Editor’s Note

These are reflections born from a place of despair and ruin.

The author identifies as a long-term “failure” who has lived off the beaten path—he lacks a formal degree, attended night school, comes from a mediocre background, and has explored the world through self-study. He once naively believed that a “special talent” admission track could open a door for a soul like his, one that had strayed from the conventional path, but reality delivered a cold rejection. This rejection letter was not merely a denial of his application; it was a slap in the face to all who try to find a glimmer of light within the cracks of the system.

But this is more than just an account of a personal setback. The author does not wallow in self-pity; instead, he turns his scalpel on the vast system that shut him out. He sharply identifies the cruel logic behind “selection”: so-called meritocracy is just a tool for the elite to rationalize their arrogance and humiliate those deemed failures; so-called fair competition is nothing but a fig leaf to conceal class reproduction and entrench social stratification.

From an instinctive aversion to exams, to a profound reflection on the “cult of test-taking,” and finally to a visceral understanding of Bourdieu’s theories of “symbolic violence” and “habitus,” the author makes a magnificent breakthrough from emotional collapse to rational critique. He reveals how education has been warped from “nurturing individuals” into “screening them,” how “standards” are used to wield invisible power, and how anyone unable to conform to these rules is forced to lose not only the game, but also their dignity.

We are publishing this article not only for its raw, genuine anguish but because it offers a deeply penetrating perspective that allows us to scrutinize the education system we have long taken for granted, even revered as gospel. It is a reminder that in a world governed by “efficiency” and “scores,” human dignity, intellectual curiosity, and the right to learn freely are being systematically marginalized.

As the author states, this may be a “loser’s complaint,” but such a complaint should not be dismissed lightly. For behind every individual judged a “failure” by the system, there may lie a suppressed soul brimming with potential. And those elites who refuse to acknowledge this, who arrogantly maintain these divisions, will ultimately face the consequences of the very despair they have created.

This is a cry from the margins, and a poignant manifesto for the freedom to learn.

January 6, 2026

Jarrett Ye

PS: I published the author’s another article before:

Free Learning in Today’s Society: Some Personal Experiences and Reflections — LessWrong

A Loser's Reflections

Preface

Who Am I

As the title suggests, this is a reflection written in the aftermath of failure. My life trajectory has been quite peculiar; for the past twenty years, I have barely received any formal education, having spent my entire adolescence homeschooling. Recently, I applied for the "Special Selection"^[1] program at two universities in Taiwan—a channel purportedly designed to welcome "special" talents. I hoped to use this to enter university and gain a diploma and recognition. Instead, I was met with failure. I discovered with despair that the so-called "special" merely refers to "special within the bounds of what the system recognizes." For someone like me, who is severely "deviant," the system seems to have rejected me fundamentally: I never attended a "standard high school," I studied at a night school^[2] (which, in Taiwan, is often stereotyped as a gathering place for delinquents), I come from a modest background and had to work part-time jobs, I had never traveled abroad until recently, I am a bit older than the norm, and I have no mentors to vouch for me, nor do I possess any trophies or certificates from competitions. My only advantages, perhaps, were my intense passion for the subject and my ability to teach myself—and that was it.

The Sequence of Events

To understand the context of this essay, I need to explain the timeline. Previously, I had just finished a delightful two-week trip with a friend (my first time traveling abroad, funded by savings I had accumulated over time, and thoroughly worth it). Upon returning home, feeling that post-travel emptiness, I found rejection letters from the universities in my mailbox—they had likely arrived while I was away. Although I had already checked the results online during my trip and knew I hadn't been accepted, I hadn't dwelt on it much because I was enjoying my friend's company. I thought I had moved on. Yet, the moment I saw the physical letters, my emotions collapsed like a bursting dam. I cried my heart out. I chose to confide in an LLM (Large Language Model)—which proved to be a very competent sounding board—and after regaining some emotional stability, I began to write.

Why I Write

For me, writing has never been just about expression; it is a way of organizing my thoughts. As a free learner, writing is almost an instinct for structuring my mind. It allows me to crawl out of the vortex of emotion and examine my situation rationally. In a sense, it is also a catharsis. Therefore, my writing is "fluid"; when I wrote the first sentence, I had no idea what would follow—it simply grew naturally. The downside is that for the reader, there may be parts that lack clarity. I have tried my best to revise it, but if ambiguity remains, I apologize.

The Shock of Failure

The results from both universities felt like a precise humiliation. My applications fell just short of the so-called "minimum threshold," as if intentionally designed to mock me. I directly endured an unspeakable "symbolic violence"^[3], which felt like a trampling of my personality. Perhaps I had trusted their promise of "welcoming the special" too much, making my disappointment indescribable. Consequently, I began to reflect on university thresholds and the transmission of cultural capital. I started reading, contrasting texts with my personalized life experiences, and truly feeling what "habitus"^[4] and "distinction"^[5] mean. Before this, I was confident; after the rejection, I was lost. Yet, writing gave me strength, allowing me to examine from a socio-political perspective what the contemporary system is, and how it rejected me.

Speaking Out and Meaning

For a loser to speak up, one faces immense pressure. At this moment, my words sound like "the complaints of a loser," inviting personalized accusations such as "you're just blaming the system because you didn't succeed." Therefore, publishing this article under my real name in Chinese carries weight. That is why I chose to remain anonymous and write in English (believing it to be a more inclusive space), entrusting a friend to publish it on my behalf. Even though I know it is difficult for a loser to say anything of value, why do I still risk speaking out?

First, I admit that anger drove me to write this. Perhaps if I had been accepted, I wouldn't have written with such emotion and motivation. So yes, this can be called a complaint, and I cannot rule out that I am using "reason" to package this "complaint." However, even if fueled by emotion, it cannot be denied that it drove me toward structural critique rather than staying put and simply cursing the "unfair system." My personal misfortune cannot be entirely attributed to external factors, but my immediate reaction—total "internal attribution"—reminded me of how "self-humiliation" works. The objectively existing structural problems became completely invisible, which alarmed me because they do exist, yet my first reaction was "they don't." Thus, I began to think—those personalized accusations, the social environment that induces shame—all these are the background that shaped my immediate "instinctive reaction." And these are precisely the products of elite arrogance.

Theoretical Connections

Therefore, the main body of this text records my process from emotional turmoil to calm reflection. At the same time, this essay is not an isolated emotional vent but connects to a broader theoretical horizon. Compared to the more emotional main text, the appendix is the product of more detailed and cool-headed thought, resulting from my reading of Pierre Bourdieu. I placed it alongside my reflections because I believe the problems he addressed are linked to the problems I face. How "habitus" connects to "meritocracy"^[6], and how "technocrats" shape the relationship between "talent" and politics, vulgarizing it to systematically exclude marginalized groups and the lower class, ultimately serving globalization and the "winners" of society. Understanding these concepts is essential; it extends my reflection and acts as my refusal to succumb to "instinctive reactions."

Regarding Sandel

Finally, I need to clarify regarding a scholar mentioned in the text. When I first wrote this, I had not read Michael Sandel's^[7] works in detail. I had only encountered related knowledge from various fields, understanding meritocracy and its critiques, but I (at least consciously) had not paid special attention to his proposals for university admission reform. Therefore, I consider my proposal of "threshold + lottery" to be the result of "independent thinking," even if it matches Sandel's conclusion. I have long been interested in lottocracy (sortition), and having learned about meritocracy through various materials, I thought of this solution after this painful rejection. Nevertheless, I cannot deny the possibility that my subconscious captured content I wasn't fully aware of during my readings, treating Sandel's knowledge as my own. Regardless, it doesn't matter; it doesn't change my support for this measure. If anything, in another sense, this is the "essence" of free learning—an inadvertent "spillover," where results I hadn't even noticed emerge under spontaneous writing.

Humility towards knowledge is my consistent credo. I stand on the shoulders of giants and would never claim ownership of any knowledge; humility is a virtue that a seeker of knowledge should possess. After realizing my idea had already been proposed, I read Sandel's work. I must emphasize that his work is far more comprehensive and complete than my thoughts, and I benefited greatly from it. Therefore, I have supplemented and revised the original article, adding quotes from him, and what is published now is the revised version.

Main Body

Breakdown

I failed. Or rather, I need to face this fact directly.

I can't stop crying right now. Perhaps it's the emptiness after the trip, but receiving the university transcript telling me I didn't pass, right at my most vulnerable moment, caused an emotional breakdown like never before.

I talked to the LLM for a long time. It comforted me greatly; I suppose this is a victory for technology, as it truly helped calm my emotions.

I discussed many paths with it: night school extension programs, grinding through practice exams for a retake, transfer exams. But I discovered with despair that no matter what, I cannot escape the thing I fear most—exams.

Fear

Exams are something I have never truly faced in my life. My life has never encountered such a crisis. Looking back at my learning history, I have hardly ever taken exams; perhaps only elementary school quizzes count, but after adolescence, no one has judged me like this. I have never gone through the training of converting my knowledge into scores, and I resist this tendency vehemently.

I learn things simply because I like them, simply because I want to learn. My growth process has calcified this thinking paradigm, so much so that the current me feels immense pain.

The Meaning of Learning

I used to believe that learning should be free. In the past, I thought learning was liberty itself, carefree, done only for interest. But now I painfully discover this is not the case; I need to learn for my future, for a job, for university thresholds, for admission scores. What about my interest? It seems no one cares.

The slogan at the school gate swears that "Interest is Paramount," but I feel this is a lie. They only need scores; interest is irrelevant. Only "interest" that can be converted into scores is recognized as "interest." Interest that does not fit their definition is not interest.

The Irony of Being "Special"

I naively thought that "Special Selection" was tailored for people like me. I have the interest, I wrote essays, and I even learned a lot of university-level content before entering university. I "considered myself" to have some depth—although I know my level is far from producing research results, I didn't think I was unworthy of even entering the gate. But now it seems—the professors do not recognize this overly deviant "specialness," or they feel I am not qualified to join the university.

Ironically, the standard test score threshold for my target department is not high. When I went for the interview, a Xuezhang (senior student)^[8] even told me bluntly, "It doesn't matter if you don't pass this; just take the exam later. If you take it, you'll get in." This rhetoric made me uncomfortable. It implied a distinction between the "Front Door" and the "Side Door," as if the two should be hierarchical. Thus, the same department has entirely different standards. Even though standardized exams fundamentally measure "test-taking skills" rather than interest or compatibility (otherwise, people wouldn't just pick any major once they have the score), they possess an unquestionable, transcendent legitimacy—because they represent the "Front Door" symbolizing "fairness" and "effort." In contrast, the "Side Door" is seen as a "shortcut," as if it were the product of "laziness" or "insufficient effort." Anyone not walking this standard path faces unequal scrutiny. Even though the essays I attached were carefully considered and revised numerous times—representing no small amount of effort—they are not acknowledged, nor can they be equated with the effort poured into "scores."

The impact of this felt like being slashed with a sword while bare-chested—a bloody mess.

The Root of Disgust

My loathing for exams is not a fleeting emotion; it is an instinct rooted in my entire life experience. I have always hated exams; every cell in my body tells me—they do not want to take exams. I absolutely do not want to put my knowledge on a test paper and let it become a cold score. I absolutely do not want to take exams for the sake of scores. This is a fundamental betrayal of my past twenty years of life, of all my learning processes; it is a trampling.

Reason tells me clearly: "You are just a maladapted outlier." I need to admit this is a fact. I write precisely to comfort myself and soothe my emotions. But I also firmly believe that my complaints point to real problems—they can coexist with critique without contradiction. Must "learning for scores" be accepted as a commonplace fact, an unshakable "reality"? Were all my past learning experiences—those joyful, immersive moments—fake?

I feel I have fallen into an unprecedented crisis. I discovered I don't know how to learn anymore. As soon as I think about my learning and knowledge becoming scores, I feel unprecedented anxiety and fear. I instinctively resist this kind of learning—especially when these scores will decide my fate.

The Exception of Language Exams

Thinking carefully, my aversion to exams is not without exceptions. I admire my past self—how on earth did I pass the JLPT N1^[9]? Since I hate exams so much, why didn't I resist that type of exam? I even plan to take English certificates in the future; why am I not afraid here?

Compared to university entrance exams, where does the difference lie?

I started thinking and remembered my frequent use of flashcards—using Anki^[10]. This is certainly a form of testing, even an exam. Learning science tells me the testing effect can improve my memory; this is the best method for efficient learning. I think the reason I don't "particularly hate" language exams is similar. Whether it's the JLPT, TOEFL, or IELTS, they are not fundamentally competitive systems. I am not fighting anyone for limited spots; I am not in a "rat race"^[11] for a score. These exams are more like competing with myself: compared to my past self, what is my current level?

Perhaps I still don't like the results of standardized tests; generally, I dislike them. But this feeling of comparing only with myself makes it easier for me to adapt. After all, isn't using flashcards the same? I learn for myself; it hasn't deviated from that track. As long as I do it for myself—not for competition or to push someone else off a single-plank bridge—then even if it is an exam, I probably won't loathe it too much.

Some people take language certificates as university prep, constantly grinding for higher scores. Fundamentally, isn't that just testing for the sake of testing? Once I fall into that twisted state, my disgust and fear will likely explode. The solution is simple: as long as I never take them with such a purpose, language certificates will forever remain things that assess and prove my level—for me.

Maybe I will use the certificate for employment or something else, but those are "by-products." At the moment of the exam, I am definitely not taking it for some overly utilitarian purpose—I just need a proof, a proof of learning outcomes, and this is for myself. Just like a Master's program issuing a certificate upon completion; even though it can be exchanged for university credits in recognized regions, I didn't learn for those credits or other utilitarian purposes.

Relief

Writing this far, the path ahead seems suddenly clear. This is indeed the benefit of writing; the content now is something I hadn't thought of when I wrote the first sentence. Back then, I felt I hated all exams intensely—but now it seems that's not entirely true. To be precise, what I loathe are exams taken "for the sake of exams." The kind for gaining extra advantage in competition, for defeating someone, for jobs, for the future, for all those utilitarian purposes.

I've figured it out. From now on, I will only take exams for myself. Only to test my knowledge level, only to establish them as my own milestones. That is what will make me happiest.

As for university, academia, whatever—it doesn't matter anymore.

All I want in this life is to learn for myself; beyond that, I have no other pursuit.

The Logic of Screening

After calming down, I began to ponder a more fundamental question: What is the essence of university screening?

My personal experience may be hard to use as "evidence," as it is shrouded in a black box mixed with too many variables. But using it as a starting point, what broader thoughts can be extended? Stepping out of the individual and looking from a structural perspective, what strikes me most is "selection" and the "competition" behind it. Take one of the schools as an example: I remember a few years ago only four students entered the interview stage, but this year it increased to ten, yet the admission quota remained unchanged. As the number of people increases, participants must expend more effort than in previous years to secure a spot.

The logic of screening here, if viewed from the perspective of "education," is deformed. We can compare it to a driver's license exam to understand—if we screened driver's license applicants annually, saying "only the top 5%" are eligible to get a license, the absurdity of university educational screening becomes apparent. An illiterate person indeed doesn't meet the standard and cannot enter university, but if a person possesses basic high school knowledge, why can't they enter university to learn? The logic of a "qualification exam" and a "selection exam" is fundamentally different: Selection means there are still losers above the standard, and it is relative (the top 5% of last year coming to take the exam again doesn't mean they can still be in the top 5%). However, a fixed qualification standard line remains consistent every year. Unless there are adjustments to the standard of "basic university knowledge" based on learning sciences and cognitive sciences, this line should remain largely unchanged annually.

Scores give people a false sense of control, making them feel that as long as they try desperately, they can exchange effort for titles and futures. However, this is like a carrot dangling before a donkey. Under high-level malignant competition and grade inflation, the benefit brought by every ounce of effort is essentially "diminishing marginal returns." Winners, through scores, not only confirm their relative position on the coordinates but also confirm their "self-effort" and specialness. Thus, distinction is produced, and arrogance and self-importance are bred within it: "I became an elite because of my effort." At the same time, the "screening structure" drapes a curtain over itself, hiding in plain sight. For the winners, they need this structure to maintain their identity; as vested interests, they have no motivation to change this system—even if it is fundamentally "violating the original intention of education." On the contrary, they will use various technical gimmicks to formulate questions to maintain the hierarchy, even to the point where it doesn't matter if the gap in admission scores shrinks to two decimal places—as long as you are 0.01 points ahead of your opponent, you are higher than them. What is the significance of this one-point difference? Just for stratification. The self-righteous elites use their arrogance to demarcate the boundaries of social class, thereby destroying how many thinkers who were "good enough" yet did not meet the screening standards, turning them into rigid test-taking machines?

The Essence of Selection is Stratification

The reason excellent schools choose selection over qualification is fundamentally for "stratification." To keep their "elite threshold" immovable, to distinguish between the lower class and resource acquisition. Some people, like the top 5%, 1%, or even the top 0.1% in the screening, "can obtain resources and titles"—material capital and symbolic capital—while those losers should be eliminated. Compulsory screening requires people to constantly "involute" (invest intense effort internally), creating a "high threshold" convert's zeal effect, making them more firm in their "extraordinary status" and "arrogance," using scores to legitimately mock and humiliate those losers—your failure is due to your own lack of effort, so you do not deserve resources; I am "one level above you."

This logic is essentially no different from the "hierarchy" of the old era, only adding a false halo of "effort," telling you that the current rank is not "immutable by birth" but "can be strived for." Just like the Imperial Examination^[12], even though the number of people who truly made it to the list over hundreds of years was negligible, it still gave a false sense of "class mobility," hanging like a carrot before your eyes. You will find that the faster you run, the faster the carrot moves; it is always in front of you—just like you must fight with your life for that 1 point to squeeze across the single-plank bridge of thousands, using 0.5 points to fight for that inexplicable exam question—Charge! Charge! As long as I step over others, I am also an elite, I can also become an "extraordinary" person! But when everyone thinks this way, the carrot moves forward again, and the narrow gate of the university shrinks another inch due to the increase in numbers, leaving you forever "just missing it by a bit."

The Essence of Education

Universities, as educational institutions, should not be like this. Not according to history, but according to the values they proclaim—they shouldn't be like this. Educating the public, changing society. We place high hopes on education, believing it will cultivate qualified citizens, nourish the spirit of democracy, and bring about benevolent change. So, is screening what it ought to look like? To truly implement the essence of education, this logic must be broken. If resources are limited, expand resources; if quotas are insufficient, use a lottery. There can be thresholds, but they must be reasonable "qualifications" rather than "selections." Entry is a qualification, and exit is, of course, also a qualification. "Easy entry, strict exit" is not inappropriate—as long as the exit standard is a reasonable "university qualification." Like a driver's license, as long as you can drive well on the road and drive safely, you get the certificate. Is there a problem with this? Unless one endorses the logic of "stratification," selection has no meaning from the start—its purpose from beginning to end is to distinguish, not for fairness.

The Trap of "Technical Fairness"

Chinese civilization's tradition of Imperial Examinations created the feat of "technical fairness." It constantly drilled into how to make the selection and competition process fairer, yet totally ignored what was wrong with "competition" itself. Today, this system is rampant worldwide; both winners and losers treat it as a taken-for-granted "routine." But precisely because of this, we should question it. Just as in the past, "imperial rule" was a taken-for-granted routine, but now it is spurned by democracy. Should competition be the "norm" implemented in every field?

One undeniable point is that competition naturally shapes hierarchy. Winners and losers create distinctions between each other; the capable get more while the losers lose everything. Letting the capable prevail is indeed an efficiency advantage of meritocracy—but just like the critique of "instrumental rationality," can "efficiency" itself become the goal pursued by society? Free learning is inefficient; industrial indoctrination is highly efficient. If we let everything be judged by efficiency, the ideal society should be a mass-produced hive society of "industrially canned knowledge." The top of the hierarchy commands everything, and worker bees are responsible for execution; this is obviously the ideal state of a hierarchical society, where those winners mobilize everything according to their designs, with incredible efficiency.

But on the other hand, "evolution" tells us the importance of diversity, which may be opposite to a singular screening logic. Successful people and losers—the latter also contain seeds of creativity, just like those "heretical theories" in the history of science, or artists who became famous "after death." From a retrospective angle, as losers of their time, they obviously created enough "value" for human society, yet these values were not what the "elites of the time" recognized. Thus, they received no resources and no attention. Innovation is just like this; at least in the present, no one knows what is "valuable," so naturally, we can only follow existing standards, and these standards are precisely those set by the "upper elites."

The Tyranny of Meritocracy

Social inequality drives our pursuit of symbolic capital. More titles, better university diplomas and the prestige attached to them—all to pass through the elite's narrow gate in a highly competitive society, so we can escape the filthy life of the bottom tier. Under this, learning and education have been reduced to mere tools of competition. People enter industrially standardized schools, producing industrially standardized "test-taking machines"^[13], yielding industrially standardized scores, outputting industrially standardized "beasts of burden"—scores and problem-solving become the pursuit of a lifetime. constantly climbing up crowds out all vision, making us ignore whether such a society should be changed. We even stifle our "imagination" of an ideal society, daring not to envision what a fair and inclusive society would actually look like, spitting on it as "unrealistic" utopianism; better to use that time to raise the score by one point. We are not just industrially mass-producing a tiny minority of arrogant winners, but also mass-producing losers filled with psychological and emotional disorders—they are like the flip side of the manifesto "you can succeed if you work hard": "you didn't succeed because you didn't work hard enough." Losers blame themselves, lament, and attribute everything to themselves. "Upward mobility" becomes a belief of self-flagellation, yet macroscopically, it manifests as a situation of gradual solidification.

As Michael Sandel said: "The meritocratic ideal is not a remedy for inequality; it is a justification of inequality." And further, "Meritocracy congratulates the winners but denigrates the losers, even in their own eyes." Realizing the role luck and uncontrollable factors play in our lives can make us humbler. The tyranny of meritocracy, reinforcing "personal responsibility," is constantly eroding society. The United States has already suffered from it, and East Asia has not yet completely escaped the trap of "the fairness of exams." Even if the winning elites are unwilling to let go of their arrogance, increasingly intensified malignant competition is spawning a massive class of losers. Since one cannot win, one might as well "lie flat." But the effectiveness of this "passive resistance" depends on the broader environment; does our society really leave enough space for those lying flat? More scourging can force people to be unable to even lie flat—within elite arrogance, there is no option for "tolerance." Their response is humiliation, claiming lying flat is laziness, a malignant value of not working hard; everything is still attributed to the individual—exactly like the elites in the US. In denigrating losers, they show a cross-cultural consensus. If people don't move, it means the whip isn't hitting hard enough. As long as they can still bear it, as long as they have strength left, then increase the intensity.

The Myth of Efficiency

Meritocracy shapes an opposition between efficiency and fairness, but this is false. Because how "efficiency" is defined depends on people—in economics, there are Pareto Improvements^[14] and Kaldor-Hicks Improvements^[15]; the definitions of efficiency under these two are vastly different. If you are a Rawlsian^[16], then the normative baseline of the "Difference Principle"^[17] cannot be breached. Any definition of efficiency that does not include the worst-off, but only benefits the elite, is unjust; it is simply not worth pursuing. May I ask, which kind of "efficiency" is the one we are accustomed to in our current education and social discourse?

It should be recognized that efficiency, as a symbol, is itself "defined by people," so the "opposition" is false from the start. If our current "efficiency" cannot benefit the majority of losers but only creates stratification, concentrating resources at the top, then the object it serves has never been "human well-being" from the beginning. Can any system claiming "human well-being" be separated from the interests of the majority in society? If education is to act in this name, it must inevitably answer this question. When a screening system aims to serve a hierarchical structure of "stratification" and "elitism," it has already run counter to "human well-being."

Angry Losers and the Rise of Populism

The rhetoric of upward mobility is inherently a humiliation to those who stay in place. As society increasingly solidifies, those losers who cannot squeeze into the "narrow gate" face rejection from the entire society. Relative deprivation, anxiety about status, and nowhere to find "recognition." People need an outlet, and unvented emotions will eventually burst the dam one day. The rising tide of the far-right worldwide has already demonstrated how much energy the anger of losers holds. Elites are spawning devastating disasters due to their narrow-mindedness. While the "Brahmin Left"^[18] is still chanting slogans like "market logic," "talent supremacy," and "management terminology," they are essentially speaking for the winning elites—this is their familiar logic and discourse, and also the symbolic violence of the winners. They have completely failed to notice how the "losers" in society endure constant humiliation and the torture of insecurity under these slogans—if I can't have it, better to destroy it all.

Why are the supporters of the extreme right mostly low-educated losers from the bottom? Because they have long been deemed "incompetent," excluded from politics in the name of "management," and excluded from the field of vision of technocrats. However, their anger is real. "Politics of competence" guided by globalization and meritocracy constantly deprives them of the meaning of their existence. At this time, the far-right promises them to take it all back from the elites—even if it is just false slogans—this allows them to find their own space and identity within the politics of humiliation from which they were excluded.

The harm of meritocracy is gradually revealing itself. It is not just an educational issue; as a "cultural identity" permeating the elite, it will likewise transmit to the political and social fields. When this standard is implemented consistently as a routine, the harm will spread. Before the politics of anger destroys everything, it is not too late to change—and this, precisely, requires elites to put down their arrogance and face reality.

Appendix: Symbolic Capital, Habitus, and the Reproduction of Distinction

Signs and Distinction

The operation of power often first manifests as the control of symbols^[19]. Texts, rituals, logos, labels, titles, standards (a type of discourse)—all these symbols constitute the power of distinction. Those who master symbols often utilize them to reinforce and guide a certain power, constructing a legitimacy^[20] for the reproduction^[21] of their own status—that is, accumulating the symbolic capital^[22] they possess. On one hand, specific titles represent the degree to which one is recognized by an organization, system, or mechanism. Like an emperor, a professor, or a director of so-and-so, the address of their position or title not only represents their place in that organization but also allows them to "naturally" acquire a social recognition of this title—in other words, a symbolic status. Words spoken by a professor naturally carry an authority of knowledge; a department director inherently carries professional recognition; and an emperor goes without saying. To use Wright's terms, these "titles," and thus symbolic names, can be bound together with organizational assets and skill/credential assets—or rather, these "assets" inevitably carry a form of symbolic capital. When I obtain a certificate, it certainly means I have acquired recognition from a specialized organization, be it the state or a prestigious private entity. In short, a difference, a distinction, is created between me and others. Although generally speaking, this recognition is linked to the substantive skills one possesses, this is not always the case.

The Story of the Impostor

Classic stories of impostors reveal the pure power of symbolic capital. A simple title can allow someone to enter circles previously inaccessible, acquire relationships previously unobtainable, and master resources previously impossible to control. At that moment, everything they do seems divinely aided. This distinctly different "ecological environment" allows a person with basic competence—not a genius, though genius is often considered the threshold for acquiring such a title—to achieve vastly different results through operation, even if they are doing the same thing. When people believe in or recognize you, the invisible obstacles to doing things naturally disappear. If using a metaphor: before acquiring the title, one is moving on ground full of friction; now, it is like stepping onto ice. Although how far one can slide on ice depends on the slider's skill, such a favorable environment as ice still "self-evidently" constitutes their success. Thresholds and obstacles will make a person who could inherently achieve something unable to do anything. Simply by excluding them from the circle of recognition, even a genius can be ground down into mediocrity; this is the result of social forces.

The Operation of Elite Circles

The power interaction between cultural, political, and economic elites constitutes the superstructure of contemporary society. The differential mastery of culture, politics, and economics also establishes the tension in their relationships. In the feudal era, especially before the complete separation of politics and economics, the core power groups—in Europe, for instance—were ecclesiastical power and royal power. The former represented spiritual, non-secular, and transcendent knowledge, the group mastering culture; the latter was secular power, the commanders of politics and economics, kings and emperors. Universities were originally religious sites, and this lineage has evolved into the stronghold of the intellectual class today. This division of power, in today's secularized world, has transformed into an upper circle composed of the intellectual class, political dignitaries, and the new economic rich differentiated from politics. Priests mastering culture often proclaimed their independence from the filthy secular world or their distinction from politics, but in fact, they were constantly participating in it.

Today, religion is gone, and this discourse has transformed into the neutrality of science—but just like in the past, science might be neutral (as God is unbiased), but scientists have never achieved the neutrality they claim. The struggle for interests, the transfer of benefits, or the elite reproduction behaviors to maintain their own status between cultural, political, and economic elites will actually aggregate them, forming a mutually sustaining upper circle (endowing each other with social capital^[23]). Economic or political elites need to use the knowledge produced by cultural elites to construct their symbolic capital and status legitimacy. For instance, just as there was religious affirmation of secular royal power in the past, today's political elites need "professionalism" and "science" to confirm that their actions are based on "correct foundations," while economic elites similarly need these two to support production. Conversely, cultural elites rely on the resources of the former to invest in institutions or individuals, constituting their own knowledge production and maintenance of personal status. In other words, the entire upper circle relies on each other to reproduce themselves; they exist in a structure of mutual competition yet mutual maintenance. Thus, elites within this field^[24] are also influenced by various "habitus" within the interaction process, moving closer to each other in taste, values, and orientation, so those within it will possess a tendency to converge or share a certain temperament. But this is not to say they are "determined" by this circle, only influenced—rebels exist, highlighting the possibility of breaking this influence. But for those who never realize that the "routine" they are in is constantly reproducing power and distinction, breaking through is likely much more difficult.

"If social heredity plays a major part in the reproduction of all bodies (which are in league with the reproduction of the social order), it is because the new entrants contribute to the deep transformation of the structure which is revealed by the crisis provoked by their arrival; and what such a highly selective 'club' demands of its members is less the knowledge acquired in the educational system than the knowledge acquired from past and outside experience, which is inscribed in the body in the form of a lasting disposition, constituting an ethos, a bodily hexis, a way of speaking and thinking, and all those 'imponderables' which we call 'spirit', which are highly physical." — Pierre Bourdieu, Homo Academicus^[25] (All subsequent quotes are from the same source)

Gatekeeping and Screening

The essence of "gatekeeping"^[26] is the scrutiny of newcomers by those who already hold power. That appearance which is hard to describe and can only be manifested through "feeling" is the embodiment of power relations—and it is precisely through this that those who conform to the habitus of the existing group can be identified and selected to join the structure, maintaining the reproduction of the entire class and the original ruling order. This so-called "spirit" or "enthusiasm" or "performance" is inherently unquantifiable and unspeakable; it manifests as a feeling. If the feeling is wrong, you stand no chance. Just like an interview examining the interviewee: what constitutes a "good" interview is defined by the examiner. If this judge is accustomed to their own past of "always having done it this way," then a structured, fully prepared, standardized "eight-legged essay" style interview might win their favor more than improvisation—this is a "good" interview, I did it this way in the past, and now I choose people this way too. The circle recognizes this form and views it as "good." At this moment, the new entrant constitutes a reproduction of the existing habitus; in the future, they might act like the current judge, continuing to pass down this taste for interviews.

The "Fairness" of Test-Taking

Some might say that interviews are more unfair, more subjective, and rely more on feelings than written tests and problem-solving. This is true, but I feel it is only half right—setting the questions is itself a method of mastering the threshold. How to set questions, which questions to set, what form the answers require, and the content tested (the so-called required subjects), plus the score, are all thresholds of screening. Can a professor really score as high as they now require of high school students? Probably not; let them take it again, and they might not even pass. But they possess such status and position, thus possessing the power to set standards. Therefore, problem-solving achieves fairness only in "scores," but the power within it is still embedded "outside of problem-solving." Rather, rigorous competitive exams essentially strengthen the positional legitimacy of the winners, even driving them to show greater belonging and recognition to this system, firmly believing they belong to the minority, and creating a division against those below them—this itself is distinction.

"Those who are most strictly dependent on the institution and strictly confined within it, such as members of large competition juries or university consultative committees, are the dominant figures in terms of secular power, but from the point of view of university recognition and especially intellectual prestige, they are the dominated (their works are almost never translated). They are often outstanding academically: winners of the concours général in high school, top of the entrance exam for the École Normale Supérieure or the agrégation (caciques); they are, therefore, the product of a dialectic of recognition and acknowledgment which attracts those who most identify with the system and who are most likely to accept it wholesale and participate in its reproduction. In general, the more their own competence depends closely on the operating conditions of the institution (as in philology, or generally in language teaching), the stronger their attachment to the institution; and if they are 'oblates' from humble backgrounds or teaching families (like sons of primary school teachers), they will dedicate themselves more fully to the institution."

Class Breakthrough and Closure

It is undeniable that placing screening solely on problem-solving indeed limits the transmission path of "habitus," this unspeakable thing, to a certain extent. Especially regarding thresholds. Examples of crossing classes to enter prestigious schools prove this; the path of class reproduction is broken by exams, and objective questions also restrict the maneuvering space to question types, scores, and exam methods. However, this path is increasingly closing due to various off-field effects. Cram schools, tutors, and the application of test-taking reinforcement methods act as screening functions outside of the test itself. Even breaking through heavy obstacles, the shaping and screening of habitus and taste will still exert force along the entire path—after the selected enter the threshold, various evaluations will make students who adapt better to this environment perform like fish in water, while those who only know how to solve problems will fall into a disadvantage. But more likely, they will gradually learn and master this "routine" through daily experience and observation of their surroundings, acquiring qualified elite taste and habitus (homogenization, thus gradually acquiring this cultural capital^[27]), and pass it on.

When students go through one evaluation and screening after another, the power stratum will ensure the "quality" of the entrants, and what this quality actually is inevitably reflects the taste of the standard-setters. As for university graduation and the process of entering academia, ubiquitous interviews will recall the "ineffable" taste standards, and the "feeling" of the judges will once again decide the fate of the evaluated.

The "Independence" of Intellectual Elites

Intellectual elites sometimes claim, like priests, that they can maintain a form of independence. The attraction of this independence is often determined by the degree of their interaction with the "secular." Disciplines like medicine and law, which serve society or even the ruling authorities more directly, have a technical nature that makes their interaction with the secular closer; thus, they either exhibit conservative recognition of the present or more frequent participation in politics. Conversely, the more theoretical the discipline, the "purer" the science detached from the secular, the closer it is to intellectuals, having independent views on many issues detached from the secular (not necessarily radical; it could be conservative, as quoted above, marginal theoretical disciplines rely more on university supply, so their existence depends on the operation of the university system). Humanities and social sciences sit somewhere in between, being neither pure theory nor lacking "applied" aspects. For example, acting as apologists for existing institutions, providing political, economic, or social consultation.

Therefore, one cannot say that humanities and social science faculties are always dissatisfied with the status quo. Critical scholars among them might be, but many are gaining symbolic capital outside of academia and recognition of their professional authority from the secular world. Of course, the discipline does not determine everything; for scholars, the "position" they or their entire department holds in the academic system also influences their current inclination toward secular matters. The more they are in the vested interest tier, the more conservative they are, believing everything is equal and unimpeded; while those scholars or disciplines on the margins tend to be most dissatisfied with the status quo, after all, the existing system offers them limited recognition and is unwilling to give good treatment, so naturally, they have no kind words.

"(...) We might reflect on why the phenomenon of Professor X exists. He has always been seen as incompetent (...). How did such a nobody almost reach the summit? ... 'I think prestige should not be overestimated. [In geography,] intellectual value may be much less important than university power. I'm thinking of Professor Z, who wrote a doctoral thesis that most people thought was terrible: but compared to others who have much more intellectual merit in research, this man has much more power in the university (...). Now, organizations are multiplying; so, getting funds, winning projects, being funded by the government is becoming more and more important. At that time, what matters is not the level of academic scholarship.'"

Structure and Power

Structure itself endows those in specific positions with power, and this can be decoupled from the intellectual ability they possess. People might think that a professor who has obtained a specific title must have matching intellectual ability—in other words, they have mastered specific professionalism or intellect. But this is not necessarily true. Perhaps it is simply history—they grasped this position in a more lenient moment in the past and thus continued holding it today; or simply, for the university, they can bring in more external resources, or they are just better at handling relationships. But such a person with specific power can influence the overall taste by mastering the screening standards for newcomers, thereby guiding the habitus in the direction they desire. For example, determining candidates for new teachers, evaluating doctoral dissertations, or using their own social capital and status to make their students' academic paths smoother, thereby allowing their disciples to spread and transmit their influence.

"University power, therefore, consists of a specific capacity: on the one hand, it acts on hopes (which themselves are based on the disposition to play the game and investment in the game, as well as on the objective uncertainty of the game); on the other hand, it acts on objective probabilities, especially in restricting the field of potential competitors. ... Authority is based on expectations of a career: we only become deeply involved when we want something. But these expectations themselves are not independent of the objective existence of probable futures, which are neither completely determined nor completely undetermined. ... In the space of freedom thus defined, the patron judges the competition between different rivals according to secondary properties (age, sex, graduate of ENS) and draws attention to orders of priority and preference (e.g., 'I will put your name on the lecturer list, but not before M. X'), as well as promises and hierarchical orders. ... For those who want to get ahead, these meetings are almost mandatory; they gather all the competitors coveting a position; here, students mimetically submit to the patron or more powerful rivals, and it is in this submission, and through it, that the ethics of scientific research are inculcated and constantly reinforced, determining the forms and limits of academic production more than any other factor."

The Power of the Mentor

The order of succession is established by displaying a standard, clear, inherent path. Just like entering a prestigious university, entering a specific position at a specific time, and becoming a specific person—compared to a non-traditional candidate, the preference for the former reflects the taste of the system or the judges and power-holders. Time differences manifest as specific distinctive features in selection standards; those "different from me" are aliens, while conversely, similar kinds closer to the "routine" I am used to are, of course, "superior" people. The shaping of habitus begins at the earliest stage; mentors have the power to decide when a student graduates, whether to let them graduate, and possess means to control the rhythm of a student's career such as paper publications, academic conferences, guidance, and resource investment. Therefore, the mentor is endowed with this unequal status to manipulate the student, which naturally promotes the reproduction of taste and habitus. When a student realizes this power, they either quit or show maximum loyalty to the teacher's taste, actively acquiring this habitus and cultural capital, complying docilely. Actions that fit the evaluator's taste are rewarded, manifesting as smoothness in the academic path; conversely, there are unprecedented blows and obstacles, even difficulty in graduating. Hands-off mentors are criticized by some for lack of guidance, but looking at the upside, such lesser power intervention might actually spark different thinking.

The Formation of Academic Warlords

Under powerful competition and centralized power, power reproduces new power. People will fawn over influential professors in exchange for protection of their careers, and these professors in advantageous positions will use their means to manipulate the loyalty of fawners—whether shaping their taste to fit their own orientation or manipulating time; for instance, stalling their promotion to maximize the value brought by their loyalty. This continuous fawning also brings more resources and social capital to the professor. Students recommended and appointed by him become new disciples, while those students still stalled by him, besides constantly contributing their own value, might receive grace after a long wait, becoming continuous loyalists. Conversely, this stream of students seeking his guidance and spreading everywhere will, in turn, confirm the advantageous position of the power-holder's "intellect" and diffuse his influence.

This is not just the influence brought by disciples spreading everywhere, but also the shaping of habitus more favorable to oneself; winners decide what constitutes "routine" and make newcomers accept them. A large amount of guidance itself accompanies the transmission of cultural capital, establishing one's academic status and authority in terms of quantity. Reputation and prestige—value appreciation in symbolic capital—manifest as "profit" generated by "investment." "Academic warlords" (or oligarchs)^[28] are born in this concentration and the reproduction of concentration. To break this cycle, relying on the "self-reform" of the institution is absolutely insufficient. To break this structural closed loop, external pressure is needed, whether political or social.

"This power linked to reproduction mechanisms, and influence over the future of the body, is most visible in the medical faculties: it controls the threshold of entry into the university body through the selection of new members; it also depends on long-term relationships of protection and dependence between patron and client; at the same time, it is established on the control of various power bodies, such as recruitment competition juries, university consultative committees, faculty advisors, and even reform committees. But the most reliable guarantee of the academic order on the social and scientific level (the two are inseparable) likely lies in a complex mechanism: this allows institutions dominant in the secular sphere to develop steadily, which complements progress in the academic initiation stage. In the medical faculty, so-called 'academic progress' means passing a series of competitive exams (as an observer noted, to pass the exams, the time for teaching those laboratory research methods is greatly postponed); while in the faculties of letters, it means the long writing process of the doctoral thesis. In both cases, so-called 'academic progress' implies the long-term reinforcement of various tendencies. The procedure of selecting new members of the body affirms these tendencies; and precisely because of the existence of these tendencies, it is difficult for scholars to become 'heretics' because they will not attempt to break with the knowledge and power that cleverly blends academic orthodoxy."

Dual Reproduction

The harder the acquisition process, the more the breakthrough process is filled with quagmires. The forceful screening process ensures specific tendencies are cultivated, while past sunk costs promote the retention of those who adapt more easily. Secularly, those winners can legitimately acquire "recognition" of their professionalism from many institutions outside of academia, thus obtaining symbolic capital that reinforces the authority of their discourse; internally, through layers of screening and standard evaluation, habitus and taste are ensured, thereby ensuring the inheritance path of cultural capital. The power-holders of the old system use this dual reproduction mechanism—external and internal—to guarantee their position, and thus continuously reproduce the power they already possess.

Possibilities and Limitations Outside the System

This is not to say that the university system reveals an absolute suffocation or containment of heresy. It might be true for the interior of the university, but heretical scholars can obtain symbolic capital outside the university through their connection with public society or the press/publishing world. This symbolic capital or reputation, on the one hand, might bring them promotion within the university; on the other hand, it allows them to bypass the mainstream conservative recognition mechanisms within the university institution, attracting much external recognition and paving the foundation for attracting more resources, even establishing their own research institutions to focus on research rather than university education and administration. The university and the press or public publishing world (Bourdieu's era did not have the internet, but modern information technology obviously offers more channels to acquire public recognition) constitute an interaction of "symbolic power"—but this mutually opposing structure also constitutes a "complementarity" as Bourdieu calls it.

Just as universities establish their advantage in status by rebuking wild publishing as not authoritative enough, public publishing can conversely show a stance opposing the old guard, challenging the university's symbolic monopoly on intellectual authority, while both sides reinterpret the opponent's basis or theory to serve their own habitus—this dual relationship of competition might actually be collusive rather than mutually exclusive as it appears on the surface. For example, universities might award promotions to those intellectuals recognized by the public to honor their own status in "recognition," transforming it into their own symbolic power, while conversely, the public publishing world utilizes university status or positions to strengthen its own intellectual legitimacy, rather than appearing "completely wild." Therefore, this "incomplete mutual exclusion" precisely constitutes dependence on each other and the infiltration of mutual habitus into each other.

Lotteries and Randomness

On the surface, this seems to reveal a "heretical" path outside the system. But careful thinking reveals the "threshold logic" within. To ensure the recognition mechanism and symbolic capital are unimpeded, only those with "superb" achievements can gain recognition from existing institutions; otherwise, it would endanger the prestige of the institution and their purpose of stratification: either you enter here through my standards, or you come here by whatever method yourself. Often, those who need it cannot get in, and those who can get it no longer need the institution's recognition. Therefore, calling this infiltration a normal method outside the system is obviously a misjudgment. High thresholds inevitably make it impossible for most "non-system people" to get institutional recognition, thus forcing you back to the normal path—hoping for change without changing the entire screening system is merely self-comfort. In my opinion, to truly block the transmission of habitus, the best method is still to introduce "randomness." Using lotteries and sufficiently good basic thresholds forces the university to open its doors, allowing various people regarded as "heretics" and "unworthy" by the original system to enter the institution, using diversity of origin to completely block the originally closed transmission channels of cultural capital.

External Pressure and Populism

However, this cannot rely on the self-reform of academic institutions; it must leverage external pressure. Just as the post-war public funding system shaped the conventions surrounding the "grant application system" that prevail in academia today, external resource investment must be used to change the internal incentive system and reshuffle the deck. Therefore, populist politics attacking meritocracy is precisely the way to break the deadlock—people will attack populism, but in my view, this is the product of elite stigmatization. Populism contains the potential to change the status quo, and whether it is destructive or constructive depends entirely on how it is guided, which depends on the direction of the actors and agitators.

1. ^{^}

   Special Selection (特殊选才): A special university admission channel in Taiwan, distinct from general admissions based on standardized test scores (like “Star Plan” or “Individual Application”). This system allows universities to select students based on special talents, experiences, or achievements in specific fields, aiming to recruit gifted students who may not stand out in traditional written exams.

2. ^{^}

   Night School (Extension Division): In Taiwan, night school (now often called the Extension Division) refers to high school or university systems where classes are held in the evening. Historically, night school students often worked while studying, and admission scores/thresholds were lower. In earlier social perceptions, night schools were sometimes stigmatized as places for students with poor grades or behavioral issues.

3. ^{^}

   Symbolic Violence: A concept proposed by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu. It refers to an “invisible violence” where the ruling class controls the ruled not with fists, but with culture, language, and values. For example, making the poor feel “I am poor because I am stupid” or “I don’t understand the rules of high society,” thereby psychologically and voluntarily accepting their inferior status.

4. ^{^}

   Habitus: Simply put, it is “disposition.” It refers to the habits of thinking and behavior we unknowingly develop in our upbringing environment (family, class). For example, children from wealthy families naturally know how to dine in fine restaurants, while children from poor families might feel uneasy. This is an “instinct” deeply ingrained in the body.

5. ^{^}

   Distinction: Refers to how people of different classes draw boundaries through taste (what music they listen to, what they eat, what they wear). The elite class often demonstrates their superiority through these “refined tastes” to distinguish themselves from the general public.

6. ^{^}

   Meritocracy: A social ideal that sounds fair: as long as you have talent and are willing to work hard, you can succeed without relying on family background. However, critics argue that this masks inequality at the starting line, making winners arrogant (thinking it’s all their own effort) and losers ashamed (thinking it’s all their own incompetence).

7. ^{^}

   Michael Sandel: A professor at Harvard University, author of The Tyranny of Merit. He critiques modern society’s excessive worship of “success,” arguing that this ethos leads to social tearing and contempt for ordinary workers.

8. ^{^}

   Xuezhang (Senior): In East Asian (Chinese, Japanese, Korean) campus culture, a respectful title for a male senior student. It implies not just politeness but also a hierarchical relationship where seniors have the authority to guide or lecture juniors.

9. ^{^}

   N1: The highest level of the Japanese-Language Proficiency Test (JLPT). Passing N1 usually means your Japanese level is very high, capable of understanding complex articles and news.

10. ^{^}

    Anki: A mobile/computer software used for memorizing vocabulary or knowledge points. It reminds you to review based on your forgetting curve right when you are about to forget.

11. ^{^}

    Rat Race / Involution (Juan): Derived from “Involution” (内卷), referring to a type of malignant over-competition. For example, if the first row in a cinema stands up, the people behind have to stand up too; in the end, everyone is standing to watch the movie, tired and seeing less clearly than before.

12. ^{^}

    Imperial Examination: The system for selecting officials in ancient China. Although it gave commoners a chance to become officials, it also made the whole society revolve around exams, believing that only studying and taking tests was the right path.

13. ^{^}

    Test-taking Machines (Zuotijia): An internet slang term referring to those who only know how to rote-learn and get high scores from a young age but lack social experience, vision, and interpersonal skills. After leaving the school exam environment, they often feel lost in complex society.

14. ^{^}

    Pareto Improvement: An economic term. Refers to a change where “everyone is happy”: at least one person becomes better off, and no one becomes worse off.

15. ^{^}

    Kaldor-Hicks Improvement: An economic term. Refers to a change where “overall there is a gain”: although some lose, the winners gain enough that they could theoretically compensate the losers (though in reality, they often don’t). This is usually used to measure overall efficiency.

16. ^{^}

    Rawlsian: Based on the views of philosopher John Rawls in A Theory of Justice. He argues that a fair society should take care of the most disadvantaged.

17. ^{^}

    Difference Principle: Rawls’s view. It means: society can have wealth gaps, but only if such gaps make the poorest people better off (e.g., rewarding doctors with high pay so they can cure more poor people’s illnesses).

18. ^{^}

    Brahmin Left: Refers to some modern Western left-wing parties that no longer represent poor workers but represent highly educated intellectual elites (like the highest caste Brahmins in India). They care about cultural diversity and environmental protection but often ignore the economic survival of the bottom-tier commoners.

19. ^{^}

    Symbol: In sociology, this is not just a mathematical sign or mark, but anything that represents identity, status, or power. For example: a Hermès bag is not just a bag, but a “symbol” of wealth; a PhD is not just a degree, but a “symbol” of an intellectual.

20. ^{^}

    Legitimacy: Not “legal” in the judicial sense, but “people think you are right.” For example, a boss commands employees, and employees think it’s natural; this is the “legitimacy” of the boss’s power. If a stranger commands you, you don’t listen because they lack “legitimacy.”

21. ^{^}

    Reproduction: Not biological reproduction, but refers to how social structures maintain the status quo. For example, rich kids get better education to remain rich, and poor kids go to bad schools to remain poor. The education system looks fair but often helps complete this “class replication.”

22. ^{^}

    Symbolic Capital: Can be understood as “prestige,” “reputation,” or “face.” It is not money (economic capital) but works like money in social interactions. For example, a Nobel Prize winner is treated with respect even without carrying money; this is symbolic capital at work.

23. ^{^}

    Social Capital: Commonly known as “connections” or “guanxi.” Who you know, which circles you can enter, who is willing to help you—these are your social capital.

24. ^{^}

    Field: Bourdieu compares society to “gaming fields” or “battlefields.” Academia is a field; the business world is another field. Each field has its own game rules and chips (capital).

25. ^{^}

    Homo Academicus: A book by Bourdieu specifically analyzing university professors. He reveals that the academic world is not as pure as people think, but full of power struggles and class conflict.

26. ^{^}

    Gatekeeping: Refers to those holding power (gatekeepers) deciding who can come in and who is kept out. For example, university interviewers are “gatekeepers”; they decide who is qualified to enter the elite circle.

27. ^{^}

    Cultural Capital: Refers to the knowledge, skills, degrees, and even conversation and taste you possess. For example, understanding wine, playing the piano, holding a degree from a prestigious school—these are cultural capital. It is the “ticket” to enter upper-class society.

28. ^{^}

    Academic Warlords/Oligarchs: Refers to groups in academia that dominate like warlords. They are usually led by big professors, monopolizing research funding, controlling positions, only promoting their own students, and excluding outsiders.