Diplomas for Sale on Moscow's Streets
$800 degrees from universities reflect the corruption of Russian higher
education
By BRYON MacWILLIAMS
>From the Chronicle of Higher Education
July 16, 1999
Moscow
It's graduation day on the pedestrian walkway adjacent to the
Khydozhestvennye movie theater, and a spindly young man approaches the
moment with apprehension. He looks left, behind him, then right. He steps
closer, taking in with his eyes the table laden with thin, blue hardcover
folders
that open to paper leaves with colored swirls and elegant black lettering.
He puts out his hand, something folded in the palm. In return, a bearded
man dressed all in black hands him one of the diplomas.
"Two years ago, I bought a diploma for finance," says the young man, as he
walks briskly toward the subway entrance just off the historic Old Arbat,
one of downtown Moscow's most famous streets, which has become a pedestrian
mall and marketplace. "Now there's a financial crisis. Therefore, this time
I'm choosing management -- there are more opportunities."
It is no secret that everything has its price in the "new" Russia. And what
is one of the most sacrosanct legacies of seven decades of Soviet rule --
the education system -- is being increasingly pocked by pervasive
corruption, much of it brought on by a steep decline in living standards.
Want to be admitted into a special institute? Gain a better grade? Get the
answers to a test? Here such problems share a common solution: cash. It has
become altogether common for academics, determined to supplement their
meager salaries, to demand cash of their students.
Professors often require their students to take additional courses outside
the core curriculum, for which they are paid extra. "The students are
forced to take the courses and pay money, or else they won't be able to
pass the exams," says Larisa Naumenko, a journalism student at Moscow State
University.
Students from poor families, she adds, are told to encourage their parents
to provide teachers with sugar or flour in lieu of cash.
Now, even university diplomas are available for purchase on the street.
"Buying a diploma is a very common thing, because you can be hired only if
you have a higher education," says Ms. Naumenko. "If you're 27 and need to
find a job, going to a school and studying for at least four years is hard.
Some people who have money will simply buy a diploma."
It's customary for job seekers in Russia to show up for interviews with
their university diplomas in hand.
But while some employers, particularly multinational companies, scrutinize
such documents and even require transcripts of courses and grades, others
do not pay such careful attention.
For $800, anyone in Moscow can buy a blank diploma from an established
university -- bearing an
official stamp -- and enter the desired major and date of graduation.
Another $50 gets a blank official transcript upon which to enter course
titles and grades.
"For $10,000, you can get a diploma with the stamp and the signature from
the school and an official serial number -- a real one, understand?" says
the bearded salesman near the Arbat. For that price, the purchaser's name
also ends up in the university's data base as the recipient of such a diploma.
"It usually costs $15,000," chimes in a clean-cut young man sitting nearby.
"But there's a crisis now."
It used to be that Russian students who won medals for scholarship in high
school could win places at the country's best universities based solely on
their academic abilities and be educated there at no charge. Nowhere else
in the world, perhaps, were people with such a low standard of living
educated so well.
Now, many admissions officials freely acknowledge that applicants who pay
gain entrance first -- often to the exclusion of better students.
The abuses, according to students and other observers, have risen to a new
level. For example, applicants seeking places at a particular faculty, or
school, of Moscow State University now hire a professor from the program to
tutor them in English at from $25 to $30 per hour, then hire another
faculty member to help them prepare for their written application essays in
Russian. With that process, they virtually insure their acceptance into the
desired program.
"It's a mess," says Dova H. Wilson, of the International Research and
Exchanges Board, who recently served two and a half years as an education
adviser in the organization's Moscow office. "It's a definite reality now
that there are many students buying either their grades or their diplomas."
Ms. Wilson, who now works in IREX's Washington headquarters, says the
temptation to cheat is
compounded by the high cost of living in Moscow. "I've heard of people who
are capable of doing the work, but they have a hard time combining work --
and trying to get food -- with going to school," she says. "It's very
difficult to write your thesis. It takes a lot of time and energy. So they
pay someone else to do the research."
Dozens of students, some of whom rank among the brightest of their
generation in Russia, arrive daily for consultations at the IREX offices in
Moscow's Library of Foreign Literature. Many are seeking guidance in
applying to universities and graduate programs in the United States, and
advice on preparing for standardized tests. But the high incidence of fraud
as well as inconsistent educational standards have diluted the perceived
worth of their degrees from universities in Russia. "I don't know what to
tell an American university," Ms. Wilson says.
The practice of submitting altered credentials, by both foreigners and U.S.
residents, is not a new
phenomena in the United States, says Dale E. Gough, of the American
Association of Collegiate
Registrars and Admissions Officers. "The problem has always been -- and
continues to be -- a cat-and-mouse game between those preparing the altered
records and the colleges and universities," says Mr. Gough, who directs the
association's Office of International Education Services.
Even though institutions print their diplomas using paper and ink that are
difficult to copy, or alter, the easy availability of new technological
tools -- such as scanners, color laser printers and photocopiers, and
variable computer fonts -- has provided a distinct advantage to those who
would commit fraud, says Mr. Gough.
"I have purchased transcripts and diplomas from Stanford and Harvard in my
name that those two
institutions could not determine were phony unless they checked their data
bases," he says.
So far, Russian holders of fake diplomas have not managed to penetrate the
U.S.-sponsored exchange programs, such as the Edmund S. Muskie Fellowship
Program and the Freedom Support Act fellowships, according to the U.S.
Information Agency, which sponsors the competitions.
"We're used to dealing with these issues, and have a system for verifying
documents," says Sharon Hudson-Dean, assistant cultural attache for
academic exchange at the U.S. Information Service office in Moscow.
"Besides, people who buy their educations don't need these programs to go
to school in the United States."
Some Russians, apparently, are under the same impression.
"They've come to us saying, 'What do you mean Harvard won't let us in? We
have money,'" says Ms. Wilson of IREX. "They have this idea that you can
buy the best."
As far as can be determined, no vendors in Russia are selling diplomas from
U.S. universities. But they seem to be doing a brisk business selling
Russian credentials.
In Moscow, beyond the Arbat, the sales volume is reportedly highest in the
maze of subway underpasses beneath the Lenin Library. The largest library
in the country, it is packed six days a week with students.
For a subway fare and 10 minutes of underground travel, a prospective
diploma buyer can save $100 with Tatiana, a 23-year-old saleswoman from
Krasnodar, who holds a thin, white cardboard sign stating "Diplom" near the
banks of escalators at the Kuznetsky Most and Chistiye Prudy subway
stations. Business has been good, she says. Several months ago, she wore
jeans and a sweatshirt. Now she dons gold hoop earrings, a brown pants
suit, and a white blouse. She recently brought in her aunt, from a
collective farm near Rostov-on-Don, to work with her.
"My service costs $700," says Tatiana. "That's less than everybody else."
She will not reveal her connections. But her aunt, who declines to give her
name, says a family friend works in a government office where university
diplomas are recorded.
"If you want a real diploma -- not just a copy -- that's not a problem,"
explains Tatiana. "But $10,000? That's a crazy price. If you're serious, we
will work something out. Cheap."
Copyright (c) 1999 by The Chronicle of Higher Education, Inc. Posted with
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