One of Australia's greatest achievements has taken place in Asia where much of this country's destiny lies. And no, it's not in the sporting arena. If it had been, it wouldn't go unheralded.

The story began in the 1970s when the first wave of young Australians shunned the usual option of gaining experience in the United States or Britain and started heading to Japan and the rest of Asia to study and work. The Japanese economy had taken off and trade with Australia was burgeoning.

Asian studies found its feet in Australian schools and universities at the time. Since then, Australia has created a sizeable body of talented people who work throughout the Asian region. They are in demand because of their professional and language skills, common sense and ability to get on with people of other cultures.

This success has been the result of forward-looking education policies, but in 2002 the federal government chopped funding for Asian languages and, unsurprisingly, interest in young people has waned. A variety of institutions were forced to reduce their courses. Now, even if money were available, there would not even be enough teachers.

Kallun Willock is one young Australian who believes Australian business has a problem allowing Asian-experienced people into its senior management ranks and boardrooms. Willock, 27, is a graduate in arts from the University of Western Sydney and law from the University of Sydney. Fluent in Japanese, he is researching for a master's degree in the law faculty of Tokyo University - the same position I occupied nearly 35 years ago. He works part-time for a UK law firm in Japan.

"At this stage in my life, I'm not keen to return to Australia to live for two reasons," he says. "First, the ambivalence towards people with my skill set and experience living in Asia is palpable. Second, even if there is some degree of interest shown, it tends to be merely superficial, and skills are underutilised, if at all.

"Ultimately, despite Australia's proximity to Asia and our strong trade ties, there seems to be only a limited number of avenues available for young Australians to apply their skills, experience and abilities in a professional context. In Japan, by contrast, the range and number of opportunities are near endless.

"Although I would like to use my skills to help the relationship between Australia and Japan, the general apathy of both the public and private sectors in Australia is only too apparent."

Young Australians such as Willock are part of an Australian diaspora that reflects the shift in geography and mobility of labour markets and the rise of the service economy. They're commonly on top of strategic thought patterns across Asia. But the fact that many working in the region have no wish to return should have the rest of Australia worried. Unfortunately, it doesn't.

Whenever Australians from the first wave to study in Asia, or any successive wave, get together with the latest generation, the same topics of conversation arise. There's never any doubt about the love of these people for their country and their wish to be part of its journey. Indeed, that's usually why they took up Asian studies in the first place: they wanted to do something different and challenging through which they could contribute to Australia's success on the Asian block. But soon they're disappointed by a lack of demand for their skills, and rather than give up and change to another stream of activity they carve out a career for themselves in the booming markets of Asia. That's where the action is, and will be, for as far as they can see up ahead into their professional future. Not only are they appreciated, they're well remunerated and paying less tax.

One young Australian woman living in China and involved in the resources trade, who's fluent in more than one Asian language, told me recently that she'd much rather be in Sydney with its beaches and blue sky.

"But I'll probably stay in China for the next twenty years, if not longer," she said, "despite the overcrowding, the pollution and the suspect quality of much of the food that you eat. It's exciting to be part of the greatest developmental surge in modern history. And regardless of what you might hear about the chauvinism of upward mobile Chinese businessmen, I haven't yet been asked to make coffee or tea, unlike in Australia."

Another young Australian in China, fluent in both Mandarin and Japanese, visited Melbourne last year with a Chinese business delegation. After a long negotiating session, he was sitting in the hotel meeting room with some of the Chinese when the news came up on a flat-screen TV. The Beijing Olympics were mentioned and they all paid attention. The newsreader referred to the capital of China as "Beixing" more than once, which made the Chinese laugh.

"You should give them lessons," one of them joked aloud to him.

Later, the Australian rang the national broadcaster involved and spoke to the head of the pronunciation unit, who quickly dismissed his complaint.

"What should it be?" she asked.

"Beijing, as in Jingle Bells," he said. "Not Shingle Bells. Beijing's pronounced just the way it's written in English."

"But who'd notice the difference?" she shot back, dismissively. "Really, it's not worth worrying about."

When he told me the story, the young Australian was still shaking his head.

"We happen," he observed, "to be talking about the capital of the biggest and oldest nation state in human history. Shouldn't that count for something?"

We agreed that it should, but little had changed in Australia over the past 40 years and the prospects weren't bright - with or without the Western world's first Mandarin-speaking leader. We seem to be stuck in a comfort zone that even reality won't drag us out of.

Why are we like this? What do you think?

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Warren Reed was an Australia-Japan Business Cooperation Committee Scholar at Tokyo University in the mid-70s. Later, he worked in intelligence and business and was also chief operating officer of the Committee for Economic Development of Australia (CEDA).