第十八章 (Chapter 18)

Here are the words of Young Scorpion: When the nations on Mars were still barbarians, we Cat-people already had an educational system. Ours is an ancient land. Yet, our current system was copied from foreign shores. This is not to say we should not imitate others, but that emulating others is no easy task. Mutual imitation is right and proper, a vital force in the advancement of human civilization. No one adopts our old ways, while we must learn the new systems of others; this alone reveals who stands higher. But if we could imitate well, making our education keep pace with that of other nations, then we could not be deemed utterly incompetent. We have been implementing this new educational system and methods for over two hundred years, yet it remains a complete shambles. This proves that we cannot even imitate properly. What we originally had did not work, and learning from others has failed. I am a pessimist; I admit the innate incompetence of our race.

The innovations of an incompetent race are a joke; thus, our new education is also a joke.

You ask why mere children graduate from university? You are too honest, or rather, too naive. Don't you know it's all a joke? Graduation? Those children enrolled just that day! If we're determined to be a laughingstock, let's go all the way. We have nothing else to boast of, save our commitment to turning farce into an art form. The past two centuries of educational history is a chronicle of jokes, and now this joke-book has reached its final page. No one, however clever, could make this grand jest any more ludicrous. When the new education was first implemented, our schools too had various levels. Students had to pass examinations step by step before they could graduate. After two hundred years of 'improvement' and 'progress,' examinations were gradually abolished. Any student, regardless of attendance, would be deemed graduated when the time came. Yet, there was naturally a distinction in status between primary school graduation and university graduation. Who would willingly settle for a primary school diploma when both primary school and university involved the same non-attendance? So we reformed thoroughly: anyone who enrolls on the first day is instantly considered a university graduate. Graduate first, and then-ah, there is no 'then.' Once you've graduated, what need is there for a 'then'?

This method is the best-in Cat Country. Statistically, our number of university graduates ranks first among all nations on Mars. Ranking first in numbers is enough for self-consolation, no, self-pride. We Cat-people are nothing if not practical. Count on your fingers: which country's graduate tally can keep up with ours? The fact alone brings smiles of satisfaction to all. The Emperor loves this method. Were it not for his zeal for education, how could there be so many graduates? He has done his duty by the people. Teachers love this method: everyone is a university instructor, every school is the Pinnacle of Academia, and every student is first. How glorious! Parents love this method: a seven-year-old imp graduates from university; a child's 'brilliance' is the parents' pride. As for students, needless to say, as long as they are fortunate enough to be born in Cat Country and do not die at six or seven, they are guaranteed a university degree. Economically, the method is wonderfully bizarre. Initially, when schools were first established, the Emperor had to allocate education funds yearly. Yet the educated students often opposed and troubled him. Was that not spending money to buy trouble? Now, the Emperor spends not a single coin, yet produces multitudes of graduates yearly-graduates who pose no threat to him. True, many teachers starve to death, but the number of graduates increases. Previously, principals and teachers, driven by money, schemed against each other day and night, with several killings daily. Sometimes they incited students to riot, disturbing the peace. Now the Emperor gives them no money; what is there to fight over? If they demand salaries, the Emperor ignores them. If they provoke him too far, he sends soldiers to bash their skulls. Their backing was the students, but now students graduate upon enrollment. Who will help them? With no one to aid their cause, they can only wait to starve. Starvation is an honest death, and the Emperor is quite content to see teachers starve.

The parents' burden of education expenses is solved. They need only send their little imp to school, and their duty is done. Children at home must eat; children in school must eat. With food, who would let a child starve? Without food, the child starves anyway. Attending school or not is the same. Why not go for a university degree? After all, there are no costs for books or supplies, since enrollment is not for studying, and thus no one studies. It's all about obtaining the qualification, and obtain it they must. Do you think this method is good?

Why, you ask, are there still people willing to be principals and teachers?

This requires explaining the evolution over two centuries. Initially, schools offered different courses, producing varied talents: some studied engineering, others commerce, agriculture... But after graduation, what did they do? Those who studied engineering learned foreign techniques, but we had no foreign-style industry prepared for them. Those who studied commerce learned foreign methods, but we only had small peddlers; any large-scale enterprise was confiscated by the military upon opening. Those who studied agriculture learned foreign farming, but we cultivated only intoxicating leaves, nothing else. Thus, education was utterly disconnected from society. What could graduates do? Only two paths remained: become officials or become teachers. To become an official required connections and influence; regardless of your field, with someone in court, you could soar to the top. But who all had wealth and power? For those who couldn't become officials, teaching was the next best career. After all, those educated in the new system disdained becoming petty laborers or peddlers. Gradually, society split into two: the school-educated and the non-educated. The former were set on becoming officials or teachers as their profession; the latter became petty laborers or peddlers. The impact of this on politics, I shall not discuss today. As for education, ours became what can only be called a cyclic education. I studied, I graduated, then went to teach your children. Your children graduated, then taught mine. In knowledge, it was always the same old stuff; in character, there was daily regression. How to explain? Graduates multiplied. Except for a few who could become officials, the rest had to teach. But where were the schools? Only farce remained. The cyclic education was originally meant to pass down those few immortal textbooks. It taught no benevolence or morality. So to compete for a teaching post, sometimes it sparked a civil war lasting a year or two, with killing and bloodshed-as if everyone fought desperately for education, when in truth it was only for that meager salary.

Gradually, education funds were siphoned off by the Emperor, politicians, and the military. Everyone began focusing solely on salary-demand movements, abandoning teaching. The students, seeing through their teachers, also developed the habit of skipping classes. Thus began the movement of graduating without studying, as I mentioned earlier. This movement killed education funding. The Emperor, politicians, the military, and parents all supported it. After all, education was useless, and teachers were not worthy of respect. Everyone was happy to save a few coins. But schools could not close-for fear of foreigners laughing at us. So the movement of enrolling and instantly graduating matured. Schools remained open, the number of graduates increased daily, yet not a coin was spent. This shifted from cyclic education to universal education, which equaled no education at all. Yet schools stayed open. A colossal joke.

When this movement matured, principals and teachers did not lose their 'enthusiasm' for education. They still fought tooth and nail all day long. Why? Originally, schools truly resembled schools: they had desks, chairs, property, all equipment. When funds were available, everyone scrambled for profit, and principals and teachers began privately selling public assets. They vied for principalships: those with fewer assets fought those with more; those with none fought those with some. Another bloody fray ensued. The Emperor, ever considerate, having stopped education funds, could hardly forbid the pilfering and selling of school property. So schools turned into auction houses one by one. By now, all have become empty plots surrounded by four walls. So why are there still people willing to be principals or teachers? Not doing it means idleness; doing it also means idleness. Why not do it? Moreover, the title of principal or teacher is useful after all. Rising from student to teacher, from teacher to principal-this was the ordained path of the cyclic education. Now, since principals and teachers get no money, they use this title as a stepping stone to official promotion. Thus, our schools have no education, yet they have students, teachers, and principals. And any school is the Pinnacle of Academia. As soon as students hear their school is the Pinnacle of Academia, their hearts tingle with a fleeting pride, and then all is peaceful under heaven.

With no education in schools, what should those who truly wish to study do? Restore the old system-hire private tutors to teach children at home. Naturally, only wealthy families can afford this. Most children still go to school only to be deprived of learning. This educational failure shattered Cat Country's last hope, leaving not even a shadow. The initial trial of new education was a period of slandering new knowledge. New systems had to be imported along with new knowledge from abroad. Knowledge labeled 'new' obviously implies ongoing progress, a daily pursuit of truth. But new systems and knowledge grew moldy the moment they arrived here, like objects in the rainy season. Indeed, adopting others' systems and knowledge is easiest like grafting a piece of flesh from another's body onto one's own. One imagines that just cutting a piece of flesh is enough. Everyone keeps cutting new flesh, heedless of the blood and nutrients needed to sustain it. Acquiring a heap of new knowledge without grasping the spirit of inquiry inevitably leads to cyclic education. This insults new knowledge. Yet, during this period, people indeed clung to a hope. Though mistaken in thinking that grafting new flesh would grant immortality, they had this superstition: they believed that as soon as new knowledge arrived-no matter how scant-they would instantly prosper like foreign nations. This dream and pride were forgivable; there was at least some aspiration. By now, people know schools only as arenas for vying over principalships, beating teachers, and stirring up riots. So they boil this phenomenon with new knowledge in one pot and curse it: new knowledge not only fails to strengthen the nation but ruins people, they think. Thus, from slandering new knowledge, they advanced to cursing it. Now, families hire tutors to teach children, excluding all new knowledge. The price of our original old stone books increased tenfold. My grandfather was exceedingly pleased, thinking this was national essence triumphing over foreign learning. My father was delighted. He sent his son abroad to study, believing that this way, only his son could understand everything and later help him use new knowledge to deceive those clinging to stone books. Father was shrewd and capable. He always thought foreign new knowledge was useful, but only a few needed to learn it. With a few mastering foreign tricks, we would become strong. Yet most people still sympathized with grandfather: new knowledge was a kind of magic and heresy, only causing dizziness, making sons beat fathers, daughters curse mothers, students kill teachers-no benefit at all. This period of cursing new knowledge brought the nation perilously close to downfall.

You ask, what caused the collapse of this new education? I cannot answer. I only feel it is because there is no character. Look, when new education first arrived, why did people want it? Because everyone sought to make more money, not to make children understand more. They wanted to produce new and useful things, not to make people know more truth. This attitude already stripped education of part of its purpose: to cultivate good character and inspire a spirit of inquiry. By the time new schools were established, there were people in schools, but no character. Teachers worked for money, principals for money, students to prepare for making money. Everyone saw school as a new-style eatery. What education was, no one cared. Compounded by national weakness, social darkness, the Emperor having no character, politicians having no character, the people having no character, the characterlessness outside schools further stained the characterlessness within. Naturally, in this poor and weak country, many cannot even eat their fill; it is hard to speak of character. Character often falls due to economic pressure. True. But this does not excuse those who run education. Why education? To save the nation. How to save it? Through knowledge and character. This should have been decided at the outset, when education was first established. This should have meant sacrificing one's petty interests when choosing to become a principal or teacher. Perhaps I expect too much from those who run education. People are people; a teacher fears starvation just like a prostitute. I should not solely blame teachers, and I refuse to blame them alone. But some women would rather starve than become prostitutes. Then, can't those who run education grit their teeth and become people of character? Naturally, the government most loves to bully the honest. The more honest those who run education are, the more they are bullied. But no matter how bad the government, it must heed public opinion somewhat. If we who run education truly had character, and the students we cultivated had character, could society remain blind to good and bad forever? If society saw educators as loving fathers, and the students could achieve something in society, would the government dare despise education? Dare not allocate funds? I believe that with ten years of character education, Cat Country would change. But new education has been implemented for two hundred years. The result? If the old system could cultivate honest, filial, rule-abiding people, how could new education not yield comparable good results? Everyone says-especially those who run education-that society is dark. Whose responsibility is it to whiten society? Those who run education only complain of society's darkness, forgetting their duty is to whiten it, forgetting that their character should be the starlight in the night. What hope is there? I know I am too biased, too idealistic. But should not all who run education have some ideals? I know the government and society do not help them enough. But who wants to help people as bad as those in the government and society?

You saw those killing teachers? Do not be surprised yet. That is the inevitable result of characterless education. Teachers have no character, so students naturally follow suit. Not only no character, but it also throws people back tens of thousands of years, to the age of cannibalism. Human progress is excruciatingly slow, but regression is swift. A momentary loss of character, and people revert to savagery instantly. Moreover, we have run schools for two hundred years! In these two centuries, every day it was either principals fighting principals or teachers, or teachers fighting teachers or principals, or students fighting students, or students fighting principals or teachers. Fighting turns people into beasts at once; each fight adds a layer of wildness. So by now, students slaughtering a few principals or teachers is commonplace. You need not feel injustice for principals or teachers either. Ours is the cyclic education. Students will one day become principals or teachers, and someone will come to kill them. Fortunately, a few more such principals or teachers matter little to society. Who kills whom in schools goes unnoticed. In such a dark society, people seem born as little beasts, sniffing and clawing around, hoping to scavenge something edible. An advantage as small as a grain of sand is enough for them to seize with full force. Such a bunch of little creatures happen to meet that bunch of teachers in schools. Like a pack of young hungry beasts encountering old hungry beasts, they must measure claws and fangs. The desire for petty gain ignites the savagery inherited from primitive ancestors. So for a book, a stash of intoxicating leaves, they can fight until corpses litter the ground. Student riots are the agitation of youthful blood, forgivable. But our riots here have a distinct flavor: they seize on a pretext to riot, tear down buildings, destroy property, then everyone carries bricks and picks up scraps home. Students are satisfied, parents are all delighted. Because of the riot, homes get a few bricks or a wooden stick for free. The riot is not in vain. Principals or teachers steal whenever they get a chance; students destroy whenever they get a chance, then haul things home after the destruction. Principals or teachers deserve death. Students deserve death. Students killing principals or teachers is heaven's clear justice. When students become principals or teachers and are killed in turn, it is only fitting. This is our education. Education that turns people into beasts cannot be said to have no achievements. Ha!