A New Kind of Elite

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That was in the 1960s. Modern Eton is less of a hothouse, less self-involved and all-consuming. "You hear about weird stuff like [what happened to Fraser] from a long time ago, but I never heard anything like that happening when I was there," says a student who finished in 2004. The practice of "fagging," where younger boys acted as servants to older ones, ended in 1980; now two incidents of bullying a younger boy can result in expulsion. Corporal punishment is banned. The boys are allowed out more on weekends. A Muslim tutor was recently appointed. The role of women is still peculiar: with the exception of teachers' wives, the few present are mainly "dames" who run the domestic side of the boarding houses and maids. But there are a few women teachers and more are coming. Next year there will be a female housemaster in College.

Nancy Garrison Jenn, the mother of recent graduate Alexandre, goes so far as to say her son's classmates were "humble and very internationally minded. They can talk to anyone." The headmaster, who signs his name "Tony," is part of this aerating trend. The grandson of a farm laborer, he is inclusive, calm and genial rather than grand and terrifying. As compared to when he was a student in the 1960s, he thinks Eton is "more outward looking, more diverse and kinder."

If so, that has helped those who leave it. A senior headhunter, John Viney of Zygos Partnership, says the job market has noticed the change in the school. Many Etonians used to be captains of industry; from the 1970s they fell out of favor as the less hidebound products of state schools and university growth supplanted them. "But the public schools like Eton have done a good job remaking themselves," says Viney. "They have money, they have good teachers, the kids get every opportunity, and they come out quite confident." Hugo Dixon, a journalist who left Eton in 1981 and now runs Breakingviews, an online financial commentary service, says that British businesses — the London financial markets in particular — are so much more competitive and international that the idea of advance based on the old school tie "is just not sustainable." The Eton network helps, but "even if you're bright, you're not going to get anywhere without effort." Because Etonians themselves now expect to work hard, having the school on your résumé doesn't raise the same worries it did 20 years ago. "No one has to live it down," says Viney. "Employers are pretty neutral." The "Eton burden," if there truly ever was one, appears to be getting lighter. Cameron is the first Old Etonian to lead a major British political party for 40 years; those seeking other role models in public life can look to the Old Etonians who have run Amnesty International, Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth.

All in all, it's a good time for Eton. To let the world catch up with this news, Little says he has mused about doing something splashy like scrapping the uniform (he decided against it). But is what's good for Eton good for Britain? For all its recent economic and cultural success, Britain has not left all the old wounds of class division behind it. Contrary to popular belief, social mobility in the country has stalled. The absolute number of white-collar jobs is rising, but research shows that the chance of getting from the bottom 10% of society to the top 10% is dropping. A middle-class child is 15 times more likely to become a middle-class adult than a working-class child is to make it into the middle class, "and private schools are undoubtedly part of that story," says Geoff Mulgan, head of the Young Foundation and previously head of Blair's Policy Unit. "They've become an even more powerful part of élite formation and reproduction." Reports released by the Sutton Trust show that the privately educated retain a powerful, indeed growing, hold on many influential jobs. Even though they educate only 7% of secondary-school children, private schools are responsible for 68% of barristers, 42% of top politicians and 54% of leading journalists.

Critics believe the escape hatch private schools give to rich parents means much of the country's élite is ignorant and unconcerned about state schools. Add the conviction that places like Eton exist mainly to preserve the privileges of those who already monopolize too many, and you understand why many in the postwar Labour Party wanted to abolish them. In the 1960s, Eton took that threat seriously enough to start contemplating a move to Ireland. Under New Labour, the danger of extinction has vanished. Blair's government has limited itself to a bill that will require private schools to publish the social benefits they generate to justify their charitable tax-exemption status.

Eton has only a handful of true competitors at the top of the private-school heap, plenty of money and applicants, and it has honed its procedures to identify the smartest boys. But it is uniquely in the public eye — Princes William and Harry didn't go to Beaufort Community School — so the continuing criticisms of Eton's role in perpetuating a stratified society have an impact. The school was founded to educate "poor scholars," and while existing programs to reach beyond its pool of mostly rich white boys have scored some results, Eton doesn't mirror the diversity of modern Britain.

But a school this old knows a few things about adapting to the times — so Eton is embarking on a campaign to offer more financial aid. Already 13% of boys receive help because their parents can't afford to pay in full, worth on average half their fees. That costs the school about $4 million a year — out of income from an endowment of $315 million. To raise the share of students getting aid to about 30%, Eton wants to boost its endowment by at least $90 million. Money by itself won't be enough to bridge the social chasm that keeps many boys from hearing about Eton or thinking they could possibly fit in there. Only two or three enter each year from state schools. An existing program to identify and help needy but smart 10-year-olds to give them private schooling before entry is aimed at only five boys per year. It often doesn't get that many. Nevertheless, more money is the essential first step to broadening the base of the student body. Little says many alumni he has sounded out are enthusiastic about contributing to the capital fund if it will expand access.

Outside the school, the best test of its success comes from fair-minded observers. "If Eton were a business, it would have opened 20 more and be expanding the brand everywhere," says Mulgan. Other schools are doing just that (see box). Now 5-7% of Eton students are foreign, and the boys' range of nationalities and ethnicities is increasing. But Eton's leaders do not aspire to build an empire. On their own turf, their goal is to preserve quality, reform slowly, and set an example others will want to follow. That 1,300 boys can swim in Eton's bounty when millions of British teenagers cannot is in some sense unfair. Nevertheless, Little says that his friends who are state-school headmasters "tend to be rather pleased that places like Eton exist. They're a point of reference for what you can do if you have the money; of something that can be moved toward."

He has a point; it is unlikely — to put it at its very lowest — that Britain would be hurt if all its schools aspired to teach and treat their students with the same respect as Eton displays. Those who graduate from Eton will always have a good start in life. But they need not be snobs. And, as the school has a big chance to prove, they need not all be privileged when they show up.