“It was the stupidest thing this country has ever done. He was no more a communist than me, and we forced him to leave.” These words were spoken former Secretary of the United States Navy, Dan Kimballwhen there was no going back. The student considered a genius after entering MIT and earning a doctorate at Caltech, the man who later became part of the scientific elites studying jet propulsion by joining the Manhattan Project, was expelled and welcomed with open arms in China. The story it would never be the same.
Forging a genius. Born in 1911 in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province, Qian Xuesen He grew up in an educated and progressive family. His father, a government official, helped establish China’s national education system. From a young age, Qian displayed unusual academic brilliance, one that led him to study engineering at Shanghai Jiaotong University, where he graduated with highest honors.
At the age of 24, in 1935 the first of two key moments in Qian’s life occurred: won a scholarship to study at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), in the United States, a country to which he moved and where he continued to excel in his studies. A year later, the brilliant student transferred to the California Institute of Technology (Caltech), where he began to work under the guidance of the legendary aerospace engineer Theodore von Kármánwho was quick to describe him as “undisputed genius.”
The rise of a scientific star. At Caltech, Qian joined a group of young innovators known as the “Suicide Squad”nicknamed so because of the risks they took in their experiments with rocket propulsion. At a time when rocket science itself was considered little more than a fantasy dream, Qian and his colleagues began developing technologies that would transform aviation and weaponry.
During World War II and after the United States entered the conflict, his work on jet propulsion quickly caught the attention of the US military. That meeting ended in an initiative that continues in the country today: the creation of the legendary Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in 1943, with Qian as one of its key members.
And nuclear. Not only that. Qian also participated in the Manhattan Project, contributing greatly to the development of the first atomic bomb. His role became so elevated that the man was sent to Germany at the end of the war to interrogate Nazi scientists such as Wernher von Braun himself.
At this point in history, Qian was considered one of the world’s leading experts in rocket propulsion and a valuable asset to the American military effort. If the country’s science had leaders, Qian was at the top.
Suspicion and expulsion. However, his meteoric scientific career in the United States came to an abrupt halt with the start of the Cold War. The reason? The creation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 and the rise of communism in global terms generated the well-known paranoia in many elites in the United States. Under this climate of tension, the new director of JPL expressed suspicions that there was a ring of spies “at home”, inside the laboratory, pointing to several employees, including Qian and other Jewish and Chinese colleagues. The accusation came the same year his name sounded like director of the Caltech jet propulsion laboratory.
A subsequent FBI investigation revealed that Qian had attended meetings in the 1930s linked to the Communist Party, although there was no evidence that he had acted as a spy and he steadfastly denied any political involvement. It didn’t matter. Qian was stripped of all access to classified projects and placed under house arrest for five years. Despite efforts by figures such as von Kármán and other colleagues to defend his innocence, the accusations persisted.
Hello China. When he applied for US citizenship, your request was denied. He lost his security clearance. When he applied to leave the United States, he was detained because he was said to know too much about the American weapons system. Finally, in 1955, President Eisenhower decided to deport him to Chinadescribing the decision as a “necessary risk” in the anti-communist context.
And then the second most important moment in Qian’s life occurred. “I don’t plan to go back,” he told reporters at the time. “I have no reason to return… I plan to do everything I can to help the Chinese people build a nation in which they can live with dignity and happiness.” The truth is that he never returned to the United States.
Transforming a nation. Looking back in time, Qian’s return to China was welcomed as either a priceless gift, or a historic blunder by the United States. Received as a hero, he was immediately entrusted the creation of the Institute of Mechanics in Beijing and joined the Chinese Academy of Sciences. Although he was initially not admitted to the Communist Party due to his past ties to the United States and his marriage to the daughter of a nationalist leader, in 1958 he was accepted and began working on key strategic projects.
Qian led the Dongfeng missile development and oversaw the creation of China’s first atomic bomb, which was successfully tested in 1964. These advances cemented the nation as a member of the “global nuclear club” just 15 years after the founding of the People’s Republic. In addition, it laid the foundations for China’s space program, which culminated with the launch of the country’s first satellite in 1970. Decades later, his research would allow the development of Shenzhou rockets along with other space achievements.
Geopolitical repercussions. There is no doubt, Qian’s deportation had ironic and far-reaching consequences. For example, Silkworm missilesbased on his research, were used against American interests during the Gulf War in 1991 and in Yemen in 2016. A paradox that further underlined the historical strategic error of the United States. By rejecting Qian, they not only strengthened their geopolitical rival but also accelerated China’s technological development.
A legacy for history. Years passed and Qian kept a low profile after his retirement in 1991, although he could not prevent the nation from honoring him with full honors as a national hero. In contrast, his contribution to American science seems to have been largely ignored, especially unlike other figures such as Wernher von Braun, whose Nazi past did not prevent his achievements from being recognized in the United States.
A few years ago there was another moment loaded with meaning. It happened with China’s election of landing a probe in the Von Kármán craternamed after Qian’s mentor, symbolizing how American anti-communist policies inadvertently contributed to China’s space rise.
Qian died in 2009 at the age of 98. The deceased Iris Changwho wrote a book about him, concluded that the US Immigration Service He never had concrete evidence to support his accusation that Qian was a communist. There are few people who have left such a lasting impression on two such antagonistic countries, two nations he once intended to be one of. Ultimately, the scientist’s life is a reminder of the dangers of excluding talent for reasons as inherently human as political or ideological.
Image | TimeLess, China News Service, Martin Trolle, Los Angeles Times
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