In this post, which uses a highly critical take on college admissions as a case study in moral accounting, I ask:
- Is college admissions an accountability system? Why or why not?
Let me start with an emphatic YES, and explain a few more subtle points, all expanding on my monograph.
In the monograph, I define an accountability system as a web of reports, incentives, and controls, which shape behavior. The college admissions process certainly fits the bill: the application itself (or the more expanded portfolio criticized by Feeney) is a report, the accept/reject decision is certainly an incentive, and anyone who has ever talked with a college-bound student, or their friends or family members, knows just how much the system shapes behavior. (I know of several people who studied unusual instruments, like bassoon, primarily because they are in demand in college orchestras.)
“But Rob”, you might say, “lots of things are reports, incentives, and controls, and shape behavior, but aren’t accountability systems. If someone sets off a firecracker in the street, that’s a report sure to make people turn their heads.” True enough–and a good opportunity to make a few points.
First, my definition of an accountability system is indeed extremely broad. We use all sorts of subtle methods to shape the behavior of those around us–smiling, scowling, sighing, and winking are all reports, and incentives too, because people have such a strong drive for social approval. Likes on Facebook, retweets on Twitter, up and down votes on reddit are all accountability systems. If I’m doing a good job writing about moral accounting, you’ll soon see accountability systems everywhere.
But what about that firecracker? Just because some act does shape others’ behavior doesn’t mean it was intended to do so. And that seems like a plausible argument for admissions systems. Sure, it shapes what applicants do in school and in their free time. But colleges are just trying to bring in the best first-year class they can. So college admissions are not only accountability systems. But we can still analyze them as accountability systems, and that turns out to be very useful.
Moral accounting divides the world into two types of behavior. The first is stewardship: everyone is a steward acting on behalf of society. To analyze their moral performance, we ask: What assets has society entrusted to them? What obligations does society impose on them? Are they using their assets wisely? Are they living up to their obligations? Will they be able to do so in the future?
The second type of behavior is governance: holding people accountable for their moral performance as stewards. To analyze governance, we apply the MAP. We ask: are they holding the right people accountable, and to the right extent, and on the basis of their moral books as society sees them? Are they using good judgment, and being effective at improving the moral performance of those they hold accountable? And so on.
Evaluating stewardship is a lot harder than evaluating governance, because it brings in all of the tough moral debates involving intent, character, and even free will. Is a college admitting a student because they want future donations, or are doing a favor for a friend? Are they rejecting another student because of reasoned judgment or bigotry? When we look at someone as a steward, we need to peer deep within people and organizations to understand why they acted as they did.
But judging governance is a much more limited exercise, focused less on rendering judgment and more on offering advice. This is why the principles of the MAP never reference intent, or character, or free will. Instead, we target impact. An accountability system violates the Effectiveness Principle if it fails to encourage good behavior, regardless of what it was designed to do. Even when assessing compliance with Judgment Principle, which requires people to be held accountable with good knowledge and a host of what I like to call the Accounting Virtues–independence, diligence, expertise and neutrality–we don’t care about the intent or character of a governor. We care about how it actually holds people accountable in practice. This allows us to evaluate and improve college admissions practices without the mind-reading that comes with evaluating them as stewards. (Which if course they still are, because in Moral Accounting, everyone is a steward acting on behalf of society.)
Clarifying how to evaluate stewardship and governance also provides a hint to answering the other questions in this case, because it is clear that admissions officers do intend to shape applicant behavior, and also intend to perform deep character judgments. Look at the recommendations of Turning the Tide, an influential report on reforming college admissions:
Promoting more meaningful contributions to others, community service and engagement with the public good.
Assessing students’ ethical engagement and contributions to others in ways that reflect varying types of family and community contributions across race, culture and class.
Redefining achievement in ways that both level the playing field for economically diverse students and reduce excessive achievement pressure.
That’s pretty ambitious! A good place to start with is the Subsidiarity Principle, which requires people to be held accountable by those in the best position to live up to the other principles of the MAP. Are admissions officers in the best position to do so? If not, on what principles are they falling short?