Eton’s
confidence trick is a lesson for life
Article
from THE TIMES by Janice Turner
September
3 2016
Boys
who blagged their way into meeting Putin show why Britain is still a divided
nation, with
state schools left behind
We
will see that photograph again, the snap of ten Eton sixth-formers after their
hour-long meeting with Vladimir Putin. And the boys knew it. A few were pulling
gangsta moves and goofy faces, lolling on the Kremlin carpet, thinking of the
Facebook “likes”. Others, conscious that the internet never forgets, recalling
maybe the Bullingdon picture Boris and Dave fought to repress, were composed,
aloof, putting destiny before “bantz”.
How
did they pull off this summit? Well, invite Putin’s personal priest (who knew
he had one?) to speak at your school, then cheekily ask him to arrange a visit.
Call in Russian contacts to ease your path, send 1,000 emails, blag, never be
deterred by “No” . . . until you stand immaculately suited, looking wholly
entitled at 18 not just to shake the Russian president’s hand but later to
opine on his record: that Putin is misunderstood over Ukraine and right to bomb
Syria. “Chutzpah” doesn’t even come close.
The
more I interview famous people, the more I’m convinced success is a confidence
trick. Not entirely, of course. Putting aside luck, the recipe seems roughly
three parts talent, one part drive and one part audacity. In those from humble
backgrounds, audacity means “going for it” when you’ve little to lose. In the
privileged, it is an acquired confidence which drowns out that querulous inner
voice forever whispering: “Who am I to apply to Cambridge or Rada, to work at
Goldman Sachs, to write for The Times?”
When
I interviewed Tony Little, the departing head of Eton last year, he remarked
that in the very fabric of the ancient building, carved with initials of poets,
princes and politicians, was the question: “Why not you?” Old Etonian David
Cameron, when asked why he wanted to be PM, answered: “Because I think I’d be
good at it.” Why not me? And his tenure — which seems so long ago now — was
kingly and gracious. Whatever you thought of his policies, you could never
fault his choreography or demeanour. Did he ever doubt his right to be there,
even after he almost broke the Union, after he staked his legacy (and Britain’s
future) on the referendum, and lost? I doubt it. You aren’t destroyed by
defeats if you feel you own the game.
How
does Eton create such men? (Putin is clearly as fascinated as the rest of us.)
It treats every boy as a rugged individual. No dorms, but separate rooms and
solo chats with tutors. It makes boys organise outside speakers without help
from masters, even if they occasionally forget to meet a cabinet minister off
his train. (The Russian trip was planned without the school’s knowledge.) And
it tells boys, in Little’s words, “not to lead with their chin” but employ charm
first. Then, if this isn’t enough, a steely arrogance is unsheathed. I’ve heard
the wife of a cabinet minister who didn’t go to Eton complain: “The Camerons
treat us like staff”.
Above
all, Eton, like other private schools, offers “polish”, which as a report into
social mobility this week made clear, can count for as much as grades. The
study showed that state-school candidates were turned down for jobs in banking
for the faux pas of wearing brown shoes, loud ties or not being the right
“fit”. In these “customer-facing” roles, banks believe the rich will only trust
you with their money if you can pass as moneyed.
More
state school pupils — 59 per cent this year — are now admitted to Oxford. Other
top universities from which bankers are mainly recruited are selecting more
widely too. But still working-class students are let down by their ignorance of
hidden social codes. In Scandinavia and Germany I’m always struck by how hard
it is to guess someone’s social standing from their appearance: in Britain I
can tell at first glance. Obviously I’m more attuned to our signifiers but in
other countries working and middle-class people and their culture are not so
far apart.
The
solution to improving social mobility in Britain has been to admit a few
extraordinary poorer kids into the golden circle. Eton, a canny luxury brand,
which constantly evolves with the times, is more generous with its resources
than most. (And can afford to be.) A fifth of boys are on some kind of bursary,
like the son of Somalian refugees in Brixton who has just won a sixth-form
scholarship. Eton also sponsors the London Academy of Excellence, twinning
clever East End kids with its tailcoated boys. This academy encourages sharp
dressing, punctuality, resourcefulness, manners and boundless aspiration:
values which are too lacking in the state sector, especially in provincial
towns.
In
London, at least, you can see bastions of privilege from the bus. Visiting my
old Doncaster comprehensive I was struck by the uniforms: polo shirts and baggy
trousers, as if training to mix paint in B&Q (DIY store). Why not insist boys wear
suits to sixth form to raise their expectations and show them how to dress for
a professional job? And the headmaster, although mentioning media studies A
level, didn’t invite me to meet students. Perhaps he thought I’d bore them. But
it is easier to imagine becoming a journalist if you’ve met one who comes from
your housing estate. By contrast, my sons’ London private school is forever
asking media parents to help ease their pupils’ career paths.
Because
those Eton boys, with their resourcefulness, fine manners and the coolness to
look a Russian tyrant in the eye, will end up running City banks and
Westminster and be given platforms to present their views. Confidence is rarely
born, it is acquired: every bright pupil should be encouraged in their
audacity, to ask the question: “Why not me?”
