Question and Answer with Asia Center Author Shiuon Chu
Could you give us an overview of your book?
After the 1905 abolition of the imperial examination system, how has the examination system remained a trusted institution in twentieth-century China and Taiwan? Reinventing Examination and the State in Twentieth Century China and Taiwan, I argue that such trust in examination was by no means a natural development from the long history of imperial China, but in fact contingent on specific developments in the modern period.
What drew you to this area of research?
When I started my PhD studies, I planned to write a dissertation on the imperial examination system (keju). After the end of the first year, I visited Taiwan and talked to Wang Fan-sen, my mentor since I did my master's degree. His advice was striking for me—“If you want to work on keju, why don’t you work on the end of keju?” It was a big leap from my initial training, but increasing it made sense to me, especially when I was able to access Taiwan’s rich collections on Republican China and post-49 Taiwan.
What was the question (or questions) that were driving the writing of this book?
My core question is how the institution of examination works in modern China. The imperial keju was mostly incentive-driven, as not only winners but also participants were given statues and offices as rewards. But examinations in modern China and Taiwan did not work the same way. For nearly two decades before 1949, successful candidates of the Republic of China’s civil service examinations often remained unassigned to actual positions. The same holds true for the educational examinations, which had been detached from entrance to higher education. Without specific incentives, modern Chinese examinations relied largely on punishment by force or institutional means, and an ideology of competition that justified assessment without specific rewards.
If you had to distill it, what’s the central argument or theme readers should take away?
The central argument is that modern examination in China and Taiwan is different from the late imperial keju. This sounds common sense, but often neglected when scholars are looking for a cultural explanation for contemporary phenomena in education and selection. The major takeaway of the book, therefore, will be how the modern Chinese examination had departed institutionally from its late imperial predecessor.
How did you structure the research in this book? (Chronologically, by theme, etc.) Why did you decide to structure this way?
I divided the book into two parts: one on civil service examinations under the Republic of China government in both mainland China and Taiwan, the other on education examinations under ROC-in-China, ROC-in-Taiwan, and the People’s Republic of China. I intentionally crossed the 1949 divide differently, putting ROC-in-Taiwan into the story, not only providing useful comparisons to the PRC but also otherwise unseen connections between the two regimes with contrasting political ideologies.
What was the most challenging part of the research or writing process?
The most challenging part is the large scope of the topics covered in the book. But it is rewarding, and also necessary—many of the arguments could not have been made without putting seemingly remote topics into consideration.
Who do you imagine as the audience for this book?
I imagine the book will be read not only by Chinese historians but also by readers who are interested in education and selection in the modern world.
What do you hope readers will be thinking about after finishing it?
I hope the readers will rethink the assumed Chinese culture of examination. The long history of the keju is no doubt important to our understanding of China’s past, but it by no means dictated the making of examinations in modern China and Taiwan. Historical developments in the twentieth century are significant.
Do you have any stories from the process—fieldwork, archival finds, or even how you chose the title/cover—that give readers a glimpse of how the book took shape?
For the cover, I originally planned to use a photo (now included in the book) of a statue of Dai Jitao, the first president of the Examination Yuan, now displayed in the headquarters of the Yuan in Taiwan. But it is not easy for non-specialists in Republican Chinese history to make the connection. In the end, I chose a cartoon published in the 1930s, which showed a group of examinees being very loosely monitored by the examiner. It speaks well to the argument of the book that the modern Chinese examination was not as consistent and coherent as often assumed.