Scientific enterprise is undergoing a much-touted expansion in China, fuelled by astronomical economic growth and a seemingly unlimited supply of talent. But graduate students and postdocs in science and engineering face numerous hurdles. For many, their dreams of becoming an academic researcher seem out of reach, owing to problems with funding, training and bureaucracy. "If you are really interested in academia, it is worth trying. Otherwise, run away," says Yi Wang, a third-year biology graduate student at Peking University in Beijing.
The Chinese government continues to invest heavily in science and engineering. In 2006, it increased spending on research and development (R&D) to 1.42% of gross domestic product (GDP). According to China's National Bureau of Statistics, this is a historical high. Although the percentage is lower than that of the United States or Japan, the total expenditure of around 300 billion renminbi (US$43 billion), is second only to the United States. More than 700 multinational companies have built R&D centres in China.
But limited government support and an excess of young researchers have made prospects dim for many. The job market has become more crowded as Chinese researchers return from overseas. And although the government has expanded PhD and postdoc programmes in the past few years, there's still a shortage of full-time research vacancies.
LIPING WEI/PEKING UNIV.
Science graduate students at Peking University are seeking sound career paths.
Postdoctoral positions were instituted in China in 1985, largely on the suggestion of Chinese-born Nobel physics laureate Tsung Dao Lee. By the beginning of 2007, China had put a total of 45,000 postdocs through the system (see 'The rise of the postdoc'). In 2006, the latest year for which official statistics are available, there were more than twice as many postdocs who were in their posts or looking for jobs than in 2002. Some 40% were in engineering, 20% in science and 10% in medicine, according to the 2006 figures.
SOURCE: CHINA POSTDOCTOR ORGANIZATION
Cong Cao, a research fellow at the State University of New York, who studies workforce-related issues in China, says that roughly 31% of China's science and technology postdocs work in basic science and the rest in applied science. Although the percentage going to industry, government, the military or a second postdoc changed little between 2003 and 2006, the percentage going to academia dropped, and the percentage of postdocs taking other positions increased (see 'Where they go'). Either unconventional career paths are on the upswing, or the market for conventional positions in academia and overseas has become saturated — or both.
Prodigal sons
The top talent still heads abroad. Only 11% of China's PhDs continue their research in Chinese institutions, according to the Ministry of Science and Technology. "Postdoctoral positions in China are not as attractive as overseas ones in terms of both salary and scientific training if the PhDs want to go further in their scientific career," says Gang Pei, president of the Shanghai Institutes for Biological Science (SIBS) and president-elect of Tongji University in Shanghai.
To some extent, the Chinese government encourages the flight overseas. Government initiatives such as the '100 Talents', a Chinese Academy of Sciences programme funding 100 scholars per year, typically favour those with foreign research experience, says Cao. Neuroscientist Yi Rao, who moved back to Beijing in 2007 after 24 years in the United States, acknowledges this stigma against young scientists who have not studied or worked abroad, but suggests that things are changing. Rao is dean of Peking University's life-sciences department and deputy director of the National Institute of Biological Sciences (NIBS), a government-financed institute that opened in 2003.
SOURCE: CHINA POSTDOCTOR ORGANIZATION
More of a problem, Rao laments, is the lack of an intellectual lab culture in many Chinese institutions. One of the first things he did upon arrival at Peking University was to start a regular seminar series. Most labs in China are focused on producing papers and results, rather than interacting with other labs, Rao says. "If investigators treat science as hard labour, they do not enjoy science," he says. "And a natural consequence is that their students will soon see through their motivation and lose interest."
Notoriously low stipends exacerbate the difficulty of staying in academia. The typical PhD student makes between 500 and 1,200 renminbi a month — barely enough to survive on in big cities such as Beijing. More than 50 biologists and mathematicians recently wrote to the government requesting increased support for graduate students. The ministries are discussing initiatives, but no definite steps have been taken, according to Rao, who helped lead the appeal. According to China's Xinmin newspaper, Yuliang Yang, head of the office of academic degrees committee of the state council, told a conference in November 2007 that China's PhD students cannot live a decent life normal for people in their 20s and 30s. At a December 2007 workshop on graduate education at Peking University, administrators at top Chinese universities expressed similar concerns. Taking a second job is rarely an option for dedicated graduate students, notes Cao, as they are expected to publish two or three papers within three years. Young researchers do not fare much better once they get their degrees: typical salaries for entry-level PhDs and postdocs are 2,000–5,000 renminbi a month, with a rare few making thousands more at high-tech companies.
Supply side
The government controls the supply of postdoc positions, allotting a certain number to each institution and often limiting their duration to two to three years — a small time window to finish a complex research project intended to propel the researcher into an independent career. This isn't a problem everywhere, notes Rao — NIBS for example has no time limit. Postdoc numbers will continue to increase — the Chinese Academy of Sciences runs more than 100 postdoctoral programmes, which accommodate 20% of all Chinese postdocs. Its total budget for postdoc support has increased from 1 million renminbi in 1985 to 3 million today and it plans to support some 4,000 postdocs by 2010, three times its current number.
If investigators treat science as hard labour, their students will soon see through their motivation and lose interest.
Yi Rao
But many still struggle. According to Pei, principal investigators at SIBS spend their own grant money to support 70–80 postdocs a year and raise the average salary. They are also trying to extend the duration of a postdoc in an effort to make their PhDs and postdocs more competitive in the job market.
Weiwei Liu, one of Rao's graduate students, plans to apply for overseas postdoc positions, but worries about her job prospects. "As far as I know, the opportunities are limited and the competition is great," she says. She sees limited opportunities in China in academia and an underdeveloped biomedical industry.
Still, companies could be part of the solution. A few do fund university postdocs to address specific research problems. Others earn certification to start their own postdoc positions. Although this leaves companies setting the agenda, Yi Bing Duan, an assistant professor at the Institute of Policy and Management at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, calls it a potential "triple win" — universities get money, postdocs get support and companies get their research questions addressed. Duan would like to see postdocs get their own organization, something like the National Postdoctoral Association in the United States, which would identify postdoc gripes and work with the government to find solutions.
Despite the frustrations, researchers with dreams of pursing basic science do persevere. Meng Gao, a PhD student in bioinformatics at Peking University, is cautiously optimistic. She pictures herself setting up her own lab and spending 20 years on one project. "The employment situation is especially tough for women scientists," she says. "I know many of them are facing difficulties and are planning to give up, or even have left."
But there are success stories. Jiang Zhang was recently appointed an assistant mathematics professor at Renmin University in Beijing after a two-year postdoc at the Chinese Academy of Sciences. He enjoys the freedom of academia. "I decide when to do what project and how to do it," he says. "The money is not good but is acceptable. And I believe not only the money but the overall situation in academia will get better. Even if one day I go to industry, I still want to do research."