Over the past few years, various thesis-related scandals have haunted politicians: Even President Tsai Ing-wen’s (蔡英文) academic credentials from the London School of Economics and Political Science have been called into question.
Most of these politicians’ theses were written during in-service master’s programs, a gray area in the educational system. This alternative has given politicians an opportunity to embellish their academic credentials, and provided them with a platform to form connections and networks. While the issue has never been the academic supply and demand, this alternative — to elevate the value of the degree — also requires students to write theses. As a result, some of the theses were of poor quality, and have been unearthed and revealed to the public during political campaigns to discredit candidates.
The latest to be embroiled in thesis-related allegations is Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) Taoyuan mayoral candidate Lin Chih-chien (林智堅), leading his main rival, Simon Chang (張善政), of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT), to make snide remarks, saying that Lin should “study the right way.”
Like many in the KMT elite, Chang has an outstanding academic record.
The Ivy League complex is prevalent in political circles — especially in the KMT. It is a phenomenon that seems to be affected by the negative legacy of the Chinese imperial examination system, where exams are gateways into the civil service and the political arena. For people with such snobbish attitudes, in-service master’s programs do not count as “proper” degrees, and alma maters are ranked differently. They would consider someone like former president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) — who has an S.J.D. degree from Harvard Law School — as a jewel in the KMT’s crown.
Nonetheless, the purpose of a degree certificate, besides proving the graduate has received a certain academic training, does not reflect the graduate’s competency, including their creativity in the chosen field of study. The underlying reason that most political heavyweights in the KMT have doctorates might have stemmed from tradition: former president Chiang Ching-kuo (蔣經國) preferred to appoint holders of US or UK doctoral degrees.
The inner circle of the KMT might all possess distinguished academic records, but it is another story when it comes to local factions. Grassroots party members usually have no distinguished academic achievements because they are expected to follow and obey orders by their superiors without question.
The baffling thing is, after the DPP — which has attacked the KMT for its values — assumed office, some party members have adopted the KMT’s values.
Little do they know that degrees do not reflect personality or professional skills. For example, Ma, while having made little contribution to academia, in 2016 used his presidential power in an attempt to destroy the image of former Academia Sinica president Wong Chi-huey (翁啟惠) with allegations of insider trading involving biotech company OBI Pharma Inc.
Those who have power should be careful when wielding it. When politics gets mixed up with academia, or when non-professionals take the reins over professionals, these are not positive signs in regard to improving the quality of governance.
In a normal academic system, the recipient of a doctoral degree would ideally go on to conduct further research and innovation within their field. Within the so-called “credential society,” obtaining a doctorate is often viewed as the be-all and end-all.
The higher levels of the KMT have no lack of doctorates, but their apparent academic erudition is not reflected in their democratic awareness, their policy views or their administrative prowess.
These doctors — from former vice president Lien Chan (連戰) to KMT Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) — hold views on international trends, Chinese democracy and cross-strait relations that differ widely from those of mainstream Taiwanese public opinion, as well from prevailing geopolitical thinking.
Nobody is casting suspicion on their doctoral degrees, but there is considerable doubt concerning how much benefit their qualifications have been to their ability to govern.
It is clear that, if a politician wants to benefit the nation and its populace, furthering their knowledge, worldview and expertise are all of paramount importance; however, frittering away their time chasing a doctoral degree that they will never put to good use is most certainly not.
That the KMT was able to produce someone like former president Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) is nothing short of a miracle. Lee had a doctorate, but during the time he held public office, he continued to absorb new knowledge and consider issues with the same stringent approach, formulating policy informed by pragmatic, non-abstract theoretical perspectives.
Unfortunately, since Lee’s time, things have progressed little in these terms; that is, education has its set limitations and end points, and each person’s time in the conventional academic system is determined by their own needs. They study what they need to study, but they do not necessarily learn what they need to learn. That comes only after they have left formal education and can work on their own individual creativity and competitiveness in society, in the workplace, in groups and in the field.
The pity is that many are led up the same old path, believing the accumulation of degrees to be the one way forward, and the ultimate shortcut to advancement. The upshot of this is that it is only when election time comes around that it is revealed that there are many degrees in so many hands, but little actual learning to show for them. This is, surely, a huge waste of time and resources.
Like Lin, Kaohsiung City Councilor Jane Lee (李眉蓁) fell foul of this belief in the power of qualifications for qualifications’ sake approach to career advancement, with the allegations over the caliber of their respective degrees distracting from the public’s appraisal of their ability to perform well in office.
Like Chang, Chu has a doctorate, but their ability to communicate within the party is problematic. With the thesis allegations floating around, the two doctorate holders, hardly regarded as intellectual giants, have come to reveal the arrogance of having qualifications, believing that their degree is adequate proof of their ability, expertise, integrity and relatability.
The members of the ruling classes with doctorates, meanwhile, look with derision upon those of the ruled classes who would try to compare their academic qualifications with their own, and this just feeds their sense of superiority.
The more democratic mode of education, of learning through doing and through practical application, has been practiced for more than a century, and yet the ghost of the Chinese imperial examination system still permeates Taiwanese society.
This credentialism — the overemphasis on academic credentials as an indicator of ability — over a vocational education has no place in a free and open Taiwan.
The thing that connects this credentialism and thesis allegations is how they reflect a weakness that pervades Taiwan, that is, a lack of self-confidence.
This lack of confidence results in those holding doctorates feeling that they are somehow entitled, that their having one proves that they belong to the elite; the other side of the coin is that those lacking this confidence of entitlement seek to obtain proof through academic credentials, to add “legitimacy” to their skillset.
The truth is that an individual’s caliber is derived from their ability to keep learning and keep up with the times, not to just let time stand still at the point at which they obtained their academic degree.
There is also the belief that qualifications obtained in Taiwan are inferior to those gained in the West, the inference of which is that Taiwan will never be anything but a client state, doomed to never building confidence in itself.
In those terms, the real danger behind the thesis accusations is not just a suspicion of the degree holder; it is the inability of society to advance.
Translated by Rita Wang and Paul Cooper
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