Chinese students writing civil service exam

Cigarette butts, spectacle lenses and car tyres. Which of those items contain plastic? Papaya, pineapple, guava. How many of those fruits were brought to India by the Portuguese? In June around half a million Indians sat down to answer such questions, which were eclectic, but high-stakes. They were posed in the exam to join India’s civil service.

For those who passed by correctly answering questions like those above (all three items contain plastic, and all three fruits were brought over by the Portuguese), it is merely the first and easiest step in a long and arduous process. Up next are nine more papers to be taken over 27 hours from August onwards, covering a range of subjects and even more obscure questions.

India’s selection process is so gruelling because a role in the civil service is highly coveted. Even as India’s private sector has grown, government jobs remain a ticket to prosperity, prestige and better marriage prospects. Last year 1.1 million people applied to join the top tier of the civil service, but around 1,000 (0.2 percent of those who actually sat the first exam) were offered a spot.

India’s civil services exams are even more competitive than in China, where, amid a slowing economy, a growing number of people are turning to the public sector. Last year a record 3.4 million Chinese registered and passed the initial screening for the national civil-service exam — well over twice the number who did so in 2014. Just over 39,700 (1.5 percent of those who sat the exam) secured a job.

In both countries the exams are considered the fairest way to filter candidates. But despite the exams’ meritocratic intentions, critics in both countries believe they filter candidates according to wrong criteria. By screening for rote learning and test-taking, they neglect to assess actual public-policy skills such as management, teamwork and communication. In China the process increasingly also features questions to test familiarity with Xi Jinping Thought, the ideology of the leader.

All this contributes to the middling performance of both bureaucracies. On a measure of government effectiveness calculated by the World Bank, China and India rank in the 74th and 68th percentiles globally. Nor do the exams help eliminate corruption, another common scourge. On June 9, in the latest high-profile example of bureaucratic graft, a young Indian civil servant in the eastern state of Odisha was accused of accepting a bribe of Rs.10 lakh ($11,683) from a businessman. (He has been suspended, but denies wrongdoing.)

In both countries efforts are being made to recruit people in other ways. China is experimenting with hiring some candidates for fixed terms according to their experience, rather than their exam performance. Similarly, India has introduced a “lateral-entry” scheme to allow private-sector specialists to join the public workforce. But these remain nascent initiatives. Exams are still the backbone of public-sector recruitment.

If the merits of this selection process are debatable, the costs — both human and economic — are more visible. Success in both exams requires immense toil. Many of those examined do not work in the years leading up to the test; those holding down jobs study early mornings or late at night. Thousands seek the help of coaching centres; the best schools offer full-time training and board.

Years of youth spent in study, instead of work, are an economic loss. The exams force college graduates to delay employment, reducing their long-term consumption. And the subjects so feverishly swotted are not necessarily of use once the exams are over. Knowing the history of fruits or the details of Xi Jinping Thought might help candidates earn a civil-service job and all the perks it brings — but perhaps not a place in the private sector