Politicians in the UK go to great lengths to not draw attention to their educational backgrounds.
There is a reason for this: no matter, which school or university you went to, there will always be somebody who hates you for it.
If, like David Cameron and Boris Johnson, the current Mayor of London, you went to Eton, then you will be portrayed as an upper class toff whose background prevents him from understanding the problems of the less fortunate. If you went to Oxford or Cambridge – and at any given time, a majority of the British Cabinet is drawn from Oxbridge – then you are regarded as a creature of privilege.
On the other hand, if you have only gone to some minor university, then – even though nobody will say so openly – people will wonder why you didn’t go to Oxford or Cambridge? Were you too stupid to get in given the exacting admission standards at these universities?
In contrast, education rarely seems to matter in Indian politics. Manmohan Singh, who went to both Oxford and Cambridge, must be one of the world’s best-educated Prime Ministers. But his educational background is rarely mentioned. Do we know where AK Antony went to college? Where Pranab Mukherjee was educated? Do we even care?
There are two notable exceptions of this general rule. The first is what might be called the Doon School network. When Sanjay Gandhi appointed himself Junior Dictator of India in 1976, he encouraged his old Doon School pals to join Congress. Many dabbled in politics, making much of their connections with Sanjay, even using school nicknames to show familiarity. Thus Akbar Ahmed was Dumpy and Kamal Nath was Roli-Poli (he was a fat boy, apparently before he grew up to become a thin man).
When Rajiv Gandhi joined politics, his Doon School buddies (a few batches senior to Sanjay’s crowd) also rose to prominence. Most were low-profile, however, and of Rajiv’s closest aides in the early years, his old schoolmate, Arun Singh, refused to even talk to the press.
The Doon School network still endures but these days, Doscos, (as they call themselves) no longer make much of their school background. How many people know, for instance, that Naveen Patnaik was Sanjay Gandhi’s roommate at Doon? Or that Rahul Gandhi, Jyotiraditya Scindia and Jitin Prasada were all at Doon at roughly the same time?
The other great network – and one that has been in the news this week – is the St. Stephen’s network. So all-pervasive (at least in Delhi) is the influence of Stephanians (as they call themselves) that they imagine that anybody who occupies any position of influence in the capital must be from ‘College’.
When I became editor of the HT, I began to receive regular invitations to attend reunions from St. Stephen’s alumni associations. Though I protested that I had not been fortunate enough to go to Stephen’s and had to content myself with a much more modest establishment, the invitations kept coming.
Though lazy journos keep writing that Mani Shankar Aiyar was a Doon School buddy of Rajiv Gandhi’s, the truth is that the two did not know each other at school, had only the slightest association at Cambridge and were virtual strangers when Mani joined Rajiv’s PMO in 1985. Besides, I don’t think that either Doon or Cambridge left as deep an impression on Mani as did his time at Stephen’s. (This is not unusual. Montek Singh Ahluwalia has said that St. Stephen’s was a much greater influence on him than Oxford – and Montek was President of the Oxford Union and received a Congratulatory First at Oxford. And yes, he too was part of Rajiv’s PMO in 1985!)
"Just as Hindu and Muslim fundamentalists say “We are Hindus/Muslims and all others are inferior”, university fundamentalists express much the same sort of emotion." |
It is the Stephanian in Mani who makes the rude remarks about Hans Raj College and his Sports Minister’s English that have caused so much controversy over the last week. Further, says Mani, the Sports Minister was only a BA (Pass) student, not even BA (Hons) in his Hans Raj days.
Without going into the rights and wrongs of Mani’s claims, what I find extraordinary is that a 70-year-old man still thinks it important to recall which college he went to and to elucidate the difference between a Pass Course and an Honours degree. David Cameron is half Mani’s age but I can’t see him discussing whether his Oxford degree was better than George Osborne’s. After a while, these things should cease to matter, surely?
But then, many people who go to St. Stephen’s often act as though ‘College’ was the highlight of their lives and that it was downhill afterwards – even when this is demonstrably untrue. I remember interviewing Natwar Singh in 1985, after he had left the Foreign Service and had become a minister. I assumed he would want to talk about his work. Well yes, he did. But he also thought it important to mention that he received colours in every sport while he was at Stephens.
It was only fitting, therefore, that at some St Stephen’s anniversary Natwar recorded: “Whatever I am today, I owe to St. Stephen’s.”
Only to have Mani Shankar Aiyar (yes, him again) retort: “Why blame the college?”
Perhaps I notice the St. Stephen’s network more because I live in Delhi. Perhaps it is the same in other cities with other colleges. But somehow I doubt it. When I lived in Bombay, nobody from Elphinstone or St Xavier’s went on and on about university. To some extent, I sensed the presence of a Presidency College arrogance when I lived in Calcutta but it paled in the face of the fierce pride that people from St. Stephen’s take in their college.
Which brings us to the big question: why is it so important that you went to a particular college or school?
My guess is that it is only important because others didn’t. It allows you to create a little clique of people like yourself and to treat people who went to Hans Raj or other less exalted institutions as outsiders.
In that sense, university fundamentalism is no different from religious fundamentalism. Just as Hindu and Muslim fundamentalists say “We are Hindus/Muslims and all others are inferior”, university fundamentalists express much the same sort of emotion.
A dedicated secularist like Mani should ponder that one. Is it time for a more secular approach to the old boys network?
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