NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang stormed through South Korea like a rock star, setting off a media frenzy. Before that, he spent 14 days in Taiwan — the island where he grew up — putting on a one-man show that generated its own storm of buzz. Sharp-eyed local political commentators zeroed in on one telling detail: across five separate visits, Huang never once met with Lai Ching-te.
They say this was no accident. It was a deliberate move to sidestep political entanglement — a clear signal that the mainland Chinese market remains firmly in his sights. Some analysts go further, arguing that Huang simply does not regard Lai as someone who is building Taiwan up. The mainland's Global Times weighed in too, calling Huang's conduct a weighty "non-spoken statement."
Five visits. No meeting with Lai Ching-te. Commentators say Huang is avoiding the "independence" camp — with the mainland market firmly in mind.
The record backs this up. Since Lai Ching-te assumed office as Taiwan's leader, Huang has visited the island multiple times without engaging with him in any form. Back in 2023, when Tsai Ing-wen was still in office, Huang appeared at the same venue during COMPUTEX Taipei — though no formal meeting took place.
When a reporter asked what he thought of Tsai, Huang offered a brief "She is fantastic" and nothing more. Even then, the distance from the Democratic Progressive Party's leadership was unmistakable.
Taiwanese political commentators offer varying interpretations of Huang's repeated snubs. Former legislator Shen Fu-hsiung believes Huang is steering clear deliberately. Shen argues that Huang has never stopped eyeing the mainland market and remains confident that Beijing will eventually come back to embrace NVIDIA. That calculation, Shen says, is precisely why Huang refuses to court political trouble.
Political commentator and online personality Kuo Cheng-liang takes a different view. He suggests Huang is unwilling to meet Lai not for strategic reasons, but because he does not see Lai as someone who is building Taiwan. "This," Kuo says flatly, "is Lai's greatest crisis."
Kuo also notes that Huang does not keep all Taiwanese politicians at arm's length. His clear favourite is Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an, with whom he has met three or four times and built considerable rapport. Chiang is a rising figure within the Kuomintang, has previously visited the Chinese Mainland, and holds a position on cross-strait relations that is diametrically opposed to Lai's. Huang's choice to associate with Chiang sends its own signal on where he stands on the question of unification versus independence.
Huang is a tech titan who has already committed to building AI and supercomputing infrastructure in Taiwan on a major scale. Lai naturally regards him as enormously important — a meeting would undoubtedly burnish Lai's own profile. Yet to Huang, such an encounter would be a "kiss of death," something to be studiously avoided. The situation has the flavor of an old Chinese saying: the goddess is willing, but the king has no such dream.
Legislator Wang Hung-wei believes Lai clearly wants very much to meet Huang, and may feel considerable regret that it has not happened. In a recent television interview, Lai floated the idea of inviting Huang, on his next visit, to tour a power plant alongside Taiwan Power Company Chairman Tseng Wen-sheng. The move was widely read as an attempt to engineer a face-to-face encounter.
Lai wants the meeting. The power plant invite is his play to make it happen.
The backdrop matters here. During Huang's visit, a journalist asked him about the government's claim that power supply would be problem-free by 2032. His response was a flat "Maybe" — a tone that conveyed unmistakable skepticism. Lai promptly extended the power plant invitation, seemingly hoping to use the Taipower chairman as a bridge to bring about a "Lai–Huang summit."
The scheme seems unlikely to succeed. Huang is a shrewd operator, and his sights are set firmly on the vast mainland market. He knows he cannot afford a political misstep. When larger interests are at stake, he is not about to walk into a trap.
The mainland's Global Times also picked up on this dynamic. In a commentary, it noted that while Huang has repeatedly and publicly acknowledged Taiwan's pivotal role in global tech manufacturing and the AI ecosystem, he has conspicuously avoided Lai Ching-te and kept a deliberate distance. The paper concluded that, in the eyes of those with genuine global industry standing, political theatrics are no substitute for governing competence, and cannot buy future development.
The commentary called Huang's refusal to meet Lai a weighty "non-spoken statement" — a phrase that hits the nail squarely on the head. Make no mistake: Jensen Huang may be a tech figure, but his political acumen is anything but low.
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A nation’s rise or fall hinges on its ability to retain its brightest minds. The New York Times recently reported that American immigrant and Nobel laureate Omar Yaghi is resigning from the University of California, Berkeley. He is heading to Tsinghua University to lead an artificial intelligence institute for materials research.
Make no mistake: this move involves more than an attractive contract. As a Palestinian refugee, Yaghi fiercely opposes Donald Trump's anti-immigration policies and fears they threaten scientific development. Immigrants make up 40 percent of American Nobel laureates. Coupled with drastic government funding cuts, experts are warning of the most severe scholar exodus in a decade.
Omar Yaghi is an international authority in materials science and a recent Nobel Prize winner in Chemistry. He recently abandoned the US to join Tsinghua University. He was born a Palestinian refugee and later immigrated to America. His profound anxiety over Trump's anti-immigration agenda is a primary catalyst for his departure.
The migration of elite research talent operates on a mix of pull and push factors. Yaghi’s successful recruitment highlights China’s unwavering commitment to talent development and drawing in top foreign scholars. Water flows down, but human ambition reaches upward. These scholars will only jump ship if they see limitless potential for complementary development in China. For Yaghi, the conditions were perfect.
The New York Times interviewed Ram Seshadri, a chemistry professor at UC Santa Barbara. He noted that Yaghi’s move signals a fundamental shift in the technological rivalry between China and the US. "They've overtaken us in many areas of materials science and chemistry," he said, referring to China. "They're willing to invest very large sums of money to attract new talent." In fact, China currently outpaces the US in publishing top-tier chemistry papers.
The reality is Yaghi's exodus from the US is deeply intertwined with his personal history. The report shed light on his obscure origins. He was born in a Palestinian refugee camp in Jordan and grew up in a squalid room devoid of water or electricity before immigrated to the US when he was 15 years old.
Tsinghua University wooed Yaghi with a highly lucrative employment package. He takes charge of a cutting-edge institute utilizing AI to synthesize new materials. Tsinghua Party Secretary Qiu Yong and President Li Luming both attended his appointment ceremony last week.
This immigrant background leaves him deeply alienated by Trump’s anti-immigration policies. Before flying to Sweden to accept his Nobel Prize last year, he shared his fears with The New York Times. He is dissatisfied with these policies and worries they will dismantle the collaborative system built by universities, corporations, and the government. He sees this as a direct blow to American scientific progress.
The psychological toll of Trump’s brutal stance on top scholars is severe. Last year alone, three American Nobel laureates were born overseas. Immigrants have claimed 40 percent of all Nobel Prizes since the start of the century. Under the current political climate, a growing number of scientists feel the US is no longer a viable home.
But the real issue driving this brain drain is the relentless slashing of scientific research funding. As the pie shrinks, researchers battle over dwindling resources and face immense frustration. A US medical journal revealed that the National Institutes of Health abruptly canceled 700 grants worth $1.8 billion in the first quarter of last year. The National Science Foundation also saw its research budget axed by nearly $1.4 billion.
To exert political pressure on academic institutions, Trump has systematically dismantled numerous research grants. Even financial subsidies for Harvard University have been frozen.
These converging negative factors are leaving top scholars disillusioned and eager to abandon the US. Data from a Nature scientific job platform shows a 35 percent year-on-year surge in American scientists seeking overseas employment. A survey by the publication revealed a staggering 75 percent of researchers desire to leave the country. This trend foreshadows the most dramatic exodus of academics in a decade.
The restlessness among American scientists is further stoked by aggressive recruitment from China and Europe. Both are doubling down with lucrative financial incentives to lure top talent. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development notes that China's research funding growth has eclipsed that of the US. With abundant capital waiting in China, American scholars naturally feel compelled to move.
The eastward migration of US Nobel laureates is rapidly solidifying into a long-term trend. Hong Kong universities offer significantly better compensation for outstanding scholars compared to their American counterparts. This gives Hong Kong an absolute advantage in talent acquisition, and institutions must act quickly to inject impetus into their research programs before missing out.
Lai Ting-yiu
