The Sorting Machine

In my previous post, I discussed Chapter 4 of Michael Sandel’s The Tyranny of Merit on the link between meritocracy and credentialism. Today I look at Chapter 6, where Sandel’s goal is discussing “how higher education has become a sorting machine that premises mobility on the basis of merit but entrenches privilege and promotes attitudes toward success corrosive of the commonality democracy requires.” The issue is closely tied to credentialism as a college degree has increasingly become the gatekeeper to higher-paying jobs, social mobility, and has fueled a stress-filled ratrace for everyone, both the haves and the have-nots.

 

Sandel traces this movement to James Bryant Conant, president of Harvard from 1933-1953. (Interestingly, he was trained as a chemist.) At the time, the Ivy League colleges catered mainly to the hereditary upper class, predominantly white and male. Conant thought this problematic, and his “democratic ideal” was to replace these hereditary leaders of society with the meritocratic best and brightest. How did he do so? By devising the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) and offering scholarships to talented high school students all over the country. In 1940, he delivered an address titled “Education for a Classless Society”. While Harvard’s student body did not change much during Conant’s tenure as president, his vision is the norm today. Sandel writes:

 

Perhaps most deeply embedded is Conant’s notion of higher education as the primary gateway to opportunity, a source of upward mobility that keeps society fluid by offering all students, whatever their social or economic background, the chance to rise as far as their talents will take them. Drawing on this idea, college presidents ritualistically remind us that excellence and opportunity go hand in hand. The fewer the social and economic barriers to college attendance, the greater the ability of colleges to recruit the most outstanding students and equip them to succeed. As each entering class arrives on campus for first-year orientation, they are lavished with praise for the excellence and diversity, and for the talent and effort that have led to their admission.

 

I cringe when I listen to these orientation speeches; which is why I rarely attend such events. I even missed the one when I went to college – I was overwhelmed by jet lag for a whole week having arrived in the U.S. after over 48 hours of no sleep and spending a lot of time in airplanes and airports in transit. I had very little travel experience growing up, and was dazed and confused. Students at the universities I’ve worked at are quite good on average; and I think they have become more hardworking over time – which I now see is part of the meritocratic ratrace the newest cohorts have been thrust into. Yes, coming to college is a privilege, and yes, these matriculating students have worked hard; but let’s be honest, luck and circumstance play a huge role. It certainly did for me – I’m under no illusion that I’m particularly talented or deserving to have made it to a top-notch liberal arts college. I didn’t even know how well regarded it was, until after I got to grad school. And the reason I was able to attend was a large offer of financial aid. Such colleges at the time were trying to diversify their student body and I was from a little-known country at the time.

 

It’s now clear to the general public, if it wasn’t before, that the present system entrenches privilege. So did the old hereditary system, but a different sort of privilege. The SAT does track with socioeconomic status. The “elite” private institutions still predominantly accept the wealthy and the new social elite; it helps them maintain their top rankings with up-and-comers constantly clawing at their heels. Yes, there is some effort at diversification and there is some social mobility, but it’s small – even compared to Europe where you’d have expected a more entrenched hereditary elite. Pondering all this, Sandel poses an interesting question: “Should colleges and universities take on the role of sorting people based on talent to determine who gets ahead in life?” Here’s his response to that question.

 

There are at least two reasons to doubt that they should. The first concerns the invidious judgments such sorting implies for those who get sorted out, and the damaging consequences for a shared civic life. The second concerns the injury the meritocratic struggle inflicts on those who get sorted in and the risk that the sorting mission becomes so all-consuming that it diverts colleges and universities from their educational mission. In short, turning higher education into a hyper-competitive sorting contest is unhealthy for democracy and education alike.

 

I went through such a sorting system. There was no alternative so I wasn’t conscious that things could be different. Towards the end of primary (elementary) school we took a national exam, which tracked us into different subject specialties. Similar exams throughout secondary school narrowed this further. Since my grades were good, I was tracked into the “science stream”. It never occurred to me that one could make changes and swim against the stream. When I got to college in the United States, encountering the liberal arts idea of not choosing one’s major until sophomore year was a shock. I didn’t know what to do and just kept taking science courses. I wasn’t doing as well in math and biology, and that’s partly how I became a chemistry major. I also found myself enjoying chemistry far more than my other subjects.

 

But the world today is different. Even schoolchildren in my home country have a wider palette of educational choices, globalization and all. Stratification has also increased significantly. Parents fight to get their kids into the good schools. I was assigned the local neighborhood school; which I learned (only much later as an adult) was not one of those good schools. But back then it likely didn’t matter as much as schools were more uniform in quality. Why is it important to go to elite schools and colleges? Even for the very wealthy? After all, you can pass on your wealth to your children without needing the brand name. A Yale president (Kingman Brewster), arguing for need-blind admissions (and thus pivoting towards meritocracy) would “not only enable Yale to attract strong students from modest backgrounds; it would also increase Yale’s appeal to wealthy students, who would be drawn to a college known to accept students based on their merits not their money.” Sandel summarizes the situation we see today.

 

Selective colleges and universities became irresistibly attractive because they stood at the apex of the merging hierarchy of merit. Prompted by their parents, ambitious, well-off students flooded the gates of prestigious campuses not only because they wanted to study in the company of academically gifted students, but because these colleges conferred the greatest meritocratic prestige. More than a matter of bragging rights, the kudos associated with attending a highly selective college carry over into employment opportunities after graduation. This is not mainly because employers believe students learn more at elite colleges than at less-selective places, but because employers have faith in the sorting function these colleges perform and value the meritocratic honor they bestow.

 

The last phrase is probably the most important – “the meritocratic honor they bestow”, whether truly deserving or not. The brand name has taken a life of its own. Brands were important back in the day; now they’ve become crucial as a sorting function amidst a cacophony of options.

 

I’ve noticed in recent years that a number of our academically most capable students, are choosing to “take a year” (or two) off before medical school or whatever meritocratic ratrace they are entering. They feel burned out, they say, after all that striving. And it wasn’t just in college, but the many years leading up to it. Effort and achievement have dominated their lives for so many years, and to some extent they know what’s coming next – more of the same. Sandel calls all this striving “soul-destroying”. Reading the many examples he provides in The Tyranny of Merit has made me much more sympathetic to my high-performing students, whether they be privileged or not. It’s a tyranny indeed, “the meritocratic imperative – the unrelenting pressure to perform, to achieve, to succeed… Perfectionism is the emblematic meritocratic malady… Success or failure at meeting the demand to achieve comes to define one’s merit and self-worth.”

 

Previously, I tried to focus on the weaker-performing students, to see what I could do to encourage them without piling on more stress. But now I’m realizing that the tyranny is felt by all – even the highest performers academically. I have no answers, as I see myself as a cog in the vast sorting machine that is the modern university. Is there a way out?