Home » Opinion » Opinion Columns
School’s self-promotion on link to Nobel laureate shows angst over lack of winners
Print Edition
ABOUT two weeks ago, American chemist Eric Betzig was awarded the 2014 Nobel Prize in Chemistry, together with German Stefan W. Hell and American William E. Moerner.
As he basked in the adulation of admirers, a high school in eastern China also attracted attention with its oddly worded congratulations. The No. 1 High School in Bengbu City, Anhui Province, displayed a notice on its campus LED screen on October 14, that read “Congratulations to Eric Betzig, son-in-law of this school, on winning the Nobel Prize.”
A little explaining is needed here for those bemused at the usage of “son-in-law.” It turned out that Betzig is married to Ji Na, a Chinese woman who happens to be a graduate of the school.
The media revelation was followed by an uproar, with scores of Chinese commentators mocking the school for its laughable attempt at promoting itself through others’ accolades.
The school’s authority defended the move, saying the congratulations were a genuine gesture of blissful pride.
This episode is vastly emblematic of the mentality of many Chinese when it comes to the Nobel Prize. Cases abound of ethnic Chinese Nobel laureates being celebrated as “one of our own.”
Take Roger Yonchien Tsien, a US-born chemist. He won the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 2008. The Chinese press was jubilant, less over his achievements than over his identity as the nephew of late nuclear physicist Qian Xuesen, often dubbed China’s Robert Oppenheimer. A lot of effusive headlines were generated, such as “Qian Xuesen’s nephew got the prize!” as though Tsien had to credit his bloodline for the laurels.
This kind of association was perhaps so annoyingly pervasive that he felt compelled to state publicly that he was not a Chinese scientist, and had grown up and lived all along in the US.
Nobel syndrome
The statement was like a slap in the face for some complacent observers. And his refusal to identify with China aggravated the sense of hurt pride of some Chinese — or more precisely, it triggered a bout of so-called “Nobel syndrome.”
This syndrome kicks in every time the names of Nobel candidates and laureates are announced. A relief finally came in 2012, when writer Mo Yan received the Nobel Prize in Literature. Still, the syndrome refuses to go away. And the breakthrough may have only compounded the angst of scientists, for a Nobel science winner has yet to come along. And note, we are talking about home-grown Chinese nationals, not ethnic Chinese.
So whenever there is something Chinese about the Nobel Prize laureates — strongly if they are ethnic Chinese, and vaguely if they have Chinese spouses — it is certain to be greeted with fanfare, even ecstasy.
Frustrated yearnings for the coveted prize even have a perverse psychological effect: We may not have a Nobel science winner, but so be it, we are capable of sending manned spacecraft into outer space nonetheless, a feat not every country can pull off.
Nobel Prizes certainly are not the sole measure of China’s scientific advances. But the so-be-it thinking smacks of sour grapes, or worse, a form of denial.
A real source of embarrassment for Chinese scientists is that various ethnic Chinese Nobel laureates seem to suggest that the prize is not beyond Chinese grasp, except that they have to first go abroad to become “eligible” for it.
Academic corruption and administrative interference have long been blamed for stifling creativity at home. Researchers complain that in the comfort of a freer atmosphere, their Western peers need to concern themselves with science only. A lot has been written and said about the role of China’s flawed academic system in perpetuating the Nobel science drought. Scientists are occasionally forced to ingratiate themselves with officials for funding and patronage, among other things.
This being the case, many bemoan and predict China’s continued Nobel science drought. Being a pessimist is easy, but in doing so we are indulging in the morbid fascination with the “Nobel syndrome.”
In an interview early this year with Emilie Marcus, editor of CELL, an esteemed journal of biology and life science, I tentatively asked when she thought there would be a Chinese laureate in physiology or medicine. I only expected some platitudes, but she answered the question with surprising audacity. Her prediction: within 10, or maybe even five, years.
And China might be even closer to Nobel than Marcus and many of us thought. Just as Mo Yan unexpectedly won the prize after a long wait, Chinese scientists can be trusted to do it again.
But this has to be a natural consummation of scientific prowess. Setting a timetable and waxing hysterical over the “Nobel syndrome” won’t help. Until then, one is wise to avoid such self-congratulatory farces as claiming to be the “in-laws” of some award-winning strangers.
- About Us
- |
- Terms of Use
- |
-
RSS - |
- Privacy Policy
- |
- Contact Us
- |
- Shanghai Call Center: 962288
- |
- Tip-off hotline: 52920043
- 沪ICP证：沪ICP备05050403号-1
- |
- 互联网新闻信息服务许可证：31120180004
- |
- 网络视听许可证：0909346
- |
- 广播电视节目制作许可证：沪字第354号
- |
- 增值电信业务经营许可证：沪B2-20120012
Copyright © 1999- Shanghai Daily. All rights reserved.Preferably viewed with Internet Explorer 8 or newer browsers.
