Most, if not all of you are probably wondering who Walter Humes is (If you're bothered at all), he's the research professor for education at the University of the West of Scotland (UWS). I attended a Royal Philisophical Society lecture at Strathclyde University a few months back that he was the speaker for. His presentation was about the decline of the love of learning in modern academia due to the capitalisation of the education system. His main gripe was concerned with the current trend with the majority of students to see higher education (or any education for that matter) merely as a means of making money in the future rather than for the pleasure and interest of simply learning. His talk rang bells with my own experiences in university, not just because the students seemed to have no interest in learning for learning's sake, because the entire educational system (at least in Scotland) seems wired for standardisation of knowledge in a way that stifles any interest that doesn't fall within the narrow scope of the subjects taught in the cirriculum. He sees this as a detrimental aspect of society and almost all of what he said mirrored how I felt in university.
I thought about Humes' presentation again this morning at work because of the Isaac Asimov quote Larien LeQuella posted as his facebook status (that I've stolen off of him

This one is about what he suspects is the underlying attitude of modern society glimpsed through our use of language with terms like "Social Capital":
Am I just Social Capital?
and this one involves his thoughts about amibition being out of line with capability:Walter Humes wrote: One indication of the pervasiveness of our consumerist culture is the way in which economic metaphors are now applied to areas of life which were previously described in other ways. Take the term 'capital' for instance. It no longer just relates to money or possessions that represent financial assets (such as property). The phrase 'human capital' refers to the skills, qualifications, training and experience of individuals and groups, attributes which can be further developed and exploited for economic benefit. The unique individual qualities of human beings are thus reduced to a cost/benefit calculus of their potential contribution to monetary growth.
Then again, consider the political popularity of the term 'social capital'. This is used to describe the capacity of individuals and communities to collaborate in a spirit of trust and respect, to communicate through networks that bring mutual benefits, and work towards goals that build confidence and promote civic activism. These seem admirable aims but it is no accident that the ascendancy of social capital as part of political discourse has coincided with the decline of references to poverty and inequality. These latter terms have negative associations of a kind that expose the failures of the political class: by switching the focus to building 'social capital' part of the responsibility is transferred to other people.
'Capital' appears in other guises as well. 'Intellectual capital' refers not just to the mental resources of individuals but is increasingly applied to organisations and codified into 'intellectual property rights' which have a market value. Intelligence and creativity are thus converted into figures on a balance sheet – a debasement of what it means to be human.
Again, 'psychological capital' seeks to identify those emotional qualities which provide individuals with a secure sense of identity: assurance, self-esteem, resilience in the face of adversity. These are characteristics which, in moderation, are entirely desirable but, if hyped up in the manner of advertising and public relations, can easily lead to the kind of pushy, boasting assertiveness evident on television programmes such as 'The Apprentice' and 'Dragons' Den'.
The latest, and perhaps most absurd, application of this economic metaphor is signalled by the phrase 'erotic capital'. A sociologist at the London School of Economics, Catherine Hakim, has coined the term to describe those qualities which, she argues, are important not only in personal relationships but also in employment and career advancement. She states: 'Erotic capital is just as important as human and social capital for understanding social and economic processes, social interaction and upward social mobility'.
Leaving aside her clumsy use of the word 'social' four times in the same sentence, what does this amount to? She elaborates her theory with reference to beauty, sexual attractiveness, liveliness and presentational skills. One sceptic summed up the formula by saying: 'in other words, dress smartly, smile nicely and you will make a good impression. My mother told me that 40 years ago'.
For a few frivolous moments I reflected on how I might enhance my own 'erotic capital' – rather a tall order for a man in his sixties, you might well think. I concluded that even with a hair transplant, a face lift, and a sartorial makeover under the guidance of the TV style guru, Gok Wan, my chances of transforming myself from a dull academic into an exciting commercial prospect were rather slim. My reaction was one of relief rather than regret – no doubt indicating a shortfall in my psychological as well as my erotic capital.
What does all this reveal about modern culture? At one level, it simply demonstrates the shallowness of much of our way of life, in which appearance is regarded as more important than substance, and a veneer of insincere niceness is seen as a legitimate way of getting what one wants. At a deeper level, however, it shows that the 'greed is good' philosophy, which characterised the 1980s, is still with us, albeit transmuted into less crude terminology. But perhaps most disturbing of all is the fact that academic analysts, who ought to be interrogating dominant discourses, have bought into the metaphor of 'capital' to the extent that they have entirely lost sight of its sinister subverting of the values that any decent society should aspire to.
The Greasy Pole - What are the qualities required for advancement in the modern world?
This one especially seems accurate to me, I've been in a few jobs where there are people in management and upper management that are completely incapable of efficiently carrying out their jobs with the attitude he alludes to.Walter Humes wrote:'Fame is the Spur' was a popular novel by Howard Spring, published in 1940: the title was taken from Milton's poem 'Lycidas'. It tells the story of an ambitious Labour politician, Hamer Shawcross, who starts off with high ideals and a desire to bring about social reform, but ends up being absorbed into the upper classes which he had previously seen as the enemy.
It is a familiar journey, one not confined to the world of politics. The narrative, whether real or fictional, could be presented in various ways: as an account of upward mobility, with inevitable compromises as the reality of power is encountered; as evidence of the persistence of the class structure despite changes in the surface configuration of society; as an exploration of the conflict between 'getting on' and 'getting out', and the sometimes painful effects of this on personal identity.
Observing the behaviour of highly ambitious people makes a fascinating study. I have never been tempted to apply for very senior management posts – partly, I like to think, because I have a realistic sense of my own limitations – but I have had the opportunity to watch the progress of many others who have aimed higher. Some of these people have been extremely competent and have carried out their responsibilities with considerable success. In other cases, however, ambition has exceeded capability and the result has been stress for the individual and disappointment for subordinate staff.
The promotion of employees beyond their optimum level of competence is a well-known organisational phenomenon: it is called the Peter Principle after Dr Laurence Peter who first identified it. Once such a promotion has been made, organisations are generally very reluctant to admit that they may have made an error in case the 'integrity' of the whole outfit is called into question. In extreme cases, this can lead to a group of ill-equipped and insecure men and women at the top, desperately trying to defend their positions and maintain their authority, with damaging consequence for the morale of those who look to them for leadership.
In the absence of genuine ability, it is possible for ambitious individuals to advance in their careers if they can demonstrate one or more of a number of characteristics. For example, drive and energy usually attract favourable attention – being willing to put in long hours, to travel extensively on behalf of the organisation, and to spend time cultivating a range of contacts who might be useful.
I once had a senior colleague whose main claim to fame was his preparedness to utter well-meaning platitudes at all points on the globe. When it came to meeting an international demand for motherhood and apple pie, no one was better equipped to supply very large helpings. His schedule was impressive. On one occasion, he travelled to the Indian sub-continent only to discover that his paperwork was not in order and he was refused entry. Instead of putting it down to experience, he took the next plane home, quickly obtained the necessary documentation and flew back immediately, in time to keep his engagement. I freely admit I could not match that kind of dedication. I do not travel well: indeed, after a day trip to Rothesay I require counselling.
Another characteristic which is useful to the aspiring is a very high boredom threshold. The ability to sit through endless meetings, with seeming interest, while the same issues are revisited, the same arguments rehearsed, with no clear decision being taken, demonstrates the kind of bureaucratic mindset that is now highly valued in many organisations. If it is accompanied by a capacity to make the occasional 'positive' contribution to the discussion, preferably employing the latest meaningless jargon, so much the better. I suspect that my kind of research – which employs linguistic analysis to deconstruct the underlying purpose of new forms of professional language – has not served me well in this respect. My scepticism about fashionable discourse has no doubt marked me down as 'suspect' in terms of organisational loyalty.
Also useful to have in the kitbag of the ambitious is political astuteness combined with ethical flexibility. Low cunning can often pay much higher dividends than principled positioning. An impressive example of this involved a middle-ranking member of staff who persuaded his previous boss, a man of high standards, to nominate his successor for a prestigious academic honour. The case for doing so was made on credible grounds: it would be a generous act and would bring favourable publicity to the institution. When the honour was duly forthcoming, the deal-maker went to the beneficiary, whose principles did not match those of his predecessor, and suggested that some recognition for this supportive act was in order. Promotion soon followed. The notion that advancement in the academic world depends entirely on merit does not always stand up to scrutiny.
There is, of course, always a price to pay the higher one climbs. Senior positions may be well-rewarded and enable those who occupy them to exercise a degree of power that they find gratifying. But there is loss as well as gain. Look at what happens to politicians when they are given a ministerial portfolio. They have to accept 'cabinet responsibility', which means they are required to toe the approved line and suppress any personal reservations they might have about policies. They sacrifice intellectual freedom for the sake of a seat at the top table. So anyone who aspires to high office should think carefully, not only about where their talents really lie, but also about which values matter most to them. Failure to do so might lead to the sweet fruits of 'success' quickly turning rather sour. In 'Fame is the Spur' Hamer Shawcross is to be pitied as much as envied.