China vs. India in the race for diasporic research talent: Speed, sovereignty, and soft power

The global map of scientific talent is being redrawn. For decades, the dominant narrative was “Brain Drain” – a simple, tragic story of the Global South educating bright minds only to see them migrate to the West. That era is ending. Today, the conversation has shifted to “Brain Circulation” and, more aggressively, “Brain Gain.” Nations now recognise that intellectual capital is not just an economic booster; it is the primary currency of national security and technological sovereignty.

In this high-stakes contest to reverse the flow of talent, two Asian giants offer diverging playbooks. The People’s Republic of China has adopted a “weaponised” strategy, treating scientists as strategic assets akin to rare earth minerals. India, conversely, relies on “diaspora diplomacy” and soft power. A deep dive into the ecosystems of both nations reveals a stark contrast: China offers speed and sovereignty, while India creates hurdles of bureaucracy that turn even the most patriotic returnees away.

If you think about it, China does not merely invite talent back; it engineers their return. The state views the repatriation of overseas scientists not as academic enrichment but as a critical component of military-civil fusion. This is a “whole-of-government” approach involving the Communist Party’s Organisation Department and the Ministry of Science and Technology.

The flagship “Thousand Talents Plan” (TTP) and its successor, the “Young Thousand Talents” (YTT) programme, operate on a single metric: the transfer of knowledge and, as have complained, intellectual property from the West to China. To achieve this, China effectively neutralises the advantages of Western academia – stability and infrastructure – by offering hyper-speed funding and resource sovereignty.

In western systems, and indeed in India, a researcher often waits months or years for a grant to clear administrative hurdles. Chinese research universities and local governments, particularly in tech hubs like Shenzhen, operate with a start-up mentality. They offer immediate start-up grants ranging from 1 million to 10 million RMB. This velocity of capital allows a returning scientist to order equipment and hire staff almost immediately.

Furthermore, the “Peacock Plan” in Shenzhen addresses the returnee’s holistic lifestyle. It offers massive tax-free signing bonuses and housing subsidies. High-level talents can receive a 200-square-metre apartment rent-free for 10 years, or a purchase allowance of up to 6 million yuan. If they serve for a decade, the property title may be transferred to them. By wrapping the returnee in a “golden cage” of benefits – including guaranteed admission to top-tier schools for their children – China mitigates the “lifestyle penalty” usually associated with leaving the West.

This aggressive strategy has delivered volume. China has surpassed the U.S. in the quantity of scientific papers produced. However, the integration of these “Sea Turtles” (returnees) has created deep structural friction with locally trained faculty, often disparagingly called “Land Tortoises.”

To accommodate the returnees, Chinese universities adopted an American-style tenure-track system. New faculty, particularly those under the YTT, are hired on lucrative contracts with a strict six-year probation. They must meet stringent Key Performance Indicators (KPIs) regarding publications and grants or face dismissal. This “Up-or-Out” system clashes with the traditional socialist “Iron Rice Bowl” of guaranteed employment.

China’s strategy eventually triggered a geopolitical immune response. The U.S. Department of Justice’s “China Initiative” (2018) sought to counter perceived economic espionage.While intended to protect IP, it created a climate of fear. Data from the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) indicates that following the launch of the initiative, the departure of scientists of Chinese descent from the U.S. increased three-fourths.

This effectively accelerated the reverse migration China desired, pushing high-profile names back to Beijing. However, it also signalled to the world that science had become a geopolitical battleground.

Leveraging the Indian diaspora

Meanwhile, India stands in stark contrast. It possesses among the world’s largest scientific diaspora, a demographic juggernaut embedded in Silicon Valley and Ivy League faculties. Unlike China, Indian scientists are generally viewed without suspicion in the West, giving India a massive “soft power” advantage. Yet, India suffers from a profound “Implementation Gap.”

The government has shifted its rhetoric from preventing brain drain to encouraging “brain circulation.” Initiatives like the VAIBHAV Summit engaged thousands of overseas experts, but these remain discussion forums rather than policy engines. The primary vehicles for return – the Ramanujan and Ramalingaswami Fellowships – offer a consolidated salary of roughly ₹1.35 lakh per month and a research grant of ₹7 lakh per year. Compared to China’s multi-million RMB packages, these function more as a “maintenance allowance” than a competitive lure.

And, the central failure in India is not a lack of intent, but a failure of delivery. The returnee experience is often defined by the “Three Ds”: Delay, Disrespect, and Disillusionment.

In science, money is time. Yet, many public reports reveal that fellows under Indian schemes face chronic delays in receiving their stipends and grant money. A “sanction letter” is often issued, but the actual cash transfer traps researchers in a limbo of chasing files.

Consider the timeline: A returnee to Shenzhen receives a signing bonus and lab funds within weeks of signing. A returnee to an India often waits over a year for the first tranche of research money. For that first year, the scientist is effectively paralysed, unable to hire staff or buy consumables, often using personal savings to survive.

Furthermore, the rigid hierarchy of Indian institutions, particularly the IITs and Central Universities, is hostile to “lateral entry.” Returnees accustomed to meritocratic systems find themselves in departments where promotion is a function of years served rather than papers published. Recruitment portals act as “black holes” where applications disappear without acknowledgement for years.

But, to be fair, while the state sector struggles, a new model is emerging. Private philanthropic universities like Ashoka and Plaksha are disrupting the landscape by bypassing state bureaucracy. These institutions operate with corporate agility, using global search committees to headhunt faculty and offering salaries that compete with the corporate sector.

By removing the governance barrier, these universities have successfully attracted high-profile faculty from institutions like Purdue and Berkeley. They serve as a proof-of-concept: Indian returnees do not necessarily need the millions of dollars offered by China – they need professional respect, autonomy, and an environment where they can work without administrative paralysis.

That said, the recent establishment of the Anusandhan National Research Foundation (ANRF) aims to centralise funding and reduce fragmentation. However, unless the ANRF sheds the “file-pushing” culture of its predecessors, it will remain a cosmetic change. And, to compete, India does not need to become an authoritarian state. It needs to professionalise its research administration.

This means moving from annual grant releases to endowment-based funding, ensuring a scientist has their 5-year budget on day one. It means creating a “Green Channel” for lateral hiring that bypasses the rigid roster systems for supernumerary posts.

China weaponised its diaspora with cash and command. India has the opportunity to win its diaspora back with autonomy and efficiency. The talent is waiting at the door. India simply needs to fix the lock.

(Jayant Shilanjan Mundhra is an independent business analyst who runs newsletters called Decoding the Dragon and BharatNama and actively presents deepdives on listed Indian companies, public policies and Chinese strides in varied domains.)

(Sign up for THEdge, The Hindu’s weekly education newsletter.)