Get Herald RSSWe never question whether meritocracy is a good thing. Its desirableness is practically embedded in the word itself, because the idea of valuing merit connotes a high-minded dismissal of unfair biasing factors (i.e. race, sex and class). Meritocracy gains many adherents due to its lack of bias. Furthermore, it turns out to be an excellent foil to Marxism on account of its class-blindness. It is probably the most potent concept in the arsenal of capitalist ideologues. However, meritocracy comes bundled with its own set of values and assumptions that are not entirely palatable, and it is time we reassessed our wholesale embrace of the system.
In particular, we collectively misunderstand one of meritocracy's properties: we assume that it prioritizes the interests of individuals, when in fact it does the opposite. Our confusion arises from the fact that meritocracy allows skilled people from underprivileged backgrounds to succeed. This single attribute does not represent the essence of meritocracy, and it misleads us into myopically focusing on meritocracy's upside.
Fundamentally, meritocracy is about valuing organizations over individuals. It is about ensuring that the organization's interests take precedence over the interests of its members. In perfect meritocracies, institutions like corporations and universities define "merit" as whatever is most useful to them, and then impose social hierarchies on individuals based on the degree to which they express these traits - irrespective of race, sex and class. The last part is great, but I'm not so sure about the rest of it.
After all, what makes us happy? How would a perfectly happy society be organized? I've always thought our levels of satisfaction with our positions in social hierarchies are one of the primary inputs to happiness. This certainly isn't a radical notion - Harvard economist Benjamin Friedman writes extensively about the psychological importance of relative, rather than absolute wealth. An illustration: I suspect I'd be happier if I and all my friends drove Hyundais than if I drove a Lexus and all my friends drove Bentleys. In other words, our hierarchical positions are more relevant to our psychological happiness than absolute material efficiency. We are social apes, primarily concerned with our power struggles. Being satisfied with our positions in social hierarchies makes us happier than money alone ever can.
Meritocracy is merely one way of establishing these hierarchies. Of course, no matter how hierarchies emerge, some people will end up on top and others on the bottom. The problem with meritocratic hierarchies is that they determine who ends up on top not based on what's best for human beings, but rather on what's best for institutions. Therefore, people end up subordinate if they don't have the skills valued by the corporation or university, and people who aren't necessarily suited for alpha positions are thrust into them if it behooves the larger institution. As anyone who has ever had a job can tell you, institutional impositions of hierarchies lead to tremendous psychological tension.
Furthermore, there are illegitimate reasons why meritocracy has become a widespread ideal. Nearly everyone stands to gain from publicly espousing meritocratic perspectives. Underprivileged people often argue that meritocracy is good, because if we had more of it, they would probably be better off. Rich and powerful people frequently argue that meritocracy is good with the not-so-subtle implication that it explains their success. Both arguments are feeble, self-interested half-truths. Because people don't want to be accused of corruptness or ineptitude, they only rarely question whether that elusive perfect meritocracy would actually be desirable.
Meritocracy is admittedly better than outright corruption or kleptocracy. But it isn't the happiest way to organize ourselves. Many people reading this column are probably wondering if I can propose an alternative. My answer is that meritocracy will always have its place, but I can give examples of non-meritocratic schemes that might ignite further conversation.
First, consider a company where the presidency rotates every year among the partners. These partners are liberated from hierarchical resentment, because they know their boss only has that position because it's his turn. While it might behoove the company to permanently install the most capable leader, those gains might be offset by the gamesmanship engendered by a cutthroat environment. And in any case, it is impossible to choose the most capable person from a group with any scientific certainty. Affirmative action is another great example of this principle: limited compromises in meritocratic schemes often yield positive externalities in the form of social cohesion.
Before it collapsed in a heap of moral ruin, Enron periodically fired the bottom-performing 10% of its employees. What's more meritocratic than that? The McKinsey Quarterly praised this innovative practice, known internally as "rank and yank," as one of the explanations for Enron's success (It was actually based on a system that McKinsey invented, and implemented at Enron by their illustrious former partner, Jeffrey Skilling).
After Enron imploded, it became clear that the entire organization was riddled with accounting fraud and bad business deals initiated by employees who had booked phony profits in order to save their jobs. I'm simply attempting to add another dimension to my argument by illustrating that radical meritocracy can backfire even from a strategic, top-down organizational perspective - human dignity be damned.
While meritocracy is often useful, we need to understand its shortcomings before we implement it throughout our society. No single ideology of human organization - meritocracy, autocracy, plutocracy or democracy - will be our salvation. They are all too extreme. A purely meritocratic society would be a deranged place where individuals are the instruments of institutions.
Human interests should always come first.
Matt Prewitt '08 mythologizes his own intelligence and then uses it as a weapon. Jeff Skilling taught him that trick.
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