Brain Waste in Europe: Young Southeast Asians Are Struggling to Stay After Graduation

JAKARTA — Every morning, Muza would wake up, make his bed, and start his part-time job as a cashier at Profi, one of the biggest convenience store chains in Romania.

But when he left Jakarta for a chance to study abroad four years ago, he imagined a different post-graduation scenario: a master’s degree, a job in his domain of diplomacy, a residence permit, and eventually a stable career in Europe.

“I've been facing the reality that I couldn't get a proper job, so I chose to work as a cashier in a supermarket, as long as they’re gonna provide me with the work permit, so I can stay in Romania,” he said.

Muza is among hundreds of young Indonesians and Southeast Asians who arrive in Europe each year with the same dream. They pour their savings, scholarships, and, for some, family loans into degrees that promise international exposure and a stronger foothold in the global job market. The price they have to pay to belong often has nothing to do with material things. 

“It's all about the legal rights to stay and the visa restriction, because as a non-EU citizen, it's a problem for you.”

Many expect that studying abroad will give them a jumpstart — an even bigger exposure to the European job market. Instead, their first real encounter with Europe is the stiff reality that a degree does not guarantee a place in the labour market.

Even dreams have visa deadlines.

A small shot at a better life in Europe

Muza, like so many young students who leave home, simply wants a chance at a better life in Europe, however modest that possibility might be.

When he first arrived in Bucharest in 2022 at around 22 years of age, he wasn’t thinking about visas, work permits, or fiscal regulations. Fresh off the boat after graduating with a bachelor's degree from a local university, Muza was an intern at the Indonesian Embassy in Bucharest.

In 2023, he moved to Cluj-Napoca to pursue a master’s degree in cultural diplomacy and international relations.

“I thought, why not continue my master’s here?” he said. “The tuition fees were similar to good universities in Indonesia, and the living cost was much lower. And honestly, since I was a kid, I wanted to live in Europe. If possible, forever.”

Every year, European universities would visit countries worldwide to promote higher education.

In Indonesia, the European Higher Education Fair (EHEF) usually takes place around November every year, months before the admission period starts. This year, it took place at the Astra Tower in Central Jakarta, with France and Germany making up most of the booths, alongside representatives from other European countries.

For non-EU students, the price tag for higher education is much steeper — fees that start at roughly EUR 3,000 can climb to EUR 15,000 or even EUR 20,000. Unlike their European classmates, they don’t benefit from paying taxes into the system, and that difference shows up in the bill.

That’s why scholarship opportunities have become more attractive than ever. And for master’s students in particular, they are plentiful. 

Some countries offer full scholarships that erase the tuition entirely. Others include a lucrative monthly stipend. The Erasmus Mundus Joint Master's Degree (EMJMD), one of the most prestigious in the region with an extensive Indonesia alumni network, even gives out EUR 1,400 a month during the duration of 24 months of studying.

For Indonesians or any other young professionals from APAC countries, the appeal is obvious — a once-in-a-lifetime kind of chance.

Work vs. student visa

In Europe, young people from APAC countries are divided into what kind of visa they arrive with. For those who study, most European countries give the right to work temporarily — some for 4 hours a day, some for 6 hours a day.

After graduation, countries usually offer a short post-study permit to look for jobs, but the duration varies. Romania gives 9 months after graduation. The Netherlands and France offer up to 1 year. Germany gives up to 18 months, one of the longest in the region. Denmark’s window is much shorter at around 6 months, and Switzerland has more limited options with no clear, uniform job-search period.

In the meantime, students need to find a company that is willing to sponsor their work permit. Then they can turn their post-study residence permit into a work residence permit that can open up even more benefits for them, like freedom in changing jobs and the possibility of opening a credit card.

But it’s not as simple as it sounds.

“Many companies rejected me,” Muza said. “Mostly because of the fiscal regulations. It’s harder and more expensive for them to hire non-EU citizens.”

Without the work permit, everything collapses: no job, no residency renewal, no legal stay. This is where thousands of students fall through the cracks. Their degrees hold little weight against the bureaucratic walls blocking the transition to proper employment.

So the only feasible solution was to settle down for a low- to non-skilled job with minimum pay or go back home to Jakarta. “As long as they’re gonna provide me with the work permit.”

Europe’s ageing workforce but still no space for you

Europe is ageing rapidly. Governments are begging for more workers, companies complain about labour shortages, and think tanks warn that demographic decline will choke the continent’s economic future. On paper, this should be good news for young graduates from Southeast Asia. Europe needs them.

The median age in Europe has climbed to about 44.5, and roughly 21% of the population is already over 65 and is projected to rise to about 30% by 2070. The continent is becoming top-heavy, with the share of people aged 80 and above almost doubling since the early 2000s. That means the tax base is shrinking and the engine of the workforce is slowing.

At the other end of the population, children and teenagers under 15 now make up only around 15%. Demographers say the balance has tilted so far that the EU’s old-age dependency ratio — the number of retirees compared with working-age adults — has risen to around 37% and continues to climb.

Put plainly: Europe will have far fewer working-age adults supporting many more retirees. By the European Commission’s own estimates, Europe could lose 57 million working-age people by the end of the century.

Not a brain drain, but a brain waste

But the moment a student from Indonesia, Vietnam, or the Philippines steps out of graduation and into the job market, they discover something else: Europe may need labour, but it does not necessarily translate to the absorption of foreign talent.

Part of the difficulty is structural. Employers often cite labour shortages, yet many remain cautious about sponsoring visas, navigating migration procedures, or committing to candidates who require documentation before starting work. In countries like France, Germany, or the Netherlands, hiring a non-EU graduate still involves proving why a local or EU candidate couldn’t fill the role. 

And that's why some argue it isn’t accurate to label the trend as brain drain, a term usually reserved for the outflow of highly educated professionals to more advanced economies. 

Instead, it’s something closer to brain waste. Southeast Asian students come to Europe with optimism, invest heavily in their education, and gain skills countries say they desperately need. Yet the system filters them out before they can contribute.

Across Europe, many highly educated migrants end up in jobs that don’t match their qualifications. The OECD and European Commission report shows that about one-third of highly educated immigrants are over-qualified, and the share rises to around 41% for non-EU nationals — nearly double the rate for native-born workers. 

Overall, nearly half of tertiary-educated immigrants are either over-qualified or not working at all, compared with about 30% of Europeans born in the EU. The problem is even more visible in countries like Italy, Spain, and Portugal, where foreign graduates face some of the highest rates of job mismatch in the region.

For Muza, his residence permit is expiring next month, and the only feasible option is to keep working as a cashier - the only job he can find that’s willing to go through the paperwork. 

And at this point, as Muza puts it, “It doesn't matter whether it is a professional job or a non-skilled job or whatsoever. At least you can get a job and the company would provide you with the work permit, so you can transfer your student permit to a work permit.”

Muza is still fighting. Still scanning groceries. Still waiting for a new permit that decides whether he is allowed to continue dreaming.