This Saturday concluded a well-organized, informative and
above-all engaging two-day conference initiated by the New York
consulate and attended by a diverse group of executives, scholars,
politicians and government officials. I offer here some
afterthoughts on the topic that brought us all together: brain
drain.
Let us recognize, first, that brain drain is a matter of
balance, of gain and loss. That is to say that brain drain
constitutes of two components: emigration and immigration. Students
and scholars leaving the Netherlands to study and work abroad fall
into the former category. The latter category entails two groups
with unique characteristics and policy relevance: returning
students and scholars on one side and recruited foreign talent on
the other.
I will start by addressing the first phenomenon. Why do Dutchmen
go abroad? There is no easy answer to that question. It is perhaps
one of the following factors, or a combination thereof: dreams,
ambition, contingency, practicality and necessity. We heard the
story of Dutch scholar Annewies van den Hoek who made a virtue of
necessity and accompanied her husband abroad to become a Harvard
lecturer herself. My own experience as a student abroad illustrates
some of the other factors.
De aanwezigen bij het seminar te Harvard
In search of the classics
I came to the U.S., first in 2007, later in 2008, as a visiting
student-well, that is how I introduced myself, for I had no
official status, but more about that later. The dream of studying
in the U.S. had entered my mind some years earlier, as I read and
heard about the pivotal role that American sociologists had played
and still play in the discipline. Moreover, I realized that many
such 'classics' as Mark "Strength of Weak Ties" Granovetter and
William Julius Wilson (The Declining Significance of Race) were
very much alive and kicking-and working in America. (I too had the
chance to meet Daniel Bell
before his death earlier this year, albeit much too brief.)
It however took a practical opportunity to get me to really
consider going abroad: a short e-mail from a professor in which he
mentioned the opportunity, the costs, and an application deadline.
Destination: University of California at Berkeley. Two weeks later
I had applied and been selected. Only then did the real process
begin: figuring out the details of my U.S. status, applying for the
necessary immigration documents, getting permission from my
university for the classes I wanted to take, and last but not
least: securing the funding to support what I thought would be one
semester abroad (approximately $13,000).
To summarize, I got about half of the funding I needed, and took
out a loan for the rest; I left for Berkeley that fall without the
guarantee that U.S. credits would count towards my sociology
degree; and my reception at Berkeley may best be compared to that
of an illegal immigrant: the presence of my fellow 'visiting
students' and me was condoned but not supported. We were ineligible
for a student pass, had to buy our way into the library, we were
registered in a separate computer system from the regular students
and we paid (in cash!) for each class we wanted to enter based on
the number of credits points we would earn. But none of that
stopped me from having an amazing time. All that mattered was that
I was allowed to take classes, which I did, first at the
undergraduate departments of Economics and Sociology, and later at
the Graduate level.
Mijs neemt het woord
Lessons learned
In my time at Berkeley, I gained the confidence that I would be
able to cope in a foreign setting, I developed a comparative
perspective "to make the unfamiliar familiar, and to make the
familiar unfamiliar," and I cultivated a network of American and
international scholars who could call on me (as they did when they
needed a place to stay in Amsterdam), and on whom I could call when
I needed to (as I did when I started my graduate school admission
two years later).
It was this network that most changed my experience of coming to
the U.S. a second time, in 2010. Whereas the first time coming to
the U.S. was a lonely experience, this time I felt supported by
many. Whereas I had information the first time, this time I had
know-how-savoir faire: I knew what the admission entailed
and how to go about preparing myself. And whereas the first time I
had relied on well-intended "write your own letter and I will sign
it" recommendations, this time I knew who to ask and what to ask
for.
At the Boston Seminar it became all the more clear how important
it is for students to be encouraged by their advisors, and
supported by their educational institutions-e.g., through
transcript services, recognition of credits earned abroad, and the
willingness to incorporate study abroad in the educational
curriculum. Short-term exchange programs have to many a student
proven to be a valuable source of experience. And a relatively low
cost and easy access option at that. Moreover, such small-scale
student exchange can forge strong linkages between the students and
professors involved, and ultimately between academic programs and
the universities that house them. All it takes is some
initiative.
Jonathan J.B. Mijs
mijs@fas.harvard.edu
Deel 2 en 3 van Mijs' verslag verschijnen komende week in de
ScienceGuide nieuwsbrief.
Meer foto's van het seminar vindt u
hier.