By Andrei Lankov
Koreans are crazy about education. This statement might need many caveats and qualifications, but in general it is true.
Korea belongs to the ``Confucian cultural sphere'' of East Asia where, for centuries, education was the surest route to social success, but even by East Asian standards Koreans take education, especially higher education, very seriously.
Thus, university entrance exams have always played a very important role in Korean life, and over the course of time their significance only grew.
After all, until around 1970 only a minority of Korean families would consider sending their sons to college, and only a tiny fraction would think of university-level education for their daughters.
Nowadays, it is pretty common, so nearly every Korean cares greatly about the university entrance system. Everybody knows that failure to get a college degree, in all probability, closes the doors that lead to a decent income and social standing.
The university entrance system has always been uniquely competitive. In fact, it used to even reach down to high schools ― indeed, until 1969 students had to sit competitive exams in order to get into a ``good'' school, which greatly increased their chances of eventually succeeding in the university entrance marathon.
The high school entrance exams were abolished, but that was only a short reprieve from exams for the children, since the competition for admission to universities reached even greater heights.
At the same time, one should mention that despite the tremendous pressure, the system to enter Korean universities generally remains free from corruption.
For somebody with a late Soviet experience, this is no small achievement: I've seen how the growth of corruption seriously damaged what was left of a fairly good Soviet university system.
How did the system change in Korea? It has changed so frequently that only a brief outline is possible. Initially, from 1945 each Korean university established its own entrance criteria independently.
The university administration decided which subjects should be on the list, determined marking policy, and even the timing of the exams.
However, in 1954 the government made some changes and for a while Korea had a two-level system. In addition to the university-administered exams there was a nationwide test conducted by the government.
This extra nationwide test was abolished the following year, reintroduced in 1962, abolished again in 1964, and once again resuscitated in 1969.
From then until 1980 Korea had an entrance system which included a nationwide preliminary exam, followed by separate college entrance exams.
These frequent oscillations reflected the exceptional significance of university entrance as a political issue. Once a reform was implemented, voices of protest arose and often they had their way.
If not, the system did not survive for long, since the multiple political pressures had everyone looking for new and supposedly better solutions.
The 1969-80 period was a time of relative stability, but problems mounted. The preliminary exam was not hard at all, but by that time passing it was not enough to guarantee entry into any college.
As the number of university graduates skyrocketed, only a handful of the most prestigious schools became synonymous with serious success.
Around 1980, a graduation certificate from a countryside college still guaranteed some white-collar jobs, but only graduates of Seoul National, Yonsei and Korea universities and the like could really aspire to prominence in society.
Hence, people had to work hard to pass the separate exams administered by the most prestigious schools. The result was known as ``exam hell'': from the age of 12 or so, teenagers were working with a single-minded intensity, training themselves for the all-important entrance examination.
At the same time, it became common knowledge that students, if accepted, would hardly be working too hard in college. The years in college were seen as time of relaxation, as a compensation for the hardships of ``exam hell.''
In 1981 the Chun Doo-hwan government undertook what was probably the most radical and well-prepared college reform in Korean history (unfortunately, the deservedly low ratings given the government itself did not enable it to execute these plans well).
According to the new system, only a certain number of students were allowed to graduate. In other words, universities were required to chase a proportion of their less academically successful students away.
This policy led to public outcry, not least because many people suspected that the government cared about its own position at least as much as about education.
These were the halcyon days of student political activism, so it was assumed that if students had to study more, they would not demonstrate as much. This harsh approach did not last, however.
As a part of the 1981 reforms, the government switched to the nationwide Scholastic Achievement Test as the major criteria for admission. Under this regime high school marks also had to be taken into consideration.
In 1986, the college-administered exams were re-introduced once again, alongside high school marks and the nationwide Scholastic Achievement Test. In the latter test, the number of subjects kept changing, and each such change produced a wave of public debate.
There is no doubt that this story is not over. Perhaps, it will never end.
Entrance exams are a contentious issue, even though their significance to Koreans is not always grasped by foreigners Each country has its own idiosyncrasies: somebody with my background does not quite understand why abortion looms so large in American domestic politics. At any rate, there will be more stories to tell in due time!
Prof. Andrei Lankov was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, and now teaches at Kookmin University in Seoul. He authored ``The Dawn of Modern Korea,'' which is now on sale at Kyobo Book Center and other major bookstores. The book is based on columns published in The Korea Times. He can be reached at reached at anlankov@yahoo.com.