Can a woman who can’t lead herself lead a nation?

It’s one of the oldest questions in politics and leadership: does moral integrity matter? Should we judge public figures by their private lives, or only by the outcomes of their public actions?

If a man or woman leads a country out of war, rescues an economy, or inspires a generation, should it concern us that they live a private life of chaos — sex, drugs, and rock and roll behind the curtain? Would Churchill’s whisky, Kennedy’s women, or today’s presidents’ indiscretions cancel out their public legacy?

Or is moral character inseparable from public trust — a person who cannot lead their own life or family surely cannot lead a nation with consistency, compassion, or restraint?

The convenient split

We like to split our heroes into compartments: the “private sinner” and the “public saviour.” It’s a comforting division. It allows us to admire brilliance while ignoring hypocrisy. But the two lives often bleed into one another.

A politician who cheats on his spouse might also cheat the public purse. A bishop who silences victims to protect the Church’s “reputation” might also protect power over truth. The capacity to lie at home often mirrors the capacity to lie in office.

Yet we’re also inconsistent in how we apply moral judgment. We forgive King Charles for betraying Diana — perhaps because his failings feel very human, almost Shakespearean. We condemn Prince Andrew, perhaps because his moral failures are no longer deniable. We elected a U.S. president with a criminal record, while deriding other nations for their corruption. And Boris Johnson — a man who fathered children by multiple women and lied with theatrical ease — remains, for some, a symbol of British optimism and charm.

Why? Because we admire confidence and results more than truthfulness. We are addicted to charisma, even when it’s dishonest.

The hypocrisy trap

Double standards abound. Politicians who campaign for “family values” are caught in affairs. Leaders who condemn crime are found embezzling taxes or funnelling money through offshore accounts. Religious figures who preach humility dress in gold and cover up abuse.

We seem to accept a quiet hypocrisy as part of public life. Perhaps we believe everyone is flawed. Perhaps we have grown cynical. Or perhaps, deep down, we know that to hold others accountable would mean holding ourselves accountable too.

But what about results?

The counterargument is simple: results matter. If a morally ambiguous leader ends a war, rebuilds an economy, or brings stability, should we care what happens in their bedroom? Isn’t the private life a private matter?

Yet the danger lies in normalising duplicity. If we say integrity is optional, we lose the right to expect honesty at all. The same man who cheats his wife may one day cheat his country — and we will have taught him that it doesn’t matter.

The measure of leadership

True leadership begins with self-leadership. A person who cannot govern their own impulses, desires, and relationships will eventually govern others with the same inconsistency. Integrity is not about moral perfection — it’s about coherence. When private truth aligns with public duty, trust becomes possible.

A man who cannot lead himself, or his family, may command authority, but he does not inspire it. Without inner discipline, power becomes performance.

The uncomfortable truth

Perhaps the question is not whether moral integrity matters — but why we keep pretending it doesn’t.

We can tolerate imperfection. We can forgive mistakes. But when deceit becomes normalised, leadership turns hollow. A man or woman who cannot tell the truth in private cannot be trusted to tell it in public.

And that, surely, is where the line must still be drawn.

Labour’s lost its Lesson Plan

So, the latest UK budget no longer talks about reviving grammar schools or rolling out new academies. Instead, the focus has shifted to funding school repairs and rebuilding. Labour has increased spending, but only by a very modest 1.6% real-terms rise per pupil—a tiny amount when compared with vast sums directed toward war and weapons. Large investments are being channelled into special educational needs (SEND), which is badly needed, but it means that mainstream schools are seeing relatively little benefit.

Personally—and speaking as a teacher—I remain in favour of a selective secondary education system, provided that it has safeguards. Late developers should be able to transfer schools, and children from disadvantaged areas must have genuine access to these opportunities. Without such mechanisms, selection only entrenches privilege.

There are, however, two issues that I find absurd about how Britain continues to “reform” its education system. First, there is still no sign of a politician with a passionate, forward-looking vision for schooling that genuinely prepares young people for the unstoppable forces of technology and globalisation. Such a vision might involve dismantling the outdated timetable of narrow subject blocks, and instead encouraging flexible, interdisciplinary learning. Secondly, the entire system has been treated for decades as a political football, demoralising teachers and disrupting the lives of millions of children.

As usual, the Conservative Party blames Labour for whatever blocks their proposals, while conveniently forgetting that it was the Conservatives themselves who abolished grammar schools and introduced comprehensive education in the first place.

Yet the politicisation of education is only the tip of the iceberg. The deeper problem is that nearly all politicians’ children attend private schools, misleadingly known as “public schools.” I hate to sound cynical, but perhaps this issue is ignored because:
a) the label “public school” disguises their exclusivity, and
b) so many of the country’s most successful journalists also attended them, and are thus either blind to the inequity or complicit in maintaining it.

Even now, the majority of Oxbridge students come from private schools, and they go on to fill senior positions in politics (David Cameron, Theresa May, Tony Blair), the civil service, journalism, law, medicine, diplomacy, and business. For as long as this pipeline exists, why would politicians truly care about the state system?

Nowhere else in Europe is the link between private schooling and elite opportunity so entrenched. Education in the UK remains less about nurturing knowledge, skills, or culture, and more about handing out socially constructed keys to financial security.

A quick comparison with other European countries—where politicians’ children generally attend state schools—confirms the point.

Marx was right: capitalism sustains itself by maintaining an alienated underclass. The British education system is one of the most efficient tools for ensuring exactly that.

Beyond Schadenfreude: Britain After the Wind

Past: How We Talked Ourselves Into a Corner

We never really argued Europe on first principles—peace, prosperity, human rights, freedom of movement, shared standards. We argued on slogans. We outsourced the national imagination to tabloids and demagogues, and then acted surprised when magical thinking produced real-world bills. By the time the dust settled, “sovereignty” had become a vibe, not a plan.

Present: The Pragmatism Trap

Today’s politics feels relentlessly utilitarian: manage the spreadsheet, massage the headline, survive the next 24-hour cycle. Vision is treated as a risk factor. Meanwhile, the structural problems keep stacking up:

Debt at 60-year highs. Public sector net debt sits around 96% of GDP, a level last seen in the early 1960s.
A health service running hot. NHS elective waiting lists hover at 7.36 million despite record treatment volumes.
Inflation cooled, but prices didn’t. CPI is down to 3.8% (from an 11.1% peak in 2022), but households are still living with the permanent shift in costs.
Housing approvals at record lows. The pipeline is shrinking, even as the government talks up 1.5 million new homes.
The politics of optics. “Small boats” dominate the agenda, while coherent policies on growth, migration and industry are sacrificed to tabloid storms.

This is what happens when governments treat governing like crisis PR: you chase the loudest gust of wind. The result is performative toughness—hotel bans, punitive rhetoric—while the fundamentals (growth, productivity, health, housing, skills) remain under-powered.

Future: A Grown-Up Programme for Renewal

We don’t need new messiahs; we need competent, credentialed reformers with an ethic. A country can’t live forever on services, inflated rates and an isolationist shrug.

1. Industrial base fit for AI.
Ten-year strategy on AI, clean energy, advanced materials, with support for both “frontier” research and everyday adoption by small firms.

2. Education and skills as national infrastructure.
Support teacher retention, technical education pipelines, lifelong learning accounts, apprenticeships with genuine ladders into growth clusters.

3. Health and care joined up.
Integrate NHS and social-care budgets, expand surgical hubs, measure success by reduced emergency admissions.

4. Housing built where people need it.
Make the 1.5m homes target binding, with planning reform and public-interest land value capture.

5. Europe, soberly.
Step back in functionally: science programmes, youth mobility, security cooperation, sector agreements—trust rebuilt by substance, not symbols.

6. Migration with adult supervision.
Break smuggling, speed up asylum decisions, create lawful routes, stop governing by hotel headlines.

Closing

Pragmatism is a virtue only when it’s anchored in principle. Otherwise, it’s drift. Britain needs leaders who can hold a compass in high wind—and citizens ready to reward them for it.

Education for the future, or the preservation of privilege?

Intelligence vs. Success: Why Our Education System is Broken

What is Intelligence?

At its simplest, intelligence is not about certificates, grades, or titles. True intelligence is the ability to understand, process, and reapply information in new contexts. It is a flexible and adaptive capacity — the skill to see patterns, make connections, and act with insight in real life. Many of the most intelligent people I have ever met were not those who topped the class but those who could solve a problem in unexpected ways, or question assumptions everyone else accepted as “normal.”

Success in a Socially Constructed System

Our education system, however, rewards something quite different. It is socially constructed in such a way that success is often defined by compliance with rules and frameworks designed generations ago. More than that, it is geared towards the preservation of privilege. Children from wealthy families are more likely to thrive in a system that reflects their own cultural capital, gaining qualifications that open doors to secure and lucrative careers. By contrast, working-class children are too often measured against a yardstick that was never designed with them in mind. In effect, the system keeps the rich rich and the poor poor.

A Lesson from Sussex

When I was researching at the University of Sussex, I interviewed working-class students about their approaches to GCSE questions. In one memorable case, a group of students deliberately wrote down the “wrong” answer to a maths problem. Why? Because the “right” answer, when calculated, contradicted the real-life cost of a can of Coca-Cola in a vending machine. Their intelligence was not lacking — on the contrary, they were thinking critically, applying lived experience, and exposing the unreality of the exam question itself. Yet, in the rigid world of assessment, such insight was penalised as failure.

Knowledge as a Social Construct

We like to imagine that subjects such as biology, history, or geography represent objective slices of truth. But these disciplines are themselves social constructs — artificial divisions of what is, in reality, a seamless experience. Even mathematics, often called “pure,” is anything but: it is shaped by human assumptions, conventions, and applications. Our schools carve up knowledge into neat compartments, while real life is profoundly cross-curricular. Consider the simple act of buying groceries: it involves mathematics, nutrition, economics, language, and even ethics. Yet no exam paper will ever measure this.

Falling Behind in the Age of AI

The problem is not only philosophical but practical. Technology has already transformed our lives, and artificial intelligence is now reshaping them even more dramatically. Our education systems, however, remain outdated relics of the industrial age, leaving students poorly prepared for the world they are about to inherit. Those without academic certificates are too often made to feel unintelligent, when in fact they may possess precisely the skills and insight the future will demand.

Towards a Radical Rethink

Something must change — and fast. We urgently need to deconstruct the oligarchical system of education and redesign it from the ground up. A modern education must:

Equip students for the realities of a technologically advanced, interconnected world.
Foster creativity and critical thinking alongside adaptability and resilience.
Sustain a love of the arts while embracing science and innovation.
Provide equal opportunities for children from all racial, social, and economic backgrounds.

True education should not preserve privilege. It should unleash intelligence in all its diverse forms — and prepare every young person to flourish in a future that belongs to them.