Xiao Chen arrived at the US Consulate in Shanghai this week filled with hope for her new life as a communications student in Michigan. But following an announcement from Washington to "aggressively" revoke visas for Chinese students, her application was unexpectedly denied, leaving her feeling "like a drifting duckweed tossed in wind and storm." This sentiment captures the struggle for many of the approximately 280,000 Chinese students currently studying in the US, who are enduring heightened scrutiny and rejection as relations between their home country and the US deteriorate.
Chen’s experience is emblematic of a larger issue; just days prior, the Trump administration’s renewed scrutiny had led to the revocation of Harvard University’s ability to enroll international students, sparking a wave of anxiety among hopefuls. Although the court has since blocked that specific action, students still fear the fallout. Chen considers taking a gap year should her visa be ultimately denied, noting the precariousness even for students who already possess valid visas. The atmosphere is rife with tension; the chance of being stopped at airports and deported looms over their prospects.
Accusations against Chinese students and scholars have ramped up, stemming from US officials who allege that some students have links to the Chinese Communist Party or are studying in critical fields, exacerbating fears of discrimination and further complicating their educational paths. The Chinese government has firmly protested this treatment, labeling it as politically charged and discriminatory.
These types of restrictions aren't new; former President Trump’s administration had already laid the groundwork for discrimination against Chinese students by mandating that those with ties to China’s military be banned from obtaining US visas. This policy persists under President Biden, with unclear guidelines further adding to the confusion faced by applicants. One anonymous student returned to the US only to have his visa canceled upon arrival, despite being accepted into a post-doctoral program for regenerative medicine at Harvard.
Meanwhile, students like Mr. Cao, a psychology major, face increasingly challenging job markets, compounded by rumors of espionage surrounding Chinese nationals. Out of more than ten PhD applications he submitted, only one resulted in an offer, with some professors openly stating they would not interview Chinese candidates.
For those who have graduated, returning home has become equally daunting, as their internationally recognized qualifications carry less weight in a rapidly changing domestic landscape. Chen Jian, for example, found his degree from an American university was regarded as a liability rather than an asset in the competitive Chinese job market.
The atmosphere of paranoia has intensified, with public figures in China increasingly condemning foreign-educated individuals as potential spies. Recent remarks by a prominent businesswoman that her company would not hire those with foreign degrees underscore the shifting sentiment.
Zhang Ni, a journalism graduate from Columbia University, echoes this sentiment, expressing her surprise at the negative perceptions of international experiences. The dynamic shift from a welcoming attitude towards foreigners to one of suspicion signals a significant cultural change in China. Once seen as a bridge to the West, graduates returning from the US are now navigating a complex landscape filled with mistrust and fear.
In reflecting on the current climate, young Chinese students pursuing education abroad grapple with an often-unrealized dream, all while feeling pressure from both their homeland and the host country. The future of their academic ambitions hangs in the balance as geopolitical tensions continue to escalate.
