One facet of the word elite which has always fascinated me is that it is a complimentary term when it is an adjective, yet a pejorative one as a noun.
To call someone an elite athlete, or part of an elite military unit, is a compliment. The descriptor distinguishes the individual or group as being in possession of superior talent or training than that of many contemporaries.
Yet to say that someone is part of the elite is almost always contemptuous. When it comes to social class or status, the term becomes antagonistic and derisive.
I would imagine a lot of social “elites” are just as clueless as young Cher in regard to the privileges and advantages they have enjoyed throughout their lives. Image: Paramount.
The key difference, in my view, is the expression of talent. Being able to perform at an elite level (again, an adjective) is quite different to being considered elite simply because of an inherent degree of wealth, or status, or the degree to which an individual wields a certain amount of power.
Yet the word clearly means the same thing at a fundamental level. Considering antonyms for both versions of the word, something like ‘amateur’ likely only applies to the adjective iteration. Yet a word like ‘regular’, or ‘typical’, could apply to either. There is a sense of being above, or superior to, the average.
Species of Ivy, Bridges for Oxen, and their means of procurement
In my experience, the most glaring divergence in the utility of the word and its gradual separation of meaning is at the point of education. That is, it’s okay to call an athlete or a soldier elite because they have earned the merit of that compliment through physical discipline (though even in this context there are various privileges and sponsorships and national programs which may dramatically skew the field). Yet to have been a beneficiary of, say, an elite education usually holds a direct connotation to the wealth one was born into, rather than any particular effort applied since.
It is probably worth noting that not all “private” or “independent” schools are necessarily exclusive to the wealthy. Some pursue a particular educational methodology, as Steiner schools do, or are aligned with a religion (which attempt to wriggle out of the fee-paying hypocrisy by instead only accepting voluntary donations—yet, suspiciously, the children of the highest-paying donors find themselves remarkably likely to be accepted at the school).
It is important to acknowledge that there are also many legitimately high-achieving students who worked hard to make the most of the advantages they have been provided with, and in all likelihood would have excelled in a public school system. But given the right incentives, a controlled and disciplined environment, and class sizes probably half or a third the size of their public alternatives, the elite alternative certainly made the path a lot smoother.
My instinctual response to elitism is to uphold the separation; that an elite level of aptitude in a physical sense alludes to a property usually distinct from wealth or the status of birth, as opposed to education in particular. Because in the vast majority of countries, what almost anyone would consider to be “elite” schooling is legitimately only accessible to a limited portion of the population. And that portion is pretty easy to identify at the top of the economic spectrum; the elite. The noun.
Which is why education is an interesting exception; when we call something an “elite school”, we’re talking about the school as the noun, and elite remains the adjective. Such schools are called elite because engineering good outcomes for students is their stated purpose (check out any prospectus for such a school and it will invariably mention the correlation between the school and access to the “best” universities), usually at a high cost both in terms of material wealth and limited opportunity.
The latter essentially guarantees the former. Scarcity, in a capitalist society, engineers a situation in which only those wealthy enough to buy into the system can realistically make use of it. Hence, such institutions are not elite per se—certainly not in the adjective sense one uses when applying it to other nouns, like an athlete—because they don’t necessarily result in more talented adults, as generation after generation of private-school-educated politicians continue to remind us.
In fact, such institutions can never guarantee the production of an elite student in the sense of talent as it might apply to an athlete. No, such schools are merely exclusive. And exclusive in the true sense of the word (rather than the facile commercial one which attempts to lure potential consumers in with disingenuous claims like “exclusive deals” which are usually only so in the sense of limited time, or particular specificity, rather than actual access; and so are merely a marketing tool). Most private schools, on the other hand, exclude the poor, endow the wealthy, and are a central pillar of the maintenance of the status quo.
One of the easiest ways to recognise this dichotomy is to take a peek at the performance of “elite” high school leavers when they don’t transition to similarly “elite” universities. One of the functions of noun-elitism, which contributes to the derision the term attracts, is to systemically or functionally raise the apparent value of an individual without necessarily having to actually do so. It’s like being dropped into a forest to do some rogaining without your phone, when your entire education was about how to use Google maps.
After all, the derision poured upon the elite almost universally refers to them having attained something without any associated effort. Such power is inherited, not earned. It is yielded before the individual has a chance to show their quality, or lack thereof. By the time it matters, it often doesn’t matter.
In the context of education, the outcome is something like this: throughout their schooling, said student is given all the material they need to learn—and by ‘learn’ I mean ‘memorise in order to later recall the most pertinent detail’, or ‘the practice of collating salient points in an essay’ rather than the actual faculty of critical thinking—and a strict regimen within which to learn it. Throw in some environmental benefits such as a pleasant and expansive campus, small class sizes, attentive and well-educated teachers, and less general life stress thanks to the inherent privileges associated with such an existence, wrap it all up with some parental expectations of some yield from their capital investment, and you’re done.
All this is in aid of steady guidance toward a specific end. This end-point targets the most likely aspects of assessment, such as the spread of likely questions on an exam or a pinpointed emphasis on the assessment criteria for other forms of school work.
A rose by any other name would stink of the same wads of cash
The real purpose of this system is, therefore, simply that the student’s effort goes further. It’s targeted, basically, toward an outcome which is not an elite student, but elite results. This isn’t to suggest that the work is somehow done for the students by any means, but that they are carefully guided down a specific path. On the other hand, public school systems (at least, in Australia, where my experience has been) tend to leave students largely to their own devices, with overworked and underpaid teachers disproportionately distracted by managing the behaviour of their worst-performing among thirty or forty students rather than guiding the best-performing.
In the public system, there’s actually a disincentive to bother nurturing talent insofar as performance indicators are concerned. While all schools value good results, reining in the behaviour of problematic students tends to end up being a much more demanding priority than shepherding the smart kids through what—in comparison to the bulk of the student body—they are more than likely to succeed at anyway (just all on their own). In other words, public school students are largely left to wander where they will without much guidance at all.
At the public high school I attended in the ‘90s, a kid pulled a Stanley knife on a teacher and wasn’t expelled. Not for just that one incident, at least. Another picked up a stool and threw it at a teacher (or attacked them bodily with it—I confess I cannot accurately recall, other than it being an egregious assault); again, suspension but no expulsion. One wonders how low that particular bar would be in a private school, where admission is so exclusive that expulsion might effectively be arbitrary, some future Minister for Home Affairs waiting eagerly in the wings. Not to mention that a child expelled from one public school is simply shunted to the next—where they might simply become recidivist.
Certainly, some public school students incidentally end up following the path to academic success, but it isn’t because they were corralled in that direction by the bureaucratic nightmare that is the pathetically-funded public education system. If it happens, it will be by the specific will and effort of individual teachers, who are not even incentivised to do so beyond the satisfaction of their own ethical integrity. Through a combination of sheer determination and interest in the prospects of the small human beings in their care, they go above and beyond to encourage whatever talent they might detect among the dross.
“Elite” schools, on the other hand, have an economic incentive to keep their kiddies in the highest results bracket because, like any capitalist endeavour it’s the appearance that counts. Good results and that almighty reputation are what the advertising department needs in order to sell the product to next year’s intake. As a business selling a product called “success”, they’re not actually interested in the most talented applicants; they’re interested in those who can pay their way. Or it wouldn’t be expensive.
One might ask, “but what about scholarships?” To which the response is simply that the scholarship is the exception, not the rule. Remember, plucking the top couple of performers out of the public pool does help to bolster their average results after all. A subsidy, if you will, which undoubtedly the schools will find a means to bellow from the rooftops, their grand beneficence and generosity for all to see. Are they not providing a grand “opportunity” to those boot-strap-pulling kids who have managed to attract their vaunted attention? It’s truly heart-warming stuff.
If exclusive schools were not predicated on fee structures but instead on the actual performance of potential applicants, then they would lean closer to the elite adjective of an athlete rather than pandering to the elite class which already dominates our society thanks to these very mechanisms. But that would require them to eliminate the economic exclusivity which is their entire modus operandi.
And one wonders, even if admission were “merit-based”, just who might have the greatest chance of achieving it. Or, more to the point, how expensive such merit might just become. A preschool tutor, say, to guide chubby little hands toward the answers that get them through the door. On, y’know, merit. Never mind the networking advantages one might enjoy, or the sheer social status a parent might bring toward a prospective school. Names alone can frequently carry weight, just so long as you’re lucky enough to have the right one. Merit, indeed.
Money is the mother of good luck
Public-versus-private education—in Australia, but likely also most countries—is like playing blackjack, except that instead of being handed a few cards by the dealer, the private school player hands the dealer a lump of cash, sifts through the top ten cards of the deck for the best two they can find, and then randomly deals three cards to the public system player, who then has to hope they don’t bust right out of the gate. Good luck with that. It’s no wonder people pay so much to get the good hand—it makes perfect sense if you can afford to buy into the game that way.
Which is why many people who, in most other circumstances, would be unable to consider themselves “elite” will mortgage a home or throw resources desperately at giving their offspring the very best educational opportunity. It’s a noble intent, but ultimately supports the very same bullshit system they shouldn’t have had to buy into in the first place if it were anything close to what it ethically should be.
Don’t forget that when it comes to government funding, the parents of the private player will also bitch and moan that they are betting just as many chips on the table as the public player each round, possibly even more, only that they also have to hand extra chips to the dealer to get that first cut. In fairness, it’s actually very expensive for them to rig the system. They should probably be able to claim it on their tax or something, like the trust funds and negative gearing which help support their real estate portfolio and keep their taxable income somewhere closer to the other chumps.
It is important to note that plenty of people do a great job within such a system and not simply because of the system itself; they choose their cards well, play them sensibly, and even have to come up against the occasional good hand the public school kids get dealt through random chance. They also have to compete with all the other kids who procured themselves a good hand, too. I’m sure it also comes with a lot of pressure to make sure that the bank of Mum and Dad gets that return on investment.
So it’s not a fait accompli by any measure, but it’s not far off. After all, it’s easy to overlook not just the hand-holding but also the valuable networks of other “elite” kids who then grow up to be “elite” adults; that is, part of the elite. Not too many public schools can list year after year of past students who now proudly reside within the revolving circle-jerk of corporate board rooms, federal cabinets, and other exclusive clubs.
Freedom of choice, or freedom to choose?
Perhaps the real distinction is that both meanings of “elite” deal with a different sense of superiority. In one category, that definition refers to dominance in a real and measurable sense, one which equates directly to ability or capacity or effort. That’s the adjective; the elite athlete. In the other, it refers to superiority in a sense that is still real—and probably even measurable—but equates to qualities which are derived from privileges such as wealth and status as much as any actual ability or capacity. That’s the noun: the elite; the elite “class”.
Etymologically, the word elite derives from the French élite—to the extent that it still often includes the accent in English—which originally meant ‘to elect’, and then shifted to something akin to ‘selection’, inferring that an élite was a person one might want to place in a particular position. As in, a good choice. Or, mythopoeically, the “chosen one”.
This supports both uses of the term, in regard to an allusion to the referent being the ‘best’ candidate for completing a task (as in an elite athlete), as well as someone who has found their way into a position thanks largely to the selection process. A process which tends to favour those who happen to be similar to others already selected. The elite. Those whom, by the accident of their birth alone, have enjoyed certain privileges pertaining to entrenched inequalities inherent within that same system. A system which originally engineered, and continues to implement, the very same process which decides who might enjoy future privilege.
In other words, the same “elites” who went to the same exclusionary schools. Who sometimes stumble their way to success, even to fail upward against all reason. The elite, whose supremacy is founded upon circumstance, as opposed to those who worked extraordinarily hard to garner the status of being elite at what they do.