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速度
China Eyed as Next Educational Frontier
By ANDREW BROWNE
计时1 SHANGHAI—If there was ever a need for business schools in China, it's now.
Breakneck economic growth has far outstripped the supply of management talent. Meanwhile, Chinese companies in both the private and state sectors are responding to government incentives to "Go Out" and compete against the best companies in the world—while juggling fierce competition, rapidly changing technology and shifting macro-economic forces at home.
Bloomberg
'The way I explain it to my friends in the U.S. is that you cannot achieve 10% GDP growth per year by working a 35-hour week – even if you're as smart as the Chinese,' Mr. Quelch said. Above, the dean attended the Lujiazui Forum in Shanghai on May 20, 2011.
No wonder some of the world's most prominent business schools are eyeing China as the next educational frontier.
China Europe International Business School got to China early. That gives it a head start in terms of faculty and facilities. Its new pitch: "China Depth Global Breadth," marrying insight into how China works with an international perspective that attracts students from China and around the world.
Dean John A. Quelch, a veteran of the Harvard Business School and London Business School, insists that despite economic turmoil in Europe, the CEIBS brand in China remains untarnished. "Germany is held in very high regard," he insists. Besides, he adds: " eople in China take the long view."
Mr. Quelch talked with Andrew Browne in Shanghai. The following interview has been edited. 【字数:243】 计时2 WSJ: Like everybody else in China, CEIBS seems to be investing massively in infrastructure. Tell us something about your expansion plans.
Mr. Quelch: The Shanghai campus will double in size by the end of 2013. We also have a campus that we opened in Beijing in 2010 and we currently have operations in Shenzhen that may convert into a fully fledged campus within the next two to three years.
We also have an appetite for going west, and looking at that hundred million people in the Chengdu-Xian-Chongqing triangle, who will eventually want their own business school and will not necessarily want—or be able—to fly to Beijing or Shanghai.
The reason why Stanford exists is because Harvard always thought that Californians would be happy to come east to Boston, and never imagined they'd want their own Harvard, a.k.a. Stanford.
WSJ: The No. 1 complaint of foreign companies in China is lack of management talent. Isn't that a huge opportunity for you?
Mr. Quelch: First of all, China's pace of expansion has outrun the speed with which managers can experientially develop themselves, and so our role is to be an accelerant. We take experienced or high-potential young managers, and we accelerate the speed with which they can assume more management and leadership responsibilities.
Second, because we cannot serve everybody—obviously—the admissions criteria that we apply and the rectitude of our admissions policies is extremely important to our overall economic impact.
WSJ: What's the mix of students between college graduates and mid-career managers?
Mr. Quelch: We focus on more senior executives even compared with a Harvard Business School. We graduate 1,000 people a year, roughly, 800 of them are executive MBAs; average age 40. The other 200 are MBAs; average age 30.
You have to have an extremely strong teaching faculty—very practical, very experienced—to be able to command the sustained attention and respect of 40-year-old business people.
We are the No.1 revenue-generating business school in executive education in Asia built around our unique ability to deliver both "China Depth and Global Breadth." 【字数:344】 计时3 WSJ: How do the changes in the CEIBS syllabus over the years reflect the shifting dynamics of the Chinese economy?
Mr. Quelch: Initially the focus was on functional competency [in] finance, accounting and marketing etc. Now the emphasis is on integrated general management and problem-solving across functional silos. Teamwork and leadership in fast-growth markets are stressed in our curriculum.
WSJ: Lack of integrated management is said to be one of the weaknesses of many Chinese companies? Why is that?
Mr. Quelch: The main reason is that China is run by engineers [who] typically have strong skills in finance and accounting and economics, but with less developed skills in the areas of leadership, change management, marketing, to some extent strategy as well.
So the soft skills, as we refer to them in the States, are the ones which are underdeveloped in China. The hard skills are well-developed. And so our curriculum places considerable emphasis on overlaying soft skills on the foundation of hard skills that many students bring to the classroom.
WSJ: Isn't part of the problem that state-owned enterprises have many of the same kinds of rigid hierarchies that you have in the Communist Party?
Mr. Quelch: That may be the case. But there's one thing that I've discovered in China: no-one—and I'm talking about the state sector—gets promoted for breaking the rules, but no-one gets to the top if they just follow the rules. So there is an art in China to taking new initiatives but doing so in a manner that is not destabilizing.
【字数:258】 计时4
WSJ: But can that system generate true innovation?
Mr. Quelch: I think you can, if you throw a considerable amount of money behind it. But certainly a major challenge in the state-owned sector is to achieve innovation.
In every country the public sector is different from the private sector, whether it's the U.K. or the U.S., there's an approach, a culture and a style that is different, norms that are different. But in China I think that the gap is wider, certainly than it is in the States, and it's almost a case of natural selection where people come to a fork in the road in China and either go to the state sector or to the private sector. And the mental mind-set associated with each is more substantially different than it is in the U.K. or the U.S.
The innovation in China is much more likely to be generated out of the private sector, even though the state sector is hugely well-endowed with resources that could fund innovation.
WSJ: What advice would you give to Chinese companies headed overseas?
Mr. Quelch: Chinese companies should not go abroad as Chinese companies. They should go abroad as companies with an important differentiated value offering that consumers will be happy to pay for—and the country of origin is irrelevant. 【字数:218】 计时5 WSJ: When will we see the emergence of global Chinese brands?
Mr. Quelch: I think that Chinese companies will add value initially in the B-to-B (business-to-business) sector, not the B-to-C (business-to-consumer) sector. Many people in China are eagerly awaiting the day when the first truly global Chinese brand enters the top-10 ranking of the world's most valuable brands. I think that's probably at least a decade away.
But Chinese companies like Huawei, ZTE—these companies have extremely good technology and know how to invest in technology acquisitions and, increasingly, they are acquiring or hiring non-Chinese to help them become global players. Those are the companies that are likely to be at the forefront of Chinese value-added overseas. Yes, there will be a Lenovo, there'll be a Haier, there'll be a Geely—we'll all, as consumers, be interested in following the fortunes of these B-to-C companies, but I think the B-to-B space is where Chinese companies are really going to excel.
You look at Sany at the moment: it's a very promising long-term competitor to Caterpillar.
WSJ: You say that Chinese companies are increasingly hiring foreigners and becoming diverse. Can you give examples?
Mr. Quelch: If you go to the U.K. website of Huawei, you will find that it's all about Basingstoke. It's not about Huawei as the global brand; it's about Huawei as a company that is in Basingstoke.
This is where the Chinese are going to move faster than the Japanese because a major brake on Japanese global expansion ended up being the shortage of talented Japanese who were interested in, or linguistically able to, operate in international markets.
But the Chinese are much more outgoing, and perhaps because they're coming 30 years later there are many more millions of Chinese who are English-language capable.
My guess is that whereas when a Japanese company made an acquisition the foreign executives immediately hit the equivalent of a glass ceiling, in the case of foreigners in a Chinese company, it's going to be easier for them to move up the ranks.
What will really make a difference in that regard is reciprocity. If and when, for example, Sam Su of Yum Brands becomes the first Chinese CEO of a Fortune 500 company born in China then they will accept a free flow of non-Chinese executive talent throughout their organizations. 【字数:388】 自由阅读 WSJ: What was the biggest surprise for you working in China?
Mr. Quelch: The biggest surprise is that there are no weekends in China. I've always been a very hard-working person, but I have been amazed at the degree to which on Saturdays and Sundays I find myself involved in professional activities.
The way I explain it to my friends in the U.S. is that you cannot achieve 10% GDP growth per year by working a 35-hour week – even if you're as smart as the Chinese.
I remember Jack Welch famously held meetings on Saturdays with his people. But I think for many Chinese this is an historic moment of opportunity – a once-in-a-lifetime, maybe a once-in-a-millennium moment in time that no one wants to waste. So many Chinese display a relentless resolution to work hard today for themselves, their families and a better China. 【字数:144】
越障
Wislawa Szymborska
Wislawa Szymborska, poet, died on February 1st, aged 88
WHEN Wislawa Szymborska won the world’s top literary prize in 1996, her friends called it the “Nobel disaster”. This was not just because she had spent an uncomfortable night before the award ceremony in the bath: the bathroom was the only part of her quarters in a grand Stockholm hotel in which she could manage to turn on the light. Nor was it the “torture” she felt in having to make a speech—one of only three she had given in her life. The real disaster was the trauma of fame and fortune. It was years before she could publish another poem. Her fans’ delight in her Nobel prize was mixed with disappointment that it had rendered her mute.
Like many Poles who survived the war, Ms Szymborska readily accepted communism in early life, seeing it as a salvation for a ruined world. Early poems praised Lenin and young communists building a steel works. Later she blamed her own “foolishness, naivety and perhaps intellectual laziness”, but some found it hard to forgive her for signing a petition in 1953 backing a show trial of four priests.
Her ironic and individualistic spirit was ill fitted to the grey conformity of “people’s Poland”: the Nobel citation said she wrote with the ease of Mozart and the fury of Beethoven. Playful, subtle and haunting, her poetry could never be in harmony with the socialist realist style dictated by the country’s cultural commissars. She mocked their intolerance of dissent in a poem on pornography:
There’s nothing more debauched than thinking. This sort of wantonness runs wild like a wind-borne weed on a plot laid out for daisies.
Communism she likened to the abominable snowman—horrid and unreal—though she stayed in the party until 1966, hoping “to try to fix it all from the inside”. That, she said later, had been another delusion.
Ms Szymborska was 16 when Hitler and Stalin carved up Poland between them. “Old age was the privilege of rocks and trees,” she wrote. Although not a mainstream dissident, her poems distilled the essence of individual stubbornness in the face of what the party bosses said was historical inevitability.
I believe in the refusal to take part. I believe in the ruined career. I believe in the wasted years of work. I believe in the secret taken to the grave. These words soar for me beyond all rules without seeking support from actual examples. My faith is strong, blind, and without foundation.
Scepticism was her watchword. She eschewed political causes; her fight was “against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words”. Her favourite phrase was “I don’t know”. She told the Nobel audience: “It’s small, but it flies on mighty wings. It expands our lives to include the spaces within us as well as those outer expanses in which our tiny Earth hangs suspended.” Without it, she said, Isaac Newton would have gobbled apples rather than pondering the force that makes them drop. Her compatriot Marie Sklodowska-Curie would have “wound up teaching chemistry at some private high school for young ladies from good families.”
An accretion of answers
It was the same for poets. Each poem was a kind of answer, but as soon as the last full stop hit the page the result seemed inadequate. “So the poets keep on trying, and sooner or later the consecutive results of their self-dissatisfaction are clipped together with a giant paper clip by literary historians and called their ‘oeuvre’.”
Her own output was slender in quantity and lean in style. For all her erudition, she did not come across as intimidatingly brainy (unlike some other Polish post-war poets). Schoolchildren learn her poems by heart, like this one about a bereaved pet.
Die—you can’t do that to a cat. Since what can a cat do in an empty apartment? Climb the walls? Rub up against the furniture? Nothing seems different here but nothing is the same. Nothing’s been moved but there’s more space. And at night-time no lamps are lit.
Invented words and syntactic tricks made some of her poems for Polish-speakers only. But her translators, chiefly Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak, did a fine job, particularly in the New Yorker, which has published 16 of the best.
Her humour was mischievous: the lavatory seat in her Cracow flat was made of barbed wire encased in clear plastic. Asked why she had published so little—her entire canon was only some 400 poems—she replied gently that she had a waste-paper basket. Success left no dent in her reclusive modesty, and she would never claim that her external life was interesting. Imagine trying to make a film of a poet’s “hopelessly unphotogenic” life, she said: “Someone sits at a table or lies on a sofa while staring motionless at a wall or ceiling. Once in a while this person writes down seven lines, only to cross out one of them 15 minutes later, and then another hour passes, during which nothing happens Who…could stand to watch this kind of thing?”
Who, indeed? But plenty read and love the results of her self-imposed solitude.
Wis?awa Szymborska Life Wis?awa Szymborska was born on 2 July 1923 in Prowent, Poland (present-day Bnin, Kórnik, Poland), the daughter of Wincenty and Anna (neé Rottermund) Szymborski. Her father was at that time the steward of Count W?adys?aw Zamoyski, a Polish patriot and charitablepatron. After the death of Count Zamoyski in 1924, her family moved to Toruń, and in 1929 to Kraków, where she lived and worked until her death in early 2012. [2]When World War II broke out in 1939, she continued her education in underground classes. From 1943, she worked as a railroad employee and managed to avoid being deported to Germany as a forced labourer.[2] It was during this time that her career as an artist began with illustrations for an English-language textbook. She also began writing stories and occasional poems. Beginning in 1945, Szymborska took up studies of Polish language and literature before switching to sociology at the Jagiellonian University in Kraków.[2] There she soon became involved in the local writing scene, and met and was influenced by Czes?aw Mi?osz. In March 1945, she published her first poem Szukam s?owa (Looking for a word) in the daily paper, Dziennik Polski; her poems continued to be published in various newspapers and periodicals for a number of years.[2][5] In 1948, she quit her studies without a degree, due to her poor financial circumstances; the same year, she married poet Adam W?odek, whom she divorced in 1954 (they remained close until W?odek's death in 1986).[2] The union was childless. Around the time of her marriage she was working as a secretary for an educational biweekly magazine as well as an illustrator. Her first book was to be published in 1949, but did not pass censorship as it "did not meet socialist requirements". Like many other intellectuals in post-war Poland, however, Szymborska adhered to the People's Republic of Poland's (PRL) official ideology early in her career, signing an infamous political petition from 8 February 1953, condemning Polish priests accused of treason in a show trial.[6][7][8] Her early work also supported the socialist themes, as seen in her debut collection Dlatego ?yjemy (That is what we are living for), containing the poems "Lenin" and "M?odzie?y buduj?cej Now? Hut?" ("For the Youth who are building Nowa Huta"), about the construction of a Stalinist industrial town near Kraków.[2] She became a member of the ruling Polish United Workers' Party. Like many communist intellectuals initially close to the official party line, Szymborska gradually grew estranged from socialist ideology and renounced her earlier political work.[2] Although she did not officially leave the party until 1966, she began to establish contacts with dissidents.[2] As early as 1957, she befriended Jerzy Giedroyc, the editor of the influential Paris-based emigré journal Kultura, to which she also contributed. In 1964, she opposed a Communist-backed protest to The Times against independent intellectuals, demanding freedom of speech instead.[9] In 1953, she joined the staff of the literary review magazine ?ycie Literackie (Literary Life), where she continued to work until 1981 and from 1968 ran her own book review column entitled Lektury Nadobowi?zkowe (Above-compulsory Reading).[2] Many of her essays from this period were later published in book form. From 1981–83, Szymborska was an editor of the Kraków-based monthly periodical, NaGlos' ("OutLoud")'. During the 1980s, she intensified her oppositional activities, contributing to the samizdat periodical Arka under the pseudonym "Stańczykówna", as well as toKulturain Paris. The last collection published when Szymborska was still alive, "Dwukropek," was chosen as the best book of 2006 by readers of Polish national newspaper Gazeta Wyborcza.[2] Szymborska translated French literature into Polish, in particular Baroque poetry and the works of Agrippa d'Aubigné. In Germany, Szymborska was associated with her translator Karl Dedecius, who did much to popularize her works there. 【字数:1492】
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