Written by Amy O’Donoghue
Illustrated by Anonymous
When I first studied educational inequalities during A-Level Sociology, I was struck by how many of the concepts I was being taught felt like intuitive common sense. Cultural capital, labelling, material restraints: all these seemed to me to be simple facts of how the world works. But my time at LSE has shown me that perhaps this mindset isn’t shared by all. In the two years I’ve spent at this university, I’ve encountered insults hurled and faces made at those attending non-Russell Group unis, and been subjected to proclamations of the apparently objective superiority of LSE students. These attitudes seemed to be disproven by the uncritical classism that underpinned them — how can supposedly elite thinkers have such little grasp of the society we (or at least, the general population) live in?
This outlook isn’t always blatant, but it reappears constantly. Casual comments about ‘useless’ universities, immediate insults if you find out someone you don’t like dared to attend a university that’s not in the top 10 (or, surprisingly often, the threshold of acceptability is even higher!). If pressed, people rarely seek to defend this mindset entirely — most agree with the shocking fact that there are intelligent people who don’t attend elite universities if it is put to them. But this truth doesn’t seem to be internalised. Thoughtless assertions of the inferiority of others continue to pop up, again and again. This barely-veiled snobbery pervades deep into social life. Seeing people turn up their noses at potential dating candidates the second it’s mentioned that they don’t attend a Russell Group university has really enlightened me to how embedded this superiority is in people’s attitudes — and how wholly unjustified it is. It appears to me that these egoistic assertions are incongruous with the inability to foreground the basic sociological concept that academically elite status is not automatically synonymous with intellectual supremacy. It may not be surprising to all that these attitudes continue to prevail — after all, elite universities are infamously unrepresentative of the class composition of the UK. But I don’t believe it’s asking too much to expect of an institution, in which the motto is ‘to know the causes of things’, that there should be less perpetuation of these classist ideas. A lack of self-reflection on why your status at this institution makes you automatically better than someone else isn’t just jarring, in my opinion — it’s dangerous. It risks supporting the continuation of a divided, elitist society long after we graduate. If university is meant to be the place we learn our most important lessons, then this is exactly where such ideals need to be deconstructed and destroyed — but instead, I see them reinforced far too frequently.
Not only do I question the idea of this inherent supremacy on a fundamental basis, but I also find that aversion to intellectual stimulation is becoming as common as the contradictory claims to elite status. The problem of students outsourcing our brain power to AI is, of course, by no means an issue unique to LSE — this is a problem affecting universities across the country and indeed the world. But I can’t pretend I don’t find it a little disconcerting to come across, at what proudly proclaims itself to be the home of rigorous intellectual debate, people openly relying on ChatGPT to give them basic project ideas. Or using AI to summarise all their readings for them instead of actually reading the content for the degree they’re getting. Or purporting the idea that a diagnosis from ChatGPT can be as valuable as one from a qualified doctor. There appears to me a sharp contrast between the credentials people are using to feed their egos and their actual intellectual drive. Again, this behaviour is by no means perpetuated by all, or even a majority of, students. But it is a trend I have found to be increasingly pervasive. Whilst claims to superiority could never be justified, purely on a sociological basis, they become even more hypocritical when supplemented by this growing reliance on AI.
To add a final disclaimer: I’m not trying to imply that you can’t be proud of yourself for getting to LSE, or that the accomplishment is meaningless. I know a lot of people who worked incredibly hard to get here, and I’ve met a lot of people who have a genuine love for learning and inspire me everyday. Notably, these are rarely the same people (in my experience) who perpetuate the attitudes I’ve critiqued in this article. Some people understand that the way of the world is that brilliant minds don’t always end up in spaces intended to curate them, and vice versa. But far too many in this institution seem not to, and it disturbs me greatly. It’s more than merely insufferable — when privileged individuals are allowed to believe they are better than others based on merit alone, without considering the advantages they may have been afforded, we risk undermining the critical learning environment that is LSE’s very purpose.
