Launched in summer 2022, Stanford e-Sendai Ikuei is a collaborative course between the Stanford Program on International and Cross-Cultural Education (SPICE) and Sendai Ikuei Gakuen High School. The program offers Sendai Ikuei Gakuen High School students the opportunity to develop their English and critical thinking skills while examining their roles on a global scale. Stanford e-Sendai Ikuei is one of SPICE’s local student programs in Japan.

On October 28, I had the privilege of travelling to Sendai, Japan to attend the closing ceremony for the 2022 inaugural class of Stanford e-Sendai Ikuei. The trip was a precious opportunity to meet the students in-person for the first time, after five months of learning together over Zoom. While there, I considered the educational journey the students had taken that led up to this moment of accomplishment.

Stanford e-Sendai Ikuei was designed to challenge students to examine the world from new perspectives as they consider their own role on the global stage. To this end, the class was structured into three main topics: diversity, global citizenship, and entrepreneurship.

For the first topic, students examined diversity through the framework of the United States’ history of immigration and richly diverse population. Guided by guest speakers, the class engaged in thoughtful conversations on why stereotypes take root and how biases grow through systemic oppression. Students analyzed the work done by change makers and activists in the pursuit of inclusion and equity. Finally, students were able to reflect on the concept of identity and contemplate what their unique perspectives bring to the table.

In the second section of the program, students applied their self-reflections and understanding of diversity to discussions on what it means to be a global citizen. Lessons focused on establishing a general understanding of global issues and international collaboration and encouraged students to consider the global issues they hold important. Invited guest speakers generously shared their personal journeys of finding their passions to exemplify how the students might engage with global issues on a local and grassroots scale.

After feeling a bit overwhelmed by the weight of the world, students were eager to understand how to make these problems approachable. In our final unit on entrepreneurship, the class explored how Silicon Valley entrepreneurs applied a growth mindset—which normalizes and embraces failure to achieve success—to stay innovative and reach for new solutions. Students practiced their own innovation skills through Design Thinking and learned how to collaborate as a team to create stronger ideas. Lastly, the students considered how to take care of their mental health and well-being as they pursue their goals through practicing mindfulness and finding supports.

The program culminated in a final research project where students had the opportunity to take a turn in the instructor’s seat and teach the class about the issues that sparked their passion and curiosity. With a 3–5 minute presentation written and delivered in English, students challenged themselves to apply the communication skills, analysis, and self-reflection they had practiced throughout the course. They rose to the challenge with determination and compassion.

During the in-person closing ceremony, students came up one by one to share their reflections and lessons learned. Many of their statements echoed a similar tune—a confession of a nervous and intimidated mindset at the outset of the program, a desire to push themselves in order to broaden their skills and perspectives, and a goal to continue their learning journeys with empathy as their guide. Hearing the inaugural class’s conviction and sense of growth, I am grateful to have been a part of their education as young leaders, and I look forward to seeing where their curiosity takes them next.

I am enormously grateful to all of the Stanford e-Sendai Ikuei guest speakers for their shared knowledge, experience, and mentorship:

• Esther Priscilla Ebuehi, Birth Equity Analyst, Cherished Futures for Black Moms & Babies
• Kenji Harsch, Associate Clinical Social Worker, Fred Finch Youth & Family Services
• Makiko Hirata, Professional Pianist and SPICE Instructor
• Rebecca Jennison, Professor, Kyoto Seika University
• Sukemasa Kabeyama, Co-Founder and CEO, Uplift Labs
• Gary Mukai, Director, SPICE
• Jennifer Teeter, Lecturer, Kyoto Seika University
• Samanta Vásquez, Social Worker, Office of Refugee Resettlement
• Sam Yee, Senior Program Coordinator, GPI US, and the GPI US Design Team
   

I would like to give a special thank you to Principal Takehiko Katoh, the Sendai Ikuei Gakuen High School staff, and my partner coordinator at Sendai Ikuei Gakuen Rina Imagawa for their endless support and assistance to make this course possible.

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I was born and grew up in Uganda. I have also been lucky to travel and live in other African countries — Kenya and Botswana — as well as European countries, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. These adventures have helped me understand first-hand the diversities that exist between the Global North and the Global South. They have also taught me that in the journey to advance the socio-economic transformation of the Global South, international development partnerships play a vital role in complementing local development efforts.

Although the economic impediments that developing countries face are many, they are not impossible to address. Tackling them requires that we implement every viable intervention, national or international, big or small, private or public, that creates a positive change on people, systems and institutions. I have always been impact-driven and I would like to continue influencing the positive changes towards sustainable development from the international development perspective. This, in addition to my background career in the international development space, was a driving factor in wanting to join the Stanford community and pursue further studies in International policy.

Like many development economists, I am interested in a series of thematic areas but mostly, technology economics, energy, climate change, development finance, and the political economy aspects of developing countries. For example, I am interested in how we can use safe and secure digital solutions to promote financial inclusion, access to high quality education and health services, reduce inequalities, and create job opportunities in the Global South. This will be possible by bridging the gap between policies and practices, and by learning from the success stories already making an impact.

I am looking forward to both courses on technology policy and being able to observe the innovation ecosystem of Silicon Valley. I hope to learn how ideas in Silicon Valley might apply to developing the African digital economy, especially in supporting the African homemade digital solutions in a practical way.

To understand where I am now and why I’m so passionate about what I’m doing, it’s important to have some context about where I came from. I grew up in a really rough background. I was in foster care for most of my young life, and I only formally completed sixth grade before dropping out. I went to part of ninth grade, but when I was sixteen I became homeless with my young son.

Eventually, I did get my GED and tried going to community college for a while. But the processes for getting financial aid and registration were so difficult and frustrating to navigate that I became disillusioned with the entire system and dropped out. The systems weren’t just unhelpful; they were actively hurting. I got my resources together and got a van, and we went back on the road.

One day, I stopped in a Walmart parking lot to rest, and I saw some people passing out flyers and gathering signatures for a petition. I was so curious; I had never seen anything like that before! They invited me to their meetings to learn more. That lit a fire in me that changed everything. It was so much more than having an income for the first time in my life. It was about representation and having a voice. It was about voting to change things. It was about people having power.

My goals now are focused on food security and creating policies that prioritize basic needs. After my experience with working in canvassing, I went back to community college. Once there, I started to find students who were hungry and struggling with food. After doing some investigating, I learned that almost 60% of the student body had experienced some level of food insecurity in the last 30 days. That realization turned into a campaign to provide $20,000 in emergency food aid and serve hot meals on campus twice a week. The work we started was eventually adopted and transformed into the state-wide Hunger Free Campus initiative in Minnesota.

So many problems facing our societies have their roots in poverty, want, and broken systems that fail to serve people. There’s a real divide between people who need help from systems and the policymakers and people in power who are making the systems and moving things forward. I’ve lived the reality of one side of that equation. Everything I’ve done since at Yale and Cambridge, and what I’m doing now at MIP, is to try and build bridges and bring a different kind of context and perspective to the other side. I’m excited to work and learn from faculty like Marshall Burke and Roz Naylor at the Center for Food, Security, and the Environment, and to keep learning how to make policies and that work for people.
 

My interest in cyber started where it does for a lot of kids: with video games in high school. I found a coding modification for one of the games I liked playing that allowed me to get unlimited money. It was great for my success in the game, but it also made me really interested in how the software and programming worked. That got me into coding, which gave me the background I needed to eventually co-found Firo, which is a privacy-focused cryptocurrency.

That emphasis on privacy is important. Blockchain technology is very secure, but it still has some privacy issues that we need to think about more. We don’t want to be in a situation where in twenty years, cryptocurrencies and blockchains have the same kind of privacy concerns we’re currently seeing in our social media data.

Most people have probably heard about blockchain in the context of cryptocurrency, but it has the potential for many more other applications. One of the big issues in the world right now is finding ways to make it easier for more people to participate securely in democracy without interference from regimes or with questions over election integrity or voting security. Secure and private blockchains could be used in those situations.

The Stanford MIP program was actually the only program I applied to after I made the decision to come back to school, because of its unique focus on both cyber policy and cybersecurity, which are equally important, but not the same thing. I have technical experience in cyber security from my time in the military and my study at Johns Hopkins. The piece I’m missing is the cyber policy and thinking about how cyber interacts with society and government. MIP felt like the best place to learn about those kinds of issues and decision-making processes.

I’ve been cultivating a focus on West Africa and development in that region for a while now. Before coming back to school, I was working with Chemonics International, USAID’s largest implementing partner, on programs aimed at improving Haiti’s judicial sector, countering violent extremism in Mauritania, and facilitating agribusiness investments in the DRC.
 
Before Chemonics, I was in Benin as a Princeton-in-Africa Fellow, where I worked for the African School of Economics’ Institute for Empirical Research on impact evaluation of donor-funded programs. Being involved with the end results of a project made me more curious about the earlier phases of program development. How do donors choose where and how to intervene? Can programs truly align with both U.S. policy and host countries’ goals and priorities?

As a U.S Pickering Fellow, I am on my way to becoming a Foreign Service Officer (FSO), and I am excited to apply the knowledge I gain from Stanford professors with expertise on policy development and African affairs to obtain answers. I plan to study and work within West Africa’s economic sphere, hopefully collaborating with entrepreneurs, governments, and the private sector to improve the business-enabling environments in various countries, bolster the sustainability of private supply chains, and amplify the voices of women experts working within this realm.

There’s a freshness and flexibility at MIP that really appealed to me, as I wanted to tap into a network of people who have diverse interests and can provide a holistic perspective on these issues. Groups like the Stanford African Entrepreneurship Network have connected me to other like-minded individuals who are working towards Africa’s growth and sustainable development.
 
I’ll be working as an FSO for at least five years after my graduation, and I know I want to keep focusing on West Africa and Haiti. As a Nigerian-American, I am excited to approach my studies at Stanford through a lens that not only reflects African Studies with humility and interconnection, but also amplifies the voices of young continental Africans pushing these questions forward.

I had the opportunity to work for about four years at the Embassy of Mexico in the United States. It was while I was in Washington D.C. that I really started to think about and realize what a big topic cyberspace is. It’s so common in our lives, but we still don’t really understand a lot of the specifics about it. If you were to lose your phone, for example, you’d also be losing your bank account information, your email, and your contacts. Everything is so connected, the world is deeply embedded in the cyber domain, and because of this, we need more insight into how intersections between social phenomena and new technologies work.

Cyberspace and technologies come with this duality. On the one side, they are tools for growth and for progress, but on the other side, they can be very dangerous. For example, parallel to the breakout of the COVID-19 pandemic, we saw digital platforms become key avenues for political engagement as electoral campaigning went completely online. But all of this misinformation and lies about elections, and the pandemic itself, came out of that space. There’s a gap and a disconnect, sometimes, between what’s happening in the private sector in the companies that are building and running this tech and what’s happening in the public sector with understanding and responding to and regulating. These things evolve so fast that it can be hard for the legislation to keep up.

I’m particularly interested in understanding how online misinformation relates to political participation and influences vaccine hesitancy among minorities, especially Hispanics, Mexican Americans, and Mexicans living in the United States. Because Mexico is a very interconnected country in terms of access to social media, I seek to understand how communication technologies influence public issues in my country. There is already data showing that traditional policy issues like migration, gender violence, healthcare hesitancy, and civic participation are migrating from the physical world and changing and morphing in digital spaces. It is urgent that we understand that a lot better than we do.

There are a few places in the world that do what the Cyber Policy Center here at FSI does. We have these toolkits for traditional policymaking and solution finding, but we’re going to have to develop new toolkits for these new challenges, and places like the Cyber Center are actively trying to do that. To paraphrase Dr. Erin Meyer’s work, in a world that’s ever more connected, you cannot do things just the Mexican way, or the U.S. way; you have to figure out how to lead in a global way. We’re not going to opt out of interconnectedness, so let’s figure out how to work better together in these spaces.
 

I started my undergraduate career later than most, and because of that, I had an outlook to be very purposeful in how I spent my time. I wanted to work on something that was challenging and that I would find endlessly interesting. I chose political science and the Middle East, which led to an internship in Jordan. That turned into six years of work experience with a technology company that was using data and analytics to understand and quantify what was going on in digital spaces.

Through that work, I really started to appreciate the full implications that AI and other emerging technologies have in foreign policy. These technologies aren’t just something we need to contend with as threats and opportunities out there in the world. We need to understand how they’re changing the way we perceive others and ourselves.  

Six hundred years ago, the Gutenberg printing press completely transformed societies. The internet is doing the same thing today, we just don’t have a very clear understanding of what that process is creating. But based on what we’ve seen politically and geopolitically the last few years, it’s obvious we need to get our hands on the reins more and get better answers to these questions. 

I’m particularly interested in how technology is shaping the ways we’re learning to think about China and other emerging geopolitical powers. The international system is changing. It’s becoming less hegemonic and moving toward something much more multi-polar. How actors perceive one another is increasingly consequential. Technology is shaping those perceptions at multiple levels. 

Part of the appeal of coming to MIP was that the leadership and faculty here seem to align a lot with having a cross-disciplinary understanding of the full geopolitical system. And like others have said, being in Silicon Valley and having that proximity was a big draw for me as well. It’s another window into how the bleeding edge of technology is having an impact on policy and other aspects of the world, so coming here seemed like the natural choice.

I’m coming to the Ford Dorsey Master's in International Policy program from the Department of Personnel and Training, Government of India. Even though I’ve been out of university for about ten years, my process of learning has never stopped. I bring a lot of experience through interaction with people in public leadership, using negotiation and leadership skills, but I want to better understand the process of making data-driven policy. The flexibility of the MIP program and the manner it encourages students to learn across disciplines is, therefore, very appealing to me, as it allows to frame my own learning goals.

I’ve always had a great amount of respect for the environment and an interest in natural resources. Energy touches all of our lives in some way. In my culture, we consider the environment and its resources to be divine. These are gifts given by generations after generations to human beings, and as such we need to conserve them and find ways to ensure a more equitable distribution of energy, so that everybody has access to this necessity.

These are global issues that are going to need global participation to address. When I see places like the island nations, they contribute so much less to the greenhouse gasses, but they are most affected by climate change issues. I want to put myself in a position where I can help visualize policies that mitigate these regional disparities and create more equity.

These are big challenges, but it is possible for people to make a difference. There are so many inspiring stories from all over the world of ordinary people taking the initiative to help conserve and preserve their local resources and educate their communities. When we’re thinking about our policies and how to make them, we have to remember that the data and number crunching are only part of it — it’s people that give them life. Many people are already doing the work. It's our responsibility to learn from them and value their experience.
 

This essay originally appeared in Korean on September 30 in Sindonga (New East Asia), Korea’s oldest monthly magazine (established 1931), as part of a monthly column, "Shin’s Reflections on Korea." Translated by Raymond Ha. A PDF version of this essay is also available to download.

What, then, explains the power and influence of America’s universities? In this essay, I seek to answer this question based on my experiences during the 30 years I have spent as a professor in the United States. I also consider how this might inform the future of Korea’s universities, which are losing their vitality. Demographic changes have already begun to reduce student enrollment in Korea, and many schools face an increasingly bleak financial situation. Moreover, the regional imbalance between schools in and outside the Seoul metropolitan area continues to deepen.[1] Whether Korea’s universities can overcome these pressing challenges will have critical implications for the country’s future. The Yoon Suk-yeol administration has vowed to pursue reforms in three areas: labor policy, pensions, and education. It is thus timely and important to examine how the educational policies of other countries could inform Korea’s own policies.

Promoting Coexistence and Cooperation

Whether it is in politics, economics, society, or culture, the health and effectiveness of any institution depends on the nature of the ecosystem that surrounds it. An institution cannot persist unless it promotes coexistence and facilitates fluid cooperation between its constituent members.

Let us begin by surveying the overall landscape of America’s higher education ecosystem. According to statistics from 2019, there are roughly 4,000 universities in the United States. About half are private institutions, and the other half consist of public universities that are associated with states or cities. Some schools have four-year programs, while others offer two-year degrees. Large research universities focus on research and training PhD students, whereas liberal arts schools tend to be smaller and dedicate resources to undergraduates. There are also community colleges that are open to anyone with a high school diploma. Although a minority, there are also for-profit colleges and universities, as well as those that only offer online classes.[2]

To ground the discussion, let us focus on the state of California, where I currently live. Its population of 40 million is slightly smaller than that of Korea, but its economy is about 1.7 times larger. There are large private universities such as Stanford and USC, as well as renowned liberal arts schools, such as Pomona College. California arguably maintains the most robust system of public universities in the United States.

California’s public schools consist of the University of California (UC), California State University (CSU), and community colleges. The UC system consists of 10 campuses, including those in Berkeley, Los Angeles, and San Diego, with a total enrollment of around 300,000. For California residents, the annual tuition fee is roughly $14,000 (as of 2022). This is much more affordable than private universities, which commonly charge upwards of $60,000. UC schools not only have highly regarded undergraduate programs, but also run reputable graduate programs and generate substantial research output.

The CSU system consists of 500,000 students across 23 campuses. There are many minority students, including Hispanic and Latino Americans. Admission is less competitive than at UC schools, with an admission rate of around 80%. Tuition fees are also cheaper, at $6,000 per year. There are many part-time students and faculty, and it typically takes six to eight years to graduate. CSU schools offer highly specialized programs. For example, over half of California’s certified schoolteachers are CSU graduates.

Lastly, California has 116 community colleges that offer two-year degrees. Tuition fees are only $2,000 a year. Classes are open to anyone with a high school diploma (or equivalent), and there are a total of 2.1 million students. Most importantly, the UC system, CSU schools, and community colleges maintain close relationships with each other. By doing so, they uphold a robust system of public schools in California.  

Transfer Students: Providing a Second Chance

UC schools are popular among prospective students and have low admission rates. However, only two-thirds of admitted students are high school graduates. The remaining third are transfer students, most of whom are community college graduates. According to data published by UCLA for 2021, 6,585 incoming students came directly from high school. There were 3,436 transfer students, and 93% of them had graduated from community colleges.

Furthermore, 44% of UCLA’s transfer students in 2021 were the first in their families to attend college. 36% were from ethnic minorities, and 72% received financial aid. The admission rate for transfer students was 19%, which was higher than the 11% admission rate for high school seniors. This is typical of schools in the UC system. If transferring to a UC school is difficult, students opt to transfer into a CSU school instead. For students who cannot immediately attend a four-year college after high school due to financial considerations or other personal circumstances, transfer applications offer a valuable second chance.

In this way, UC schools, CSU schools, and community colleges complement each other to sustain a stable ecosystem of public universities in California. This stands in stark contrast to Korea, where schools in the Seoul metropolitan area engage in a zero-sum competition with schools in other regions. Moreover, it is common for students in Korea to retake the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT) multiple times in the hopes of obtaining a better score to attend a highly ranked university.[3] After graduating high school, these students dedicate at least a year studying for the CSAT. The college one attends has an outsized impact on future job prospects and social standing in Korea, and there are no other pathways available.

How might we revitalize Korea’s universities? One way is to implement structural reforms among public universities such that a quarter of Seoul National University’s (SNU) admissions quota is allocated to transfer students from public schools in other regions.[4] In turn, public universities outside of Seoul could allocate a quarter of their admission quotas to students from professional schools that offer two- or three-year degrees.[5] Creating these pathways could allow SNU, regional public universities, and professional schools to form a more fluid, cooperative ecosystem of higher education. Some may respond that the differences in academic standards and expectations between SNU and regional public universities are too large to make this feasible. However, it is not uncommon to see transfer students from community colleges excel at schools with rigorous academics, such as UC Berkeley or UCLA. In fact, the graduation rate is higher among transfer students (88%) than those who entered as freshmen (84%).

By creating such pathways between different elements of the higher education ecosystem, it will be possible to ease the pressure on students. They will have alternatives to retaking the CSAT. Enabling the opportunity to transfer into different schools will also ease social inequalities. If they are willing, students at professional schools will be able to pursue further studies at regional public universities. In turn, students at these public universities will have the chance to study at SNU. This will help loosen the rigid vertical hierarchy among Korea’s universities and enhance diversity in higher education.

Why a Perfect SAT Score is Not Enough

Even carefully crafted institutions cannot fully realize their intended effects without the right people. Colleges and universities in the United States apply a variety of standards to select the faculty and students who make up the academic community.

At comprehensive research universities like Stanford or UCLA, faculty are evaluated primarily by their research output. The expression “publish or perish” reflects this reality. On the other hand, liberal arts colleges value teaching and mentoring as much as research. For faculty at community colleges, there is an emphasis on training and preparing students to successfully transfer into four-year colleges.

In the United States, the tenure system is the cornerstone of academia. Unless they are implicated in criminal activities, tenured professors can teach for as long as they want. (In Korea, tenured professors must retire by the age of 65.) Although the tenure system ensures job security, its primary purpose is to protect academic freedom. It enables professors to freely explore and debate ideas regardless of external circumstances, including the political atmosphere. This privilege is granted only after a rigorous evaluation. The most important factor in this process, which usually takes a year to complete, is the candidate’s academic caliber. The assessment is relatively objective, as it involves 12 or more outside experts.

Those who are denied tenure are given one year to find a position at a different school. If their research output is held in high regard, it is possible to transfer to a more prestigious institution. There is a fierce competition between schools to attract talented professors. Even if professors are denied tenure and move to a lower-ranked university, they can work to enhance their research portfolio to transfer to another university later on. In other words, the academic job market is much more flexible than that of Korea. I began my academic career at the University of Iowa, where I taught for three years. I then taught at UCLA for seven years before moving to Stanford in 2001. It is very rare for professors to move between three schools in Korea.

The selection of students is just as important as the hiring of faculty. Prestigious schools in the United States, including Stanford, do not admit students solely on the basis of academic excellence. Admissions offices use grades and SAT scores to assess an applicant’s academic ability, but these numbers alone do not guarantee admission. It is certainly not unheard of for straight-A students with multiple AP exams and a perfect SAT score under their belts to be denied admission. In recent years, colleges and universities have begun to phase out standardized test scores from the admissions process. UC schools have announced that they will be dropping the requirement altogether.

More than Just Academics

Colleges and universities in the United States vary considerably in their size, character, and founding mission. Schools thus apply a variety of criteria in the admissions process. In general, more reputable universities tend to admit students with a view to nurturing individuals who will make important contributions to American society and the world. Along these lines, the two decisive factors in evaluating applicants are leadership and commitment.

Leadership requires a sense of responsibility toward one’s community. It begins from a willingness to serve others and prioritize their needs above one’s own. The notion of commitment cannot be easily translated into Korean, but it refers to a persistent dedication to an area that one is passionate about, whether it is an academic subject, athletics, music, or community service.

In Korea, students spend an enormous amount of time and resources to build up their resume. This is colloquially referred to as “building up one’s spec,” which is short for specification. Students with extensive qualifications and experiences may appear brilliant on the surface, but it is hard to tell whether they have a sincere passion for any subject or activity at all. Just like the students and parents portrayed in the popular drama “SKY Castle,” an impressive resume may be nothing more than an exquisite mirage.[6] Colleges in the United States tend to seek out students who have shown a steadfast commitment to an activity or issue, more so than students with the most impressive academic credentials.

American universities also emphasize diversity when admitting students. At Stanford, students from ethnic minorities make up over half the student body. The gender distribution is also balanced, with 49% male students and 51% female students. As I mentioned in my previous column about diversity, schools in the United States place a high value on diversity when selecting students and faculty, even though they do not apply affirmative action policies.[7] Accordingly, applicants must be able to demonstrate how they can make a unique contribution to the academic community, instead of striving to meet a uniform standard based only on grades and test scores.

For students, life on campus is not confined to the classroom. It is not necessary to select only those students with the highest grades. Universities should be a place for cultivating leaders who not only possess a sense of responsibility toward their community, but also fulfill necessary roles in society. When students from varied backgrounds and diverse interests come together, they will spark each other’s curiosity. It is not a coincidence that the founders of companies like Google or Yahoo formulated innovative ideas while they were students at Stanford. In this way, admissions policies can directly influence a school’s atmosphere.

Korea should also give serious thought to how it can prepare and nurture students for the 21st century, so that they can contribute to Korea and the global community. The Yoon administration’s education policies must incorporate measures to achieve this goal.

Meeting Social and Economic Demands

Universities do not exist in a vacuum. They should not be an ivory tower, detached from the rest of society. Rather, they must play a proactive role in tackling important social and economic problems.

Frederick Terman, who served as a professor of engineering and provost at Stanford, was a pioneer of academia-industry collaboration. He is widely known in Korea for his role in establishing the Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST), which is one of the country’s most prestigious science and engineering schools. Terman also played a central role in the 1951 creation of Stanford Industrial Park, which hosted high-tech firms. He was a visionary who encouraged students to create companies. Since then, Stanford graduates have established 40,000 companies. Terman is widely regarded as the “father of Silicon Valley.” Such momentous developments were possible because Terman, as an academic administrator, positioned Stanford to directly contribute to emerging social and economic trends. Stanford has played a leading role in major technological developments for many decades, from semiconductors to the IT boom and now artificial intelligence.

This year, Stanford launched the Doerr College of Sustainability. It was the first time in 70 years that Stanford established a new school. This is an intriguing development, since schools within universities typically focus on professional fields—engineering, medicine, or business—instead of addressing specific issues that may not be well known to the general public. By creating this new school, Stanford seeks to play a leading role in researching and devising solutions to two critical challenges that humanity will face in the coming decades: climate change and the energy crisis. In addition to drawing on existing faculty from other departments, Stanford plans to hire 60 new faculty members, with the goal of connecting scientific research to policy issues.

A $1.1 billion donation from Ann and John Doerr, one of Silicon Valley’s most successful venture capitalists, was crucial to the school’s establishment. Gifts from other donors brought the total to $1.69 billion. As in this case, outside donations often enable America’s universities to prepare for the future. Private institutions such as Harvard ($53.2 billion) and Stanford ($37.8 billion) have sizable endowments. Public schools are no exception. The University of Texas system has an endowment of $42.1 billion dollars, and the UC system has $12.1 billion. Universities rely on these resources for their long-term development.

In Korea, these donations are commonly misunderstood as payments to secure admissions. It is true that private universities have legacy admissions to account for familial ties or recognize those who have contributed to the school’s development. However, it is difficult to imagine students being accepted only because of donations. In fact, there have been several cases in recent years where parents who engaged in these practices were found criminally responsible. The students also had their admissions revoked.

As is the case with the Doerrs, colleges and universities in the United States use outside donations to address future challenges and support pioneering research. Furthermore, donations allow schools to hire talented professors and provide financial assistance to students from low-income households. At Stanford, families with an annual income below $75,000 do not have to pay tuition, room or board. At UCLA, around 45% of all students are exempt from paying tuition. Schools in the U.S. offer merit-based scholarships as well, but need-based scholarships are far more common. There are policies to help ease the financial burden for those who seek to pursue a college degree. In the bigger picture, donations to universities are a form of redistribution. To incentivize such donations, individuals are allowed to claim tax deductions for donations to non-profit educational institutions.

Korea’s universities face a difficult financial situation. Both tuition fees and professors’ salaries have been frozen for a decade. Donations from individuals and companies are negligible. Stanford and SNU have roughly the same number of faculty, but Stanford’s annual operating budget ($8.2 billion) is many times larger than that of SNU ($1.1 billion). Korea’s Ministry of Education allocates 12 trillion won ($8.3 billion) in its budget toward universities. This is only one-sixth of the ministry’s budget for preschool and elementary school, and is the lowest among OECD countries.

Universities cannot play a proactive role in addressing economic and social challenges unless they are financially stable. The Korean government must provide greater resources to universities, while also giving them more latitude. There should be incentives for individuals and companies to donate to universities with an eye to the future. At the same time, universities must maintain a sense of social responsibility and be faithful to their role in leading the way toward the future.

The Perils of Short-term Governance

The last issue is internal governance. Compared to Korea, administrative leaders at American universities stay in office for a much longer duration. This yields greater continuity. Charles Young, who served as chancellor when I was at UCLA, led the university for 29 years. John Hennessy, who was Stanford’s president when I arrived in 2001, served in that position for 16 years. Deans also typically serve for many years. In my case, I have been the director of the Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center (APARC) at Stanford since 2005.

The governance of U.S. colleges is decentralized to a significant degree, compared with Korean universities. There are specific matters that require the dean’s approval, such as hiring decisions for faculty. Some issues require the assistance of legal counsel. By contrast, in Korea, most issues must be reviewed by the university’s administrative headquarters, which reports to the president. For example, suppose that Shorenstein APARC pursues a partnership with a research center at a Korean university. Issues that I can directly approve as APARC’s director often require the approval of administrative headquarters on the Korean side.

Although the governance of American universities is decentralized, faculty members must work within strictly prescribed boundaries. At Stanford, professors have to submit two documents to the university every May. (There are similar procedures at other schools.) Faculty members have to declare whether there were any conflicts of commitment over the past year, as well as any conflicts of interest.

Several years ago, a Korean university approached me to offer a position as an adjunct professor. It seemed like a promising opportunity. I asked the Stanford administration whether this arrangement would be possible, but I was told that there would be a conflict of commitment. I had no choice but to respectfully decline the offer. Stanford allows its faculty to spend 52 days a year on external activities, including consulting. However, any activities that seriously impede the ability to fulfill one’s basic duties as a Stanford professor are strictly regulated, as they are considered to create a conflict of commitment.

The same is true for conflicts of interest. Professors who wish to participate in external projects must adhere to detailed regulations to avoid conflicts of interest. There are also measures to protect the school’s reputation. For example, Stanford’s logo or name cannot be used in external consulting projects. Moreover, Stanford faculty cannot take on positions with decision-making authority, such as director or manager, while taking part in these projects.

Korea’s universities could also consider institutionalizing strict rules for professors’ activities, allowing for freedom within these boundaries. In Korea, there are frequent controversies about so-called “polifessors,” or professors who engage in political activities. Questions often arise about the appropriate scope of external activities for professors. It may be helpful to examine these issues from the perspective of conflict of commitment and conflict of interest.

As is the case with Korea’s politics, university presidents only serve for a short period of time. This undermines continuity in leadership. Most university presidents in Korea serve one four-year term, with no possibility of a second term, regardless of their performance. Deans and other administrative positions also only last between two and four years. It is thus difficult to create and implement long-term, future-oriented plans. Instead, there is a narrow focus on achieving short-term goals. When a new president takes the helm, he or she tends to break from the predecessor’s policies.

These structural issues are inextricably tied to the direct election of university presidents. In many Korean universities, faculty members vote for the university president. This would be unimaginable in the United States, where schools usually form a search committee consisting of professors, members of the board of trustees, and alumni. After thoroughly evaluating and considering candidates for at least several months, this committee selects the next president. Given the rigorous nature of this process, presidents typically serve for many years as long as there are no serious concerns about their performance. The direct election of university presidents was a natural and legitimate outgrowth of Korea’s democratization, but it has created serious side effects, including the politicization of the academy. It is time to reform the governance structures of Korea’s universities.

The Driving Force of a Global Superpower

There continue to be debates about the decline of American power, but the United States still remains a global hegemon. Its ability to lead and influence the world arises in no small part from its universities, which are the source of America’s technological innovation and its military and economic heft. Korea’s dramatic transformation over the past 70 years was also driven by an intense focus on education, giving rise to a highly skilled and educated population.

Today, Korea’s universities face a serious crisis. There are severe regional imbalances between schools in the Seoul metropolitan area and other parts of the country. Universities lack the financial resources to create and implement long-term plans. Furthermore, the governance of Korea’s universities has become excessively politicized. For Korea to leap into the future, its universities need to be revitalized. As it pursues educational reforms, the Yoon administration must remember that the country’s future depends on its universities.