Writing about what I'm writing about

It occurs to me that I haven’t written very much about the major thing that I’m spending my second semester here doing, so I thought that I should remedy that. In addition it ties in significantly with what I’m doing here in the first place, on a number of levels.

As part of my study abroad there are several academic concentrations you can choose to pursue in lieu of simply enrolling in a few classes at the local universities. These include film, human rights, and an independent research, which is what I’m doing, and which is why I chose to do this particularly program, here in Buenos Aires. I had decided a while ago that I would come for two semesters and spend the first semester figuring out exactly what I wanted to research, and the second semester researching it.

After I’d decided this but before I came to Buenos Aires I took a course in research methods, partly to fulfill a class requirement and partly as a kind of preparation. Conveniently, the content of the class was essentially writing a research proposal detailing your topic and the potential research methods you would do to investigate it. I brainstormed a couple different ideas and sent some of them to my professor to see what she thought. But, when the day came that we had to present our topic, I decided on another topic proposal, which I’d typed up hastily that morning:

The education systems of developing countries have produced some brilliant natural and social scientists, doctors and academics, but are often unable to keep them, as these individuals seek opportunities abroad. Sometimes this occurs because certain fields are simply not available in these countries, requiring students to study in Europe or the United States in order to continue their studies. Often though it is simply the appeal of getting out of the country to a place where there are greater opportunities to make more money and enjoy benefits that are not available in the developing world. To what extent are developing countries hurt by their inability to hold onto some of their brightest scholars, and in what ways does allowing academics to study in other countries actually benefit the home country? What sort of policies should such countries enact to encourage or discourage emigration of this kind?

Although it was last minute, this wasn’t at random. I’ve long had an interest in mixing up my studies and my life, and although I’ve spent the last year and a half thinking, reading and writing about this topic, its interest for me goes back far longer.

In 1982 my father joined the ranks of these skilled migrants when he left Guatemala to study abroad, and after meeting my mother his migration became permanent. When I was born in the United States, my dad made sure that I was a dual citizen and that my siblings and I would get to know the country where the rest of his (my) family still lived. In high school I began studying Spanish (which I didn’t grow up speaking) and I’ve basically spent the rest of my life looking south.

In February my dad suffered a fatal heart attack, a week and a half before I left to study abroad. Before that time, Dad used to flirt with the idea of going back to Guatemala to teach, to retire or even to purchase farm land there. When my mom got him to read Three Cups of Tea, a book about an American climber-turned-philanthropist building schools in Pakistan (my dad was an avid climber in his youth), my dad said "I could do that. But it wouldn't make sense to go to Pakistan. I could have more impact" economists would say he'd have a greater comparative advantage, "in giving back to Guatemala". Guatemala has, in the language of my discipline, suffered a permanent loss of highly skilled human capital.

So now here I am, having missed the South I was aiming for by about a continent, and continuing to ask a question that really goes further than “brain drain”—a question about what was lost and how to replace it.