by Yong Zhao
If both A and B deny, both go to prison for six months.
The best outcome for both is option 4, but the most likely outcome is option 3, as predicated by the Nash equilibrium. Proposed by Nobel laureate John Nash (the movie A Beautiful Mind is based on his life), the Nash equilibrium is a concept of game theory. Simply stated, in a Nash equilibrium, “the optimal outcome of a game is one where no player has an incentive to deviate from his or her chosen strategy after considering an opponent's choice. Overall, an individual can receive no incremental benefit from changing actions, assuming other players remain constant in their strategies.” 22
In the classic prisoner's dilemma game, both A and B could choose not to confess to the police (cooperating) and receive a much better payoff for both, but A is mostly likely to assume that B, acting of out his best interest, will choose to confess because that is what he would choose rationally. In this case, A receives a much worse payoff: ten years in prison. So A is likely to choose to confess (defecting). For the same reason, B will choose to confess. Thus both receive a worse payoff: six years in prison instead of six months. In a Nash equilibrium, neither A nor B is likely to change his mind.
In the effort to lessen academic burden and reduce testing, Chinese parents, students, teachers, and schools are all playing the prisoner's dilemma game. Knowing or assuming that others will continue to do more homework, seek private tutoring, and prepare for tests, very few parents, children, and schools would choose to voluntarily reduce the work load for fear of losing the game. Most schools, knowing that others will continue to use exams to select better students and gain an advantage, will choose to continue to use exams to admit students because the school's reputation is on the line and will be judged by how well its students score in the future. Essentially the dilemma dictates that everyone must continue to behave in the same way. No one can afford to cut back first, for fear that the others won't follow suit. Consequently, although new policies might bring a better education for all, no player in the education game is willing to take the risky first step.
Stuck in their prison, Chinese parents, students, and schools put up a strong resistance to all attempts to reduce academic burden and testing. But in a hierarchically organized society in which the central government holds absolute power, it would seem that subordinate units—local governments and schools—would have to comply or face serious consequences. Indeed, the central government has been serious about enforcing its orders, sending inspection teams and punishing some school principals for violating the orders. To avoid punishment, schools and local governments are forced to come up with creative ways to make the central government believe in their compliance. This need to “fool the emperor” has led to widespread cheating and corruption.
Schools and local governments cannot afford to truly comply with the new rules, for they are all prisoners in the same game. Local government officials have children or grandchildren and their relatives and friends have children and grandchildren, all of whom want to attend a good school. The officials must maintain good relationships with school leaders. As a quid pro quo, local government officials cannot afford to seriously enforce the orders they receive, inspecting schools and delivering harsh punishment to school leaders who are in violation. Instead, the officials often serve as co-conspirators, devising clever ways to show token compliance to fool their superiors. What is damaged—a good education for all in the long term—has little immediate cost to the individual officials, so they are willing to engage in any activities that bring them short-term gains at the cost of the “common good.” The result? A tragedy of the commons.23
The Tragedy of the Commons
In a 1968 Science article warning about uncontrolled population growth, the late American ecologist Garrett Hardin wrote about the tragedy of the commons. First described by a British amateur mathematician, William Forster Lloyd, the classic scenario of the tragedy of the commons was the ruining of a pasture open to all herdsmen. Acting in his own best interest, each herdsman kept adding more sheep to maximize his own gains. Since the pasture belonged to all, and was hence a commons, adding one more sheep cost the herdsman very little. It seemed a rational, even clever thing to do.
But the capacity of the pasture was limited. And if everyone kept adding, overgrazing would become inevitable. Eventually the pasture would be ruined.
This metaphor has been used in many disciplines to explain the depletion of common resources and destruction of the common good. Overfishing, pollution, and traffic congestion are examples in which individual actors seek to maximize their benefits at the cost of common resources. Spots in China's prestigious educational institutions belong to the government, not to the individual institutions, and thus constitute a commons. These spots are opportunities for both individuals to advance themselves and the nation and its people to achieve prosperity. If the spots go to the right people—a diversity of creative and entrepreneurial talents, as desired by all in China—the society prospers. If not, the commons can be ruined.
The reform efforts in China have been intended to develop a better commons. However, as shown in so many tragedies of the commons, self-interested individuals almost invariably act to gain short-term benefits while ignoring the long-term interests of the commons. The Chinese are no exception. Individual parents and students exert their utmost effort to gain a place in a prestigious institution, studying night and day for the tests, cheating in whatever way possible, and bribing school leaders and admissions officers. As long as students can “graze” on the pasture, they are guaranteed a return: a much better chance to become a civil servant or enter another respectable profession. In addition, as long as graduates enter the civil servant class or take a position in a state enterprise, they will receive social status, power, and material rewards regardless of their ability to perform their job competently. The damage, again, is done to the commons, not to the individual or his or her boss (who works for the state, also a commons).
Schools and officials also have a strong interest in this process. Admitting one poor student, for example, causes little damage to the school or the admissions officer but can bring immediate gains: cash or other forms of quid pro quo. In summary, as long as places in prestigious educational institutions are owned by the government, individuals and local officials aren't likely to act to protect the commons. Instead, they will work to maximize their own interests.
It's possible to avert the tragedy of the commons.24 One way is regulation that sets rules for individuals accessing the commons. In the past, China has used examinations to determine who receives a place at a prestigious university. But testing obviously does not ensure a healthy commons, so the government has been trying other approaches. Unfortunately those new approaches leave more room for corruption and thus can damage the commons. To avoid corruption, China must continue to rely exclusively on using exams to select students. The Chinese are returning to the idea of using “naked” test scores as the primary regulator—which means China is caught in yet another dilemma that is unlikely to improve its pool of talents.
Bread and Butterfly
Mired in these dilemmas, China has found that its efforts to limit the use of exams, reduce academic burden, and grant universities more autonomy in admissions have been rendered ineffective. So have comprehensive reform efforts to broaden the national curriculum, grant more local control of curriculum and textbooks, improve pedagogy, and reduce quality gaps among schools. These efforts, promoted under the general and very vague term of quality-oriented education (in contrast to exam-oriented education), are only slogans and aspirations. In reality, the essence of Chinese education remains the same as it was ten years ago, twenty years ago, one hundred years, even one thousand years: the system prepares students to pass exams that are believed to lead to a few socially respectable and materially rewarding jobs.
Effective solutions to China's dilemmas require revolutionary changes to the very foundation on which Chinese society operates. These change
s would be so disruptive that they would threaten traditional cultural values and the current social order. Thus they put China in another dilemma—a double bind that is akin to the Bread and Butterfly in Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass. This fictional creature Alice encounters has wings made of thin slices of bread, a body made of crust, and a head a lump of sugar. The gnat points out to Alice that the insect is doomed because its only food is hot tea. If it drinks, its head melts. If it does not drink, it faces starvation.
The genesis of Chinese education was the imperial exam, or keju, designed to select servants for the emperor, who demanded obedient individuals with a set of homogeneous knowledge and skills. Educational institutions evolved to promote such individuals. By design, they worked to suppress creativity and diversity. Since the emperor controlled the only desirable opportunities for the entire population, anyone who wished to have such opportunities voluntarily subjected himself to the homogenizing process. The concern for both educational institutions and individuals was not how creative and different they could be, but how well they could please the emperor. The only type of creativity rewarded was creativity in pleasing the emperor—in the way in which the emperor wished to be pleased.
Today the emperors are gone, yet China operates very much the same way. The Communist Party has replaced the emperor. Education still serves the same basic purpose: to prepare and select workers for the party and the state. Creative talents are rewarded only when their creativity happens to be desired by the government.
Chinese education is more of a tool for social control than a process for self-enlightenment. The government's interest lies in operating a game that everyone desperately wants to play because then they will willingly comply with all of the demands of the game—in other words, of the government. China has succeeded. By continuing the tradition of keju, the government has effectively capitalized on the cultural tradition that shaped the Chinese ethos about education. By controlling the exams, the only way to validate one's worth and thus receive certain rewards, the government has created a game all children must play if they wish to have any chance of living a better life.
The scheme is so perfect that even if the government did not invest in schooling at all, Chinese students and their parents would willingly create educational opportunities on their own, just as their ancestors did. For a long time, the Chinese government's investment in education was abysmal, and even today, it remains low. Parents contribute half of their child's education costs. And if you doubt the success of the education game, just look at how much parents spend on private tutoring.
To perfect this tool of social control, the government dictates the curriculum, even for private schools and universities. Chinese citizens are not allowed to enter international schools in which the Chinese government has no control over the curriculum. Furthermore, all educational institutions, except for the few private ones, are considered branches of the government; thus, teachers and administrators are considered government employees. The Communist Party commissions are the highest governance body in each institution, similar to a school board or board of regents in the United States.
Since the system is intended and designed to induce obedience and compliance, it is not supposed to cultivate truly creative talents. Creative individuals and those who wish to deviate from the government's agenda face tremendous pressure to homogenize. Given the large population, there are always a few who survive the process and remain creative. But those few accidental survivors are not enough to transform China's new economy.
To produce a truly creative citizenry, China cannot just tweak the curriculum or decrease the frequency of exams. It has to abandon the distorted view of education as a tool for social control and begin to accept individual values. Here's how the government could begin:
Give up control of college entrance exams and let individual institutions decide which students to admit. With a multitude of pathways to success, the gateway to colleges widens, so millions of students do not have to fight for the same narrow entrance. Reduced competition helps alleviates the prisoner's dilemma.
Give up control of educational institutions and allow them to be completely autonomous, governed by locally elected boards. When institutions are self-governed and autonomous, they are more likely to cherish their own reputation and identity. A spot at a prestigious institution is no longer the commons, but the private territory of that institution. It is now far less likely that university admissions would be corrupted, and this reduces the chance of a tragedy of the commons.
Give up control of what is taught in all schools. Although the government should provide public educational opportunities, it should not dictate the curriculum for a nation of 1.3 billion. More autonomous institutions have a much better chance of creating diverse and innovative learning opportunities that reflect their identity and their students' strengths. Even if half of the schools fail to cultivate creativity, the other half has a chance. When a nationally uniform curriculum fails, it fails all.
These actions would not necessarily guarantee the production of a creative citizenry because there is still a thousand-year-old cultural tradition to combat. But this new system would have a much better chance than the traditional system. If the Chinese government takes these actions, it will mean the end of an authoritarian regime. If it does not, the hope for Chinese education to produce a truly creative citizenry is very faint.
Drink the hot tea, or starve?
Notes
1. X. Liu, Y. Lu, X. Guo, and Q. Huo, “Cai Rongsheng ban jiahuzhao chuangguan chuguo bei danghuo, Renda huoyou xin dongzuo” [Cai Rongsheng caught fleeing the country with fake passport, Renmin University may take new actions], November 30, 2013, http://news.sohu.com/20131130/n391050540.shtml.
2. To minimize room for tampering with college admission, the Chinese government has established an elaborate system. Universities do not directly receive student applications. Instead, all student files are controlled by a separate government agency. Students indicate their preferences for universities to the agency. The agency, typically at the provincial level, determines cut scores for different tiers of universities and controls how many student applications a university can review based on a formula. The standard formula gives each university 20 percent more applications than the actual number of students each university is allowed to admit. For example, a university that is allowed to admit 100 students receives 120 applications to review. All students who indicated the university as their first choice are ranked based on their gaokao scores. If there are more than 120 on the list, the agency picks only the top 120. If there are fewer than 120, the university reviews whatever number they receive and waits for those who picked it as their second choice and were rejected by their first choice.
3. Jianguang Yin, “Shiyi Sui Fuerdai Shang Renda Shi Cai Rongsheng Yigeren Zai Zhandou Ma” [Could Cai Rongsheng have admitted an 11-year-old child of the wealthy to the People's University by himself?], People's Daily Forum, December 16, 2013, http://opinion.people.com.cn/n/2013/1216/c1003–23849061.html.
4. Ministry of Education of the PRC, “Jiaoyubu Bangongting guanyu jinyibu jiaqiang gaoxiao zizhu xuanba luqu gaige shidian guanli gongzuo de tongzhi” [Notice of the General Office of the Ministry of Education on further enforcing the University Autonomous Enrollment Reform Pilot Administration], December 30, 2013, http://www.moe.edu.cn/publicfiles/business/htmlfiles/moe/s3110/201312/161571.html.
5. Renmin Wang, “ ‘Wenhua da geming’ yu jiaoyu wutuobang” [“Cultural Revolution” and education utopia], February 3, 2010, http://book.ifeng.com/special/49nianhoudaxue/201002/0203_9420_1536319_1.shtml.
6. D. Yang, “Wenhuadageming yu Jiaoyu Wutuobang” [Cultural Revolution and education utopia]. October 20, 2006, http://theory.people.com.cn/GB/68294/72286/72288/4939387.html.
7. M. Zedong, “Mao Zhuxi Lun Jiaoyu Geming” [Chairman Mao on educational revolution] (Beijing: Renming Chubangshe, 1967), 54.
8. Ibid., 68.
9. S
. Li, “Dajia Doulai Guanxin Gaoxiao Zhaosheng” [Let's all pay attention to college admissions], People's Daily, September 21, 1970.
10. D. Yang, Zhongguo Jiaoyu Gongping de Lixiang yu Xianshi [The ideal and reality of education equity in China]. (Beijing: Peking University Press, 2006).
11. Three-Good Students is an honor bestowed on students who have demonstrated excellence in three areas: academic, moral, and physical health. The awards are given at school, district, provincial, and national levels. Only a limited of number of students receive them each year. L. Luo, “Historical Evolvement and Introspection of Extra Credit Policy in the College Entrance Examination,” Kaoshi Yanjiu [Examinations research] 4, no. 3 (2008): 36–48.
12. C. Mao, “Chongqing: 31 Ming Jia Minzu Sheng Quxiao Gaokao Jiafeng Diaocha” [Chongqing: Investigation of the invalidation of bonus points for 31 fake ethnic minority students in the college entrance exam], Xinhua Net Chongqing Channel, June 29 2009, http://www.gs.xinhuanet.com/jiaodianwt/2009–06/29/content_16939767.htm.
13. X. Wu, X. Wan, and B. Li, “Gaokao Jiafeng Zhengce Cunzai Zhidu Loudong, Jiafeng Baosong Cheng Chanye” [Exploitation of loopholes in bonus points awarding policy in the college entrance exam becomes an industry], China Youth, June 16, 2006, http://www.china.com.cn/chinese/news/1243970.htm.
14. Jiaoyu Bu (Ministry of Education), “Guanyu jinyibu zuohao xiaoxue shengru chuzhong mianshi jiujin ruxue gongzuo de shishi yijian” [Suggestions for further improving the implementation of policies regarding transition from primary school to middle school without exams], Xinhua Net, January 26, 2014, http://news.xinhuanet.com/edu/2014–01/26/c_119141269.htm.
15. B. Zhou, “Jiaoting bianxiang ‘xiao sheng chu’ ruxue kaoshi” [Stop the alternative exams for advancing from primary to secondary schools], Chengdu Daily, April 23, 2010, http://news.163.com/10/0423/04/64U6H31C00014AED.html.