When Wang sat down for an interview with the BBC, his first question was unusual: “Are you a lobster?” He wasn’t joking. In China, the AI assistant OpenClaw has earned the nickname “lobster,” and Wang—an IT engineer—had been so immersed in it that he momentarily wondered if he was speaking to a machine rather than a journalist.
Encouraged by China’s leadership, artificial intelligence has become a national obsession, sparking both excitement and unease. OpenClaw, created by Austrian developer Peter Steinberger, is at the center of this wave. Built on open‑source technology, its code can be adapted to work with Chinese AI models—an advantage in a country where Western platforms like ChatGPT and Claude are blocked.
For Wang, the discovery was transformative. Running a side business selling gadgets on TikTok (despite the app being banned in China), he found that his customized “lobster” could automate the tedious process of uploading products. Tasks that once limited him to a dozen listings a day—writing descriptions, setting prices, messaging influencers—were suddenly multiplied. His AI could churn out 200 listings in just two minutes. “It’s scary, but also exciting,” he admitted.
OpenClaw’s popularity has spread quickly. Nvidia’s CEO Jensen Huang dubbed it “the next ChatGPT,” and Steinberger has since joined OpenAI. In China, though, the enthusiasm has taken on a unique cultural flavor. Tech giants like Tencent and Baidu have rolled out apps built on OpenClaw, while crowds of students, retirees, and entrepreneurs line up for free customized versions. Online, users boast about their lobsters analyzing stock trades, managing schedules, or even appearing in dreams.
Celebrities and executives have joined the frenzy. Comedian Li Dan told millions of followers he chats with his lobster in his sleep, while Fu Sheng, CEO of Cheetah Mobile, popularized the phrase “raising a lobster” to describe training the AI for personal use.
China’s embrace of open‑source AI didn’t happen overnight. The success of DeepSeek, a homegrown platform launched in 2025, revealed both the appetite for innovation and the willingness to adopt open systems despite restrictions on advanced tech imports. OpenClaw arrived at the perfect moment, with local governments offering subsidies and incentives—sometimes millions of yuan—to encourage entrepreneurs to integrate it into industries from manufacturing to robotics.
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This aligns with Beijing’s “AI Plus” strategy, which pushes companies to embed AI across sectors, from healthcare to transport. The competition is fierce: more than 100 Chinese AI models have emerged since 2023, though only a handful remain in serious contention.
Yet the hype has cooled somewhat. Using OpenClaw requires tokens, raising costs, and cybersecurity officials have warned of risks tied to improper installations. Some agencies have even banned staff from using it. Still, the government’s mixed signals haven’t dampened the sense that AI could help tackle pressing challenges—like youth unemployment, which sits above 16%. Incentives for “one‑person companies” powered by AI are aimed squarely at young people struggling to find work.
The pressure is intense. As one state newspaper put
“In 2026, if you don’t raise lobsters, you’ve already lost at the starting line.” Programmers say job applicants are now expected to have AI experience, and many fear being replaced.
Wang, however, remains unfazed. If his lobster eventually runs his TikTok shop without him, he says he’ll simply use AI to find another business. For him, the lobster isn’t a threat—it’s a lifeline
CREDIT; BBC NEWS.
