Civil Service Examinations
The Chinese are generally credited with the invention of a civil service in which appointment depended on success in competitive examinations
(科举, kējǔ). Lists of graduates have survived from as early as 165 BCE, and the Chinese model is thought to have led to the introduction of civil service exams in 19th-century Britain, where senior civil servants are still labelled ‘mandarins’, and later in the USA. The examination system would collapse whenever the country did, but after a revival under the Táng it ran almost continuously in different forms until abolished by decree in 1905.
At its best it allowed candidates from families without guānxi (connections or influence) to compete fairly with those more powerful, but for much of the time candidates’ names were left on their papers, and patronage was as important as examination success. Given the years or even decades of study necessary, in reality access remained open only to those families who could afford to pay to support a candidate’s studies — perhaps ten percent of the population. By the Míng and Qīng dynasties the requirements of the examinations were driving the entire education system. Success guaranteed social advancement, employment as an official, and a trifling salary that practically compelled successful candidates to resort to very un-Confucian corruption in order to support themselves. However, most took it much further than that, acquiring sums that enabled them to support an extended family in comfort.
It was first necessary to pass an examination at district level. Such graduates were exempt from corvée labour (work on public projects such as containing the Yellow River, required as a form of tax) and corporal punishment. They also qualified to take the triennial examinations at the provincial capital. Success here led to the triennial metropolitan examination in Běijīng, the results of which were confirmed by an examination in the Imperial Palace itself. In later years other intermediate qualifying examinations were added, as well as separate tests for military candidates.
Papers involved writing commentaries on the Confucian classics, literary composition, and drafting memorials in favour of a particular policy, supported by quotations from the classics. In later times handwriting was also taken into account, and to write a single character incorrectly could be fatal to a candidate’s chances.
They were put into cells at special locked examination halls for up to three days at a time, and it was widely believed that their past misdeeds would come back to haunt them, often in the form of the ghosts of those they had harmed. The stress was sometimes too much, and candidates would go mad or be found hanging in their cells.
The Běijīng examination halls were erected, like much of the rest of the capital, by the Yǒnglè emperor of the Míng, and stood just to the north of the Ancient Observatory. Although the examinations were abandoned at the beginning of the century, when Cíxǐ finally and reluctantly put into operation some of the reforms she had suppressed 20 years before, the halls survived until the 1930s, when, already in ruins, they were pulled down to create a rubbish dump. If they still stood, the candidates’ deliberations would be disturbed by the roar of traffic on the Second Ring Road.
Much as the British civil service was criticised in the 20th century for valuing knowledge of Homer and Thucydides above real administrative skills or knowledge of the second law of thermodynamics (in C.P. Snow’s famous example), so the emphasis on philosophy and ancient history in the Chinese examinations ill prepared candidates to deal with pressures from the outside world, and played their part in the Qīng policy failures that led to the end of imperial rule.
One punishment forced on the Qīng by the allied powers after the Boxer Rebellion was the suspension of the examinations for five years, a blow aimed shrewdly straight at the anti-trade, xenophobic Confucian literati. A few years later the Qīng themselves abolished the examinations for good.
In a continuing backwards march from the anti-intellectual, anti-specialist stance of the Máo years, the government recently reinstated civil service examinations, although a knowledge of Confucius is of less use than a willingness to spout the Party line. New graduates will probably be more concerned to see their names written on pay cheques than on stelae, but equally interested in graft. It is estimated that 95% of officials have mistresses.
In December 2008, 775,000 people sat exams for 13,500 available positions at various levels of government, an average of more then 57 candidates per job. Most, just as in imperial days, were probably doing so in full knowledge of the opportunities for personal profit presented by holding a government post, both from those looking for permissions, permits, and preference in the allocation of contracts, and later from other civil servants wanting to buy their way to higher office. Nothing changes.
As with university entrance and other academic examinations, cheating is widespread, with doubles showing up to take exams on behalf of less bright candidates, and bribery used to have names swapped between papers or to purchase sight of questions in advance. High-tech methods include the use of transmitters and mini-earplugs to get help from outside.
In 2008, more than 1000 candidates were caught cheating during the exam or submitting nearly identical answer papers.
In 2013, parents mobbed examiners at a Húběi high school: ‘If cheating is not allowed, the test is not fair!’
See Confucius Temple and Imperial College where the emperors once lectured on the Confucian classics, and where the highest graduating civil servants were honoured.
Next in North and East of the Imperial City: Confucianism (story)
Previously: Confucius Temple and Imperial College
Main Index of A Better Guide to Beijing.
For discussion of China travel, see The Oriental-List.
