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NEW FRIENDS: Min, Hennessy
and Peking University president Xu Zhihong at
the dedication ceremony.
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In 1982, a Chinese graduate
student in education named Min Weifang moved into a
small rented room on Alvarado Row. Next door lived Amos
Nur, professor of geophysics. Twenty years would pass
before the two men met.
Min, MA ’84, MA ’86, PhD ’87, returned
to China after his time at Stanford and became a leading
educational reformer. Now executive vice president at
Peking (Beida) University in Beijing, he has nudged
Chinese higher education away from a stratified, inflexible
model of specialization toward one that embraces a broad
curriculum and promotes technology transfer as an engine
of economic development.
Two years ago, Min invited Nur, the neighbor he never
knew and now director of Stanford’s Overseas Studies
Program, to Beijing to talk about a possible Stanford
program at Peking University. During two days of discussions,
they worked out most of the details—everything
from where Stanford’s offices would be to whether
students would be able to play squash on the university’s
courts. After hearing horror stories about the bureaucracy
and delays that hamstrung other program start-ups, Nur
found the timetable refreshingly short. “We were
surprised; others were astounded,” he recalls.
“I think Weifang told the school officials there,
‘This is a must, and we have to make it happen.’”
When Stanford’s first group of students arrives
at Peking U. this fall, it will be the culmination of
years of hope and planning—Stanford has been contemplating
a program in China for the past 10 years. It also illustrates
the influence of a generation of pioneer Chinese scholars
who were among the first wave to arrive at U.S. universities
a quarter century ago. ”China’s government
decided in the late 1970s to begin sending its best
students to the United States, and Stanford attracted
a good number,” Nur says. Min was among the first.
Like many of his contemporaries, Min had experienced
the hardships and “re-education” of the
Cultural Revolution. His years at Stanford helped shape
a new vision. “He wants to build a world-class
university at Beida,” Nur says, “and Stanford
is his model.”
Stanford President John Hennessy, in a speech dedicating
the new program at Peking U., said the two schools would
benefit from an initiative forged from friendship and
dedicated to common goals. “It’s critical
to provide person-to-person experiences” that
augment Stanford students’ classroom study, he
noted. In a press conference later, he told Chinese
journalists that the new program “helps students
in their professional lives in relations with China,
and that will be very important going forward.”
Min concurred. “This program is a breakthrough
in fostering human capital, and it paves the way for
further cooperation between our schools,” he said
at the dedication ceremony.
Eighteen undergraduates are enrolled for the inaugural
fall quarter. Although they will be required to study
Chinese, their other courses will be taught in English
by Peking U. faculty. “You can’t learn the
language in 10 weeks,” says program director Jason
Patent. “We are trying to get people hooked; to
reconfigure their view of China. We want to build transpacific
citizens.”
Students will live on campus. Emeritus professor of
Chinese Albert Dien will be in residence during the
fall. He’ll be replaced spring quarter by Harold
Kahn, professor emeritus of history.
Issues of academic freedom were an obvious concern,
but with Min’s help those have been resolved,
Patent says. In fact, at the dedication ceremony in
May, Min asserted that “academic freedom is critical.”
“It’s been made clear that the classroom
is a sacred space, a free-speech zone,” Patent
says. Outside the classroom, though, Chinese rules apply.
“Students will have to learn to express moral
outrage in ways that won’t be destructive. If
you want to protest, you don’t go wave signs in
Tiananmen Square. That will screw things up for you
and for the other students.”
American students in China are still a novelty, although
about 20 U.S. schools have programs there. That said,
Stanford must work hard to see that its students are
experiencing the real China, not China Lite. “There
is a deeply inculcated distrust between Chinese and
foreigners that goes back generations,” says Patent.
“Historically, if you’re a foreigner you
live where foreigners live and you do what foreigners
do. It takes a lot of effort to make Chinese friends.
One of our challenges will be to get students out as
much as possible. It will be easy for them to get sucked
into the expatriate, clubbing lifestyle.”
According to Nur, the program should challenge students’
assumptions about China, including preconceived notions
about its government. “I’ve always felt
Communism was just another coat of paint on China,”
he says. “It’s an ancient civilization,
not some upstart nation. It’s one-fifth of humankind.
We have to be there.”
“A lot hangs on U.S.-China relations,” adds
Patent. “We can’t afford for the United
States and China not to know and understand each other.
This program is one small contribution.” |
