September 10, 2001
Tough U.S. Visa Policy Angers Chinese Scholars
By ELISABETH ROSENTHAL
 EIJING, Sept. 9 — Yu Jie had surmounted so many obstacles en route to attending business school in the United States. Born in a small coastal city, he accumulated a degree in international finance and a decade of prestigious work experience, as a business consultant and later as a journalist.
He learned English and got high marks on the proficiency exam as well as on the standardized test for graduate school. He got family members to lend him tuition and was accepted by Purdue University, his first choice, in February. But as Purdue begins classes, Mr. Yu remains here — having crashed into a final barrier: the American Embassy repeatedly refused to grant him a visa, saying officials believed that he really wanted to get to the United States and stay there. "They only talked to me for a few minutes," said Mr. Yu, a gregarious, clean-cut 29-year-old, from the offices of the influential policy journal where he remains a top editor. "I think there's no way to judge, especially in such a short time. It seems like a snap decision." In a year in which record numbers of Chinese have applied for visas — and been rejected — the American Embassy visa section here has suddenly become a focal point of anti- American resentment, its decisions derided as arbitrary and unfair. Chinese newspapers have been running editorials and multipart series criticizing its performance. Internet chat rooms devoted to the visa section are filled with students' battle tales and analysis of the personality and foibles of each visa officer. "The inscrutable beings behind the glass are rejecting an unprecedented number of applicants, with full or nearly full scholarships," read one article in a series currently running in the popular Beijing Youth Daily, one of many Chinese publications to report the issue. From the Chinese perspective, the issue is simple: on the basis of interviews lasting less than five minutes, thousands of Chinese this year have found their longstanding plans for study, travel or work jettisoned. Those denied visas include students with full scholarships to Ivy League schools and grandparents wanting to see a first grandchild. While such cases are not unique to China, the numbers here have become huge and the aftermath especially far-reaching. There now are more students at American universities from China than from any other country, more than 50,000 last year, and a number of universities have complained that they are being denied valued students and teaching assistants. More important, those denials disproportionately affect young, highly educated students and professionals, seeding resentment in a group that has played an important role in improving ties between the countries. But American Embassy officials are inclined to be suspicious: historically, a majority of Chinese students have indeed remained in the United States after graduation, although most did so legally, and the Chinese government says that the number returning home is now growing by more than 10 percent a year. Large numbers of Chinese have faced rejections this year, embassy officials acknowledge, and the rejection rate has been high compared with last year. But they deny that the proportion of applications turned down is an all time high — although they refused to release statistics for fear they would be "misleading." The embassy only tallies the percentage of applications that are successful and, since many Chinese apply several times before succeeding or giving up, it is hard to know how many individuals are turned down. However, the United States government did release figures for the six weeks between May 15 and June 20, which showed that 41 percent of student applications were rejected during that time, up from 27 percent over the same period a year earlier. The statistics also showed that just over half of applications from research scholars and professionals were rejected, up from 38 percent in 2000, although Chinese note that the odds seem to have become somewhat better recently. An American diplomat said that one reason more people are being rejected is that more high school students are applying. Another is that the total number of applications is growing so fast — up 17 percent, to more than 400,000 last year. A vast majority of Chinese, like Mr. Yu, are rejected because a visa officer makes what is often a highly subjective determination: that the applicant harbors intentions of staying on in the United States — whether legally or illegally — which disqualifies the applicant for a visa under United States law. The interviewers, often first- or second-year Foreign Service officers, see well over 100 people a day on summer months, spending only minutes with each one. No wonder, then, that visa interview consulting booths are flourishing across from the American Embassy and Internet chat rooms are filled with hints on interview strategies. Given handles like "Glassboy" and "Big Taiwan Mama," visa officers have become minor celebrities to desperate students, who sometimes apply more than half a dozen times. The cost is $55 a try, a standard fee that is equivalent to about a month's salary in much of China. "Taiwan Big Ma likes short answers and transcripts," said one successful applicant, identified only as Egirl to the chat room. An American diplomat here acknowledged that getting a visa has become "the most stressful part" of applying for study in the United States — by far the preferred destination of students. "We realize we are making life-altering decisions," he said. "But I think our people do a wonderful job given the tools we have." If the Chinese are unhappy with high rejection rates, he said, they should not blame the visa officers, but the 50-year-old American immigration law. Most Chinese are rejected under section 214-B of the code, which states that applicants should be denied a visa if they have "intent to immigrate," by legal means or not. According to the law, every applicant is presumed to have "immigrant intent" until the candidate can convince an interviewer otherwise. It is a presumption that many Chinese find particularly galling. Although "innocent until proven guilty" is a basic presumption of American law, noted the article in the Beijing Youth Daily, "the applicant is assumed to be guilty of harboring a secret wish to stay in America." But the law is also "contradictory," acknowledged the American diplomat, because it presents numerous means for students to stay on legally in the United States after their visas expire. In fact, most Chinese students who stay on in the United States do so legally, he said, by going to work for an American company or university that sponsors them. "They are people who become very productive members of the U.S. economy — it's not a drain on the U.S. at all," he added. Mr. Yu, the editor who was denied a visa, insists that he wants to return, but in three different visa interviews, he failed to make his case. On June 14, his first try, questions focused on his career. He said he wanted to return to get a job with a bank in Hong Kong, Shanghai or Beijing. Result: a 214-B rejection. On July 10, he was assigned to "the woman officer whom everyone is afraid of for her high rejection rates." She told him that, as an M.B.A., "he would have more opportunities in the U.S. than in China." 214-B again. On Aug. 9, three days after he was to have registered at Purdue, he tried again — this time armed even with letters of support from American diplomats in Beijing. He said the visa officer asked him outright, four times, to prove he would return. He did not quite know what to say. He mentioned friends and family in China, his goal of a bank job, and the career he has already made for himself here. "He said you have still not convinced us," recalled Mr. Yu. By then, time had run out. The American Embassy says it tries to take into account many factors in trying to determine who might — or might not — return. They are favorably disposed to people who have previously traveled to other countries and have returned. Also, they look for ties that bind to China — a successful family business, a home, a car, a job already offered for their return, a spouse or child left behind. The evaluation is not high science. Anyway, critics say, it is impossible to sort out by these crude tests which applicants intend to return. Fang Lin, a doctor specializing in rehabilitating people who have suffered traumas like strokes or heart attacks, was invited to present a paper last December at a conference sponsored by Baylor Medical College, in Texas. Her specialty is a fledgling field in China, and she looked forward to learning from American colleagues. Dr. Fang, 30, has worked at one of Beijing's most upscale clinics, The Friendship Hospital, since 1993. She and her husband — a successful executive — own an apartment and two cars and have traveled to Hong Kong and South Korea as tourists. He was not planning to accompany her. Still, she was turned down twice late last year, both times for "immigrant intent;" after that, it was too late to apply again. Of the five doctors from her hospital invited to the conference, only two were approved. "I never dreamed it would be such trouble — I was just going to a conference," she said, adding, "They think that everyone wants to leave." |
