We live in the age of measurement. Schools measure examination results. Businesses measure profits. Universities measure publications. If it can be measured, we measure it. If it can be ranked, we rank it. Gradually we make a dangerous assumption: because something can be measured, it must matter and it must be ranked.
Yet many things that matter most cannot easily be measured. Wisdom has no score. Trust has no universal scale. Compassion, curiosity and integrity stubbornly refuse to fit into a spreadsheet.
Higher education provides an excellent example. Every year universities proudly announce their latest positions in global rankings. A rise is celebrated as a triumph; a fall can provoke something approaching a crisis. Students and parents understandably interpret these numbers as measures of quality.
But what exactly are the rankings measuring? The truth is they are largely based on research publications and citations and institutional reputation, including surveys asking academics or employers which universities they regard highly. These are not meaningless measures. But they are not good measures of the quality of education students receive.
Beyond reputation
Rankings are particularly good at identifying universities that are already prestigious. Famous universities score well in reputation surveys. Their reputation attracts leading researchers. Their researchers produce highly cited work. Employers value their graduates. Prestige produces the indicators that reinforce prestige.
I have a personal reason for finding this interesting. I was fortunate to study medicine at the University of Cambridge, today routinely ranked among the world’s leading universities. But when I applied to Cambridge, I knew virtually nothing about university rankings. I certainly did not choose it because of its position in a league table. I am not sure I even knew such rankings existed.
Most importantly, rankings play no part in my memories of being there. I remember friendships, social life and dinners in hall at St John’s College. I remember good conversations, interesting people and extraordinary opportunities. And, of course, I received an excellent education.
Strangely, I became much more conscious of Cambridge’s status after graduating. I noticed that people sometimes treated me differently when they discovered where I had studied. The name carried weight. It created assumptions about me before people knew much about what I could actually do. That was perhaps my first lesson in the power of university reputation.
Cambridge deserves its reputation and gave me an excellent education. But these are two different statements. The education contributed towards the person I am. The reputation is what other people assumed about me because I had been there. Rankings fail to separate the two.
Measuring quality
A university can employ outstanding researchers without providing outstanding undergraduate teaching. It can be internationally famous without offering excellent mentoring. It can produce thousands of highly cited research papers without knowing whether its graduates become more thoughtful, ethical or capable.
Conversely, a less famous university may provide superb teaching, transform its students’ prospects and produce excellent professionals while barely registering in international rankings.
So if we ask, “Which universities have the greatest research impact and global reputation?”, rankings provide useful answers. But if we ask, “Where will this student receive the best education?”, they tell us surprisingly little. This matters because rankings influence where students apply, where governments invest and how university leaders allocate resources. Universities therefore develop strategies specifically to improve their rankings.
But there is an opportunity cost. Every ringgit spent chasing a marginal improvement in rankings cannot be spent elsewhere. University leaders should therefore ask: how much will this improve the education of our students? Will it produce better teaching? Better feedback? Better placements? Better mentoring? More capable graduates? I ask these questions as a university vice-chancellor. I understand the pressure.
We cannot ignore the rankings game. But neither should we confuse winning the game with improving the university. There is an uncomfortable circularity. Reputation helps produce a high ranking. A high ranking enhances reputation. Enhanced reputation then contributes to future rankings. Eventually the ranking becomes confused with quality itself.
Students want something different. They want an education that prepares them for their lives and careers. They want teachers who inspire them, opportunities to grow and an experience that changes them. More than four decades after Cambridge, what I still remember are friends, dinners, conversations, opportunities and an excellent education. I remember becoming a different person from the young man who arrived. Only afterwards did I discover how much the outside world valued the label.
Rankings have value. They tell us about research strength, visibility and reputation. The mistake is assuming they reliably measure something quite different: the quality of a student’s education. Perhaps instead of asking only, “Where are you ranked?”, we should ask a harder question: “What kind of person do your students become?” That may be a much better measure of a great university.
Prof Dr David Whitford is vice-chancellor and chief executive of University of Cyberjaya. He earned a doctorate from Cambridge University and has held leadership roles in medical education. With over 70 research publications on disadvantaged communities and quality healthcare delivery, his academic journey includes positions at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland, in Dublin and in Bahrain, where he established community-based teaching and led postgraduate studies. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.
