In 2007 Shorenstein APARC and The Asia Foundation chose Dennis Arroyo to be the first Shorenstein APARC/Asia Foundation Visiting Fellow.  Arroyo spent the 2007-08 academic year researching and completing a monograph on "The Political Economy of Successful Reform:  Asian Stratagems."  An edited abstract follows:

Major economic reforms are often politically difficult, causing pain to voters and provoking unrest.  They may be opposed by politicians with short time horizons. They may collide with the established ideology and an entrenched ruling party.  They may be resisted by bureaucrats and by vested interests.  Obstacles to major economic reform can be daunting in democratic and autocratic polities alike.
 
And yet, somehow, past leaders of today's Asian dragons did implement vital economic reforms. "The Political Economy of Successful Reform:  Asian Stratagems" recounts the political maneuvers used by Asian leaders of economic reform in these countries at these pivotal times:  Thailand under General Prem Tinsulanonda; Vietnam during Doi Moi (or Renovation); Singapore under Lee Kuan Yew; China under Deng Xiaoping; India in the 1990s; and South Korea under Park Chung Hee.

The paper classifies these maneuvers as responses to the main political barriers to reform and develops a "playbook" of tactics for economic reformers.  To overcome ideological obstacles, for example, the reformers packaged and presented reforms as ways of strengthening the party in power. Reformers proceeded gradually.  Initially they sought win-win compromises. They blessed pro-market violations as pilot projects. They even created new provinces in order to dilute the anti-reform vote.

The full text of Arroyo's monograph has been published by the Stanford Center for International Development in its working paper series.

Arroyo came to Stanford well qualified to study economic reform techniques.  In 2005 he was named director for national planning and policy at the National Economic and Development Authority (NEDA) of the Philippines.  His duties included building public support for the economic reforms championed by NEDA.  He has consulted for the World Bank, the United Nations, and the survey research firm Social Weather Stations, and has written widely on socioeconomic topics.  His critique of the Philippine development plan won a mass media award for "best analysis."  He has degrees in economics from the University of the Philippines.

In May 2008 Arroyo presented his findings in a SEAF lecture entitled "The Foxy Art of Herding Dragons: How Sly Asian Leaders Pulled off Politically Difficult Economic Reforms."

The inaugural (March 2008) issue of PRISM, an undergraduate journal published by the University Scholars Programme (USP) of the National University of Singapore (NUS), carries a dozen essays. Six were written by Stanford undergraduates for a Stanford Overseas Seminar taught in Singapore in September 2006, and six by NUS undergrads in the USP for an NUS course taught at Stanford in May 2007.

The Stanford students, their paper topics, and brief summaries of their conclusions follow:

Jenni Romanek examined Singapore’s national identity. She found that Singaporeans “embody certain shared attributes of national identity, but they do so on a superficial level … If the government truly wishes to impart upon citizens a Singaporean identity, it must allow them to cultivate and define it, at least in part, by themselves. This necessitates a level of self-expression that is not currently acceptable by government standards.” She ended her essay by asking, “Without free speech, whose identity are Singaporeans representing?”

François Jean-Baptiste examined Singapore’s efforts to inculcate national identity through the school curriculum. He found the education ministry’s top-down methods “generally unsuccessful” and recommended a more student-and-teacher-driven approach. “The real and representative Singapore narrative,” he wrote, involved the ambitions of a wide range of Asian immigrants including “Filipina maids,” “Malay Muslims,” and “opposition leaders like J.B. Jeyaretnam and Slyvia Lim.” Education in the city-state’s secondary schools, he concluded, “should and can incorporate that story.”

Lauren Peate studied the “Four Million Smiles” campaign launched in the run-up to the annual meetings of the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank held in Singapore in September 2006 while the Stanford seminar was in progress. She found general public support for the campaign except among “young, [more] educated, and electronically connected” Singaporeans, one of whom told her, “We trust the government but it doesn’t trust us [to smile without being told to].” She ended by wondering how the authorities would choose to deal with a young generation of bloggers with critical minds.

Jon Casto explored Singapore’s efforts to instill an entrepreneurial culture despite a general aversion to risk (and a preference for state employment) “perpetuated through cultural norms, the labor market and [government-linked corporations].” He also, however, found entrepreneurship in Singapore “slowly on the rise” and argued that “today’s experiences” in promoting it “may bear tremendous fruit” if and when the economic climate because problematic enough to demand “that Singaporean individuals, not just the [People’s Action Party] government, provide solutions.”

Alexander Slaski researched the implications of illiberal politics for environmental policy in Singapore. He credited the government with having provided its citizens with a high quality of life, including “excellent environmental governance” from the top down. But he was struck by an artifact of the government’s relatively authoritarian approach to being green: the virtual absence in the city-state of a bottom-up or civil-society movement for conservation. To that extent, he concluded, “the authoritarian elements of the government have kept environmental protection from being as strong as it could be.”

Sam Shrank investigated the status and future of renewable energy. Singapore had previously managed to secure for itself “a constant and assured flow of oil and natural gas from abroad at reasonable.” But “peak oil—the year in which the supply of oil peaks—is in sight, and the end of natural gas is not far behind.” Oil and gas prices, he warned, will rise as demand outpaces supply. Amply sunlit as it is, Singapore could and should be doing much more to exploit sources of renewable energy sources, and solar (photovoltaic) energy in particular.

Compared with these essays, the Singaporean students’ essays in PRISM were no less diverse. If the Americans concentrated single-mindedly on Singapore, in keeping with the focus of the Stanford seminar, the Singaporean contributors were more inclined to compare American conditions and experiences with those in their own country.

Dan Goh, the NUS professor who taught the Singaporeans at Stanford, introduced the student essays. His thoughts are excerpted here:

"Reflections on Western civilization have often found themselves seduced by the idea of the American exception. … It seems ironic therefore that a group of American students would travel to this island to study what they have termed as the Singapore exception. Seen in the immediate context of Southeast Asia, Singapore is indeed an exception [whose] culturally diverse [im]migrants [have transformed the city-state] into a forward-looking nation. With little historical gravitas except for founding moments and fathers, it is a young nation filled with anxieties and self-doubt. Yet, it is resolute in forming its citizenry through clever ideological campaigns and in engineering visionary technological and economic projects based on successful foreign examples. For all its democratic institutions, it is beset by political elitism and illiberal tendencies. Despite its Edenic ideals and scientific prowess, it is reluctant to pursue environmental sustainability. These are the themes and contradictions tackled in the articles by the six young American scholars featured in this inaugural volume."

"But if we look closer, these themes and contradictions describe America as well. I have always suspected that the study of the exceptional other is always the study of our self as normal when the two are actually much more similar than they are different. Irony has a way of turning in on itself. However, the American students’ essays show that there is a major difference at the heart of comparing the American and Singapore exceptions."

"Given the American political culture of suspicion of state authority, it is not surprising that [in the Stanford students’ essays] the state sticks out visibly in the landscape of Singapore society. For the Singaporean students traveling to the Bay Area however, the feeling is best described by the excitement and trepidation of a Western naturalist traveling from sedate urban London to the rich jungles of Borneo. The state monolith fades and vibrant cultural diversities, intriguing identity evolutions and self-organizing chaos beckon. But always with Singapore in their minds, the young scholars reflected their study of Silicon Valley and San Francisco back unto Singapore. What they found was that the same diversities, evolutions and chaos were also evident in Singapore, but with the roots of the state apparatus sunk deeper into the rich soil here."

"Singapore is not anything like America and yet is everything American, except for the leviathan that stands over our shoulders. Nonetheless, the diversities and hybridities of vernacular everyday life continue to grow as ideas, images and identities speed around the global circuits of capitalism, … connecting young people across the deep Pacific …"

In his own preface to the PRISM issue, SEAF Director Donald Emmerson, who taught the Stanford seminar in Singapore, had this to say:

“In Praise of Bad Teaching.” Years ago at the University of Wisconsin-Madison I pinned a page of text under that title to a bulletin board next to my office door. The author argued that bad teachers were really good teachers because their boring lectures drove their students out of the classroom and into the real world where real learning could occur.

The argument is not wholly facetious. Conventional undergraduate education is notoriously indirect. Independent field work is the preserve of professors and graduate students. Undergraduates sit, listen, read, take notes, and take exams. Technology—the ability to google—has reduced the teacher’s ability to control information. But in standard classrooms, it is still the teacher who selects, interprets, and conveys knowledge, and who then tests and grades its retention. In humdrum pedagogy at its worst, the professor and the student are, respectively, faucet and sponge. A charismatic lecturer—a supposedly “good” teacher—may fill lecture hall seats only to reinforce the enthralled passivity of the sitters.

Fortunately, the National University of Singapore and Stanford University are not conventional institutions. Both campuses encourage their students to go abroad. Professors are not dispensed with. But by affording students direct contact with foreign cultures, NUS and Stanford necessarily challenge the teacher’s span of control. In that loss of unquestioned professorial authority lies a chance for serious learning by students and teacher alike. …

For lack of space, alas, we could not [publish in PRISM] all thirty essays written for our seminars. But those that are printed herein should give readers a feel for what happened when two sets of undergraduate students were “turned loose” on each other’s turf. I am grateful to [Dan Goh and the other individuals who made this issue and the seminars possible] and above all to both complements of students, including those not represented in these pages, for giving me one of the most enjoyable and memorable “teaching”—that is to say, learning—experiences of my life.

PRISM is not available on line, but it can be ordered (stock permitting) from

The Editor, PRISM
University Scholars Programme
National University of Singapore
BLK ADM, Level 6,
10 Kent Ridge Crtescent
Singapore 119260

“You should remove ‘agricultural worker’ from the list of options of parents’ occupations in Question 11,” said the senior government bureaucrat. He explained, “It is impossible for the child of a farm laborer to enter an engineering college.” That statement was made on May 8 in Delhi this year, while he – the chief advisor on higher education to the national government – reviewed a questionnaire for final year engineering students. The questionnaire is to be filled by the graduating cohort of engineering students at various Indian universities this coming year. Its purpose is to discover job mobility across generations and relate that to the cost of education, location, public versus private provision, and various other factors. It is part of a broader study supported by FSI that colleagues at Stanford University and I, along with research groups in India, China and Russia, have initiated to compare the quality of the engineering workforce in three countries – China, India and Russia – with each other and with the United States.

A few days later, on May 14, I was with the head of a medium-sized private college in Bangalore, which had administered the pilot version of the questionnaire to graduating students. As he handed me 450 completed forms, I glanced at the first few. There, right on top, I read the first student’s response to Question 11. A female, she had chosen “agricultural worker” as the father’s occupation. Combined with information on her family’s income (which was in the lowest tier), this was clearly someone who contradicted the bureaucrat’s assumption.

As heartwarming as it was to see that response on the questionnaire, it reminded me, not for the first time, about how little government officials can sometimes know about their constituents. In 2004, I had studied, jointly with a division of the Ministry of Information Technology, how rural users might best use information technology. Our expectation (prior to the study) was that e-mail for personal and business purposes and Internet searches and transactions for farm work would be the main uses.

Instead, what people wanted was government services – health care and other welfare services, postal services, accessing titles and other official records, and government jobs. When I presented our findings to the country’s Minister for Information Technology, he insisted that we were wrong and that our initial hypotheses were correct. It was only when his own division head, who had conducted the study jointly with me, stated (firmly) that he stood by the results that the Minister started to change his views.

Perhaps one should not be too harsh on a bureaucrat when a political master, the minister, could be so ignorant! But, there is another reason for leniency: the higher education revolution in India has still not been understood, even within India, perhaps because of the speed of its happening. A revolution it undoubtedly is. For example, in engineering studies, the number of students enrolled in full-time 4-year undergraduate degree programs has risen from 250,000 in 1997 to 1.5 million in 2007, and is currently growing at 25% annually. Most surprisingly, the higher education sector has moved from a primarily state-provided service to private provision within a decade. 95 per cent of the above increase comes from enrollment in privately-run colleges, which now account for 80% of total enrolment. The storied state-owned Indian Institutes of Technology, which made up 10% of national engineering enrolment in 1990, now account for less than 2%, and graduate 5,000 students a year.

How this happened is too long a story to go into here. Briefly, the national government has increasingly yielded control over higher education to the individual states over the past ten years. The states have, in turn, allowed the private sector in, something that the national government resisted when it was in charge.

One of the desirable outcomes is, as demonstrated by the response to Question 11 above, increased access. Ten years ago, the child of an agricultural worker was, if educated through secondary school, likely to have studied only in the vernacular – and would thus have been excluded from the higher education engineering degree, which is taught only in English. Even if there was money in the family till to pay for tuition, the nearest college was probably too far to allow the student to stay at home; even if she had the money for staying away from home, competition for the limited number of available seats would likely exclude her from even the least meritorious college.

Today, even though the private colleges charge, on average, fifty thousand rupees ($1250) a year for tuition, which is three times the tuition fees at the comparable state college, affordability has increased. This is for two reasons. First is the proliferation of colleges. Thanks to the blanket coverage being provided by the private sector, there is a college, most likely two or three, in most small towns. Bangalore, with 290 engineering colleges – almost all private – tells the story of the rest of the country.

So, even small-town students no longer need to live away from home, thus saving on living costs. This can be a significant savings: in Bangalore, rent for a single room more than makes up the difference in private and state tuition fees. Second, the private colleges have built linkages with banks, so bank loans will usually cover half the tuition costs.

The democratization of higher education in India has removed the impending shortage of talent for the IT exporting sector. It has also brought into question the importance of the IITs to the eco-system, which – according to the recruiters I have interviewed over the years – was always overstated. Let’s examine both of these in the current context.

For the top IT exporting firms in India, such as TCS, Infosys and Wipro, the private providers are a boon. Together, the top three firms will, even in today’s difficult global economic environment, add 70,000 persons to their payrolls (net of attrition) in 2008. 70 per cent of these recruits will be fresh graduates. Private college graduates will account for the overwhelming majority of their recruits, followed by state colleges (not IITs).

Of course, these firms would like to recruit the top IIT graduates. However, the best IIT graduates either go abroad to study or work (a third do so, though that ratio is declining), another third join an MBA program in India, and the rest are recruited by the Indian operations of western firms like Google or Yahoo!, or join Indian startups like Tejas Networks or Telsima. Such firms pay starting salaries that are double the $7,500 starting wage offered by the Indian IT majors.

Is this a big loss for the Indian IT industry? No, say the recruiters, pointing out that the IIT graduating cohort was always a small proportion of their recruits because of overseas migration. What is important, they point out, is that other providers are rapidly catching up with the IITs in quality. Given their reliance on fresh graduates and their scale of recruitment (for example, between June and August of this year, TCS will make one thousand job offers a week and recruit 85% of its offerees), the Indian IT firms make precise calibrations of schools and rank them. The top quartile of the graduates of the top local private colleges in Bangalore are now considered equal in quality to those at the 50th percentile in the IITs. The top quartile at national colleges, such as the National Institutes of Technology, are deemed equal to the 75th percentile of the IITs.

The rank is based on various factors: alumni recruited by them in earlier years, internal factors such as laboratory and library infrastructure, and course content, their interaction with faculty in research projects, and student performance in internships. A thousand colleges (of the four thousand that offer engineering degrees in India) are deemed to meet the standards of the top three IT firms and their graduates are thus eligible for recruitment. According to one of the IT firms I spoke to, a decade ago, there were only fifty colleges that met their standards.

In consequence, in states where they are concentrated, eg., Infosys and Wipro in the state of Karnataka (whose capital is Bangalore) and TCS in Tamil Nadu (whose capital is Chennai), the ranking by the top 3 IT firms is critical for the colleges. A corporate recruiter from a smaller firm seeking IT talent from a Chennai college will demand to know its “TCS ranking."

This, in turn, is invaluable information to incoming students, which, in its turn, influences how colleges invest in faculty and infrastructure. As a result, in a way that was unforeseen by government planners and even the World Bank (which, in 2000, argued that market failure was likely in case private provision in India became important), a thriving market for engineering education has been created and quality has improved.

As recently as 2001, a report on IT education (which included a study of the IITs) by the Ministry of Human Resource Development noted that “The barest minimum laboratory facilities are available in many of the institutions and very little research activity is undertaken…Engineering institutions have not succeeded in developing strong linkages with industry…The curriculum offered is outdated and does not meet the needs of the labor market.” Around that time, when I had interviewed the director of one of the IITs, he had supported this finding, noting that almost all the engineering students at that IIT did their final year thesis projects in laboratories within the IIT (rather than, as intended, in companies).

Today, an engineering graduate from any of the thousand colleges that the IT services industry deems eligible for recruitment will always have completed several internships with industry prior to graduation, including the final semester thesis project – in other words, this is a sea change from just a few years ago.

Of course, there are caveats to the story of higher education. One of the concerns stated by regulators is that, as control has shifted from New Delhi to the states, the weak states have not been able to keep up with the strong states, thus increasing the intellectual gap between them. This appears to be true, on first impression. My conversations with recruiters of IT firms in Bangalore in May indicated increasing regional selectivity. Karnataka, Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Delhi, Maharashtra and West Bengal were the regions of choice, while weak states such as Bihar and Uttar Pradesh were falling behind.

A second genuine concern of policymakers is that the private colleges have no research agenda. Of course, what policymakers do not state is that the IITs have historically had no research agenda either. The good part of the present situation is that, with the burden of providing mass education off its backs, the national government is using its limited resources to support centers of excellence for research.

A final caution is on replicability in other countries. The higher education system that has resulted in India was not foreseen and caught the nation’s education planners by surprise. No one expected that the private sector would respond as it did. Planners designed the system to allow only non-profit private providers. Planners expected that those private providers that would enter the system would be philanthropic. They would exist at the margins of the then larger state-system. Accordingly, planners encouraged them, through incentives, to set up their institutions in smaller towns.

Instead, the private providers stormed into the big cities first, preferring to ignore the incentives, and have only recently spread to smaller towns. They have made profits through the back-door (by charging an upfront fee, the capitation fee).

A key factor was rising federalism: strong states like Karnataka and Tamil Nadu were able to provide the regulatory support that made private sector entry possible. The second key factor was the IT industry’s willingness to be the market maker, as described above. In this, the role of the large Indian IT firms, as noted, was critical. It is unlikely that an industry characterized by a large numbers of small firms would have been able to play the role of market maker.

So, there are some unique factors in India. China offers an alternative, perhaps more replicable, model: an entirely state-run system in which tuition fees, which average $800 per annum, pay for 50 per cent of costs. It, too, has grown rapidly: for example, 5 million students are currently enrolled in undergraduate engineering programs. The share of the burden per student appears to be higher in India. In India, the state and “aided” private colleges (these are privately owned and managed, but accept state-aid to pay for costs such as infrastructure and faculty salaries – in return, they must charge the same tuition fees as state-run institutions) account for 40% of total enrollment and charge fees that cover 30 per cent of costs. The unaided schools, as noted earlier, recover full costs through tuitions (endowments insignificant). Hence, the share of total national costs of education borne by students in the system is over 70%. This may be important for achieving long-term sustainability, although, in the short-term, it may adversely affect enrollment.

For the moment, though, the Indian IT industry, earlier starved of talent, has been saved by one of its own – the for-profit private education sector.