A-sian not B-sian: Meritocracy in East Asian Education System
Receiving your grade after a test can be a nerve-wracking experience for students worldwide, especially in East Asian schools. During the two years I studied in a Chinese public elementary school, my teacher would return our tests in the order of our scores, from highest to lowest. The teachers would call out each student’s name and their score loudly, often adding a brief comment on their performance: “xxx, you improved—great job” or “xxx, what’s going on with you? I need to call your parents.” With every test paper handed out, my heart beats a little faster, and my tears come closer to spilling. My fear of a bad grade came not only from the agitation of disappointing my parents, but also from the dread of being looked down upon by classmates. When grades and rankings are completely transparent, it’s only natural that a group of 7-year-olds will equate a person’s worth and the respect they deserve with their grades.
This grade-driven culture not only shapes children’s relationship in school, but also becomes a primary determinant of our future as we climb up the educational ladder. By the end of 9th grade, Chinese students must take the high school entrance exam Zhongkao, often regarded as a “life-determining” test. In Shanghai, where I took the exam, the lowest 50% of students would not qualify for high school. Some may argue that this system is fair, assessing everyone on the exact same benchmark and selecting those “best suited” for high school. But is it truly fair for a person’s future to hinge on the results of a single exam?
In a broader sense, this grade-driven system reflects the concept of meritocracy— a society where people advance into positions of success, power, and influence based on their demonstrated abilities and merit. Meritocracy is the underlying principle behind the education systems of many East Asian countries, where exams serve as gateways for higher education and government positions. Beyond their geographic proximity, these countries share another defining feature: an ingrained influence of Confucian values.
Confucianism emphasizes virtues— not only individual virtues but also the virtues embedded within societal systems. The 科举 (Keju), or imperial examination in China’s feudal period, epitomized one of Confucianism’s core virtues: equality. As expressed in The Analects of Confucius, “学而优则仕” (“One who excels in learning can become an official”), this system selected officials based on their knowledge and moral understanding, assessed through essays on Confucian literature. Established in the Sui Dynasty and lasting for over a thousand years until the end of the Qing Dynasty, the imperial examination is seen as one of the greatest accomplishments of China’s feudal period. It marked a departure from the nepotistic focus of previous political systems in China, which had restricted official positions to the offspring of elites. Instead, it allowed individuals of talent from all social classes to enter the political stage based on education and merit. As Confucian ideals spread, similar examination systems emerged, such as the Gakumon Ginmi in Japan and Gwageo, serving comparable purposes. Here, meritocracy played a positive role, increasing social mobility and promoting equal representation and diversity within the government. In the context of feudal society, Confucian meritocracy was indeed valuable. It not only offered a precious chance for people to change their lives through education and diligence, but also allowed society to thrive, regularly pumping fresh blood into the political system.
Deeply rooted in East Asian culture, educational meritocracy has taken a slightly different form in modern society, transforming into the Gaokao in China, the Center Shiken in Japan, and the Suneung in South Korea. Similar to their predecessors, these selection systems for higher education are still predominantly exam-based and are open to the general public, aiming to provide “equal” educational access across society. Yet, in today’s climate of intense competition and the growing wealth gap, these systems— originally designed to promote social mobility— may ironically be worsening social inequality and limiting upward mobility.
Every year, there will be a day of silence on a seemingly ordinary Thursday in November, across South Korea. That’s the day for the infamous Suneung, or the College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT) — an eight-hour marathon of back-to-back exams. This test not only determines students’ higher education prospects but often their future careers as well. Without a degree from one of the “SKY”— the collective name for the country’s three most prestigious universities, Seoul National, Korea, and Yonsei— it’s nearly impossible to secure a desirable job. Admission to a SKY university is barely the entry ticket to the ranks of South Korea’s “chaebol” (“wealthy clan”) that dominate the national economy, such as LG, Hyundai, SK, Lotte, and Samsung. As a result, countless parents are willing to invest heavily in education to secure a stable future for their children, regardless of their socioeconomic status.
With the increasing demand and competition in education, “hagwon,” or “cram schools” emerged. In 2023, Seoul alone had over 24,000 hagwons— triple the number of convenience stores in the city. Despite a decline in the student population, national spending on private education soared to $20 billion, making South Korea the most expensive country in the world to raise a child. While it may seem fair for students to improve their academics by getting extra help, as more students attend hagwons, it will become increasingly difficult for students who don’t attend hagwon to perform well on the Suneung as the test is fundamentally based on a ranking system. If hagwon attendees earn higher scores and secure spots at SKY universities, those who don’t — no matter how smart or how hardworking— face significantly lower chances of admission.
In this societal framework, students and parents who want a stable future are left with only one option: attend hagwon. When everyone starts attending hagwon, a second competition emerges—enrolling in “better,” or in other words, more costly, hagwons. The cycle continues endlessly, until the Suneung shifts from being an equal opportunity to qualify talents to a contest for money, resources, and basically endurance. Who can work the longest hours? Who can afford the most elite hagwon? Who has access to the best teachers? Unsurprisingly, the elites do. Coming from wealthy families, they aren’t distracted by household responsibilities, and their parents’ connections ensure access to the best educational resources. Under this framework, the meritocratic system drifts away from its original virtue and back toward what it was meant to replace— the nepotistic social hierarchy.
When college entrance exams become a game of resources and privilege, students who lack these advantages may gradually realize that, no matter how hard they work or how much their parents sacrifice, they can never reach their goals. This realization can lead them to blame themselves for not working hard enough, often resulting in adopting extreme schedules that can devastate their physical and mental health. The logic is simple: if it’s “just a test”, then more “practice” should make the “perfect”, right? I’ve seen countless YouTube vlogs of Korean students working from 4 a.m., studying 18 hours a day. When financial resources aren’t available, students begin to exploit one of their most precious resources— time. While time management is important, these extreme schedules can overwhelm and severely harm the students. When students still don’t succeed despite following these grueling schedules, a new issue arises: a deep sense of helplessness. When they realize that their hard work barely measures up against the advantages others are born with, how are they supposed to come to terms with themselves? How many students can truly accept that their 18-hour study days might have been in vain? And how should they face their future, when they start to feel as though nothing can change their fate?
Back to my own example, grades, in the meritocratic system, are never only grades. They can also be determinants of students’ relationships— relationship with teachers, family, and their peers. Fluctuations in their scores can lead to further relationship issues. These uncertainties and insecurities can easily lead to mental health issues among adolescents. In 2020, 27% of adolescents in Korea experienced suicidal ideation, and 40% reported that it was due to academic stress. A 2021 nationwide study in China found that the prevalence of mental illness among Chinese children aged 6-16 was as high as 17.5%. Even at SAS, especially after the transcript leak, students began comparing and judging peers based on a single number on the transcript, creating stress and anxiety throughout high school. While I don’t know anyone who was severely impacted around me, I do see the embarrassment and discomfort on people’s faces when their grades come up in public conversations. Meritocracy now is not only blocking people from fair competition for higher education, but has also become the culprit of stress among teenagers, which can eventually deteriorate into poor mental health and even suicide.
Are there ways to solve these issues? On an individual level, perhaps— scholarships, mental health counseling, or simply realizing that the relentless competition isn’t worth the toll it takes can help individuals escape the pressures of a toxic meritocratic system. But on a societal level, from what I observed, the answer is likely no. Governments have made various efforts to alleviate student stress and reduce parents’ spending on education. In 2021, the Chinese government introduced the “双减” (double reduction) policy, aimed at illegalizing all for-profit extracurricular tutoring (especially by school teachers), strictly prohibiting advanced school curriculums beyond the national standard, and regulating tutoring fees. Initially, the policy seemed to have a positive impact— many students I know in Chinese public schools, from elementary to high school, suddenly had less homework. However, while formal tutoring may be “banned”, underground tutoring has only flourished, becoming even more expensive— ultimately, again, benefiting those in the upper class. Therefore, the issue of meritocracy is not simply a matter of policy, nor even necessarily a systemic issue— it is, at its core, a cultural issue. Many East Asian children are raised with the belief, instilled by parents, teachers, and even peers, that hard work guarantees success, while failure means a lack of effort. These children then grow up to become adults who pass the same values to the next generation. I doubt any single policy could end this deeply ingrained culture, and I question whether any ideological shift could overcome values that have been embedded in society for thousands of years.
References
Sharif, Hossein. 2018. “Suneung: The Day Silence Falls over South Korea.” Bbc.com. BBC News. November 15, 2018. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-46181240.
Koh Ewe. 2023. “Why S. Korea’s Crackdown on Private Tutoring Is Just a ‘Band-Aid’ on a Much Larger Problem.” TIME. Time. July 7, 2023. https://time.com/6292773/south-korea-crackdown-hagwons-cram-schools-competition/.
Kang, Alyssa. 2023. “Suicides among Adolescents in South Korea.” https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5f088a46ebe405013044f1a4/t/66621956a028be49e92da33d/1717705048306/AlyssaKang.pdf.
Li, Fenghua, Yonghua Cui, Ying Li, Lanting Guo, Xiaoyan Ke, Jing Liu, Xuerong Luo, Yi Zheng, and James F Leckman. 2021. “Prevalence of Mental Disorders in School Children and Adolescents in China: Diagnostic Data from Detailed Clinical Assessments of 17,524 Individuals.” Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry 63 (1): 34–46. https://doi.org/10.1111/jcpp.13445.
Cao, Ye. 2024. “China’s Education Crossroads: Can the Double Reduction Policy Resolve Inequalities Caused by Shadow Education?” Bera.ac.uk. March 17, 2024. https://www.bera.ac.uk/blog/chinas-education-crossroads-can-the-double-reduction-policy-resolve-inequalities-caused-by-shadow-education.