What is wrong with meritocracy? Why is the modern meritocratic elite trusted less than the old establishment? Why, as we have made our institutions more meritocratic, has their public standing plummeted? David Brooks asked all these uneasy questions in a recent column in The New York Times, and offered some answers: Our idea of meritocracy is based on a narrow definition of talent; people are less connected to the leadership class today than yesterday; the elite’s solidarity is weaker; the time horizon of the elites has shortened; and society has become dangerously transparent. Some of Brooks’ arguments can come as a surprise to his fellow commentators.
In recent years, meritocracy—rather than democracy—was the ideology of the post-political elites. But now, when the global economic crisis has turned Wall Street's best and brightest from heroes into villains, it is the right time to remind ourselves that some four decades ago Michael Young was warning about the dark side of meritocracy. This system creates a world with clear justifiable winners and losers. And, contrary to John Rawls’ claim, it turns out that being a loser in a meritocratic society is much more psychologically devastating than being a loser in an unfair society, where you can blame the unfairness of the system for your failure. It is also true that meritocratic elites, convinced of the legitimacy of their success, tend to be less compassionate than the traditional establishment. They define success not in the plural “we” but in the singular “me.” While the sons of the old establishment pay for their privilege with rushing first to volunteer to go to war and die (this is the story of the British elite in the days of WWII), the meritocratic elites of today find it a matter of principle to fight for their bonuses.
But in my view, the real reason for the explosion of the public’s distrust in the meritocratic elites is the growing sense that regardless of all the accountability and transparency talk, people see their ability to influence this elite declining. In a strange way, modern democracies make decision-making more transparent than ever. But at the same time, people feel less powerful than before. In the post-ideological politics of today, the elections have stopped being about choice and have become a referendum on the performance of those in power. Voters can change governments, but they cannot change policies. Moreover, the new meritocratic elites are unconstrained by ideology or fear. When a politician loses elections, he becomes a lobbyist; when a banker loses money, he is bailed out. Contrary to the old establishment, the meritocratic elites are convinced that their best contribution to society is to pursue their own interests as best as possible. Nineteenth-century England was defined as an aristocracy tempered by riots. Today's democracies could be defined as meritocracies legitimized by audits.
So, is it strange that people distrust the leadership class?
The best way to grasp the growing anger of the public against the meritocratic elites is to board a crowded transatlantic airplane. The moment you board the plane, you are reminded that you live in a class society. There is an economy class, a business class, and even a first class. In the leadership classes, the seats are better, the food is better, the entertainment is better. Access to the business class is quite easy. You do not need a birth certificate; you only need to pay five times more. Although access to the business class is simple, the relations between the classes are quite rigid. The only time the curtain is removed between the economy class and the business class is in the threat of potential danger— during takeoffs and landings.
(Krastev writes more on this topic in Prospect.)