Arc’teryx Is Cooked in China
Chinese consumers' generational value clashes behind the terrible marketing move
Last call for our China tour in Shanghai & Hangzhou, taking place October 27–30. This consumer and tech discovery tour will visit companies that represent China’s growing consumer and technology sectors, such as Alibaba AI, Deep Robotics, Proya, and JNBY Group. Check out the full itinerary here.
On September 19, Chinese firework artist Cai Guoqiang and outdoor apparel brand Arc’teryx jointly staged a fireworks display called “Ascending Dragon” (“升龙”) in Relong Township, Gyantse County, in the Tibet Autonomous Region. The display — set at roughly 5,500 meters altitude — consisted of three sequences of fireworks along the Himalayan mountainous ridge, with imagery meant to evoke a dragon — a powerful symbol of vitality and prosperity and one of the most enduring cultural totems in Chinese history.
Soon after videos of the event circulated online, the display triggered intense backlash over environmental and cultural concerns. Netizens began calling for a boycott of Arc’teryx, arguing that setting off fireworks in such a fragile alpine ecosystem risked disturbing wildlife, damaging slow-growing vegetation, and polluting the high-altitude environment. Many also criticized the spectacle as disrespectful to local traditions, which hold mountains as sacred and discourage loud disturbances. The sponsored firework show is the complete opposite of environmental protection and respect for nature—values that strongly resonate with China’s affluent urban middle class and outdoor enthusiasts, who form Arc’teryx’s core customer base.
Some netizens have even extended the boycott to Anta Sports (2020.HK), the Chinese sportswear conglomerate that acquired Arc’teryx’s parent company, Amer Sports (AS:NYSE), in 2019 and now effectively owns the brand.
It’s evident that the firework installation had terrible aesthetics and was an obviously poor idea for an outdoor brand, yet it’s just uncanny how such a decision was made. Many are struck by the fact that both Cai and the Arc’teryx team initially seemed to enjoy and celebrate the show as a huge success.
In today’s newsletter, I want to give you more context on what this controversy reveals about Chinese consumers — and why the backlash goes beyond environmental concerns to reflect deeper social and cultural shifts.
How Arc’teryx managed to anger the full spectrum of Chinese consumers
Speaking generally (and perhaps a bit stereotypically), Chinese consumers have very different values and attitudes toward brands. Urban middle-class consumers and those living in more remote regions, rural areas, or less economically developed cities often care about completely different things.
For example, we’ve previously discussed how nationalism can be an effective marketing tool for certain consumer segments — particularly those from less economically developed regions or with limited exposure to foreign culture. These consumers might feel justified boycotting Nongfu Spring bottled water just because nationalist influencers claimed the bottle cap resembled the Japanese flag. The same narrative, however, generates almost zero resonance among the urban middle class.
The fact that Cai Guoqiang’s fireworks show, sponsored by Arc’teryx, managed to get both groups to finally agree — and get angry at the same time — shows just how little the team understood the Chinese consumer market.
The rising urban middle class
“ESG” — a concept that originated in the 2000s and gained significant material impact in North America and Europe — has existed in China for years, but mostly as a buzzword. For a long time, corporate references to “environmental friendliness“ or “social responsibility“ were treated as nice-to-have branding or merely compliance with basic regulations, rather than as priorities with real financial impact. For one thing, investment decisions in China were rarely bound by ESG mandates, and it's common for consumers to choose price and convenience over whether a brand truly embodied ESG values. (Realistically speaking, many consumers simply lacked the awareness, tools, or access to evaluate how a company performed on ESG benchmarks.)
But that is changing. In recent years, China’s urban middle class has begun voting with their wallets, willing to spend real money to support brands that align with their values.
Arc’teryx has seen spectacular expansion in China thanks to the post-COVID boom in outdoor sports. In Q1 and Q2 this year, the brand posted double-digit year-on-year sales growth despite the broader consumer slowdown — proof that demand from affluent consumers remains robust. But its increasingly aggressive expansion in China has also widened the gap between its current positioning and the values that originally built its reputation as a professional outdoor brand.
Arc’teryx, which first won over hardcore outdoor enthusiasts in the 1990s with its technical hardshell jackets, has in recent years faced criticism in China for drifting away from its image as a serious outdoor brand.
On Chinese social media, Arc’teryx is sometimes playfully called an example of “厅局风” — literally “bureau-chief style” — referring to understated but pricey outfits that project status and authority. The look is polished and professional, but its purpose is more about signaling taste and success. This trend reflects the brand’s growing popularity among city dwellers who appreciate its design and quality but may wear it mostly in urban settings rather than on the mountain. They may not be diehard outdoor enthusiasts, but they form a large base of affluent Chinese who can afford a jacket like Arc’teryx. For critics, this shift has turned Arc’teryx into more of a status symbol — a way to signal an “outdoorsy” lifestyle — rather than a brand strictly defined by its pure outdoor performance.
Many outdoor enthusiasts argue that Arc’teryx’s management has lost touch with the outdoor spirit that once defined the brand. They point out that a true outdoor enthusiast would never have approved a fireworks show that risks damaging the very landscapes where Arc’teryx gear is meant to be worn. To them, the backlash over the event felt less like a one-off mistake and more like the inevitable result of a brand now led by people who no longer live and breathe the outdoors.
Apart from environmental issues, China’s urban middle class — especially those born in the 1980s and 1990s — is paying more attention to how socially responsible companies are. For example, this year more and more netizens are boycotting products from companies that follow the “996 schedule,” the notorious work culture requiring employees to work 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week, often without clear overtime pay. On Xiaohongshu (Red Note), people are sharing lists of companies that mistreat employees and avoiding their products.
The conversation hasn’t yet reached a level that creates real, measurable impact on companies. (And, frankly speaking, it’s hard to determine which brands are fully compliant across their supply chains). But the fact that more young consumers are talking about it shows the urban middle class is shifting toward values-driven purchases, not just buying based on price or convenience — a mindset closer to what one would see in North America and Europe.
Conservative and traditional consumers in lower-tier cities and rural areas
The fireworks show happened on September 19, just one day after September 18, a sensitive date for all Chinese people, as it marks the anniversary of the Mukden Incident—the pretext for Japan’s invasion in 1931 and the beginning of a decade of national tragedy and historical humiliation.
Many netizens escalated their anger, discussing whether the artist Cai Guoqiang and his family hold foreign passports or permanent residency. It’s not actually clear whether they still hold Chinese passports, but both of Cai’s daughters were born and raised abroad (in Japan and the US).
The broader context is that celebrities and entrepreneurs who hold foreign passports or PR while continuing to monetize within mainland China have become a sensitive—and often problematic—image, and Cai is far from a unique case.
For instance, in my previous newsletter, “The Fall of China’s Iconic National Brand,” I discussed how obtaining foreign green cards or sending second-generation children abroad shifted from being a widely accepted practice among Chinese elites to a sensitive issue that now requires discretion in recent years:
Following China's decades of rapid economic growth, it became common—almost standard practice—for successful entrepreneurs and affluent families to obtain foreign green cards or passports, most notably from the United States and Canada. It also became standard practice for business leaders to send their children—the so-called second generation—to study abroad, with the U.S. and Canada again being top destinations.
These were as much personal choices as strategic ones. For companies seeking global markets or planning to IPO overseas, registering in the Cayman Islands was considered a standard step for accessing foreign capital markets.
But in today's charged social atmosphere, these once-routine practices have become dangerous liabilities. Some consumers now question the national loyalty of business owners. A foreign passport or offshore holding company can be twisted into damning "evidence" of betrayal. Whether a company is a true "Chinese national enterprise" carries far more weight today than ever before.”
Even Aileen Gu, the Chinese-American skiing athlete who won gold for the Chinese team at the Beijing Winter Olympics and has done absolutely no apparent harm to China, received very mixed reviews on Chinese social media. While many praised her sporting excellence and personal character, a large number of netizens expressed resentment over her (unconfirmed) dual identity and ambiguous nationality. At the end of the day, it’s simply a fact that many Chinese consumers do feel a disconnect with celebrities like her, seeing them as elites who lack awareness of their privilege and who make money in China without being “100% Chinese.”
Cai Guoqiang, given his family background and the timing of the fireworks show on a sensitive date, has undoubtedly become a target of Chinese netizens. The use of “dragon” imagery also sparked widespread discontent over potential cultural appropriation among Chinese netizens, with some even accusing Cai of deliberately sabotaging the Feng Shui of the mountainous region, where they believe the Dragon vein lies.
Many bluntly wrote on social media: “I’m not a target client of Arc’teryx, and I admit I can’t afford one, but I will boycott all brands under Anta Sports.”
While Arc’teryx does not account for the majority of Anta Sports’s total revenue, it is a substantial and fast-growing component of Anta’s “multi-brand, globalization” strategy. The anger among non-core Arc’teryx consumers will probably fade quickly, but it is worth monitoring whether resentment toward Anta as the parent company continues to fester. (We can share some data insights in the coming months.)
The even bigger context: how Chinese generations clash over values
What’s behind all these PR crises and consumer anger is a context that’s evident but less discussed—the one we explored in the story behind the Baiguan newsletter: China’s growth story is too unprecedented for linear thinking.
China has evolved from an agricultural to an industrial to a post-industrial cyber society in barely three decades. This implies that there are many vastly different population groups living under the same roof: foreign-educated white-collar workers switching from Starbucks to Luckin Coffee, elders who once experienced war and extreme poverty, middle-aged entrepreneurs who used to work in state-planned jobs before being laid off by the state, Gen-Z who grew up with mobile internet, rural migrant workers who switched from construction to food delivery, super-rich whose lifestyles were barely affected by the economic downturn but became more cultured and low-key... Many of China's contradictions come from the fact that all those pockets of people live in a society at the same time, and all public discourses and policies take this fact into account.
Generational divides are particularly stark. Those in power today—both in government institutions and corporations—were born in the 1960s and 70s, coming of age during China’s fastest industrialization. Meanwhile, the biggest consumers, born in the 1980s, 90s and 00s, have entirely different mindsets and values. The clash between these perspectives shapes much of the friction we see today.
For instance, apart from Arc'teryx's terrible marketing decision, another major topic discussed among netizens is how this firework show was even approved in the first place. A firework show of this scale in such a fragile alpine ecosystem would not have been possible without prior authorization from local officials. (In fact, Cai had previously applied to hold the firework displays in Japan and France, only to be rejected by both countries.) While China does have environmental protection laws, the lack of awareness among those in power demonstrates how actual social responsibility, such as law enforcement, has lagged behind the rapidly growing economy.
The difference in aesthetics is just as telling.
While Cai made a fool of himself with this recent fireworks show, he was once widely celebrated as an avant-garde modern artist in China. Born in Quanzhou in 1957, Cai rose to international renown over the past 30 years.
In 2015, his firework installation Sky Ladder—a 500-meter golden ladder dedicated to his centenarian grandmother and his hometown—deeply moved hearts of millions in China and abroad. In our previous newsletter What does China's “hometown of fireworks” tell about its county-level economy?, we highlighted how this work symbolized humanity’s exploration of the universe and the aspiration to reach greater heights, leaving a lasting impression on audiences.
Cai was also the designer of the iconic fireworks at the 2008 Beijing Olympics opening ceremony—a sequence shaped like a trail of footprints, symbolizing the Chinese people’s first steps onto the world stage. That display was truly epic, spectacular and felt genuinely inspiring.
A decade later, however, the same artist has overdone this aesthetic, evoking entirely different emotions.
In a sense, this coincides with China’s economic growth trajectory. Since the 1990s, as China entered its meteoric growth led by the Reform and Opening-up, millions of Chinese entrepreneurs made their names and built enterprises. Those who caught the generational opportunity of a China actively integrating into the global economy, are now in their late 50s and 60s. Many were made by the era, but the ear also left very clear marks on them.
Business expansion back then was fueled almost entirely by efficiency, cutthroat competition, and an almost “invasive” animal spirit. Many of the era’s most successful entrepreneurs weren’t necessarily the smartest, but they were relentless — often ruthless — and willing to take the biggest risks in pursuit of the absolute peak. Their entrepreneurial processes were often marked by highly authoritarian styles, with one boss ruling the entire company. Frankly, in a society that lacked physical goods and products in the 1990s, this leadership style was crucial for a company to survive among many others aggressively accumulating wealth and expanding markets.
The strong personal leadership and work culture carried by some older-generation entrepreneurs also makes today’s PR crises harder to manage. Even when the PR team knows the right course of action, they may struggle to convince a powerful boss—who is so convinced by their success in early years and often only becomes more stubborn with age.
Back then, consumers also admired “achievement” and “grandeur”—the ultimate scale—more than gentle, intimate, or individualistic values.
What could be a grander scale than “conquering” the Himalayas—the highest mountain range on Earth—using the imagery of a Dragon, a symbol of the ultimate Chinese spirit?
Cai himself even credits “the smart animal” for helping him execute a successful firework show and fulfill a lifelong dream from his youth. What is striking is that he did not realize how inappropriate and arrogant such a statement was—and neither did the Arc’teryx senior management, who gave green lights to the campaign.
After all, it is difficult for those with seniority, power, and fame to adopt a different mindset in later years. Many of them simply become obsessed with pursuing “higher and stronger,” and over time, lose self-awareness. This lack of self-awareness is evident in how many companies have failed to handle similar PR crises in China in recent years, with “the boss” often displaying arrogance that feels distant to the younger generation—often without even realizing it. Focusing on personal, strong leadership used to help many of them build business empires because it was the most efficient way to make decisions, but people can become disconnected from reality if immersed in that environment for too long.
For some, over time, it became more about the “I”—the ego—and less about the community that upholds those values. For this reason, I believe the Arc’teryx and Cai firework incident is not merely a case of bad PR or environmental infringement, but an important and valuable reminder—especially for those who take consumers for granted and fail to adapt to these social and cultural changes in China today.
The change in aesthetics also reflects the shifting social climate in China. It offers a glimpse into the many differences in values and the conflicts between generations: how the older generation prizes hard work, while the younger generation rejects the 996 culture; how fierce competition and extreme efficiency has morphed into involution; or how the younger generation increasingly regards “grandeur” as “grandiose” and unnatural rather than aesthetically satisfying.
As economic growth slows, people are also returning to deeper and more diverse values, rethinking the relationship between humans and nature, and questioning whether values that were once considered “truths”—such as efficiency, hard work, and winning at all costs—still hold two decades later.
Last call for our China tour in Shanghai & Hangzhou, taking place October 27–30. This consumer and tech discovery tour will visit companies that represent China’s growing consumer and technology sectors, such as Alibaba AI, Deep Robotics, Proya, and JNBY Group.
This tour takes you beyond glossy surfaces. You’ll meet both listed and pre-IPO companies, dine with local founders and investors, and visit the spaces—both digital and physical—where real consumer behavior takes shape.
If your investment thesis depends on understanding where China is going, not where it was, this trip is for you.
Check out full itinerary here:
