When Yang Nan walked out of the departure lounge of Beijing Airport in 2001, carrying his baby daughter in a tiny basket, he sniffed the smell of home in the air.

 

After living in Germany for three years and Canada for seven years, the 43-year-old had finally decided to return home to China and establish his own architectural design company.

 

"I can imagine what my life would have been like in 30 years time if I had stayed in Canada," said Yang, who graduated with his architecture degree from Beijing over 20 years ago.

 

"What I want is not a stable and carefree life in a foreign country," he said, "but to be part of the sizzling economic development of my own country."

 

Six years after his return, Yang is a major shareholder in a national architecture design company -- he had proven that his decision was right.

 

"In Canada, I designed buildings of 2,000 square meters a year, while in China, I design buildings of 20,000 square meters annually," he said.

 

Yang admitted that it took him almost a year to get used to the negative side of China such as pollution, traffic and people spitting on the streets.

 

But, "like sugarcane, it cannot be sweet on both ends," he said, "you should know what is most important to you -- yes, China has its problems due to its large population, but just because of that, there is vast market potential."

 

Severe brain drain

 

Since 1978, more than one million students like Yang have left China to study abroad, however, according to Ministry of Personnel, by the end of last year only a quarter had returned.

 

The 2007 Global Political and Security Report released by the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, or CASS, announced that China is now experiencing the most serious "brain-drain" problem in the world.

 

China is now "in dire need of people of expertise," said Pan Chengguang, an expert from CASS and co-author of the report.

 

"It has been a great loss for China to see well-educated professionals leave after the country has invested a lot in them," he added.

 

To attract talented overseas Chinese back in an attempt to beef up the country's talent pool, the Ministry of Personnel and other central government agencies issued a guideline document in March promising a "green passage" for acclaimed scientists, engineers and top company executives who are willing to return to work in the Chinese mainland.

 

Under this initiative, "high-end talents" will not be bound by the restrictions of hukou -- the household residence registration -- or the rigid payroll quotas at large state-owned institutions.

 

They will also receive more flexible pay packages on a case-by-case basis and their families will be given preferential treatment in access to jobs and schools.

 

One example of such preferential treatment for these "high-end talents," designed to entice them back home is the preferential admission to prestigious universities for their children.

 

However, this preferential treatment, especially that given to their children, has sparked a debate on the Internet, where some local Chinese have begun to question the fairness of the move between "turtle" and "tortoise."

 

Hai gui, or "turtle," is the Chinese term for those who left China to study and work overseas but are now "swimming home" to take high-level positions at multinational companies, while di gui or "tortoise" refers to mainland expertise.

 

One netizen querying the fairness of the government's policy asked the following question in a post on the popular forum of 126.com. "The (preferential) policies violate people's right of equal access to education. What could children of locals do if they don't have the means to leave the country?"

 

Currently, Chinese students have to face cut-throat competition to get into universities. Out of the 10 million who take the annual university entrance examination each June, almost half do not make the cut.

 

Another netizen commented, "No matter a turtle or a tortoise, the pivotal issue is to set up an environment for equal competition."

 

Some even worry that returning "turtles" will take advantage of the incentives for personal gain, instead of contributing to the country.

 

"Some will try to fulfill their own self-interest under the shield of this policy," one netizen wrote on sohu.com, a major Chinese news portal.

 

However, Yang believes that all the worry is unnecessary. "I don't see any conflict," he said. "The more talents that return, the more rapidly China develops, and the more people will benefit from it."

 

Yang admitted that their children's education was the biggest headache for overseas talents. "Actually it's not an easy admission to university, but a relaxing learning environment that I want for my kids to ensure a happy childhood for them," he said.

 

He said he felt sorry for his eight-year-old son when he saw his tiny body glued to his desk late at night doing his homework.

 

"I figure that my decision to come back denied his carefree childhood," Yang said. "He would have had less work to do if we had stayed abroad."

 

Yang went on to say that, due to their perceived poor standards of Chinese education, some of his friends in Shanghai, who were also returnees, had sent their children to a bilingual elementary school, where French and English are the two main languages. "The students even sing the Chinese national anthem in English every morning," he said.

 

Identity crisis

 

Even though the school guarantees a better quality of education, Yang felt that, in sending their children to such a school, it seemed as if his friends were reluctant to fully re-integrate with Chinese society.

 

Yang said that, despite the problems in Chinese education, unlike his friends, he would prefer his son to continue at a Chinese school but maybe go abroad when he is older. "It's a dilemma," he said. "I also don't want to send him abroad too early, as he needs to learn the Chinese language and culture so as not to get lost in an identity crisis."

 

As Zhang Ying observed, the loosening of the government's grip on hukou will be welcomed by overseas talents as she herself once tasted its bitterness.

 

After studying for an MBA in France for two years, Zhang came back to Beijing in 2005 only to find that she couldn't install a telephone at home due to her Tianjin hukou.

 

Recalling her troubles back in Beijing she remarked, "It is ridiculous that you need a hukou as a proof of identity to live in your own country. Getting a Beijing hukou is even more difficult than getting a green card," she said.

 

Zhang commented that when she first arrived in France as a student back in 2003, she managed to get a telephone installed in her apartment almost immediately. Zhang, who is now 32, emigrated to Canada with her French fiancee at the end of 2006.

 

Discussing her decision to emigrate, Zhang asserted, "Sometimes it is not always self-gain that overseas talents hunger for, but an equal, open and civilized environment, where they can display their full capabilities."

 

Despite Zhang's decision not to stay in China, Yang believed that whether living in China or abroad, it is a personal choice that depends on a variety of factors such as personality, timing and academic background.

 

Nevertheless, he said, "As long as China keeps its growing momentum, it will surely become a magnet for talent both home and abroad."

 

(Shanghai Daily July 30, 2007)