Getting rid of the GRE

An investigation by Science has found that, today, just 3% of “PhD programs in eight disciplines at 50 top-ranked US universities” require applicants’ GRE scores, “compared with 84% four years ago”. This is good news about a test whose purpose I could never understand: first as a student who had to take it to apply to journalism programmes, then as a journalist who couldn’t unsee the barriers the test imposed on students from poorer countries with localy tailored learning systems and, yes, not fantastic English. (Before the test’s format was changed in 2011, taking the test required takers to memorise long lists of obscure English words, an exercise that was devoid of purpose because takers would never remember most of those words.) Obviously many institutes still require prospective students to take the GRE, but the fact that many others are alive to questions about the utility of standardised tests and the barriers they impose on students from different socioeconomic backgrounds is heartening. The Science article also briefly explored what proponents of the GRE have to say, and I’m sure you’ll see (below) as I did that the reasons are flimsy – either because this is the strength of the arguments on offer or because Science hasn’t sampled all the available arguments in favour, which seems to me to be more likely. This said, the reason offered by a senior member of the company that devises and administers the GRE is instructive.

“I think it’s a mistake to remove GRE altogether,” says Sang Eun Woo, a professor of psychology at Purdue University. Woo is quick to acknowledge the GRE isn’t perfect and doesn’t think test scores should be used to rank and disqualify prospective students – an approach many programs have used in the past. But she and some others think the GRE can be a useful element for holistic reviews, considered alongside qualitative elements such as recommendation letters, personal statements, and CVs. “We’re not saying that the test is the only thing that graduate programs should care about,” she says. “This is more about, why not keep the information in there because more information is better than less information, right?”

Removing test scores from consideration could also hurt students, argues Alberto Acereda, associate vice president of global higher education at the Educational Testing Service, the company that runs the GRE. “Many students from underprivileged backgrounds so often don’t have the advantage of attending prestigious programs or taking on unpaid internships, so using their GRE scores serves [as a] way to supplement their application, making them more competitive compared to their peers.”

Both arguments come across as reasonable – but they’re both undermined by the result of an exercise that the department of Earth and atmospheric sciences at Cornell University conducted in 2020: A group evaluated prospective students’ applications for MS and PhD programmes while keeping the GRE scores hidden. When the scores were revealed, the evaluations weren’t “materially affected”. Obviously the department’s findings are not generalisable – but they indicate the GRE’s redundancy, with the added benefit for evaluators to not have to consider the test’s exorbitant fee on the pool of applicants (around Rs 8,000 in 2014 and $160 internationally, up to $220 today) and the other pitfalls of using the GRE to ‘rank’ students’ suitability for a PhD programme. Some others quoted in the Science article vouched for “rubric-based holistic reviews”. The meaning of “rubric” in context isn’t clear from the article itself but the term as a whole seems to mean considering students on a variety of fronts, one of which is their performance on the GRE. This also seems reasonable, but it’s not clear what GRE brings to the table. One 2019 study found that GRE scores couldn’t usefully predict PhD outcomes in biomedical sciences. In this context, including the GRE – even as an option – in the application process could disadvantage some students from applying and/or being admitted due to the test’s requirements (including the fee) as well as, and as a counterexample to Acereda’s reasoning, due to their scores on the test not faithfully reflecting their ability to complete a biomedical research degree. But in another context – of admissions to the Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center UTHealth Graduate School of Biomedical Sciences (GSBS) – researchers reported in 2019 that the GRE might be useful to “extract meaning from quantitative metrics” and when employed as part of a “multitiered holistic” admissions process, but which by itself could disproportionately triage Black, Native and Hispanic applicants. Taken together, more information is not necessarily better than less information, especially when there are other barriers to acquiring the ‘more’ bits.

Finally, while evaluators might enjoy the marginal utility of redundancy, as a way to ‘confirm’ their decisions, it’s an additional and significant source of stress and consumer of time to all test-takers. This is in addition to a seemingly inescapable diversity-performance tradeoff, which strikes beyond the limited question of whether one standardised test is a valid predictor of students’ future performance and at the heart of what the purpose of a higher-education course is. That is, should institutes consider diversity at the expense of students’ performance? The answer depends on the way each institute is structured, what its goal is and what it measures to that end. One that is focused on its members publishing papers in ‘high IF’ journals, securing high-value research grants, developing high h-indices and maintaining the institute’s own glamourous reputation is likely to see a ‘downside’ to increasing diversity. An institute focused on engendering curiosity, adherence to critical thinking and research methods, and developing blue-sky ideas is likely to not. But while the latter sounds great (strictly in the interests of science), it may be impractical from the point of view of helping tackle society’s problems and of fostering accountability on the scientific enterprise at large. The ideal institute lies somewhere in between these extremes: its admission process will need to assume a little more work – work that the GRE currently abstracts off into a single score – in exchange for the liberty to decouple from university rankings, impact factors, ‘prestige’ and other such preoccupations.

Freeman Dyson’s PhD

The physicist, thinker and writer Freeman Dyson passed away on February 28, 2020, at the age of 96. I wrote his obituary for The Wire Science; excerpt:

The 1965 Nobel Prize for the development of [quantum electrodynamics] excluded Dyson. … If this troubled Dyson, it didn’t show; indeed, anyone who knew him wouldn’t have expected differently. Dyson’s life, work, thought and writing is a testament to a philosophy of doing science that has rapidly faded through the 20th century, although this was due to an unlikely combination of privileges. For one, in 1986, he said of PhDs, “I think it’s a thoroughly bad system, so it’s not quite accidental that I didn’t get one, but it was convenient.” But he also admitted it was easier for him to get by without a PhD.

His QED paper, together with a clutch of others in mathematical physics, gave him a free-pass to more than just dabble in a variety of other interests, not all of them related to theoretical physics and quite a few wandering into science fiction. … In 1951, he was offered a position to teach at Cornell even though he didn’t have a doctorate.

Since his passing, many people have latched on to the idea that Dyson didn’t care for awards and that “he didn’t even bother getting a PhD” as if it were a difficult but inspiring personal choice, and celebrate it. It’s certainly an unlikely position to assume and makes for the sort of historical moment that those displeased with the status quo can anchor themselves to and swing from for reform, considering the greater centrality of PhDs to the research ecosystem together with the declining quality of PhD theses produced at ‘less elite’ institutions.

This said, I’m uncomfortable with such utterances when they don’t simultaneously acknowledge the privileges that secured for Dyson his undoubtedly deserved place in history. Even a casual reading of Dyson’s circumstances suggests he didn’t have to complete his doctoral thesis (under Hans Bethe at Cornell University) because he’d been offered a teaching position on the back of his contributions to the theory of quantum electrodynamics, and was hired by the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton a year later.

It’s important to mention – and thus remember – which privileges were at play so that a) we don’t end up unduly eulogising Dyson, or anyone else, and b) we don’t attribute Dyson’s choice to his individual personality alone instead of also admitting the circumstances Dyson was able to take for granted and which shielded him from adverse consequences. He “didn’t bother getting a PhD” because he wasn’t the worse for it; in one interview, he says he feels himself “very lucky” he “didn’t have to go through it”. On the other hand, even those who don’t care for awards today are better off with one or two because:

  • The nature of research has changed
  • Physics has become much more specialised than it was in 1948-1952
  • Degrees, grants, publications and awards have become proxies for excellence when sifting through increasingly overcrowded applicants’ pools
  • Guided by business decisions, journals definition of ‘good science’ has changed
  • Vannevar Bush’s “free play of free intellects” paradigm of administering research is much less in currency
  • Funding for science has dropped, partly because The War ended, and took a chunk of administrative freedom with it

The expectations of scientists have also changed. IIRC Dyson didn’t take on any PhD students, perhaps as a result of his dislike for the system (among other reasons because he believed it penalises students not interested in working on a single problem for many years at a time). But considering how the burdens on national education systems have shifted, his decision would be much harder to sustain today even if all of the other problems didn’t exist. Moreover, he has referred to his decision as a personal choice – that it wasn’t his “style” – so treating it as a prescription for others may mischaracterise the scope and nature of his disagreement.

However, questions about whether Dyson might have acted differently if he’d had to really fight the PhD system, which he certainly had problems with, are moot. I’m not discussing his stomach for a struggle nor am I trying to find fault with Dyson’s stance; the former is a pointless consideration and the latter would be misguided.

Instead, it seems to me to be a question of what we do know: Dyson didn’t get a PhD because he didn’t have to. His privileges were a part of his decision and cemented its consequences, and a proper telling of the account should accommodate them even if only to suggest a “Dysonian pride” in doing science requires a strong personality as well as a conspiracy of conditions lying beyond the individual’s control, and to ensure reform is directed against the right challenges.

Featured image: Freeman Dyson, October 2005. Credit: ioerror/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 2.0.