The Myth of Meritocracy is Alive and Well, and it Lives on Campus

Have you ever felt like all the hard work you can do might never be enough? Or like the amount of hustle expected of students on a campus college like U of M is just plain unrealistic? These questions and worries come up for a lot of us as we grapple with course loads, finding jobs and internships, and the financial strain often associated with pursuing a degree. Most people have heard phrases like “you’ll get out of it what you put into it,” “no pain, no gain,” or “the best man will get the job,” all of which seem to imply that success will be experienced in direct proportion to the amount of hard work invested in our endeavors. But a growing body of research suggests that it’s a lot more complicated than that. These hard work mantras and expectations stem come what’s been termed the myth of meritocracy: a general assumption that jobs, success, and recognition are awarded to the most deserving candidates; that hard work and personal attributes are the golden ticket to Making It. 

The term meritocracy was popularized in a satirical essay written by Michael Young, in which he prophesied about a future UK society in which social stratification was based only on personal merit. While Young penned this work with the hope of bringing attention to the weaknesses of such a philosophy in providing real equity, some latched onto the term as a genuine argument framing meritocracy as an ideal system. 

Although the language for this idea is under a century old, its core argument has existed in some form for much longer. A similar idea, now called Bootstrap Theory, was similarly derived from a work originally intended to illustrate its impossibility. The idea of “pulling” oneself “up by the bootstraps” is mentioned in a late 1800s textbook physics problem, which explains its lack of feasibility. As American society evolved, ideas like bootstrapping and meritocracy were used to help justify inequalities in class and access to opportunities: those who lacked access must simply be undeserving or less hardworking. College was no exception; homogenous student bodies were attributed to the inherent differences between groups, allowing the myth of educational meritocracy to maintain credibility. So how do these narratives show up on our campus?

The University of Michigan, like many elite(ist) institutions, generally projects an image of diversity and equal opportunity. An excerpt from the University’s Standard Practice Guide states, “The University strives to build a diverse community in which opportunity is equal for all persons regardless of race, color, national origin, age, marital status, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, disability, religion, height, weight, or veteran status in employment, educational programs and activities, and admissions.” Despite this stated goal, enrollment reflects disproportionately low numbers of Black and Native American students, especially since the repeal of Affirmative Action in 2006. Disparities also remain in the gender breakdowns for top-choice majors. Although students identified as female make up slightly over half the student population, the graduating class for the top major for both male and female students in 2020 was composed of 864 men and 495 women. The second most popular major was even more skewed, with 701 men and 218 women. Other examples of bootstrap/merit-based culture at Umich include inflexible attendance and grading policies that ignore individual need and life variables, as well as the exalted status of Greek Life on campus despite its history of exclusionary practices and discriminatory recruiting policies. 

Yet despite the numerous pitfalls of higher education’s ability to provide all students with the same opportunities, we routinely receive the message that all we have to do is work hard and trust the process. Statements like “we are committed to racial equity” or “we pride ourselves on our gender-diverse campus” tend to ring hollow in the absence of meaningful actions or deeper acknowledgment that our educational systems are still vastly unequal. 

This article is nowhere near a complete or exhaustive exploration of the myth of meritocracy or its influence on campus. The history and evolution of this cultural construct are  complex at best, and murky at worst. What I hope to highlight is that the idea of hard work as the primary determinant of success is alive and well on campus, and a deeper look into systems we navigate every day can help illuminate the dissonance between administrative narrative and lived reality. The following contributions provide individual examples of how the myth of meritocracy and related narratives can show up in the lives of students on campus. 

Noe:

One of the biggest ways I feel the influence of meritocracy is in the context of mental health. I think a lot of the ways college life is structured center around neurotypical models of thinking and socializing. As someone who often experiences symptoms of OCD and depression, the atmosphere can be overwhelming and distressing. There’s a simultaneous hyperfocus on both individuality and group identification (e.g. collective pride around sports and school reputation). I feel disconnected from both of these ideas, and it can be hard not to feel like a neurological misfit. The social landscape can often feel isolating, leading to comparison and feelings of not being enough. 

Vaishnavi:

I think what frustrated me the most is that when I am not achieving my goals, the judgment falls on me as a person. As a society, we intertwine achievement and personhood so much that our achievements dictate who we are as a person. When I am performing well, I feel better about myself. When I am performing poorly, I feel like there is something wrong with me. When I can’t achieve due to sickness, other commitments, and my mental health I still don’t look at other factors to see what I am doing wrong, I only look at myself. This means I place a large part of my identity on my achievements, which is exhausting because success is never stable, and my identity is trying to stay propped up on uneven ground.

Noe ConahanComment