Does Meritocracy Undermine Humility?

Might meritocracy undermine one's sense of humility? It's an unusual line of argument, but one that caught my eye in a recent alumni magazine article reviewing the political theorist Michael Sandel's newest work, The Tyranny of Merit: What's Become of the Common Good?

A year ago this month, I wrote about another interesting piece by Daniel Markovits debating the success of meritocracy. The arguments were interesting, the proposed solutions inadequate, but the exercise in thinking was the point of it all.

Sandel's book begins by reviewing some of the facts that Markovitz had highlighted, and then goes on to point out what he perceives as fundamental flaws, namely that equality of opportunity at the outset will not lead to a just or desirable outcome.

Part of the problem he perceives is that equality at the start justifies inequality thereafter - if student A was admitted to an elite school and went on to become a wealthy master of the universe, while student B was not granted admission, then any inequality stemming from student A's trajectory must be attributable to A's individual talents and virtues.

The flaw in sanctioning such sequelae of meritocracy is that believing everything you have was earned risks overlooking the role of "luck, circumstance and public goods" that contributed to that success. Winners become self-satisfied because their success reflects positive innate qualities.

This leads to an inability to empathize with those who did not make the cut, which they safely presume was due to deficiencies in the latter's work ethic because since there was equality of opportunity at the outset - it must have been an issue of not trying hard enough.

Extend this logic and you can legitimize of snobbery while devaluing the work performed by those who did not achieve comparable levels of higher education. Elitism begets further elitism, and we start to find it acceptable to let those who are not elite eat cake.

What happens when those who have not succeeded as we have become the other, so we do not consider them as sharing a common fate? Check out this related article from the New Yorker about how some ultra-wealthy are buying survivalist condos in former missile silos. The implication is that it's okay to opt out of any responsibility for righting the wrongs in society when you no longer feel a compact binding you to the suckers who can't afford your exit strategy.

Admissions to selective colleges are one of the most explicit and visible attempts to sort applicants for scarce coveted positions. Admissions imbue eligibility to pursue high status, well-paid professions while accumulating social capital through networking with others in like institutions, ultimately rewarding those who matriculate with power.

Sandel makes the case that college admissions tend to concentrate of power. As evidence, he cites data that the greater your family wealth, the greater the likelihood you have of going to college. The upshot is that selective colleges reinforce existing power by transmitting it intact to subsequent generations far more often than they redistribute it.

Sandel observes a trend that students at selective colleges feel more strongly than ever that they earned their admission, reducing their perception that contingencies played a role. He implies that we as a society would do well to help cure the smugness that accompanies recipients of elite education.

Sandel's world at times seems comprised of credentialed white collar elites concerned with passing privilege onto their progeny at odds while disrespecting their resentful blue collar counterparts.

This is where the book reviewer's chops kick in. The reviewer, himself a Yale graduate student, posits that the true test of whether an elite respects a career is whether she or he would be happy if their child were to pursue that career. Lip service about the dignity of a hard day of custodial work stops when your kid says they plan to become a custodian.

I'm absolutely guilty of talking openly with my children about the association between career choice and income, and how that plays out over the long haul. I've had conversations with my daughter that might be regarded by an eavesdropper to be coercive.

I'm not sure what the right answer is. I certainly want my kids to have every opportunity to develop and apply their talents to fix a broken world, create art, enjoy meaningful relationships and enjoy a modicum of financial security in those pursuits.

But I'm willing to acknowledge that the manner in which I leverage my "power" as a financially secure physician and the product of an elite education might exclude others who have fewer resources to bring to bear on their application. At my alma mater, Stanford, the rate of admission for a legacy applicant is 45% greater than for a non-legacy applicant.

Do community priorities outweigh personal priorities? What's fair for the common good? Does the greater good outweigh my loyalty to my children, or the arguably biological imperative to maximize the future success of my progeny?

Lots to think about...