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 

At Eikei University of Hiroshima (EUH), with its academic mission to contribute to society through engaging with timely and relevant societal issues, explore practical and innovative solutions to these issues, and foster a cadre of young potential change-makers, we are exposed to a wide range of knowledge- and skill-based courses that harness the competencies needed for the realities waiting outside the school. The Social Entrepreneurship – Human-Centered Design for Sustainability and Impact course, developed by SPICE and instructed by Dr. Mariko Yang-Yoshihara, is an excellent intensive program that amplifies and reinforces the school’s focus and goals while providing students with a different perspective on comprehending the socioeconomic world and its stakeholders through understanding oneself.

This course directed us to explore how a human-centered approach can address sustainability challenges within communities. We gained highly valuable skills and insights into social innovation through intensive lectures, interactive discussions, and hands-on workshops. The hybrid learning format allowed us to engage with our three special guest speakers, who are globally active contributors to the field of social entrepreneurship. At the same time, the later sessions immersed us in fieldwork with our assigned local Design Thinking Partners (DTPs)—professionals and entrepreneurs dedicated to creating positive impact in the Hiroshima/Setouchi region. This combination of global and local perspectives, along with the support of our student assistants (SAs), made the entire learning journey vibrant, engaging, and memorable.

One of the takeaways I still carry are prompt questions that were asked of us even before the course started: What drives you? What is your belief and purpose? What is your ‘why’? For me, this self-examination laid the foundation for understanding the human-centered approach. I realized that entrepreneurship is never about the hope of making profits, but about identifying what society truly needs and responding to it with a purpose—the whys that give direction to the work we do, the force that pushes us forward, shaping the impact we aim to create. Additionally, through our DTPs, I also learned that human-centered design revolves around uncovering ‘unmet needs’ rather than simply identifying or restating explicit goals. This realization not only enriched the outcomes and the overall experience of our fieldwork but, more importantly, recalibrated the angle at which I see and engage with the world around me with empathy. 

Image

What made this 10-session intensive course special is the way it catered to the needs of all students. The SPICE course invited a diverse group of students and student assistants from across Japan (Hiroshima, Kumamoto, Osaka, Shizuoka, and Tokushima) and the world (India, Liberia, Mexico, Philippines, Senegal, Slovakia, and Vietnam). The course was carried out in English, but some teams interviewed the DTPs in their native language, Japanese. Every student was asked to create a safe and inclusive space to learn in the best way possible, and this encouraged each team to choose the language that ensured richer discussion outputs. This aided better communication for all; however, it posed a challenge to me since I was assigned to a team with varied language backgrounds and, by default, I had to serve a role of a mediator. With a short background in learning the native language, I was intimidated and worried about not being able to contribute meaningfully.

Nonetheless, with the encouragement of Mariko-sensei and the support of my teammates, this challenge turned into one of my proudest breakthroughs since coming to Eikei. I gradually grew more confident using Japanese, overcame a long-standing insecurity, stepped out of my comfort zone, and rekindled the power of teamwork, persistence, and appreciation. Looking back, I came to realize that this was an unmet need of mine—at the heart of what human-centered design thinking strives to uncover. With the trust I received from Mariko-sensei, what initially felt like a source of anxiety transformed into one of the most rewarding aspects of this intensive course.

SPICE's course on Social Entrepreneurship with Eikei University of Hiroshima is one of SPICE’s local student programs in Japan.

To stay informed of SPICE news, join our email list and follow us on Facebook, X, and Instagram.

The following reflection is a guest post written by Millie Gan, an alum of the Spring 2025 Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan Program. Earlier this year, Millie launched Teenage Business Contest Japan, a platform for encouraging social entrepreneurship among teens.

Japan is a place people love to visit, featuring bullet trains, temples, and sushi. Up close, I saw shrinking rural towns, an aging population, and customs fading from daily life. I wanted to do something that wasn’t just talk. The questions that kept coming up were: Who will have the creative ideas necessary to address these issues? And how can we best encourage and empower them?

This summer in Tokyo, the Teenage Business Contest Japan (TBCJ) 2025 invited high school students from across the country to develop business ideas that would help revitalize Japan’s communities. What started as a project organized by students evolved into a nationwide platform where young people could address problems that are typically left to politicians and businesses. As a participant in the Stanford e-Entrepreneurship Japan (SeEJ) program, I planned and built TBCJ in parallel with my SPICE coursework, applying classroom concepts—such as problem framing, rapid testing, and iteration—to real-world challenges.

SeEJ shaped the way I worked: start small, learn fast, and ship. I taught myself Python and JavaScript for websites and games, but for the contest I needed a different kind of tool. I used the Kotae.ai platform to launch TB-Chan, an AI helper on our website. Building it took minutes; training it took discipline. Every morning, I updated TB-Chan with new information—rules, schedules, government datasets, and simple “nudge” prompts—so students, media, and sponsors got instant, consistent answers. Without TB-Chan, we couldn’t have handled the volume of questions.

I was very thrilled that my SeEJ instructor and mentor, Dr. Makiko Hirata, presented the opening speech during the contest. Her message that young people can solve even the most complex challenges if they are given the chance set the tone for the day and encouraged everyone who was there. Getting TBCJ off the ground wasn’t glamorous. Working with government agencies entailed months of preparation; demonstrating impact to institutions demanded patience; securing funding from major companies required persistence. In the end, we raised over ¥3 million and built credibility the old-fashioned way: by delivering. The contest drew reporters—including from The Nikkei and the BBC—and more than 300 online articles followed. Importantly, the work didn’t end on stage. After the event, finalists began collaborating across schools and regions, and the University of Tokyo invited all four finalist teams into its WE AT CHALLENGE Business Program for coaching and potential funding.

A story about Japanese soccer guided me throughout. For years, there were few strikers—too risky, too exposed—until kids watched international players who took the shot. The talent was always there; what was missing was the example. On our stage, every finalist was a striker: a student who led without a guarantee. I also had to be one. Organizing a national contest as a teenager meant acting before certainty existed, and letting action create momentum.

That is the link between TBCJ and SPICE: SeEJ is not just theory; it is a bridge to action. It teaches you to listen carefully, test quickly, and improve openly. TBCJ proved that teens aren’t only future leaders—they are present-tense builders. With the right tools, data, mentors, and faith, young people can connect ideas to implementation and turn problems into opportunities.

The message I hope readers take away is simple: let’s be the strikers. Take the shot. Others will follow.

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

To stay updated on SPICE news, join our email list and follow us on Facebook, X, and Instagram.

On August 2, 2025, Minamata High School once again opened its doors to celebrate the beginning of a new year of the Stanford e-Minamata Program. The familiar sense of anticipation in the auditorium was met with something new as well: the confidence of a community and a program stepping into its second year. If last year’s guiding spirit was resilience and renewal, this year carries the feeling of growth and leadership, an acknowledgment that the seeds planted in 2024 are already beginning to bear fruit.

In his opening remarks, Mayor Toshiharu Takaoka reaffirmed the city’s dedication to supporting young people through this international partnership, while Dr. Gary Mukai, Director of SPICE, offered words of encouragement that were both lighthearted and deeply meaningful to the eager students in the room. Reminding students that mistakes are not just acceptable but essential to learning, Dr. Mukai underscored the courage and curiosity at the heart of leadership development. His message, paired with the mayor’s steady vision, set a hopeful tone for the year ahead.

That spirit was quickly brought to life by Minamata High School students Asuka Umekawa and Yudai Hirata, who delivered their opening remarks in English. Their poise and determination captured the excitement of their classmates, and their eagerness to bridge local and global perspectives embodied the purpose of the program itself. Their words were not only a reflection of their own commitment, but also a reminder of the potential within this year’s entire cohort.

Photo below: Yudai Hirata, August 2, 2025; photo courtesy Minamata High School.

Image

As the program enters its second year, the three themes of environment, emerging technologies, and U.S.–Japan relations remain at the core. Yet, like any thriving endeavor, e-Minamata continues to evolve. This year introduces a new sustainable agriculture module in collaboration with a regenerative farmer in Saga Prefecture, offering students a direct look at innovations shaping the future of Japanese agriculture. Alongside this addition, an expanded roster of guest speakers—some familiar, others new—will broaden the perspectives brought into the classroom.

The 25 students who make up this year’s cohort include first-, second-, and third-year students, creating a dynamic mix of voices and experiences. Their curiosity mirrors that of last year’s inaugural participants, many of whom continue to apply the program’s lessons in their studies, community activities, and even their plans for higher education. The continuity between these groups makes clear that the program is more than a single-year opportunity, it is building a culture of inquiry and leadership that extends beyond the classroom.

Looking ahead, one of the most anticipated elements of this year’s program will be the introduction of a community showcase. Students will work together to identify local challenges and opportunities in Minamata City, and at the end of the year, present their proposed solutions publicly. This new feature not only empowers students to see themselves as problem-solvers, but also invites the broader community to engage with their ideas. In doing so, the showcase promises to deepen the connections between classroom learning and community vitality.

The program’s growth would not be possible without the continued support of many partners. The leadership of Mayor Takaoka and Minamata City Hall remains steadfast. The Minamata Environmental Academia has taken on an expanded role, now guiding much of the program’s coordination. Within Minamata High School, Principal Yasunori Takaki, Vice Principal Fumiko Niibu, and Planning Manager Saho Yagyu continue to provide invaluable support. And while Mr. Hiroki Hara, who was instrumental in the program’s early development, has since relocated to Tokyo, his contributions remain an important part of the program’s foundation.

This year’s opening ceremony revealed the unfolding of student journeys and the steady expansion of a program that is becoming an anchor in Minamata’s ongoing story of renewal. The courage of Asuka and Yudai, the curiosity of their peers, and the unwavering support of local leaders and partners all point to a larger truth: Minamata’s youth are stepping forward not just as students, but as leaders whose perspectives will shape their community and extend far beyond it. The Stanford e-Minamata Program is an invitation to grow, to lead, and to imagine a future rooted in resilience, innovation, and connection.

Stanford e-Minamata is one of SPICE’s local student programs in Japan.

To stay informed of SPICE news, join our email list and follow us on Facebook, X, and Instagram.

I am coming into the MIP program from the world of foreign and defense analysis. I’ve had the opportunity to work for various groups in and out of the government in Washington D.C. looking at the foreign policy and defense strategy of various parts of Africa, the Gulf, and how the U.S. interacts with these regions.

I am particularly interested in a range of complex policy areas focusing on peace and security. My interests include evolving dynamics of drone warfare by great powers and middle powers, use of paramilitary groups by states, and strategies for countering political violence in authoritarian regimes.  

That technology aspect is one reason that drew me here to Stanford and its proximity to the Silicon Valley ecosystem. And, of course, there’s the AI aspect as well. “AI” is the buzzword in everything right now, but I want to know how these new tools and technologies are shaping political violence, democracies, and the global governance structure as a whole. If we don’t understand where the violence is coming from, we can’t understand how to pursue strategies for peace.

Another big appeal of the MIP program was that it allows me to interact with scholars like Francis Fukuyama, Larry Diamond, James Fearon, and Joe Felter. These are names I’ve read and referenced in my analytic work, and now I have the opportunity to learn from them directly. And who knows; maybe I will come back someday as a colleague if I return to Stanford for my PhD! With the hands-on experience at MIP, the networking opportunities here, and the emphasis on both quantitative and qualitative learning, I know I’m going to be in a good position to meet my goals and make a difference.
 

If you had told me ten years ago that I would be working on artificial intelligence at Stanford, in the heart of Silicon Valley, I wouldn’t have believed you. When applying to undergrad, I had to submit my application from an internet cafe in Beirut because the internet in my village in Lebanon wasn’t fast enough to upload my application. To go from a small village in Lebanon to studying at Stanford is a dream come true.

The path that led me here isn’t straightforward, but the thread that connects my experiences is a desire to be a voice for people who aren’t in the room. When I was a foreign correspondent, I published stories about systemic inequities and disadvantages. At the World Bank, it was pointing out biases and gaps in the data sets that directly impacted the distribution of aid and personal protective equipment. Today we are told artificial intelligence is going to be a “democratizing” technology. What about people who don’t have electricity? Who don’t have $20 for a ChatGPT subscription? Who have no AI literacy?  

If AI is going to impact every single person on earth’s life, how we build it can’t be decided by 0.01% of the population. If this is a printing press, Gutenberg Bible moment in history, we can’t simply leave entire communities, entire countries, nor entire continents out of the conversation. 

Drafting better AI policy is why I came back to school to the MIP program at Stanford. I worked with engineers who were Stanford CS alumni, and they were always so collaborative and inclusive. They patiently answered all of my questions while training an LLM. Those are the kinds of people and the kinds of values I want to work with to tackle these challenges. I’ve already seen that spirit here in the few weeks I’ve been at Stanford. These values of connecting the dots between engineering, policy, law and other disciplines has given me confidence that working together, we can write better AI policy and improve outcomes well beyond Silicon Valley. 
 

I come from Haiti, which is a small country. As such, we don’t always think about our foreign policy in an integrated way. How are our population, demography, topography, and borders linked? What about our trade partners and migration patterns? How do those impact our relationships with neighboring countries, or places with diaspora communities like the U.S.? I studied some of these questions while I was an undergrad at Princeton, but there’s much more to understand. 

My dream job is to work in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Haiti. So while I’m here at Stanford, I’m trying to write a handbook of sorts for myself and build out the agenda I hope to have someday. That is what is giving me direction for my time here at Stanford. If I’m learning about the balance of payments, the question I’m asking myself is, “What is Haiti’s balance of payment? What does it look like? What are the policy implications of that?”

By the time I graduate, I want to have a fully drafted idea of where Haiti’s policy landscape is currently, so I know what priorities to set to work on for the future. The fact that the MIP program is so customizable is one of the big reasons I wanted to come here; I can really tailor my studies to support these bigger projects. I get to make this time what I want it to be, and what will be most helpful to my goals.

But I also want to challenge myself to think beyond my field and learn about other parts of the world that may not have anything in common with Haiti, at least on the surface. I want to have a local impact, but I also want to develop as a global thinker. There’s a lot that connects us beyond our borders, and being able to think about those connections in a systematic, global way will only become more and more important as populations continue to migrate and integrate into communities throughout the world.
 

When I was serving as an active duty Space Operations Army officer, I had the opportunity to work on electromagnetic warfare and space control operations around the globe. My background is originally in history, and I began my military career as a military police officer, but I’ve always been really passionate about being part of the future.

There’s so much incredible defense technology out there, but the most up-to-date and effective versions don’t always get down to the individuals who really need them to operate effectively. There are so many inefficiencies and gaps between what’s actually codified in policy and what the warfighters on the ground need to execute their missions.

And that’s true of large-scale policies as well. Take the Space Treaty, for example. It was written back in 1967 when there were just 24 known satellites in orbit. Now there are thousands of satellites in orbit, yet we don't have another foundational governing document around space protocols. That’s got to change.

That’s what I want to start tackling while I’m here at Stanford. Making systemic changes in big organizations like the Department of Defense isn’t going to be easy, but we’ve got to close those knowledge gaps between the policymakers, the high level leaders and stakeholders, and those who are actually pressing the buttons of our space systems. We can't avoid these issues anymore, because it’s not just about the military or defense: it’s ATMs, it’s GPS, it's traffic lights, it's everything. There are no borders in space, so we must work hand-in-hand with our partners and allies to be successful in this emerging domain. This problem set truly involves everyone.

This is why being here at Stanford is going to be so beneficial. In addition to my courses in policy, it’s so easy to take a law or a business class or sit in on an aeronautics course. And we’re right in Silicon Valley where a lot of this technology is being built and distributed. That makes it so easy to look at these issues from different perspectives and get new insights into how to tackle them. We need a well-rounded perspective in order to get the right knowledge to the right people to make the right decisions.
 

At the root of all my interests in policy and foreign affairs is a desire to help people. I’ve always been drawn to problems that involve alleviating difficulties, whether that’s humanitarian issues, conflict resolution, or any other issues where civilians are not fairly represented. When I was first considering working in government, it was the consular aspect—being able to serve people from Thailand all over the world— that really appealed to me.

When I had the opportunity to serve at the UN as a Peace and Security Intern at the Permanent Mission of Thailand, my excitement for that assignment came from the same place; I liked the spirit of people coming together to discuss problems. There’s been waning faith about the usefulness of these types of big, multilateral organizations, but I still believe these kinds of bodies are important forums for dealing with conflicts. Reforms are needed, yes, but we can’t simply sideline conversations that are difficult to have or shut out nations we don’t easily agree with.

My own country of Thailand, for example, is not the biggest or most influential nation on security issues, but we have a lot we can teach and discuss when it comes to development. How do we balance some of that influence? How do we give countries in the global south more representation on these stages? Or domestically, how can we create policies that actually make a difference to people for the better? There tends to be a lot of talk and lofty goals, but then little action or follow through. 

That’s why one of the major appeals of coming to the MIP program was the emphasis on studying policymaking frameworks. In my undergrad at Columbia, I studied a lot of political theory and philosophy through the core curriculum. Here at Stanford, I want my focus to be on framing, implementation, and learning how to do things that address issues, not just identify them. I will be entering the Thai Foreign Service when I’m finished with my schooling, and I want to be as prepared as possible to excel as a diplomat—someone capable of solving problems effectively as part of a team, and, above all, helping people. I’m excited to learn from the experiences and perspectives of my cohort. MIP may not be as big as the UN, but we’re our own multilateral, multinational group trying to make a difference.
 

Behind all of my interests and experiences in policy is a commitment to understand how we shape and are shaped by the environment. Living  in different places and engaging with many kinds of people in different cultures has shown me how our lives are deeply connected to the environments we inhabit. No matter where we come from, we all depend on the same planet. We all have a stake in sustaining this place we share.

That being said, as a former negotiator for the Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry (METI) in Japan, I know that the best course of action for how to protect the environment is not always easy or straightforward. Climate policies that make sense in one place may not be feasible in another. Requirements about renewables that work here may not work elsewhere. There are some things that we can do universally, but it’s also important that countries realize and respect that each nation has different circumstances that will require unique planning and policies to address.

One of the areas in which I would specifically like to develop is finding ways to incentivize trade policies that accelerate the dissemination of clean, low emission, or zero emission technologies. How can we make climate-related goods more appealing to the global market? How can we get over price barriers and lower the cost of climate-related products? I want to live in a world where products and trade that support climate goals are the norm, not a specialty, and those goods are easy for everyone to access.

I’ve been fortunate to have experiences already in international engagement and inter-government coordination on climate and trade negotiations, but I am looking forward to being able to learn much more about the science side of climate and the environment. Having the ability to combine my MIP classes with courses from the Doerr School of Sustainability was one of the big appeals for me in coming to this program. Gaining that dual background in policy and analytical skills from MIP and science and research from Doerr through my electives is going to be incredibly beneficial to bring back to my ministry.