Recruiting in China

When Wayne Ho was growing up in southern California, his father, a first-generation Chinese-American, wanted him to become one of the "usual three"-- a doctor, lawyer or banker. In his sophomore year at the University of California, Berkeley, Mr. Ho decided to switch majors from pre-med to English and ethnic studies and to pursue his passion in public policy. His father wasn't happy about it.

"He basically told me how can I get a job if I get these majors," recalls Mr. Ho, who is now executive director of the coalition for Asian American Children and Families, a non-profit organization. Degrees in social science might not help him find a high-paying job, said his father, who passed away three months after their long conversation on his career choice.

Non-profit director Wayne Ho talks to WSJ's Li Yuan about why he pursued a career that he loved over one that promised financial well-being, against his Chinese father's will. (Feb. 26)
If the idea that a father needs to tell his son what to do with his life seems peculiar to some, it's because career choice plays out differently in China than in the U.S.

At some point in their lives, many Americans ponder what to do with their lives. You can pursue your ideals or settle down in a more stable and financially rewarding job. You may consult with your parents, but ultimately it's your decision. You don't need to justify it to anybody but yourself.

In China, what you do with your life is a family affair. If you're smart and hard-working, you will be expected to pursue a stable and high-paying job -- whether you like it or not. The fear of poverty is so ingrained in society that the first order of family business is financial security. The pressure can be huge. Snobbish relatives may laugh at the parents for allowing a child to become a struggling artist. So, sacrificing your passion for arts and literature to take a "respectable" job is considered normal. Otherwise, we can be considered stupid, selfish and disrespectful of our parents.

That's not to say Chinese people never follow their career dreams. But those who do, I'd argue, are exceptions to the rule. Their parents are either very open-minded - like mine, who let me have my head and become a journalist -- or have deep faith in their children's talents. There's no shortage of stories about Chinese parents devoting their entire lives to their children's musical career. Chasing your dreams, especially when they don't lead to stable or lucrative jobs, remains more of a dream than reality for the average Chinese.

It's not unusual for Chinese parents to decide what their children should study in college. For example, my older Chinese friends often ask me what their sons and daughters should major in at college. They never believed me when I said they should study whatever they feel passionate about. At 18, they argue, the children will forget about their hobbies and ideals in a few months anyway. And passion doesn't put food on the table.

I've seen many high-school kids leave the choices of college and major to their "wiser" parents, jump for the highest-paying jobs they can find right after graduation, and then, as young professionals, torment themselves because they hate their high-paying jobs.

Sometimes even when the children know what they want to do with their lives, they won't rebel against their parents.

During one of my recent Chinese New Year phone greetings, I asked a friend about her 29-year-old son. "He's doing well, working at a large mutual fund in Beijing," my friend said. "But what about his passion for drama?" I asked, remembering that he co-wrote and directed a play a few years ago.

"He knew that he had to make money, like everyone else," my friend said. "He's making between 200,000 to 300,000 yuan ($28,000 to $42,000) a year (after tax). He's happy about that."

I'm not saying that most Americans would have made a different choice than my friend's son. There are plenty of Americans who choose careers largely based on how much money they can make. But at least they made a choice and knew what deal they made with themselves.

I believe there are no right or wrong choices as long as you are honest with yourself. Some bankers and lawyers I know thrive at their challenging jobs, while others hate the long hours and can't wait to quit as soon as they pay off student loans or save enough security money.

The idea that there's a choice between life's passion and financial rewards is also relatively new in China. My parents' generation, and even my generation, were taught to serve as "a brick in the building of socialism," wherever the party wanted us to go.

Then, about 10 years ago, college graduates were allowed to find jobs on their own. But quickly, everybody marched into the great competition of getting rich. Survival of the fittest became the game of the whole country. With a close-to-none social safety-net, even those who are making decent salaries by American standards feel they're far from being financially secure. They have to save to pay for education, healthcare, retirement and unemployment. And not just for themselves, but also for their children, parents and in-laws.

Economic prosperity has often been followed by increased appreciation of arts and literature. Take Florence during the Renaissance, Elizabethan England and New York in early 20th century. I'm hoping the same is true for China. Perhaps one day not too far in the future the country's burgeoning middle class will attach more value to career satisfaction that has nothing to do with how much you make.