While having lunch with a few colleagues earlier this week, someone mentioned a CCTV presenter by the name of Zhao Pu who had recently, like many others, decided to step down from his post. Most likely, he will search for prosperity elsewhere.

At the mention of this name I remembered another Zhao Pu, who lived more than 1,000 years ago. Zhao helped the founder of the Song Dynasty (960-1279) Zhao Kuangyin ascend to the throne. He also aided the next emperor, Zhao Kuangyin’s brother.

In confronting accusations about his inadequacy in statecraft — it was rumored that the only book he read was the basic Confucian classic “The Analects” — he replied that actually he had read only half of “The Analects.” He had used half of it helping invest Zhao Kuangyin with regal splendor, and saved the other half for the next emperor in achieving sustained peace and prosperity.

This anecdote is still relevant today.

The ancient Zhao clearly knew how to prioritize. Unlike other scholars who take pride in their erudition, he devoted all his attention to the book that, arguably, most informs Chinese attitudes and outlooks. Familiarity with the book no doubt gave him a solid grounding in Confucian principles, and stood him in good stead in the administration of state affairs.

The old official was also adept at avoiding distraction.

Traditionally officials mired too deeply in mundane worldly affairs were despised for their failure to achieve spiritual transcendence and tranquility.

Perhaps Zhao found his own peace of mind thanks to his single-book education. Whatever the case may be, there is a clear message in Zhao’s success story for those of us suffering from indigestion as a result of information overload.

Indeed, the ancient Zhao also has an important message for modern critics dissatisfied with modern (Western) education. These include Fareed Zakaria, author of “In Defense of a Liberal Education,” which argues that the United States once built its college and university system around principles and values, with the liberal arts at its core.

Until recently, US education — from kindergarten to graduate school — was almost free. Today students in the US and elsewhere pursue education primarily — or solely — to improve their employment prospects.

Given this mindset, it is not surprising that education is so often looked upon as a profitable investment.

Politicians, educators and parents all agree that an education that does not provide job-ready and marketable skills is a waste of time and money.

In the US though, the average cost of a university education has increased 1,200 percent since the 1970s.

Irrelevance of liberal arts

The same trend can be seen in many other places. In China, higher education was still freely provided and subsidized by the state until the early 1980s. Since then, schooling fees have become a considerable financial burden for many families. Today, annual tuition costs generally start at 5,000 yuan (US$788).

Such trends reinforce the notion of education as an investment. In the US, given the enormous expense and high stakes of a college education, politicians, parents and students will continue to focus more on job skills and vocational studies, while colleges and universities are under pressure to demonstrate that education is a worthy investment.

As Zakaria observes, “The irrelevance of a liberal education is an idea that has achieved that rare status in Washington: bipartisan agreement.”

Following Western practices, some so-called top Chinese universities now spend considerable amounts of money to advertise their rankings, and their ability to deliver on the promise of a good job after graduation. One consequence of higher fees is that education becomes affordable only to certain people, leading to social stratification.

Zakaria believes liberal arts are more important than specialized subjects because they teach students how to write, speak, learn and think critically. These courses prepare students for varied careers, not specific jobs or professions.

“A liberal education should give people the skills that will help them get ready for their sixth job, not their first job,” he writes. But in the Confucian conception, an education should not answer the needs of employment at all.

In “The Analects” there is the well-known assertion that junzi buqi, or “A gentleman is not an implement,” suggesting that an educated man is not a specialist to be used for special purposes, but someone equipped with general, moral qualifications.

Triumph of market principles

The liberal-arts education as recommended by Zakaria is more consistent with the notions of the ancient Greeks, who deemed it preparation needed for free citizens to participate in democratic societies.

In Western universities, this philosophy manifests itself in the “elective system,” and the subsequent attempt to structure students’ broad learning around a “common core.” Along the way, students ideally learn how to concentrate, weed out the irrelevant and the superfluous, and structure their opinions.

In other words, a solid liberal education should give students license to pursue a broad field of study while establishing a framework for logical, disciplined thinking. It also helps foster a love for learning and exploration.

Unfortunately, the education many receive today falls well short of this ideal. According to Zakaria, there is still hope, as he believes that “an emphasis on building character, stemming from the religious origins of colleges, remains an aim of liberal arts colleges almost everywhere, at least in theory.”

Sadly, the so-called humanities and liberal arts have not been immune to the ebbs and flows of academic fashion. Colleges now tend to offer undergraduate courses that mirror faculty members’ obscure and specific research topics. Many fields are similarly plagued by the “publish or perish” mandate. A professor adept at churning out academic papers get grants, promotions and tenure.

We are witnessing a generation of new students tamed by material ambitions. We can be almost certain that the many principles and doctrines contained in their “common core” liberal arts and humanities courses will fail to make a dent in their personality or character.

As a result, they are at a disadvantage when placed beside the ancient Zhao Pu, in that they cease to be inspired by the doctrines they have learnt in a world where only market principles reign supreme.