Groucho vs. Jeffrey

An elite comedian vs. "the elite."

This is a Groucho Marx vs. Jeffrey Epstein quibbling pedantic showdown. (In this showdown I’m the pedant.)

The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word “elite as… (a) a select group that is superior in terms of ability or qualities to the rest of a group or society; (b) a group or class of people seen as having the most power and influence in a society, especially on account of their wealth or privilege.”

Stephen Curry is definitely an elite basketball player and illustrates definition (a). Most people would agree that he is superior in his ability to make baskets and do most other basketball stuff, though he is not elite as a defender and he turns the ball over more often than he should.

Being pro or anti elite, as defined by (b) is now arguably the central political controversy in the United States. Leaving aside the crude use of immigrants or trans people as out-groups to hate, pretty much all other issues boil down to, “Who you gonna believe? Me, or those coastal elites?” Or, conversely, “Who you gonna believe? Me, or those conspiracy weirdos?”

The problem, I think, is that there really are people and maybe institutions who are obviously “elite” (way better than average) at what they do, but there is also a vast overestimation and overgeneralization of the use of “elite” to describe people and institutions.

A great example of this phenomenon is objectively measurable in the college application process. Now that “elite” status is granted to colleges and universities based almost entirely on the exclusiveness of their application process, the system is deliberately gamed to increase the number of applications for the sole purpose of rejecting a lot of them so the percentage of admitted students is decreased. This has no relation to the quality of the learning experience at the institution.

What do we really mean when we talk about elite anything? And what good does having that category do us?

The problem, as I see it, is that the two unrelated definitions (a) and (b) above get conflated.

Two vivid examples:

From Wired magazine: “The Tech Elites in the Epstein Files.”

From SFGate: “High school ranking: Private schools with the best admissions rates to elite UCs.”

These headlines illustrate the blurred but critical space in what it means to be “elite.” Are the “Tech Elites” and “Elite UCs” actually the “best” at being technologists or universities? Or are they just “elite” in the sense that for some random historical reason they have amassed power and prestige and the systems to exclude people from access?

Can we even really determine who is better than whom at being a “tech titan” or a university? The San Francisco Chronicle is a regular abuser of this ambiguous distinction, with their annually published lists of “elite” public and private high schools and the “elite” universities the “elite” graduates get admitted to.

I don’t think it’s mere pedantic quibbling to note that it’s weird that you need to be “elite” to hang out with Jeffrey Epstein. The word is now used more often to describe people who are in an unearned category of privilege (which definitely applies to private high schools and the universities that are supposedly “elite”) and has nothing to do with any Steph Curry-like ability to do anything any better than anyone else.

The “elite” private high schools that are “better” at getting their students into “elite” UC campuses are in that category for the same reasons Jeffrey Epstein’s friends are “elite.” They live in a circular world of self-congratulatory exclusion.

Given how polluted it’s become, I think the word “elite” needs to be fully tied to the idea of a corrupt, self-serving group or institution whose sole claim to status is the ability to limit access to that status. That way, when a newspaper or college ranking service uses that word, we will know what they really mean and decide if we want to try to join that club, or, conversely, if we just want to learn to be good at something, like being a teacher, scientist or basketball player.

One of Groucho Marx’s many incisively brilliant lines was, “I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.” That should be as true of elite private schools, universities and law firms as it is of Jeffrey Epstein’s club. People are justifiably horrified by the perverted sexual abuse that was one of the side-benefits of membership in the Epstein’s club, but it does appear that for most people, the real benefit was the same as what all “elite” institutions provide: Access to power and money from people in other exclusive “elite” institutions.

Steph Curry and people and institutions who are exceptionally good at something, as demonstrated by their actually doing that thing really well, need to be described with a different word for being way better than most everyone else.

Worrying about the evolution of a word’s meaning is definitely pointless and futile, as any linguist will tell you. But the idea of the word does matter. While it is definitely the case that being in an elite class gets you much easier access to perks like access to teenage girls on Epstein’s island or becoming a Supreme Court judge, the truth is that actually being exceptionally good at something is valuable and important.

It makes me uncomfortable to use the same word to describe a person or an institution who really has done the hard work to be great at something, because it is not the case that being great is based on the exclusion of others from that status. The reason there aren’t many people like Steph Curry is that it is really hard and rare to be exceptionally good at something. He doesn’t need to be in an exclusive club to remind himself or his fans of that. The same is true of the rarely truly outstanding people and institutions in any field.

If the real story is that the “elite” are there because they have successfully managed a supply/demand/access market, they have nothing to offer but the brand. And maybe the girls.