Scholars who rely on access to China or funding from Chinese sources often steer clear of politically sensitive topics.
I n July 2025, the Trump administration paused export controls on advanced AI chips to China in an effort to restart trade talks. The decision drew criticism from national security circles concerned about China’s expanding tech dominance. Yet a quieter and more enduring pipeline of technological transfer remains largely overlooked: America’s elite universities.
Institutions such as Harvard, MIT, Stanford, and Columbia are global beacons of research and innovation. Their mission statements reflect an ethos of internationalism and academic freedom. Harvard seeks to “inspire every member of our community to strive toward a more just, fair, and promising world,” for example, and Columbia commits to “advancing knowledge and learning at the highest level and to convey the products of its efforts to the world.” These ideals sound noble, and they often are, but they also create blind spots in a rapidly shifting geopolitical landscape.
Some of the most influential voices in academia have grown increasingly critical of America’s global role. Columbia economist Jeffrey Sachs has argued that the U.S. suffers from “imperial overreach” and argues for a multipolar world where China plays a leading role. American University political scientist Amitav Acharya has, similarly, advocated a “multiplex world order” that seeks to challenge America’s global dominance. Even Princeton’s John Ikenberry, often seen as a defender of liberal internationalism, has expressed concern that U.S. unilateralism could unravel the very international order that America has helped build.
These aren’t abstract academic theories. They shape how universities approach international research and collaboration. In many elite institutions, the pursuit of knowledge is considered to be inherently global; an endeavor that should remain open, inclusive, and free of political constraint. But as the boundary between civilian and military technologies grows fuzzier, particularly in fields like AI and quantum computing, academic openness can come at a cost. Such national security concerns are sometimes brushed aside by academia and are viewed as illegitimate, or even as reactionary or xenophobic.
At the heart of this matter is money. Students from China and India compose more than half of the 1.1 million foreign students studying in the U.S. During the 2023–24 academic year, international students contributed more than $40 billion to the U.S. economy. With annual tuition at elite schools often exceeding $60,000, these students fund research centers, laboratories, and faculty salaries. This revenue stream gives universities every reason to remain globally open, even if doing so occasionally creates tension between their priorities and national security.
More significantly, many of these institutions maintain formal research partnerships with Chinese universities tied to state and military entities. Harvard, for instance, has collaborated with Tsinghua University, often referred to as China’s MIT, on joint research on artificial intelligence, quantum physics, and biomedicine. While billed as academic exchanges, many projects in these fields relate directly to China’s civil-military fusion strategy, whereby breakthroughs in science serve Chinese economic development as well as military modernization.
These are not theoretical risks. They are playing out in real time. According to the Center for Security and Emerging Technology, about one-third of Chinese nationals who earn Ph.D.s in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) fields in the U.S. return home within five years. Many go on to work in high-priority sectors supporting China’s strategic goals. Kai-Fu Lee, a Carnegie Mellon Ph.D., led Google China before founding Sinovation Ventures, an AI-focused firm closely aligned with Beijing’s national objectives. Jie Tang, a Cornell Ph.D., now leads major AI research initiatives at Tsinghua. During my own fieldwork in China’s aviation sector, I mentored two promising students, Kankan Xie and Jikuo Lu, through elite U.S. graduate programs. One is now a professor at Peking University; the other works on AI at Meta but plans to return to China. Both were grateful for the opportunities they found in the United States but made clear that their long-term goals were to support China’s national development.
Faculty are not blind to this. Martin Widzer, who teaches at the University of Colorado Denver and at the International College Beijing, told me that many of his Chinese students were candid in their nationalist convictions. Several now attend elite U.S. institutions, and many plan to return home, equipped with a world-class education and a strong sense of purpose.
Even more concerning is the growing trend of academic self-censorship. Scholars who rely on access to China or funding from Chinese sources often steer clear of politically sensitive topics such as Taiwan, Xinjiang, cyber espionage, and technology theft. A prominent China scholar declined to let me publish his comments, fearing that it could jeopardize his visa and access to archives. The pressure is real, and it is only growing. As China scholar Ming Xia has noted, this kind of self-censorship undermines academic independence. When faculty or institutions depend on partnerships with authoritarian states, they risk shaping their research agendas to align more closely with the priorities of their funders, conducting experiments based on what is deemed acceptable rather than on the pursuit of truth.
This is not a call to end international cooperation. U.S. science has thrived on open exchange. But universities must balance openness with strategic awareness and recognize how generosity can aid strategic rivals.
Policymakers must adopt a tougher stance. Research that involves dual-use technologies alongside institutions in authoritarian states known for serious human rights abuses should be banned outright. Partnerships linked to foreign military or intelligence agencies must be suspended or ended immediately. The U.S. should expand green-card access to foreign STEM graduates who have earned their degrees in the United States, to retain talent for American innovation and security. Moreover, increased federal and state funding for public higher education is essential to reduce universities’ reliance on foreign tuition, which currently threatens national security and America’s technological edge. Protecting our strategic interests allows no compromise.
If the United States is serious about maintaining technological leadership in the 21st century, we must recognize that the same institutions that are producing Nobel laureates and Pulitzer winners might also be accelerating China’s military and technological rise.