning. “Our bosses wouldn’t say it directly but they hope we act as decoration,” says Ms Dou, who worked in tech. Yet nothing is straightforward. Erica, a woman in her 20s in the events industry, says she has had more friction with female bosses than male ones. “We’re a patriarchal society, so when women break through and get power, they tend to be more controlling,” she says. The more pervasive problem is less that of outright sexism and more how women’s role, or potential role, as mothers clashes with work. A “motherhood penalty” is common nearly everywhere. But in China the penalty is especially high, owing to a fierce work culture, an outdated retirement system and an intensifying state-led fertility push colliding with entrenched career patterns. Compared with other countries at its level of development, China has generous maternity leave: mothers can get about half a year off work, on full pay. But the state covers only part of the salary on leave, with employers paying for the bulk. Five women in their 30s and 40s told Chaguan that their bosses expected to be informed should they be trying to get pregnant. “Speaking as a former manager, I myself wasn’t all that willing to hire women under 35,” said Ms Chen, who used to work in media. “What if she comes in and gets pregnant right away?” The government’s recent push for two-child families, aimed at reversing a fast-declining fertility rate, adds to employers’ concerns that married women are liable to take extended breaks from work. The little brats After pregnancy, women face other hurdles. A common expectation that they will guide their children through school is hardly compatible with the long hours expected in many Chinese jobs. “Men the same age as me are in a better position,” says Ms Dou, in her early 40s. “There’s an assumption that they don’t have as much responsibility at home.” Job ads often state that candidates should be able to tolerate high stress, regularly work overtime and always be reachable. Such requirements do not discriminate specifically against women, but are deterrents to any parent with their hands full with young children—usually the mother. Nor is there much runway left for a woman returning to work, perhaps in her early 40s. In white-collar jobs the official retirement age is just a few months over 55 for women and 60 for men (by 2040 these will be raised gradually to 58 and 63, respectively). Companies have less incentive to invest in mid-career women who have taken time off for children. “The job market is already biased enough against women,” says Ms Wu, a former web designer who left to have a child. “After 35 it is like frost on top of snow.” She is taking matters into her own hands, retraining as a drone pilot. Policy tweaks would help, including making maternity and paternity leave more equal (many places give fathers 15 days, if they take any). More state funding for paid leave would ease the financial strain on companies. Men and women should also have the same (higher) retirement ages. Yet what women are up against is less skewed policy than powerful social norms, especially the weight placed upon mothers. Until that changes, China is undermining its own potential. In educational terms, Chinese women already hold up more than half the sky today. In the world of work, they are getting just about a third of it. ■ 催生壓力和狼性加班文化互相衝突 2026 年 8 月 24 日 | 閱讀時間約 5 分鐘 對不習慣徵才廣告吐露真言的人來說，中國雇主的徵才啟事有時坦率得令人吃驚。湖北黃石市近期招募 35 歲以下的招商人員，明確註明「男性優先」；蘭州一家高鐵營運商想招募女性，但要求年齡必須在 25 歲以下、身高 160 公分以上，且「形象氣質佳」；相比之下，蘇州一家包裝企業在尋找銷售代表時，將年齡門檻寬限到堪稱高齡的 45 歲，但附帶條件是女性求職者必須「已婚已育」——換句話說，請別來休產假。 這些不過是女性在中國職場遭遇歧視的冰山一角。更多且更普遍的歧視通常隱藏在螢光幕後，包括逼迫女性避免懷孕、給予男性同事更高的薪資，以及在女性職涯發展的過程中提供較少的晉升機會。 1950 年代，當毛澤東喊出「婦女能頂半邊天」時，單從經濟層面來看，中國似乎相當平權。當時男女從事的職業和收入相去不遠，儘管大家的苦日子都不好過——而這前提還是你夠幸運，沒有成為毛澤東那場「無休止革命」下的犧牲品。如今，中國女性在受教育程度上早已不輸男性：大學生中有 51% 是女性，比 1995 年增加了 14 個百分點。然而，職場上的景況卻每況愈下。平均而言，現在男性的收入比女性高出約三分之一。1990 年，15 至 64 歲的女性中有將近 80% 投入職場，名列全球最高水平之一；如今這一比例已下滑至 70% 以下，比日本和歐盟都还要低。中國企業的高層領導絕大多數是男性，而在政治頂層，女性更是鳳毛麟角。在截至 2022 年長達四分之一個世紀的時間裡，中共最高權力機構政治局至少還保有一至兩位女性席次，但自此之後，便是一片空白。 性別歧視是問題的一部分。對商人和官員來說，餐桌應酬往往是促成交易的場合。但漫長且酗酒的飯局（雖然在習近平主政下官方名義上禁止）常讓女性退避三舍，甚至引發更糟糕的後果。東部富庶城市杭州的一名資深幹部與一名地產高管，最近就被指控在一場飯局後性侵了一名年輕女員工。這起事件引發社會公憤，也再次讓大眾呼籲肅清應酬飯局的陋習。對大多數女性而言，更常見的遭遇雖不至如此具攻擊性，卻同樣令人難堪。曾從事科技業的竇小姐表示：「我們老闆不會明說，但他們希望我們充當門面花瓶。」然而，情況並非單一維度。二十多歲、從事活動企劃的 Erica 表示，相比於男主管，她與女主管之間的摩擦反而更多。「我們是一個父權社會，所以當女性打破天花板獲得權力時，她們往往會展現出更強的控制欲，」她說道。 比起赤裸裸的性別歧視，更根深蒂固的問題在於女性身為（或潛在身為）母親的角色，與工作產生了嚴重衝突。「生育懲罰」在世界各地屢見不鮮，但在中國，由於高壓激烈的加班文化、過時的退休制度，以及國家主導的催生政策與既有職涯模式產生強烈碰撞，使得這種懲罰尤為沉重。 與同等發展水平的其他國家相比，中國提供了相當優渥的產假：媽媽們可以休假約半年，且領取全薪。然而，國家僅負擔產假期間的部分薪資，大頭仍須由雇主支付。五位三四十歲的女性告訴《茶館》專欄，她們的老闆要求如果打算備孕必須提前告知。曾任職於媒體業的陳小姐說：「站在前主管的角度，我自己當時也不太願意招募 35 歲以下的女性。萬一她一進公司就懷孕怎麼辦？」政府近期為了扭轉陡降的出生率而推行「三孩政策」（註：原交稿提及 two-child，意指多胎鼓勵政策），反而進一步加劇了雇主的顧慮，擔心已婚女性隨時可能會請長假離崗。 「小淘氣們」帶來的考驗 懷孕生子過後，女性還面臨著其他關卡。社會普遍期望母親能全程輔導孩子的學業，這與中國許多工作所要求的高強度加班時間幾乎無法兼容。「和我同齡的男性處境更好，」四十歲出頭的竇小姐說，「大家會默認他們在家庭中不需要承擔那麼多責任。」徵才廣告常標榜應徵者須「抗壓能力強」、「能適應常態性加班」且「隨時保持通訊暢通」。這些要求雖然表面上並未針對女性，但對任何要照顧幼童、分身乏術的家長來說，都是極大的阻礙——而這個家長角色通常就是母親。 此外，當女性到了四十歲出頭重新回到職場時，留給她們發展的跑道也所剩無幾。白領階級的官方退休年齡，女性僅比 55 歲多幾個月，男性則為 60 歲（到 2040 年，這兩個門檻將分別逐步提高至 58 歲和 63 歲）。對於因生育而中斷職涯的中生代女性，企業投資她們的意願自然較低。「職場對女性的偏見已經夠深了，」曾任網頁設計師、為了生孩子離職的吳女士說道，「過了 35 歲更是雪上加霜。」她選擇把命運掌握在自己手中，目前正在轉行接受無人機飛行的專業培訓。 政策上的微調會有所幫助，例如讓產假與陪產假更加平等（許多地方的父親即使休假也只有 15 天）。由國家財政提供更多有薪假期的補助，也能減輕企業的財務負擔。此外，男女也應適用相同（且較高）的退休年齡。 然而，女性真正面臨的挑戰，與其說是傾斜的政策，不如說是強大的社會規範，尤其是壓在母親身上的沉重枷鎖。只要這種觀念不改變，中國就一直在削弱自身發展的潛力。單看受教育程度，如今的中國女性早已頂起了「大半邊天」；但在職場的世界裡，她們所分得的，卻僅僅只有三分之一。 -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

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  出國趣

  90-3 2016年英國政府計畫廢除衛生棉稅, 動機好但是對經濟有好處?+小分享: 我在美國,芬蘭買衛生棉~

  Sep 5, 202616 min

  THE British government currently slaps a 5% Value Added Tax (VAT) on sanitary products. But some view the “tampon tax” as an affront to women, who have little choice but to bear the burden of the levy. The government has been prevented from reducing the rate to zero by European Union rules, which limit how much countries can lower VAT rates on some goods. But on March 17th, George Osborne rummaged around for a rabbit in his post-budget hat, and revealed progress towards a new VAT arrangement with the EU that would give him the freedom to ditch the hated tax. Mr Osborne will be glad to end the political headache; in November last year he compromised by pledging to give the £15m ($22m) raised from the tax to charity. This pleased some, though others pointed out that as some of the funds would go to domestic violence charities, this amounted to women paying to solve problems caused by men. More recently, eurosceptics grumbling about EU power have been threatening to embarass the government by supporting an amendment to a government bill that would scrap the 5% tax. Any new deal with the EU would show that the transfer of power between Britain and Brussels can run both ways. Scrapping the tax makes for more palatable politics, but leaves economic questions. Working out a rationale within the British system of VAT is a fool’s errand; products that enjoy the reduced rates are meant to be necessities, but the definition of a necessity is loose. Tampons would join things like ostrich meat and helicopters in the zero rate category, whereas toothpaste and toilet paper will face a rate of 20%. Normally economists worry about applying different rates of tax to similar products, for fear of distorting behaviour. Why should the government nudge customers towards jaffa cakes and away from chocolate-covered digestive biscuits by applying a lower rate of VAT to the former? It also wastes resources as companies battle for their product to meet the zero-rated category criteria. The justification is normally made on distributional grounds: the poor spend more of their income on zero-rated goods, so moving towards a uniform rate would hurt them more. A VAT on tampons is paid for by women rather than men, so any move to get rid of it would redistribute towards women. ( Men’s razors attract the full 20% VAT rate, not 0% as some campaigners have claimed in the past.) The bigger question is whether VAT is the best way to redistribute. One vision of an ideal tax system applies a uniform rate of VAT on all final consumption, and then uses the direct tax and benefit system to do the heavy lifting when it comes to redistribution. This would minimise ugly distortions, remove any government meddling over which types of consumption are favoured over others, and focus different bits of the tax and benefit system on what they do best. But even a purist economist can see that this would be difficult politics. 廢除棉條稅政治上討喜，但經濟效益如何？ 英國政府目前對衛生用品課徵 5% 的增值稅（VAT）。但有些人認為「棉條稅」是對女性的侮辱，因為她們別無選擇，只能承受這筆稅負。此前，受限於歐盟限制各國調降特定商品增值稅稅率的規定，政府一直無法將稅率降至零。但在 3 月 17 日，喬治·歐斯本（George Osborne，時任英國財政大臣）從他預算案發布後的帽子裡變出了一隻兔子，宣布與歐盟在新的增值稅協議上取得進展，這將讓他得以自由廢除這項深惡痛絕的稅目。 2016 年 3 月 18 日｜閱讀時間 3 分鐘 英國政府目前對衛生用品課徵 5% 的增值稅（VAT）。但有些人認為「棉條稅」是對女性的侮辱，因為她們別無選擇，只能承受這筆稅負。此前，受限於歐盟限制各國調降特定商品增值稅稅率的規定，政府一直無法將稅率降至零。但在 3 月 17 日，喬治·歐斯本從他預算案發布後的帽子裡變出了一隻兔子，宣布與歐盟在新的增值稅協議上取得進展，這將讓他得以自由廢除這項深惡痛絕的稅目。 歐斯本先生會很樂意結束這個政治頭痛問題；去年 11 月，他曾做出妥協，承諾將該稅種籌集到的 1,500 萬英鎊（約 2,200 萬美元）捐給慈善機構。這讓一部分人感到滿意，但也有人指出，由於部分資金將流向防止家庭暴力的慈善機構，這無疑是讓女性付錢來解決由男性產生的問題。近來，對歐盟權力心生不滿的疑歐派人士一直威脅要支持一項政府法案修正案以廢除這項 5% 的稅率，藉此讓政府難堪。與歐盟達成的新協議將能表明，英國與布魯塞爾之間的權力轉移可以是雙向的。 廢除該稅種在政治上比較討喜，但卻留下了經濟問題。試圖在英國增值稅體系內理出合理邏輯根本是徒勞無功；享受優惠稅率的商品本應是生活必需品，但「必需品」的定義卻相當寬鬆。衛生棉條將與鴕鳥肉和直升機一同歸入零稅率類別，而牙膏和捲筒衛生紙則面臨 20% 的標準稅率。 通常情況下，經濟學者會擔心對類似商品套用不同稅率，因為這樣有可能會扭曲消費者行為。政府為什麼要對爪哇蛋糕（Jaffa cakes）課徵較低的增值稅，從而誘導消費者選擇它而非巧克力消化餅乾？當企業竭力爭取讓自家產品符合零稅率標準時，也會浪費資源。給予優惠稅率的理由通常是基於「收入分配」考量：窮人將更多收入花在零稅率商品上，因此轉向統一稅率對他們的傷害更大。衛生棉條的增值稅是由女性而非男性支付，因此任何廢除該稅種的舉動都會將財富重新分配給女性。（男士刮鬍刀適用的是 20% 的全額增值稅率，並非如過去某些倡議者所聲稱的 0%。） 更根本的問題在於，增值稅是否為進行財富重分配的最佳方式。理想稅務體系的其中一種藍圖，是對所有最終消費課徵統一的增值稅，然後利用直接稅和福利體系來承擔財富重分配的重任。這樣可以最大限度地減少扭曲現象，消除政府對特定消費偏好的干預，並讓稅務和福利體系的不同環節各司其職。然而，即便是最純粹主義的經濟學者也能看出，這在政治操作上極具難度。 -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

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  90-2 中國神秘的億萬富翁正在征服全世界並低調行事+ 小分享: 從冰島旅行得到中國人賺錢的思維~

  Aug 29, 202640 min

  China’s mysterious new billionaires are conquering the world And refusing to talk to the press Jul 19th 2026|Shanghai|7 min read Early last year, when DeepSeek , a Chinese artificial-intelligence lab, was causing panic among its Western rivals, almost nothing was known about Liang Wenfeng, its founder. Mr Liang remains a mysterious figure, but at least one thing is clear. As DeepSeek closes a funding round valuing it at $71bn, its founder’s personal wealth has soared to roughly $38bn—making him far wealthier than Anthropic’s Dario Amodei or OpenAI’s Sam Altman. Mr Liang will not be spotted on the conference circuit. He has never appeared live on Chinese TV, and there are few photos of his unpolished, wiry figure. That puts him at home among the new generation of young Chinese billionaires . The country is cranking out more of them than anywhere else bar America. According to Hurun, which tracks the riches of the world’s wealthiest people, there are at least 29 self-made billionaires aged 40 or under in China. Adding Mr Liang, who will turn 41 at some point this year, brings the total to 30. That is nine more than last year. China’s new tycoons differ from their predecessors in striking ways. They have abandoned property speculation and boozy dinners with officials for video games and meet-ups over Japanese anime. But they are also adept at taking imaginative ideas and scaling them into global businesses faster than any before them. The history of China’s uber-rich is short. In the 1980s tycoons figured out how to wrest assets from the state. Zhang Ruimin, a member of a troupe of students who terrorised teachers and intellectuals during Mao’s era, got hold of a state-owned refrigerator business called Haier and turned it into what is now the world’s largest home-appliance maker. The opening of the property market in the 1990s minted another early group of billionaires including Xu Jiayin, founder of Evergrande, a now-collapsed property developer. In the early 2000s industrialists such as Wang Chuanfu of BYD, originally a battery maker , launched a wave of manufacturing firms as China entered the World Trade Organisation. And then in the 2010s the consumer internet produced China’s first generation of tech moguls, including Jack Ma of Alibaba, an e-commerce giant, and Pony Ma of Tencent, maker of WeChat. The founders of ByteDance, creator of TikTok, and Shein, the online fast-fashion firm, who are both now in their early 40s, built their fortunes a few years later. China’s new generation of tycoons are charting out a different path. More than two-thirds of the young billionaires on Hurun’s rich list made their money from consumer goods or media. Seven created video games; four built tea or coffee businesses. After Mr Liang, the wealthiest is Wang Ning, founder of Pop Mart, maker of the strange-looking Labubu dolls. Only three have struck it rich with AI, including Yang Zhilin, the baby-faced 34-year-old founder of Moonshot AI, which on July 17th released a new model that is said to rival the best from America. No property mogul makes the list—perhaps unsurprisingly, given how the sector has fared in recent years. The businesses built by China’s new billionaires are also far more global than in the past. It once took a decade or more for Chinese entrepreneurs to figure out foreign expansion. No longer. Zhang Junjie, the 33-year-old founder of Chagee, a milk-tea shop, launched his firm in 2017 and opened his first overseas shop just two years later. The company is now listed in New York and operating in nine countries. The new tycoons’ heavy reliance on foreign markets partly reflects the slump in consumer spending at home. Around 80% of sales at Dreame, a consumer-electronics brand founded by 39-year-old Yu Hao, come from overseas. Insta360, which sells small waterproof cameras, is almost as reliant on foreign demand. Pop Mart made more than $2bn in sales outside China last year, about 40% of its total. Chagee’s sales at home have slumped, but overseas they are growing healthily. Attitudes to work are also different among this cohort. A controversial part of Chinese business culture for the past decade or so has been the so-called “996” routine, working from 9am to 9pm six days a week. The idea was championed by Alibaba’s Mr Ma and embraced by other local tech giants. At Pinduoduo, another e-commerce platform, young white-collar staff have died from overwork on their way home from the office. China’s new entrepreneurs, by contrast, have adopted a more relaxed approach to management. Many are relatively flexible about working times. Liu Wei, the 39-year-old billionaire co-founder of miHoYo, a gaming firm, has eschewed presenteeism. He has overseen what the company calls its “happy work, steady growth” approach, which prioritises mental health (though one employee also recently died from complications related to overwork, suggesting that cultural norms are hard to shift). DeepSeek’s Mr Liang has reportedly said that the human brain can concentrate only for 6-8 hours a day, and that overwork leads to mistakes. The willingness of workers to put in longer hours than anyone else in the world is what has built the Chinese economy over the past 30 years, huffs one private-equity investor, who recently visited an up-and-coming consumer brand and did not like what he saw. Some blame the relatively laid-back attitude of China’s young founders on cushy upbringings. Gone are the tales told by earlier tycoons of struggling for survival amid the country’s political and economic convulsions. Among China’s young billionaires, only Mr Liang and Mr Zhang of Chagee grew up poor. The three founders of miHoYo originally bonded over Japanese cartoons and formed their company as a celebration of gaming and comics. The founder of MiniMax, an AI lab, is so fond of a multi-player game called “Dota 2” that his staff refer to him as “IO”, a character from it. To get rich is perilous It is not all rosy for China’s young billionaires. The relationship between China’s government and its wealthiest people has deteriorated over the past few years. Older magnates once viewed themselves as part of a nation-building project. The property sector, which contributed up to a quarter of China’s GDP at its peak, was a collaborative effort between private entrepreneurs and local officials. Mr Ma was instrumental in building China’s digital economy. But the central government has now punished many prominent figures in these areas. Leverage has been sucked out of the property industry. Mr Ma’s business empire became the subject of a state crackdown in 2020 after he criticized regulators. Xi Jinping, China’s ruler, has sought to tamp down inequality under the slogan of “common prosperity”. In 2021 Zhong Shanshan, the 71-year-old founder of Nongfu, a bottled-water company, reached a net worth of nearly $100bn. No one has since come close, including Mr. Zhong, who has seen his wealth plunge to around $39bn as the share price of his company has slumped. Mr. Ma is worth roughly a fifth as much as in 2021, and many other internet moguls have suffered similarly. Still, they have fared better than property magnates, a number of whom have been detained. This environment has created a sense of disillusionment among China’s young billionaires. Many are eager to engage in industrial policy but are given little opportunity to do so, notes Steven Hai of Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University. Their global ambitions also leave them exposed to souring relations between China and America. Xiao Hong, the 33-year-old founder of Manus, another AI firm, would have become a billionaire earlier this year if the Chinese government had not stopped him from selling his company to Meta, an American tech giant. These innovators live with the sense that the businesses they have built could be derailed at any time by sudden policy changes in China or America, notes Rupert Hoogewerf of Hurun. By shunning publicity they seem to believe they can survive for longer, he says. Most young Chinese billionaires have never spoken to foreign media. (None would speak to The Economist.) Many avoid the Chinese press as well. The result is a generation of tycoons that is both China’s most global yet—and its most enigmatic. ■ 中國神秘的新億萬富豪正在征服世界，卻拒絕接受媒體採訪 2026年7月19日｜上海｜閱讀時間：7分鐘 去年年初，當中國人工智慧實驗室 DeepSeek 讓西方競爭對手陷入恐慌時，外界幾乎對它的創辦人梁文鋒一無所知。 如今，梁文鋒依然是一個相當神秘的人物，但至少有一件事已經很清楚：隨著 DeepSeek 即將完成一輪募資，公司估值達到 710億美元，其創辦人的個人財富也暴增至大約 380億美元。這讓他的身家遠遠超過 Anthropic 的 達里奧・阿莫迪（Dario Amodei），以及 OpenAI 的 山姆・奧特曼（Sam Altman）。 梁文鋒不會出現在各種商業會議或產業論壇的巡迴活動上。 他從未在中國電視節目上公開現場露面，而網路上流傳的照片也寥寥可數，能看到的通常是他那副不修邊幅、身材瘦削的模樣。 這讓他與中國新一代的年輕億萬富豪十分相似。 中國正在大量培養這一代年輕富豪，數量僅次於美國。 根據追蹤全球富豪財富的胡潤研究院（Hurun），中國至少有 29名40歲以下的白手起家億萬富豪。 如果把今年某個時候即將滿41歲的梁文鋒也算進去，總數就來到 30人，比去年多了9人。 中國的新一代企業大亨，和他們的前輩有著非常明顯的不同。 他們拋棄了房地產投機，也不再熱衷於和官員吃豪華宴席；取而代之的，是打電玩、聚在一起聊日本動漫。 但另一方面，他們也非常擅長把充滿想像力的點子，迅速擴大成為全球性的企業，而且速度可能超越過去任何一代中國企業家。 中國超級富豪的歷史其實很短 中國超級富豪的歷史其實相當短暫。 到了1980年代，一些企業家開始摸索如何從國家手中取得資產。 張瑞敏就是其中之一。 在毛澤東時代，他曾是那群恐嚇教師與知識分子的學生組織成員之一。後來，他取得了一家名為 海爾（Haier）的國營冰箱企業，並將它發展成如今全球最大的家電製造商。 1990年代，房地產市場開放，又造就了另一批早期億萬富豪，其中包括許家印，也就是如今已經倒閉的房地產開發商恆大集團創辦人。 進入2000年代初期，隨著中國加入世界貿易組織，一批製造業企業家掀起了新一波企業創業潮。 其中包括 比亞迪（BYD）的王傳福。比亞迪最初是一家電池製造商。 接著，到了2010年代，消費型網際網路產業又孕育出中國第一代科技巨頭。 其中包括電子商務巨頭阿里巴巴的馬雲，以及打造微信的騰訊創辦人馬化騰。 幾年後，字節跳動（ByteDance）和Shein的創辦人也建立起自己的龐大財富。 字節跳動打造了 TikTok，而 Shein 則是一家主打線上快時尚的企業。 如今，這兩家公司的創辦人都已經40歲出頭。 新一代富豪正在走出不同的道路 中國新一代企業大亨正在開闢一條不同的道路。 根據胡潤富豪榜，年輕億萬富豪中，有超過三分之二靠消費品或媒體產業致富。 其中有7人靠開發電子遊戲創造財富；4人則建立了茶飲或咖啡事業。 排在梁文鋒之後、身家第二高的是王寧，他是潮玩公司 泡泡瑪特（Pop Mart）的創辦人，而泡泡瑪特最知名的產品，就是外型奇特的 Labubu 娃娃。 只有3人靠人工智慧致富，其中包括34歲、長著一張娃娃臉的 楊植麟。 他是 AI 公司 Moonshot AI 的創辦人。7月17日，這家公司推出了一個新模型，據稱可以與美國最頂尖的 AI 模型抗衡。 至於房地產大亨，則一個都沒有進入這份榜單。 考慮到中國房地產業近年的表現，這或許並不令人意外。 他們從一開始就把目光放向全球 中國新一代億萬富豪所建立的企業，也比過去更加全球化。 過去，中國企業家往往需要花上10年甚至更久，才能摸索出進軍海外市場的方法。 現在已經不同了。 張俊傑今年33歲，是奶茶品牌 霸王茶姬（Chagee）的創辦人。 他在2017年創立公司，僅僅兩年後，就開設了第一家海外門市。 如今，這家公司已在紐約上市，並且已經進入9個國家。 新一代企業大亨高度依賴海外市場，部分原因其實也反映了中國國內消費支出的低迷。 以消費電子品牌 追覓（Dreame）為例。 這家公司由39歲的俞浩創立，大約 80%的銷售額來自海外市場。 銷售小型防水相機的 Insta360，對海外需求的依賴程度也幾乎一樣高。 泡泡瑪特去年在中國以外市場創造了超過 20億美元的銷售額，約占公司總營收的40%。 霸王茶姬在中國國內的銷售額已經下滑，但海外市場卻仍然保持健康成長。 他們對工作的態度也不一樣 這一代年輕富豪對工作的態度，也與前人有所不同。 過去十年左右，中國商業文化中一個極具爭議的現象，就是所謂的 「996」工作制度。 也就是每天早上9點工作到晚上9點，一週工作6天。 這種工作模式曾受到阿里巴巴馬雲的推崇，也被其他中國科技巨頭所採用。 在另一家電子商務平台拼多多，甚至曾有年輕白領因過度工作，在下班回家的路上死亡。 相比之下，中國的新一代企業家採取了更加輕鬆的管理方式。 許多人對工作時間相對彈性。 39歲的億萬富豪劉偉是遊戲公司 米哈遊（miHoYo）的共同創辦人之一。 他並不鼓勵員工只是為了「被看見」而長時間待在辦公室。 他推動公司所稱的 「快樂工作，穩定成長」理念，把心理健康放在重要位置。 不過，最近仍有一名員工因與過勞有關的併發症死亡，這也顯示，要改變根深蒂固的文化規範並不容易。 據報導，DeepSeek 的梁文鋒曾表示，人類的大腦一天只能維持大約 6到8小時的高度專注，而過度工作只會導致更多錯誤。 「正是比世界上任何人都更願意加班，才打造了中國經濟」 一名最近造訪某個新興消費品牌的私募股權投資人對此頗有微詞。 他表示，過去30年來，正是中國人願意比世界上任何其他地方的人投入更長工時，才建立起了中國經濟。 但他最近參訪一家正在崛起的消費品牌時，卻不喜歡自己看到的情況。 有些人則把中國年輕創辦人相對悠閒的工作態度，歸因於他們從小過著較為優渥的生活。 早期企業大亨經常講述的那種故事——在中國劇烈的政治與經濟動盪中努力求生——如今已經逐漸消失。 在中國年輕億萬富豪當中，只有梁文鋒以及霸王茶姬的張俊傑出身貧困。 米哈遊的3位創辦人，最初就是因為喜歡日本動漫而結識，後來更以遊戲與漫畫為共同熱情創辦了公司。 AI 實驗室 MiniMax 的創辦人則非常喜歡多人線上遊戲 《Dota 2》。 他的員工甚至以遊戲中的一個角色 「IO」來稱呼他。 致富並非沒有風險 中國年輕億萬富豪的故事，並非一切都如此美好。 過去幾年，中國政府與最富有階層之間的關係已經惡化。 早期的企業大亨曾經把自己視為國家建設計畫的一部分。 房地產業在高峰時期曾占中國 GDP 的四分之一，這個產業曾是民營企業家與地方官員共同合作的結果。 馬雲也曾在建立中國數位經濟的過程中扮演重要角色。 但如今，中國中央政府已經對這些領域中的許多知名人物採取懲罰性措施。 房地產業的槓桿資金已被大幅抽離。 2020年，馬雲批評金融監管機構之後，他所建立的商業帝國便成為政府整頓的對象。 中國領導人習近平則以「共同富裕」為口號，試圖降低社會貧富差距。 2021年，71歲的農夫山泉創辦人鍾睒睒，身家一度接近 1000億美元。 此後，再也沒有人接近這個數字，包括鍾睒睒本人。 隨著農夫山泉股價下跌，他的財富已縮水至大約 390億美元。 馬雲如今的身家，大約只有2021年時的五分之一。 許多其他網路產業巨頭也遭遇類似的財富縮水。 不過，他們的處境仍比房地產大亨好一些，因為後者當中已有不少人遭到拘留。 年輕富豪開始感到失望 這樣的環境，也讓中國年輕億萬富豪產生了一種失落感。 西交利物浦大學（Xi’an Jiaotong-Liverpool University）的 Steven Hai 指出，許多年輕富豪其實非常希望參與中國的產業政策，但政府給他們的機會卻相當有限。 另一方面，他們的全球化野心，也讓自己暴露在中美關係惡化的風險之中。 肖弘今年33歲，是另一家 AI 公司 Manus 的創辦人。 如果不是中國政府阻止他把公司出售給美國科技巨頭 Meta，他早在今年稍早就可能成為億萬富豪。 胡潤研究院的 胡潤（Rupert Hoogewerf）指出，這些創新者始終生活在一種不安之中： 他們辛苦建立起來的企業，隨時都有可能因為中國或美國突然改變政策，而被迫偏離原本的發展軌道。 他認為，這些企業家選擇避開媒體曝光，似乎是因為他們相信，這樣可以讓自己的企業存活得更久。 大多數中國年輕億萬富豪從未接受過外國媒體採訪。 《經濟學人》也沒有一個人願意接受採訪。 許多人甚至也刻意避開中國媒體。 最終形成了一個既是中國最全球化的一代企業大亨，同時也是最神秘莫測的一代。 -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

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  90-1 放假的心理六階段(簡直跟分手階段有得比!)+小分享: 韓國釜山打造成科技未來城市

  Aug 22, 202634 min

  The six stages of holiday-making Two weeks off, but how many days of relaxation? Aug 13th 2026|4 min read It’s summer, in the northern hemisphere at least, which means emptier offices and fuller airports. In theory, a holiday is a time to properly relax. In practice, there are several stages to pass through before that moment arrives, and several more to experience before you are fully immersed in work again. 1. The preparation phase. You badly need a holiday. In your final couple of days before leaving, you complete your most urgent tasks, like tidying your desk. You tell people on your team that you trust them completely and in the same breath, that they should contact you if anything comes up, no matter how trivial. As a result, they don’t feel trusted at all. You think about setting up an out-of-office message and decide not to: it’s really not a problem to check your phone occasionally. As you leave the office, you think you feel a cold coming on. 2. The relax-like-hell phase. You spend the first few days approaching the holiday like it’s work. You spend loads of time asking AI models for places to go that are off the beaten track. In a typical morning, you drive two hours to eat breakfast at a place recommended by ChatGPT which turns out to be closed, and then visit a museum devoted to the ancient craft of curing fish. At lunch, you drink wine and then fall asleep. You think of this period of unconsciousness as time that could have been spent relaxing. You are acutely aware of time passing, your days of freedom slipping away. You pick up a book and instead of reading it, worry that you could be enjoying your leisure in even more leisurely ways. You feel very tense for someone on holiday. 3. The letting-go phase. Meanwhile, you check your email every so often, and intervene in things you don’t need to. You get a couple of WhatsApp messages and are asked to join a call, and feel both irritated and pleased. Can’t you do it without me? You can’t do it without me! As you triage messages, sorting them into things that have to be dealt with quickly and those that can wait, you gradually realise just how much of what goes on each week a) doesn’t require you at all and b) has no lasting value. You start to ignore most messages; if it’s important, they will find a way to contact you. You switch on your out-of-office message. 4. The delusional phase. Finally, you start to relax. You lie in a little longer. You don’t look at your phone quite as much. You realise that back in the office the weekly sales meeting is happening right at this very minute, and you laugh out loud at the smallness of your old life. Fairly soon, you start to lose your grip on reality. You think about moving to wherever it is you are, forgetting that you are enjoying yourself because the weather is nice and you are not working. You start trying to figure out how soon you can retire. You fantasise about working outdoors, perhaps in sea-kayaking or doing something artisanal to a dry-stone wall. 5. The motivated phase. The end of the holiday is fast approaching. You realise that sea-kayaking gives you blisters and that the things you are best equipped to do don’t involve dry-stone walls. You start to look at emails again, but only the ones that matter. You feel motivated to return. You have seen how much time is spent on unimportant things and are determined to prioritise much more ruthlessly. You have some really good ideas about how to improve the weekly sales meeting. 6. The recidivism phase. You return to the office full of vim. You look and feel healthier than your colleagues. Then you have the same conversation 800 times. “How was your holiday?” “Wonderful.” “Where did you go?” [Insert answer.] “What did you do there?” [Insert details.] You soon realise that no one is interested in where you went and start to make up responses. “Where did you go?” “Wakanda.” “What did you do?” “We visited the vibranium mines.” “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that.” It’s nice to see people. It’s good to have a sense of purpose. But you quickly revert to old habits. An empty calendar feels less like ruthless prioritisation and more like a public display of redundancy; the slots soon fill up again. When emails come in, you answer them indiscriminately. Your desk becomes more cluttered. You attend the weekly sales meeting and dimly recall that you once had an idea for improving it. Colleagues come back from their own breaks and you ask how their holidays were. You are not listening to the answers. They seem so well, so energetic. You think you feel another cold coming on. You badly need a holiday. ■ 度假的六個階段 兩週假期，但真正放鬆的又有幾天？ 2026年8月13日 | 閱讀時間 4 分鐘 夏天到了——至少在北半球是如此——這意味著辦公室空了，機場卻擠滿了人。理論上，度假是一個能讓人徹底放鬆的時刻；但在現實中，在那個時刻到來之前，你必須先經歷幾個階段，而在你重新完全沉浸於工作之前，還有另外幾個階段等著你。 準備階段。 你急需放個假。在離辦公室前的最後兩天，你完成了最緊迫的工作，比如整理乾淨你的辦公桌。你告訴團隊成員你完全信任他們，但緊接著又說，如果有任何事情發生，不管多麼微不足道，都可以隨時聯繫你。結果，他們根本感覺不到自己被信任。你考慮要設定「不在辦公室」的自動回覆信件，但最後決定不設：偶爾看一眼手機真的沒什麼大不了的。當你離開辦公室時，你覺得自己好像有點感冒了。 拼命放鬆階段。 你把前幾天的假期過得像是在上班一樣。你花了大量時間詢問 AI 模型有哪些遠離喧囂的冷門景點。在一個典型的早晨，你開了兩個小時的車去吃一家 ChatGPT 推薦的早餐，結果發現它根本沒開，接著你又去參觀了一間展示古代醃魚工藝的博物館。 午餐時，你喝了葡萄酒，然後睡著了。你把這段無意識的時間視為「本可用於放鬆」的時間。你極度敏感地意識到時間的流逝，自由的日子正在悄悄溜走。你拿起一本書，但沒有閱讀，反而擔心自己本可以利用更悠閒的方式來享受閒暇時光。作為一個在度假的人，你感到非常緊張。 放手階段。 與此同時，你隔三差五地檢查郵件，干預一些你根本不需要插手的事情。你收到幾條 WhatsApp 訊息，並被邀請加入視訊會議，這讓你感到既煩躁又高興。沒有我你們就辦不成事嗎？你們還真的沒我不行！當你對訊息進行分類 triage，將它們分為「必須快速處理」和「可以等等再說」時，你逐漸意識到每週發生的事情中有多少是：a) 根本不需要你；b) 完全沒有長遠價值。你開始忽視大多數訊息；如果真的重要，他們總會找到方法聯繫你。你終於開啟了「不在辦公室」的自動回覆。 幻想階段。 終於，你開始放鬆了。你睡得稍微久了一點，看手機的次數也沒那麼頻繁了。你意識到此時此刻，辦公室裡正召開著每週銷售會議，你對自己過去那渺小的生活發出陣陣會心的冷笑。很快地，你開始脫離現實。你想著搬到你現在度假的地方生活，卻忘了你之所以開心是因為天氣很好且你不用工作。你開始嘗試計算自己多久之後可以退休。你幻想著在戶外工作，也許是划海上皮划艇，或是對著乾砌石牆做些手工藝活。 動力階段。 假期的尾聲迅速逼近。你意識到划皮划艇會讓你起水泡，而你最擅長做的事情根本與乾砌石牆無關。你重新開始看郵件，但只看那些真正重要的。你感到有一股返回工作的動力。你看到了有多少時間被浪費在不重要的事情上，並決心要更狠心地排出優先順序。對於如何改進每週銷售會議，你產生了一些非常棒的想法。 舊病復發階段。 你滿懷活力地回到辦公室。你看起來、感覺起來都比同事們更健康。然後你把同一段對話重複了 800 次。「假期過得怎麼樣？」「太棒了。」「去哪裡了？」（插入答案）「在那裡做了什麼？」（插入細節）。你很快意識到根本沒有人對你去哪裡感興趣，並開始編造回答。「你去哪裡了？」「瓦干達（Wakanda）。」「做了什麼？」「我們去參觀了汎合金（Vibranium）礦山。」「噢，我一直想去那裡。」 能見到大家真好，擁有目標感也很不錯。但你很快就重蹈覆轍。空白的行事曆看起來不再像是狠心排序優先順序的成果，反而更像是公開展示自己是個贅員；日程很快又被排滿了。當郵件寄來時，你不加篩選地一一回覆。你的辦公桌變得越來越凌亂。你參加每週銷售會議，隱約想起自己曾經有一個改進它的好主意。同事們陸續休假歸來，你問他們假期過得如何。你根本沒有在聽答案。他們看起來那麼健康、那麼精力充沛。你覺得自己好像又有點感冒了。你急需放個假。■ -- Hosting provided by SoundOn

  ListenShow Notes

Based on semantic analysis of episode topics and host coverage, this show is a strong guest fit for executives in:

Industry fit is computed by PitchCentric using vector embeddings of the show's episode catalog.