Stanford Report: The First Lady of the United States, Michelle Obama, spoke at SCPKU today and said study abroad allows students to realize that countries all have a stake in each other's success.  Following her remarks, she held a conversation with students on the Stanford campu via SCPKU's Highly Immersive Classroom. Read more.

This article was written by Dr. David Grossman, founding Director of BAYCEP and SPICE, and draws on a conference paper that he presented in 1978. The updated excerpt and photos (taken in 1974 in the People's Republic of China) were reprinted with permission from Dr. Grossman. Dr. Grossman was the Director of SPICE from 1976 to 1988. This is the first of several articles—focusing on the 50-year history of SPICE—that will be posted this year. 

Prior to World War II, the systematic study of Asia in American schools was rare. Studies of school textbooks found that the few references to Asia were marked by paternalism and stereotypes at best, and by racism and imperialist assumptions at worst. Following U.S. involvement in World War II and the Korean War, there was a notable increase in Asian studies at the collegiate level. At the pre-collegiate level, however, this growing attention to Asia was largely reflected in the addition of a Cold War dimension to the civics curriculum. In this context, China was typically studied as a geopolitical adversary, portrayed even more negatively than the Soviet Union.

In February 1972, a dramatic shift occurred in the tone of U.S.–China relations as a result of President Richard Nixon’s surprise visit to China. This watershed moment generated a surge in public demand for more current and reliable information about China and created new opportunities for reconsidering how China might be taught in American schools.

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While the roots of the Bay Area China Education Project (BAYCEP) can be traced to earlier initiatives, the pivotal moment in its development was the June 1972 Wingspread Conference, “China in the Schools: Directions and Priorities.” Previous meetings addressing China education had been convened by professional organizations such as the Association for Asian Studies (AAS), but what distinguished the Wingspread Conference was its timeliness. The three sponsoring organizations—the National Committee on U.S.–China Relations, the Center for War/Peace Studies, and the Johnson Foundation—shared a widely held belief that the moment was ripe for a focused effort to improve education about China in American schools.

One of the central themes of the Wingspread discussions was a critique of prevailing models of scholar–teacher interaction, particularly the assumption that scholars should serve merely as visiting lecturers. Conference participants urged China scholars to become more attentive to the needs of teachers and school systems and to conceive of their work as part of a reciprocal, two-way process. In perhaps the most influential proposal to emerge from the conference, Yale historian Jonathan Spence called for the development of a cohort of “scholar consultants” who would be both substantively knowledgeable and pedagogically sensitive. This idea would become a cornerstone of BAYCEP.

Ultimately, BAYCEP was the only program to emerge directly from the Wingspread Conference. As early as August 1972, Stanford professor John Lewis convened a meeting of San Francisco Bay Area educators and scholars focused on “Teaching China in the Schools.” This group subsequently submitted a proposal to the National Endowment for the Humanities under the auspices of the National Committee on U.S.–China Relations. The proposal was successfully funded and outlined a pilot project designed to strengthen humanities teaching in Bay Area schools by creating new mechanisms of cooperation between university scholars and pre-collegiate educators. It emphasized the educational value of Chinese history, society, and culture for enhancing multicultural education and sought to organize locally available resources on China through consultancy relationships, training programs, and curriculum materials that could later be adapted for use in other communities and fields of study.

The transition from this broad mission statement to a fully functioning program was not linear. Stakeholders debated the project’s target audience, the selection of appropriate content, and staff qualifications. Acceptance of a China-focused initiative in schools was by no means assured; at one point, a district superintendent rejected participation on the grounds that the project constituted “Communist propaganda.” The underlying challenge was to design a China-focused program that was both curriculum-relevant and pedagogically sound.

In this regard, BAYCEP’s most innovative component was the development of an associate, or “scholar intern,” program intended to strengthen links between universities and schools. Graduate students and recent graduates in Chinese studies or related education programs were appointed as project associates. These associates underwent intensive training and mentoring to familiarize them with effective pre-collegiate teaching methods and available instructional resources, which were notably scarce at the time. They then worked directly with teachers through professional development workshops, helping translate scholarly knowledge into classroom practice.

Although BAYCEP was not initially conceived as solely a curriculum development project, the need for instructional materials soon became apparent. In collaboration with university scholars and classroom teachers, the project first produced guides to recommended resources on China. As these guides proved necessary but insufficient, BAYCEP later developed instructional units on topics such as the Chinese language, family life, education, sports, and stereotyping. As with the professional development workshops, careful attention was given to both substantive content and pedagogical effectiveness.

True to its original mission, BAYCEP emerged as a model for linking university scholarship with pre-collegiate education. In subsequent years, parallel projects focusing on Japan, Latin America, Africa, and Eastern and Western Europe were initiated. Together with BAYCEP, these initiatives were brought under a common umbrella in 1976, enabling collaboration and cross-fertilization across area studies. This umbrella program—the Stanford Program on International and Cross-Cultural Education (SPICE)—continues to operate to this day.

Beyond its immediate contributions to China education, BAYCEP’s enduring legacy lies in its redefinition of the relationship between universities and pre-collegiate schools. By institutionalizing the role of the scholar consultant and embedding graduate students and recent graduates within K–12 professional development, BAYCEP moved beyond episodic outreach toward a sustained, collaborative model of knowledge exchange. Its emphasis on pedagogical relevance, mutual learning, and curriculum integration anticipated later approaches to public scholarship and teacher professionalization in area studies. The success of BAYCEP also demonstrated that international and cross-cultural education could be both academically rigorous and responsive to local educational contexts, even amid political uncertainty. As the foundational program within what became SPICE, BAYCEP served not only as a prototype for subsequent regional initiatives but also as a durable model for translating university-based scholarship into meaningful educational practice—an approach that continues to shape international education well beyond its original historical moment.

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This essay was first published by Seoul National University's Institute for Future Strategy. You can also view the Korean version.

Technological hegemony surrounding artificial intelligence (AI) has emerged as a central facet of national economies and security. Global competition among countries and corporations to secure high-level talent has intensified into a matter of survival. Worldwide demand for AI talent now exceeds supply by more than threefold. In Silicon Valley, AI dominates the discussion, and competition among big tech firms to attract talent is escalating. Ultimately, the rivalry between the United States and China will be decided not only by capital or technology but by who succeeds in attracting and retaining global talent.

In South Korea, concerns over talent outflows from Korea are growing. Last year, Korea ranked fourth among the 38 OECD countries in terms of AI talent outflow. Compared to other advanced economies, Korea’s AI industrial ecosystem remains underdeveloped, while overseas firms offer better compensation and research environments. The recent phenomenon of 56 Seoul National University professors relocating abroad over the past four years, a “new brain drain,” must be understood in this broader structural context.

This reality is also clearly reflected in the Global Talent Competitiveness Index, published annually by INSEAD. Korea ranked 31st this year, a position disproportionately low relative to its economic standing, and fell seven places compared to two years ago. In particular, Korea performed poorly in attracting and retaining talent, ranking 55th and 37th, respectively. These findings suggest that, beyond economic incentives, social, cultural, and environmental factors play a decisive role in talent mobility.

Korea’s talent outflow is especially alarming because it coincides with record-low fertility rates and rapid population aging. Before this convergence hardens into irreversible decline, Korea must establish a Ministry of Human Resources to oversee a comprehensive national talent strategy and devise systemic measures for talent development, attraction, and utilization.
 

Talent Portfolio Theory
 

In a recent book published by Stanford University Press, The Four Talent Giants, I proposed a framework titled “talent portfolio theory.” Just as financial investment strategies adopt a portfolio approach, national talent strategies should also be portfolio-based, emphasizing diversification to minimize risk and continuous adjustment (rebalancing). In other words, just as financial portfolios are composed of cash, stocks, real estate, and bonds, talent portfolios consist of four elements—the “4B's”: brain train, brain gain, brain circulation, and brain linkage.

Moreover, just as investors design different portfolios, each country’s talent portfolio varies depending on its economic needs as well as cultural and institutional contexts. Japan, Australia, China, and India (all discussed in the book) include all four B's but have constructed distinct portfolios that contributed to their respective economic development. A portfolio approach transcends the traditional binary of “brain drain versus brain gain” and offers a more comprehensive and flexible framework for understanding national talent strategy, one that is particularly relevant for Korea.

First, “brain train” refers to developing domestic human resources through education and training. It is a fundamental element of any portfolio. In Japan’s portfolio in particular, homegrown talent accounts for a large share. Japan has favored domestically educated and trained talent over foreign or overseas-trained individuals, making them the backbone of its economic development.

By contrast, Australia places greater emphasis on “brain gain.” Brain gain involves importing foreign labor, and approximately 30 percent of Australia’s workforce is foreign-born. Until the 1970s, Australia upheld the “White Australia” policy, but a major shift toward multiculturalism subsequently elevated brain gain to a central position in its portfolio. Brain gain pathways include the study-to-work route, where international students remain for employment, and the work-to-migration route, where individuals enter on work visas and later settle. Australia has effectively utilized both pathways.

“Brain circulation” involves bringing back nationals who were educated or employed abroad, and it has been critical to China’s portfolio. Following China’s opening in the 1980s, Chinese nationals came to represent the largest share of participants in the global talent market, including international students. Approximately 80 percent of them returned to China after the 2000s. Known as haigui (sea turtles), these returnees played prominent roles in China’s science, technology, education, and economy, supported by numerous central and local government programs designed to promote talent circulation.

“Brain linkage” refers to those who do not return home after studying or working abroad but instead serve as bridges between their host countries and their homeland. By leveraging their local networks, social capital, they support their home country from abroad, making this a key component of India’s portfolio. India refers to them as a “brain bank” or “brain deposit,” exemplified by leaders of Silicon Valley big tech firms such as Google CEO Sundar Pichai.

However, all talent portfolios carry inherent risks. When adjustment is delayed or fails, risks can escalate into crises with negative effects on the broader economy. The experiences of the four countries illustrate this point.

Japan has faced two major risks. A talent strategy centered on domestic talent weakened its global competitiveness, while demographic decline reduced its labor pool. Although Japan actively attracted foreign students to increase brain gain, its exclusive social and cultural environment limited their integration into the workforce after graduation. While there are many reasons behind Japan’s “lost 30 years” since the 1990s, one factor was its failure to adjust a portfolio overly concentrated on domestic talent in a timely manner.

Australia has confronted rising anti-immigration sentiment and tensions with China. Public concern grew over excessive immigration and perceived threats to national identity, prompting the government to tighten immigration policies. Amid conflict with China, Australia diversified its foreign talent sources from China to India and Southeast Asia. The pandemic, which restricted cross-border mobility, dealt a severe blow to Australia’s talent attraction efforts.

In China’s case, despite aggressive brain circulation policies, top-tier global talent has remained hesitant to return, as relinquishing careers built abroad is not easy. China accordingly shifted its focus toward brain linkage for these elite individuals. At the same time, brain circulation and linkage strategies became a source of friction with the United States, and rising anti-immigration and anti-China sentiment in the U.S. and Europe reduced opportunities for study and employment abroad. Recently, China has adjusted its portfolio to strengthen domestic talent development.

India, despite its strong brain linkage, remains vulnerable to brain drain. However, as economic opportunities expand domestically, return migration has increased, gradually reshaping its portfolio composition.
 

What Should Korea’s Talent Portfolio Strategy Be?

What, then, about Korea? Let us examine Korea’s situation by comparing it with the four countries through the lens of talent portfolio theory.

Brain train: Human resources have been critical to Korea’s economic development, with the government playing a central role. Key examples include preferential policies for technical and commercial high schools during the 1970s under the Park Chung Hee administration to support industrialization, and efforts to internationalize universities in the 1990s as part of globalization. While less dominant than in Japan, brain train has constituted a significant share of Korea’s talent portfolio.

Brain gain: Korea has imported low- and semi-skilled labor from China and Southeast Asia to fill so-called 3D jobs, but attraction of global high-level talent has remained limited. As in Japan, social exclusivity and cultural barriers continue to impede integration.

Brain circulation: Comparable to China, brain circulation has played a vital role in Korea’s economic development. Overseas education and experience have carried strong premiums, and China explicitly benchmarked Korea and Taiwan when designing its own policies.

Brain linkage: Compared to brain circulation, brain linkage has, until recently, occupied a relatively small share of Korea’s portfolio.

Facing the AI era, low fertility, and the crisis of a new brain drain, what strategy should Korea pursue in the global competition for talent? As noted above, rather than fragmented and ad hoc measures, Korea must comprehensively review and continuously adjust its talent strategy through a portfolio approach.

Brain train: Korea must cultivate talent for future industries, particularly in science and engineering. Training should be aligned with AI-related fields to better match university output with corporate demand. The excessive concentration of top students in medical schools must be corrected. Support mechanisms to retain domestic talent should be strengthened. A recent Bank of Korea survey of 1,916 science and engineering master’s and doctoral degree holders working domestically found that 42.9 percent of science and engineering master’s and doctoral graduates are considering overseas employment within three years—an alarming signal. While brain train will remain vital, its relative share is likely to decline.

Brain gain: As demographic crises intensify and the share of brain train diminishes, the necessity and importance of brain gain will grow. In particular, Korea must actively utilize the more than 300,000 foreign students currently in the country as human and social capital. At present, universities focus merely on filling enrollment quotas, and most foreign students either leave Korea immediately after graduation or remain employed only briefly. This, too, constitutes a form of brain drain. To increase the share of brain gain in the portfolio, foreign students must be managed holistically from selection to graduation and employment. While immigration is ultimately inevitable, it must be approached cautiously and deliberately, considering its impact on the domestic labor market and anti-immigration sentiment. Australia’s successful experience offers useful lessons.

Brain circulation: Although it occupies a relatively modest share of Korea’s portfolio, a certain level should be maintained. With declining numbers of students studying abroad and reduced inclination among overseas Koreans to return, care must be taken to prevent a sharp drop in this component. Otherwise, Korea risks losing global competitiveness, as Japan’s experience warns.

Brain linkage: Alongside brain gain, brain linkage is crucial to Korea’s portfolio adjustment. Key target groups include departing domestic talent (the new brain drain), foreign students, and the diaspora. Although their likelihood of reemployment in Korea is low, their potential for exchange and collaboration with Korea remains open. Like India, Korea should foster and support brain linkage by treating them as a “brain bank” or “brain deposit.”
 

Toward the Establishment of a Ministry of Human Resources

At the national level, a control tower is needed to design an optimal talent portfolio and make timely adjustments. Korea should establish a Ministry of Human Resources by consolidating functions currently dispersed across the Ministry of Education (universities and graduate schools), the Ministry of Science and ICT (R&D), and the Ministry of Employment and Labor (foreign employment support). It is worth recalling that Singapore, ranked first globally in talent competitiveness, established its Ministry of Manpower early on. Expanded and reorganized from the Ministry of Labor in 1998, it played a pivotal role in transforming Singapore into a talent powerhouse. Through education and development investments, Singapore strengthened domestic talent competitiveness while opening its doors to multinational talent, and it also implemented policies to promote talent circulation and linkage. From the perspective of talent portfolio theory, Singapore represents a successful case of diversification and continuous adjustment. In the increasingly fierce global competition for talent in the AI era, nations and firms that fall behind cannot secure their future. Korea is no exception.

The following is Part 12 of a multiple-part series. To read previous installments in this series, please visit the following articles: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, and Part 11.

Since December 8, 2020, SPICE has posted 11 articles that highlight reflections from 88 students on the question, “What does it mean to be an American?” Part 12 features seven additional reflections. The reflections below do not necessarily reflect those of the SPICE staff.

The free educational website “What Does It Mean to Be an American?” offers six lessons on immigration, civic engagement, leadership, civil liberties & equity, justice & reconciliation, and U.S.–Japan relations. The lessons encourage critical thinking through class activities and discussions. On March 24, 2021, SPICE’s Rylan Sekiguchi was honored by the Association for Asian Studies for his authorship of the lessons that are featured on the website, which was developed by the Mineta Legacy Project in partnership with SPICE.

Emma Estrada, California 
For me, being an American means utilizing all the opportunities provided by the country to the people. Being able to fulfill your hopes and dreams that seem impractical to accomplish. There is a meaning behind people coming to this country. It’s because they are in search of a fresh start and our nation’s liberty and individualism allows them to have one. America has many different cultures and beliefs to explore, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion. Being an American also means looking towards the future while remembering the past. There have been many people who came before us who sacrificed and fought for this country so that we could say that we are American. Living in this country allows us to not only correct but create new history to help improve our nation.

Miki Harris, California
To be American is to accept that I will never pass as one race. It is to accept that people may make a game out of guessing my ethnicity. It is to accept that I may feel out of place in family gatherings and countries of my ethnic origin.

But to be American is to realize the unique variation of people around me and celebrate it. It is learning cultural history in African American studies, trying my friend’s homemade tamales, or simply people-watching in the school hallways.

For me, having the freedom to decide where I fit and who I am is what it means to be American. How could I ever feel out of place when there is no one place to begin with?

Bo Ichiki, California
While living in Japan, I felt an overwhelming catalog of systematic milestones for success—attend a nice elementary school, get good grades, take extracurricular activities, attend a nice middle school, and eventually get accepted for a job at a successful company, known as ōte kigyō (大手企業). For me, being American is the governing of one’s own life. Here, society seems only to shadow who we are, and leave the outline and colors for ourselves to picture—good or bad. The freedom can result in too much for one to handle. In Japan, crime rates are much lower than those of the U.S., and the disparity of wealth is much smaller; there are fewer poverty-stricken citizens or incredibly rich individuals. In the U.S., there is less guidance on the “proper” way to become successful, which leads to the inconsistency that proves to be either the gift of abstract and unique innovations or the curse of poverty and being misled. Being American allows citizens to draw a new path to the good or to the bad. Being American grants the right of control.

Claire Ishimatsu, California
When I think of America, I think of freedom, particularly the freedom to learn about my culture. As a fifth-generation Japanese American, I grew up in a very American household where being Japanese wasn’t a large part of my life. Seeing my friends speak a second language and celebrate cultural holidays inspired me to explore my ancestral heritage. I learned that my grandparents were incarcerated in the Japanese American Incarceration Camps during World War II. They lived during a time when it was “wrong” to be of Japanese descent so they distanced themselves from their native tongue and traditions. Nonetheless, they remained proud Americans with some even fighting in the war against Japan. Hearing their experiences made me grateful for the freedoms I have today. Now my family celebrates Japanese holidays and traditions. I’m also taking Japanese at my high school, and slowly, the language has started to fill my house like it did a century ago. Being American means having the freedom to learn about and embrace my Japanese identity.

Jibhum Lee, Hawai‘i
clank...clank…clank

One hundred and seventy six years ago, immigrants from many countries as well as from other parts of the United States took on a perilous journey to California. They were drawn to the California Gold Rush. Accompanying them were rhythmic “clanks”—the sound of their tools, wagons, and buckles. At each step, a “clank” gave a powerful beat as they headed toward their destination. Being an American does not mean having a navy-blue passport with the gold-leafed “United States of America.” When I was young, I compared my green-covered Korean passport with the dark blue my eyes drowned in, thinking to myself, “When will I have that?” These things are arbitrary in comparison to the rhythmic beat every American carries—the sound of passion and trust in finding their North Star. “American” is a label too small for the people who make up this country. Yet, the “clanks” made by those who immigrated and struggled to keep their place in America are passed through generations. What unites us is this beat: sometimes loud and oftentimes soft, but always steady.

Sofia McGullam Ornelas, California
The United States has a rich history of asking the complex question: What does it mean to be an American? The answer to this question has varied according to the time, place, and context of when it has been asked. For example, there have been times in American history that excluded ethnic minority groups from full citizenship rights. Our country is a mosaic of different ethnic groups who have collaborated to improve civil rights. The diversity of the United States informs the idea that anyone can come here and make a better life for themselves, despite a history of certain federal administrations preventing immigration from various countries. Americans can and should point out systemic flaws and implement legislation that can provide protections for minority groups. For example, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. witnessed economic and racial inequities and drew attention to how unjust society was for people of color in the United States. The Civil Rights Movement led to the historic passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Ultimately, the meaning of being an American is always working to better this country for all its citizens while still proudly identifying and acknowledging one’s heritage.

Ryan Tonkovich, California
Most countries are founded on geographic, ethnic, and religious heritage. Not America. Unlike anywhere else, America is founded on ideas. It is these ideas that unite us as Americans and not some shared ancestral lands or a shared ethnic or religious heritage. For nearly 250 years, people have come to America seeking economic opportunity or fleeing poverty, war, and persecution. Because nearly every race, ethnicity, and religion is represented in America, it is not these elements that bind us as Americans. Rather, it is our fundamental beliefs. It is our belief in democracy, in freedom of speech, in freedom of assembly, in religious freedom, in equal protection under the law, in a nation of laws, and in “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” that defines us as Americans. 

My time in the Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan program was transformative. I came in with a jumble of passions and questions about the world and left with lifelong friends across the world, invaluable mentoring, and a clear vision.

Every session was a journey in and of itself. It combined strong individual and team preparation, presentations to and from amazing guest speakers, and reflective discussions at the end. This constantly pushed me and my peers to grow into better critical thinkers, speakers, listeners, and team players; high expectations yielded high results. I was amazed by the diversity of the guest speakers and the topics we dove into: design thinking, AI & philosophy, sustainability, and more. Each gave me new world perspectives and challenged me to think in ways I hadn’t before. I began pondering upon questions such as “How does this choice impact the world around me?” “Does philanthropy benefit the rich more than the underprivileged?” “How can we navigate a world of AI?” This in turn has helped me view entrepreneurship as something inherently social, a means of designing thoughtful solutions to real problems and ultimately making a positive difference in the world.

One of my most memorable moments was the final group presentation, where we advocated for a charitable organization that would receive a donation if picked by the judges. My group chose The Ocean Cleanup and devoted ourselves to understanding the socio-environmental consequences of plastic pollution, as well as presenting it in a way that would resonate with our audience. I vividly remember calling my group members past 2am one night out of pure excitement and motivation, giving feedback on each other’s slides and encouraging one another. We ended up winning! But even more than that, I am truly grateful for the relationships that SeEJ has gifted me.

In fact, as one of the few students living in the United States, I was so honored to share a screen with people from Okinawa to Hokkaido. So much so that I decided to create a Canvas announcement titled “SeEJ Hangout in Tokyo!!!!” Mission accomplished: I got to spend a few hours with my peers in person (in Shibuya!) after three months of Zoom boxes, which was an incredible and unforgettable experience.

SeEJ allowed me to embark on a journey of self-discovery as well. Through the individual research paper and 2-minute video on a social issue of choice—core pillars of SeEJ—I discovered my passion for nuclear disarmament. Growing up listening to my hibakusha (atomic bomb survivor) grandfather’s childhood stories, I never fully realized the power of his voice and my own. (Photo below courtesy of Erin Tsutsui.) Through SeEJ, I was able to name this passion and imagine a concrete path forward. Now, I commit myself to dismantling the mindset and weaponry that allows war to exist, as I am building a youth-led initiative that mobilizes and educates youth to spread hibakusha stories by utilizing digital media and grassroots engagements.

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None of this could have been possible without the generosity and dedication of our instructor, Dr. Makiko Hirata, and the incredible lineup of guest speakers who graciously shared their time, stories, and wisdom with us. They instilled in us empathy, bravery, tenacity, and a deep responsibility to care for our people and planet; I now see myself and my peers as visionaries, each with our own unique background and goals.

I thank Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan for teaching me that at the core of social entrepreneurship is community and humanity. One of our guest speakers, Ms. Megan Carroll, taught us a South African word that embodies this spirit: ubuntu—“I am because we are.”

Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan is one of several online courses offered by SPICE.

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The Economist included SCCEI Co-Director Hongbin Li's new book in their lineup of the best books of 2025. Here's what they had to say:

"The Highest Exam: How the Gaokao Shapes China. By Ruixue Jia and Hongbin Li with Claire Cousineau. 

The gaokao—China’s university entrance exam—shapes much of the country’s society, from pay to politics. Read this thoughtful book to learn how the test is the first of many tournaments in which the Chinese have to compete over the course of their lives."

See the full list: https://www.economist.com/culture/2025/11/20/the-best-books-of-2025