Elites, democracy and the taint of the clever

Has our obsession with success created an electorate of the aggrieved and the disenchanted?

Years ago, after a family do, my brother-in-law and I had a drink at the back bar of his local. Joe was a regular; many of the other regulars had also been to the function. I am not uncomfortable in such bars. I spent a fair few years in my twenties working on building sites and on the council. I had lived, for most of my childhood, on a commission estate. But Joe’s mates knew that in the meantime I had become a teacher, and that even if I was speaking in an acceptable way, I could reach for the full sentences and don’t-bullshit-me trivia if I wanted to. From time to time, they would detach themselves from their conversations and check me out. To begin with they were neutral enough. Once the beer started to flow, however, the feet and the opinions began to be planted a little more squarely, and the only thing that stopped them from becoming openly hostile was the fact that Joe was there. Some of the guys no doubt had chequered school histories. Others may have got through without too many problems—though equally without too much engagement. They were all deeply suspicious of intellectual curiosity, and their antennae were alert because their sanctuary was harbouring an intruder. For some, this suspicion was visceral: an entrenched enmity against braininess that could only be ascribed to their self-respect having suffered real humiliation in its presence.