Last year China’s number of SCI papers surged to second place in the world; EI papers had long since already been number one. This is certainly nothing to be proud of. Never mind the average quality of the papers: even if all these papers were genuine and substantive, it still would not be something worth celebrating. In the first place, scientific papers published in English are “making contributions to all humankind (especially Americans),” and of all parties they benefit, China itself benefits the least. Since China’s science policy and environment have always devoted most of their energy to these original activities, they have never much cared about secondary development based on others’ original achievements, let alone market development. Therefore, not to mention that major achievements in basic science are not produced very often; even when such achievements do appear, we will inevitably take the initiative and, at the first possible moment, publish them in SCI, thereby sharing them with all humankind, while the ones who ultimately develop actual economic benefits from them are mostly the West or Japan. Selfless dedication is of course great, but the question is: does the Chinese have enough self-confidence to be so generously selfless?
Given China’s current national conditions, it is obviously appropriate to place ourselves in the position of the latecomer and learner, far from the stage of generously selflessly serving everyone. Those who can strive so desperately, disregarding their own interests, solely in order to provide others with shared benefits are either wealthy magnates who have already achieved fame and success, or else slaves who lack self-respect and self-love.
Of course, the pursuit of scholarship ought in principle to be pure and non-utilitarian, and one should not be overly concerned with questions of interest, much less become fixated on national borders. But those who publish large numbers of SCI papers are not in fact the people who truly hold themselves aloof from utility and transcend borders. In reality, most of the people desperately publishing papers are being compelled to do so; they publish SCI papers only in pursuit of reputation and interests of one sort or another (personal, institutional, national). Since we are going to talk about utility, then we ought to do the accounting properly—under conditions where secondary development and market development are not valued, publishing large numbers of original SCI papers for an English-reading audience is, for China today, nothing more than saving face at the expense of drawing attention to oneself, with no benefit whatsoever.
Of course, reflections on and critiques of “SCI worship” have long since become old hat, but why is it still impossible to turn the tide? Because SCI in China plays the role of a standard for measuring scholars’ level. To measure scholars’ research capacity fairly and justly, precise and objective data are as good as it gets; what other method is there besides that? Thus the SCI indicator, like the college entrance examination system, is heavily criticized, yet must still be implemented and upheld, because no one dares oppose the two words of “fairness” that it guarantees.
But why is it that Western countries, which likewise value fairness and the rule of law, do not need similar indicators of measurement, or do not take them so seriously?
Perhaps first of all because the Chinese and the West differ in their understanding of fairness. Chinese people often regard fairness as a result, a label, or a final output value. But Westerners place more emphasis on the “procedure” by which that result is reached. If something yields a good result, Chinese people think the means can be a little flexible, a little crafty, a little forceful; but Western rule of law places greater emphasis on procedural justice, and even the best things must be handled through a certain process. Chinese people do not attach importance to procedure. For example, exactly who should evaluate professors, how schools should be managed, how the functions and powers among the Party committee, school administration, and professors should be clearly divided—these operating procedures are never made explicit, yet one still wants to guarantee the fairness of evaluations. Then one can only introduce an external label.
Second, in the West the academic world has historically been a relatively independent social force, and the academic community possesses a considerable degree of autonomy. A scholar’s status is subject to sufficient testing and judgment within the academic world itself. This internal academic scrutiny is by no means limited to anonymous “peer review”; it also includes public academic exchange and academic criticism. Anyone’s academic achievements are laid out in the open for colleagues to attack at any time; excellent achievements will attract more attention, and in an environment of broad and free academic exchange, excellent scholars will naturally rise to prominence, while those who pass themselves off as something they are not will ultimately end up disgraced. But the situation now is still that Chinese people do not pay attention to the process of academic exchange; they still only care about the final academic status. If a domestic field has too few peers and exchange cannot get off the ground, then of course one may publish papers in English and communicate with international peers. But if one always publishes articles only for English readers, then even if there are many domestic “peers,” it is still difficult to form a healthy environment for exchange.
To make an analogy: suppose there is a tribe that wants to select its strongest warriors and screen out those who are unqualified. How should they evaluate them? One way is to have them all go work as laborers for another tribe and see the results of their labor. In theory, the more capable a person is, the stronger he ought to be. Frail people, by contrast, simply cannot handle labor. Having them work for another tribe guarantees the fairness of the evaluation and reduces the possibility of cheating and collusion. But is this a good method? If these warriors’ mission is precisely to defeat that other tribe, would not such an evaluation system be absurd? Why not have them work within the tribe instead? Is it just to prevent cheating and collusion? Then why not let them compete freely and challenge one another? But since they are all busy working for outsiders, they rarely even get the chance to meet head-on.
What the academic environment needs most is not abstract fairness, but freedom and exchange. Do not let “fairness” become an excuse for standing still.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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