Wei-yuan Huang, Research Fellow in Chemistry at the University, is a man who may never return to his home, his wife, and his friends. He, and four thousand other Chinese nationals in this country who share his fate, are the living casualties of a new kind of war: the diplomatic Cold War with Communist China. All these men have been trained in the technical sciences, and while few of them have done secret research, the government holds that their return to the Chinese mainland would be "prejudicial to the national interest."
Officially this places them in the classification "150X." After the Chinese Communists entered the Korean War, President Truman ordered all Chinese mainlanders studying or working in the technical sciences be denied exit visas not only to China, but to any other part of the world as well. The McCarran Act bears a similar clause, sealing the nation's borders to "150X" risks.
Huang is a virtual prisoner today because of the skills he has acquired in the United States. Away from his home for over seven years, he has been with his wife for only three months during this period. She is now in Hong Kong outside the Communist orbit, but Huang has little hope of cutting through the tangle of statutes which separate them. He has lived the last two years, and perhaps will live his whole life fighting to rejoin his wife and family. So far, he has accomplished nothing.
Huang, like most of the other Chinese in his position, came here as a student. In 1949, he entered the University, and two years later, received his Ph.D. in Chemistry. No longer able to remain here on his student visa, he made his first appeal for emigration papers. The answer was unexpected: "Pursuant to the authority contained in the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952 . . . you are hereby ordered not to depart or attempt to depart from the United States, whether or not you have a permit to depart, until you have been notified that this order has been revoked." The government gave him a permit to work in the United States "until further notice."
With little hope of leaving the country, Huang then tried to get his wife in. Since she had gone to Hong Kong before the Communists closed the borders of China, she was able to secure a Nationalist passport. Mrs. Huang also gained admission to the Harvard Graduate School of Education. All this done, they tried to obtain the necessary student visa from the State Department. Her application was denied. She was a "non-bonafide non-immigrant." Because Huang could not leave the country, the State Department feared that she would remain here with him after her course of study.
Next, Huang applied for permanent residence papers, under which his wife could have entered the United States through preferential immigration quotas. With the help of Professor Fieser and other University men, he filed an appeal for permanent residence. The local and Washington Immigration Offices approved and sent it to Montreal for signing--formal application requiring that the applicant sign in a foreign country. But here again his standing as "150X" prevented him from taking the last small step toward reunion. He could not leave the country for even the few hours necessary to sign the formal application.
Early this year, when his wife became ill in Hong Kong, Huang made his second fruitless appeal for an exit permit. In July, Communist charges at Geneva that the United States was holding four thousand Chinese in this country brought Huang one last hope. In negotiations with the Communists, the United States released fifteen Chinese, among them Sheldon H. T. Liang, ex-Research Fellow at the University. But Huang was not among the chosen.
Shortly afterwards, in a final appeal, Huang signed a petition to President Eisenhower along with twenty-five other students in the same position. Asserting they have never had access to classified information, they wrote, "In the seeking of knowledge and wisdom, some of the undersigned have had to leave behind their beloved wives and children. In most of the cases the painful separation has already lasted several years, and their return is still being denied . . . Distressed and unsettled, we are forced to let slip through our fingers the best years of our lives . . . We sincerely appeal to you, Mr. President, to make it possible for any Chinese student to be allowed to leave the United States whenever he so chooses, and we petition you to revoke this restraining order." So far, they have received no answer.
Friends and students have appealed directly on Huang's behalf to the President, Senator Saltonstall, and Immigration officials. His wife has appealed for entrance through the Refugee Act, under a waiting list twenty-five years long. Huang feels that he has explored every logical path leading to his family, and all have been blind alleys. Tired, he can only say, "I wish that we were allowed to choose our own future, as free men should. We just don't have twenty-five years to wait."
