The Language Teacher
October 2001
Higher Education, Apathy and Post-Meritocracy
Brian J. McVeigh
Toyo Gakuen University
Introduction: Schooling for Silence
Japanese education is a paradox: Students sacrifice their youth to intensely prepare for all-important university entrance examinations, only to suddenly lose academic interest once they pass through the university gate. What accounts for this? Commonly proposed meritorious explanations include, "university life is a reward for studying so hard in high school," or "university life is a well-deserved break before the rigors of corporate culture." Such accounts are inadequate explanations.
Any blame for apathy must ultimately be placed on the system rather than the students themselves. Two aspects of the pre-tertiary level schooling configure the expectations of many university students. The first concerns Japan's exam-centered education: Because pre-tertiary level academic culture is largely shaped by an educatio-examination system rather than an educational system, students are socialized to associate studying with preparation, classroom participation with ritualized inspection, test-taking with catechism, academics with credentialism, and learning with monotonous training.
The second element that encourages an apathetic attitude is what is usually termed shyness or the fear of standing out. Indeed, cultural explanations about shyness, such as Doyon's (2000), are useful for pointing out the problem, and Korst (1997) offers valuable suggestions for dealing with it in class, but they do not get to the sociocultural underpinnings of the problem. Shyness is an excuse for a more insidious experience that is more appropriately termed excessive self-monitoring, a fact related by the many students I have interviewed. Consequently, Japan's supposedly meritocratic educational system awards not academic achievement per se but rather test-taking and inhibition.
The problems of an educatio-examination system and excessive self-monitoring evident in Japanese schooling are well known to instructors in Japan, of course, but in this essay I would like to outline some linkages between overtesting, the fear of standing out, apathy, and the meaning of meritocracy.
Japan's Educatio-Examination System
Though all industrialized societies utilize examinations in order to shunt students and workers along the tracks of education and employment, some use examinations more extensively and intensively than others. Japan is a good example of a society in which educational testing plays an inordinate role, and as it is used merely for testing; knowledge is sliced, disconnected, disjointed, stored, packaged for rapid retrieval, and abstracted from immediate experience. As a result, knowledge loses its meaning as a body of information that points to something beyond itself, and acquires an overly practical and banal character. The educatio-examination system shatters knowledge into a vast number of unrelated bits and pieces of information useful only for filling in exam sheets and proving to the authorities that one has persevered through the ordeal of ingesting large amounts of data. In other words, for those wishing to become bureaucrats, it is very appropriate training. But for those without such ambitions, the educational experience becomes not just boring, but distressing. Education in Japan works "provided one thinks of it as an enormously elaborated, very expensive intelligence testing system with some educational spin-off, rather than the other way round" (Dore, 1976, pp. 489). Two other observers write: "In general Japanese education is more of a screening, sorting device differentiating students by motivation and learning capacity rather than by what they actually know" (Mosk & Nakata, 1992, p. 52). In this way, merit, as a selection system, is not measured academically but rather defined by the ability to endure.
The educatio-examination system became more rationalized in 1965 when computers began to produce (standard deviation scores) in order to calculate students' academic ability. Such scores have been used as the main criteria for high school admissions, and entrance to the latter carries much weight in determining the university one will eventually enter. Hopeful high school students rely on publications, such as Zenkoku daigaku juken nenkan (1999), to compare their own test performance with other students and gauge their chances for passing a university's entrance examination. This method is calculating, superefficient, and hyperrationalized; it makes a mockery of oft-repeated calls for more attention to individual differences, personal strengths, and student diversity in the selection process. Note Yoneyama's opinion:
The student-teacher relationship in Japanese schools today has absolutely nothing to do with what is supposed to be the cultural ideal of the paternalistic relationship between senior and junior (or superior and subordinate) -- no matter how tempting it may be to apply Confucian ideal precepts to the understanding of this hierarchical relationship. If anything, the hardship oppressing Japanese students resembles that of factory workers and coal miners during the industrial revolution more than the hardship endured by the trainees (deshi) learning the skills of their master (shisho) in traditional Japanese arts. (1999, p. 101)
Universities are ranked according to the average hensachi of the applicants who have applied to university. All this information is published and read by prospective students who then carefully consider their own hensachi and their chances of successfully passing a certain university's examination. This particular type of evaluation of higher educational institutions has built and solidified the pyramid of universities.
Shyness Is Not Apprehension
The second aspect relates to how Japanese education is a culturalizing process, consequently leading Japanese students to believe that anything non-Japanese is foreign. Thus, this education process encourages apathy and to accept that being Japanese means not standing out and conformity, which in turn sets in motion the socio-psychological dynamics of fitting in and excessive self-monitoring. But the tendency of not standing-out by itself does not make sense: students stand out all the time in class when, called upon, they do not respond but stare back at the instructor, thereby annoying the motivated students as well as wasting class time. Rather than shyness and the reluctance to stand out, another explanation is required to explain student behavior. The shyness that supposedly prevents students from actively participating is in fact a vague fear, a consequence of this certain type of schooling experience geared toward test-taking and not spontaneous learning. Hence, these students have developed a lack of conviction, question the value of schooling itself, and have lost confidence in the entire learning process.
It is not always easy to draw distinctions between reticence, reluctance, and recalcitrance. When I asked students who I had come to know why they would pretend not to know (tobokeru), why they would not answer in class or refuse to, the most common answer was "were afraid of making mistakes," or "were afraid of instructors." Others explained that being in the classroom is a "strained situation" or "instruction is difficult." Verity (2000), when faced with students feigning ignorance, overcame it by focusing on what the students were doing, instead of simply being frustrated by what they were not doing. She taught herself how to decode the students' responses and, in turn, responded to it in a new context. In this way, she did not lose her conviction and quite possible may have instilled a little into some students who had.
Discussion: The Real Purpose of Higher Education
I have discussed two aspects -- exam-centered schooling and over-conformity -- of Japanese school culture that help us understand the loss of interest in learning among many university students. Thus, critical and exploratory thinking are not afforded enough time in classrooms, encouraging a learning deficit. It is also worth noting that university students complain that boring and uninspiring instructors discourage classroom participation.
In order to highlight further problems with the quality of Japanese higher education, I will point out several salient differences between American and Japanese higher education. I choose the American system because academics, nonJapanese and Japanese alike, often use it for comparison and emulation. Indeed, comparative analyses are constantly being carried out between Japanese and American sister universities, and more and more American universities are opening campuses in Japan. First, the US system has an extensive system of quality control, including private accrediting associations, university assessments, course evaluations, departmental reviews, interuniversity evaluations, inspection committees, peer review, etc. In Japan, except for the Monbukagakusho's accrediting system -- which is, to put it nicely, purely perfunctory -- and a limited number of universities with course evaluations, quality control, for the most part, operates ineffectively. Second, unlike Japan (indeed, unlike most other industrialized nations), the US lacks a centralized, national-level educational bureaucracy that can pre-empt local level initiatives (the US Department of Education lacks the power evident in education ministries found in other nations). In Japan the Monbukagakusho sets the educational standards, regulates accreditation, and monitors operations. Such administrative guidance encourages bureaucratization and discourages innovation and improvement. Third, in the US an ethos of competition encourages quality. Thus, many professors are put on a type of probation for five or six years, competing for tenure (the criterion includes peer-reviewed publications, extrauniversity evaluation by colleagues, course evaluations, ability to obtain funding and attract students, etc.). In Japan one usually receives tenure from day one (though this does not often apply to nonJapanese). Finally, the typical course load of a student is four to five classes per week in the US. In Japan it ranges from 12 to 15, ensuring that students receive an education that is superficial and shallow rather than comprehensive and in depth.
Given the social atmosphere created by Japan's capitalist developmental state, the overriding goal of education is employment, not learning (McVeigh, 2000, in press). Indeed, many employers do not expect universities to teach students since they expect to train graduates in company-run programs, and some corporations are wary of new employees with too much outside knowledge and attitude. Besides, the state or corporate culture deserves much of the blame for the failings of Japanese universities. Cutts describes a "railroad-like connection, from entrance exam straight through college and into the lifelong job," which "helped as much as government control to damage the vitality of higher education in Japan" (Cutts, 1997, p. 64).
There are many claims that the anxiety and frustration bred by Japan's examination war is limited to only students aspiring to enter prestigious schools and as Mulvey (2000) states, the competition to enter them remains as high as ever. However, in an important sense, the notion that only serious students suffer through exam hell is not true. Consider that the most indolent students, aiming for the lowest ranked universities, have told me how nervous they were sitting for entrance examinations. In other words, even the least ambitious, less than academically inclined students must endure years of mental strain. Declining student numbers and the Monbukagakusho's authorization to open even more universities will indeed make entrance even easier. In a sense, by guaranteeing a place in a university for every applicant, Japanese society has seen fit to grant merit to every student who can take the test (whether they deserve it or not is another matter). Thus, for some time now, the system has been heading toward what might be called a post-meritocratic state.
Conclusion: Whither Japan's Education?
There are, of course, attempts at reforming Japan's educatio-examination system: Some schools are now putting more emphasis on interviews while others have adopted the AO method (from admissions office: U.S.-inspired evaluation based on high school records, extracurricular activities, and interviews). Some schools have adopted the Monbukagakusho's Center Test. However, in spite of any good intentions, the Monbukagakusho's Center Test seems to have merely added another layer of examinations since students must still take universities' own entrance examinations.
From an instructor's perspective, it is perhaps easy to charge students with laziness and impassivity. However, this is not really fair: Both students and instructors are weighed down by a burdensome educatio-examination system that distorts the meaning of meritocracy. Not surprisingly then, Japan's universities are criticized as superfluous, pointless, and devoid of academic content. It is no wonder if the primary goal of Japanese schooling is to socialize future workers for occupations in a hyperrationalized, post-industrialized, technologically advanced capitalist economy. Just as meritocracy replaced aristocracy as the selection process in society (thereby removing aristocrats from power, in order to improve the educatio-examination system in a post-meritocratic age), we need to consider seriously revamping bureaucratic and corporate culture. For example, many Japanese companies are no longer looking for lifetime employees so this reduces their need to select the best employees. Perhaps, with ever-longer lifespans, there might be another selection process later in life (i.e., after the age of 18). Japanese schooling has as its goal training, grading, and filtering productive workers, not necessarily expanding an individual's educational horizons. The tedium resulting from a heavily state-guided learning environment dampens enthusiasm among students for learning. Until the purpose of schooling changes, tweaking the examination format, student population decline, and making academics less challenging by dumbing down the curriculum will not improve educational quality.
References
Cutts, R. L. (1997). An empire of schools. New York: M.E. Sharpe.
Dore, R. (1976). The diploma disease: Education, qualification and development. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Doyon, P. (2000). Shyness in the Japanese EFL class: Why it is a problem, what it is, what causes it, and what to do about it. The Language Teacher, 24(1), 1116, 37.
Korst, T. (1997). Answer, please answer! A perspective on Japanese university students' silent response to questions. The JALT Journal, 19, 279-91.
McVeigh, B.J. (2000). Education reform in Japan: Fixing education or fostering economic nation-statism? In J.S. Eades, T. Gill, & H. Befu (Eds.). Globalization and social change in contemporary Japan. Melbourne: Trans Pacific Press.
McVeigh, B.J. (in press). Japanese higher education as myth. Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe.
Mosk, C., & Nakata Y. (1992). Education and occupation: An enquiry into the relationship between college specialization and the labour market in postwar Japan. Pacific Affairs, 65(1), 5067.
Mulvey, B. (2001). The role and influence of Japan's university's entrance exams: A reassessment. The Language Teacher, 25(7), 1117.
Verity, D. (2000). Side affects: The strategic development of professional satisfaction. In J.P. Lantolf (Ed.). Sociocultural theory and second language learning. Oxford: OUP.
Yoneyama, S. (1999). The Japanese high school: Silence and resistance. London: Routledge.
Zenkoku daigaku juken nenkan (National University Examination Yearbook) (1999). Tokyo: Interactive.
Brian J. McVeigh received his Ph.D. from Princeton University and is associate professor at Toyo Gakuen University where he teaches Japanese culture, anthropology, and English. He has researched gender, consumerism, Japanese religions, the anthropology of education, and the psycho-lexicon of Japanese. He is currently researching the anthropology of the national state and Japan's Education Ministry. His major publications include: Wearing Ideology: State, Schooling, and Self-Presentation in Japan (2000); The Nature of the Japanese State: Rationality and Rituality (1998); Life in a Japanese Women's Junior College: Learning to Be Ladylike (1997); and Spirits, Selves, and Subjectivity in a Japanese New Religion (1997). bmcveigh@gol.com
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