Tempting Talent
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“To stay or to return” was the theme of an address by Tsinghua University Medical School professor Lu Bai given at the Harvard University School of Public Health in November 2013. Having lived and worked in the US for 23 years before returning to China in 2008， Lu knows this dilemma is on the minds of all overseas students， graduates and skilled workers.
Born in the late 1950s， Lu Bai experienced China’s outbound educational gold rush in the years immediately following the launch of Reform and Opening-up in the 1980s. Huge numbers of Chinese graduates， motivated by the relaxation of travel restrictions and the educational opportunities offered abroad flooded to developed countries， particularly the United States.
According to a report by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development， between 1990 and 1997， over 87 percent of Chinese PhDs in science and engineering fields chose to remain abroad after completing their studies， leading the media to call Tsinghua University and Peking University “the most fertile breeding ground for future American PhDs.”
The overwhelming trend has seen a shift in the last five years， as employment opportunities dried up and immigration restrictions were tightened abroad in the wake of the financial crisis. China， meanwhile， seemed a land of opportunity， with its dramatic economic growth， growing international status and ongoing domestic reform programs. In 2007， a report by the Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation proposed a new term， “reverse brain drain，” warning that the US was suffering its first “loss of talent” in its history， with highlyskilled educational migrants from developing countries like China and India leaving the US after graduation.
A recent report on Chinese overseas students by the Center for China & Globalization， a non-government research center based in Beijing， echoed these conclusions. The report revealed that only one fourth of a total 1.21 million overseas students returned to China in the years 1978 to 2007， while 57 percent chose to return home between 2008 and 2012. In 2012 alone， about 70 percent of overseas students returned to China.
Government think tanks claim that China’s “talent-hunting” programs， launched since 2008， have played a big role in reversing the brain drain. Some experts believe China will have a “bumper crop” of what are referred to as “returning talents” in the next five years.
Others， however， have voiced doubts as to just how beneficial the return of ever-greater numbers of overseas students is to the country’s development， particularly those who return to academia.
The government’s response has been yet another incentive program. At the end of 2012， “the 10，000-talent” program， open to both domestic and overseas academics， invested millions of yuan in attempting to attract the world’s greatest minds to China’s seats of learning.
The Lure of Return
When Lu Bai waved goodbye to his mother country in 1985， he told himself he would never come back to such a backward place. His determination was rocked in 1998 when he was shown a 60-storied skyscraper in Shanghai during a brief visit. “I was shocked that the once-shabby Lujiazui suburb has turned into such a luxurious CBD. I thought it a pity I had nothing to do with this transformation！” he said.
Having taken the post of senior researcher with the US National Institutes of Health （NIH） at the time， Lu Bai began working as a consultant for China’s Ministry of Science and Technology in the 1990s. He participated in the drafting of the country’s middle and long-term program for scientific and technological development（2006-2020）. He suggested introducing overseas experts into the appraisal panel of China’s National Natural Science Foundation， and this rebalanced the entire body into the country’s most fair and transparent organization for the distribution of scientific funding. He also collaborated with two scientists， Rao Yi and Mei Lin， both of whom had also returned from overseas study， to establish a medical lab， the predecessor of Shanghai’s current Institute for Neuroscience under the Chinese Academy of Sciences.
“We complain about everything in China， except the opportunities，” Lu Bai told his Harvard audience.
According to a 2011 survey by David Zweig， a professor of sociology from Hong Kong University of Science and Technology， the principle reason behind a return home for an overseas student is “the promise that they can do whatever they want.”
That is just what China’s talent programs promise overseas graduates. For example， China’s first government headhunting program for highly skilled Chinese graduates overseas （usually called the “2，000 Talent” program and labeled the “most ambitious” by overseas media） provides those selected with impressive remuneration packages and top college positions.
Lu Bai， for example， one of these “2，000，” serves as standing deputy director of the Tsinghua University School of Medicine. His counterparts Rao Yi and Shi Yigong are also on the list， appointed directors of the Peking and Tsinghua universities’ respective schools of life sciences upon their return.
Leaps and Bounds
Launched in December 2008， the 2，000 Talent program has， according to Chinese domestic media， attracted 3，319 “overseas talents”back to China by the end of 2012， much higher than its original target of 2，000. Reports claimed that by the end of 2012， China had established 112 technical bases and 260 scientific parks just to absorb the influx of returning graduates， programs funded by some 17，000 enterprises.
Such “achievements” have been questioned by those more directly experienced with the effects of these programs， many of whom are skeptical of the government’s strategy of micro-managing academia. Cao Cong， a deputy professor from the School of Contemporary Chinese Studies， University of Nottingham， for example， accused the program of being “a Great Leap Forward，” saying the government’s thirst for quick success has turned the policy into “a political vanity project to allow local governments， the universities and scientific institutions to show off.”
The most controversial element of the program， widely criticized by academics， is the leeway offered to “returned academics” to keep one foot in China and the other overseas. While receiving huge research grants， some were revealed to only occasionally visit China to deliver lectures or attend conferences.
In July 2010， Fang Shimin， an Internet whistle-blower who blogs under the name Fang Zhouzi and a major critic of academic fraud， questioned Shi Yigong’s qualifications when he attempted to apply for national funding while allegedly continuing to work for Princeton University. Although Shi argued that he was then “in a transitional period” and had formally resigned from the prestigious Ivy League college， the allegations drew unwanted attention to other leading academics who had returned to China as part of the government’s incentive programs.
Two years later， Lu Jun， another “2，000 Talent” program participant， was exposed as having faked all his academic credentials which he claimed he had obtained overseas. This led to mass public disillusionment in the government program. “So the program was just designed to allow frauds to steal the country’s money which should have been given to more qualified [domestic] academics？” wrote Fang Zhouzi.
Cao Cong predicted that over 90 percent of the 2，000 Talent program participants never took up full-time positions in China. “When the program simply became a performance index， it ceased to work. It just confused participants，” he said. “Nobody would feel happy when they found their overseas counterparts could make big money simply by returning to China now and again，” he added.
Such contradiction was made public in August 2011 when Rao Yi and Shi Yigong both lost their campaigns for the title of Academician With the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences， China’s highest academic honor. Their failure was barely noted by the body itself， and media speculated that they were snubbed simply because their permanently China-based peers wished to ostracize them.
“I don’t agree that universities adopt preferential policies toward returned professors，” an economics professor surnamed Xu from a university in Zhejiang told NewsChina. “They are not all superior to us， and usually know less about China’s actual situation.”
Two to 10
Pressured by mounting controversy over the 2，000 Talent program， the Chinese government launched a more incremental “2，000 Young Talent” program in 2011， aiming to absorb 2，000 overseas talents under 40 years old by 2015， 400 each year， with their permanent resettlement in China a requirement of participation. Government officials speculated that younger graduates would experience a smoother transition back into Chinese academia after spending only a few short years abroad.
This program was followed by a much bigger “10，000 Talent” program in 2012. The government vowed to enroll 10，000 top graduates back into domestic institutions within 10 years， and lend “special national support” to their studies.
According to State media， the program was an attempt to “ease the conflict” between domestic and overseas academics by opening up opportunities to both. “The [10，000 Talent] program is designed to arouse domestic academics’ initiative in research. It will work in coordination with the 2，000 Talent program，” one relevant official told the media.
In January 2013， Party mouthpiece the People’s Daily publicized the names of the first 100 selected academics under this new program， with Xue Qikun， a physics professor from Tsinghua University who first discovered the Anomalous Quantum Hall Effect， at the top of the list.
“Xue has the potential to win a Nobel Prize and become a worldstandard scientist，” ran the gushing article， which immediately drew flak from other publications.
“How ridiculous that the government thinks Nobel winners are‘produced’ by some project or program，” commented a post on ， China’s most popular science portal. Academics across the country ridiculed the government’s attitude to academia as being the same as its attitude to Olympic medals every accolade is a feather in the Party’s cap.
The government denied these accusations. “The media have misled the people into believing that the [10，000 Talent] program aims for Nobel prizes，” an insider working with the Chinese Academy of Sciences who participated in the talent selection process told NewsChina.“Actually the official documents mention nothing about the Nobel Prize. We have much higher goals.”
High Bar
This “much higher goal，” however， is also a numbers game claiming more international academic celebrities than any other nation. Sun Xueyu， the director of the government’s talent-hunting team， said an academic conference that China aims to shift its economic growth model “from population to skills dependence.”
This is a daunting task. In Cao Cong’s eyes， such top-down programs led by bureaucrats are of a strong administrative stripe. In that respect they mirror Chinese academia， which compartmentalizes and restricts research according to the political winds and the attitudes of faculty， rather than encouraging study for the sake of study.
Since the “2，000 Talent” program was launched， there has been a certain weakening of university bureaucracy in a few areas that have embraced the ideas of returning and foreign students. However， the general academic environment remains， according to many academics， stifling. Many returned academics have complained that they struggle to fit in China as much， even more so， than they ever did abroad.
“I have tried very hard to erase the American stamp on me in other people’s eyes I even feel reluctant to speak English，” complained Xu Tao， a program member with an American passport who now works for Peking University. He told our reporter that he also feels unable“to deal with Chinese social intercourse，” specifically the rampant drinking culture. “If I refuse to drink， they [other Chinese academics] criticize me for being an arrogant American. But if I take a drink， they sneer and say ‘Aha， Americans are just so-so.’”
In September， Xu was told that Peking University would terminate his contract as director of the school’s Health Science Center， which was scheduled to finish in 2017.
“They told me I was to be terminated because of my American nationality， but I was already an American citizen before they invited me back，” he said. He then attributed his fall to some “reforms” he had launched which were unpopular with the political establishment at the university. His adoption of elections for mid-level faculty saw 78 percent of the former leadership out of work， landing Xu many enemies. He also refused to sign approvals for any research conducted for commercial purposes， causing many to lose their sources of gray income.
Xu is not alone. In November 2013， Guan Minxin， another 2，000 Talent program member serving as director of the School of Life Sciences， at Zhejiang University， was removed from his post for no clear reason.
“The school even said I did nothing wrong， that my dismissal was in the interests of ‘stability，’” Guan told the media.
“I introduced academics and won government funding for several programs which aroused jealousy， and so some people squeezed me out，” he continued. According to the media， Guan was edged out in voting by another professor outside the Center， who admitted he had no idea where all his votes had come from.
“The deeper root of the conflict between overseas and domestic academics actually lies in China’s unfair academic system which has been warped by the struggle for power and influence，” said Li Xia， a professor of the History of Science from Shanghai Jiaotong University.
This is also the reason why Rao Yi announced that he would never again compete for the title of Academician， criticizing China’s academic circles for being polluted by a culture of nepotism.
“In addition to financial considerations， the reverse brain drain is underpinned by a fairer and freer overseas environment in which young academics care more than the older generation，” said Cao Cong. “In terms of retaining its talent， China has a long way to go.”