China: From steel mills to diploma
mills By David Fullbrook
BANGKOK - Life is no walk in the park for
many students in China, especially if they flunk
entrance exams for the most prestigious
universities. For those without connections, a
degree from a top university is their only hope in
a job market saturated with degree-holders.
Government statisticians reckon this year
will see 4.1 million university graduates chasing
1.4 million jobs requiring a tertiary education.
That is why scientists and engineers can be had
for a
song
in China, one factor foreign investors find
attractive.
It was probably not what
Beijing had in mind in 1998 when there were
concerns the economy was outstripping the supply
of accountants, bankers, engineers and
researchers. To ramp up production and avoid
budget trouble, Beijing invited the private sector
to open more colleges.
However, Beijing
failed to estimate correctly the demand for
graduates or carefully control licensing of new
schools by officials, especially in the provinces
where many are eager to meet targets or make a new
yuan on the side.
To ease the burden of
regulation on the Education Ministry, new colleges
were only licensed if they tied up with a
recognized university. On paper it made sense; in
practice it was ripe for abuse.
Expensive
private schools mushroomed as entrepreneurs and
universities tied up to tap the money of millions
desperate for a diploma bearing the name of a top
school. To be sure, not all private colleges and
top universities abused the system or deliberately
let standards slip to cash in. But enough have to
cause trouble.
Higher education was being
commoditized. Employers could wonder about an
institution's reputation. For those who flogged
themselves to pass the entrance exams, it was
disheartening to say the least to see their
school's good name being in effect sold off.
In 2003, Beijing ordered private colleges
not solely to use the name of the affiliated
university on their awards. They were also to make
this clear to prospective students. Some did, and
some did not.
As this sleight of hand has
come to light at some schools over the past year,
students have not taken it well. At the least they
are demanding steep discounts on the high fees
they paid. Earning a diploma from a lauded
university honors their parents, many of whom
borrow heavily to pay school fees.
There
have been illegal demonstrations, marches and
minor clashes at colleges around the country
involving up to 10,000 students at a time,
including two schools in Nanchang, capital of
southern China's Jiangxi province on October 23.
State television accused the private
Clothing Vocational College in Nanchang of
offering diplomas it could not award to lure up to
20,000 students. That report, however, did not
stop China Daily removing a post about the trouble
from its bulletin board, underlining authorities'
sensitivity to student protests. Beijing fears
that grumpy students might provide the
intellectual spark to light the tinder of peasant
discontent.
Similar protests were reported
at Zhengzhou, capital of central China's Henan
province, in blazing-hot June when many students
were avidly watching the soccer World Cup, an
event drawing much gambling. Students also erupted
in anger in Dalian in Liaoning province in
December when they were told their certificates
would be altered to distinguish them from those
awarded by the university.
Students have
also rioted this year over other issues, including
the suspicious death of a popular teacher,
ethnicity, police abuse, and power cuts during the
World Cup. Given that campus violence is usually
off-limits for local media, there may well be
other protests that remain unreported.
Police and officials typically accuse
students of trashing their dorms and colleges, and
even rampaging through local streets. Students in
turn point the finger at poor locals using the
unrest to loot and vandalize. There is probably
some truth in what both say. Anger boils over
readily because people see dim prospects for
redress through the courts or with local
officials. Rampant corruption is one reason.
Another is China's slow transition from a society
ruled by diktat to a regulatory state. It takes
time to write reams of new laws and train legions
of regulators. However, people are fed up with
waiting.
Students are also a demanding
bunch. Most do not have siblings. Many were,
doubtless, a little spoiled by doting parents and
grandparents. They are not called the "little
emperors" for nothing. Moreover, they have grown
up in an era of rapid change and instant
gratification.
Beijing has reacted to the
diploma issue by telling officials to explain the
policy better to students. In May it announced
that certificates from vocational colleges and
high schools would receive more value, to relieve
the pressure people feel to enter university and
cut applications to private colleges.
That
may prove a damp squib. A university degree is a
source of immense pride and status for Chinese
families, especially those traditionally working
with their hands, which want their little emperors
to grow into a little mandarins. Moreover, these
days the value of qualifications is decided not by
Communist Party command but by the job market.
China's economy is not, despite lightning
growth, going to provide enough jobs requiring
tertiary study for many years. Meanwhile, many
graduates will have to make do with a job at
Starbucks, their dashed expectations another nail
in the coffin for President Hu Jintao's
"harmonious society".
(Copyright 2006 Asia
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