that’s a sentiment that drips with the kind of raw, unvarnished meritocracy that some find comforting simple, clean, and, dare I say, naive.
You see, intelligence, like power, is rarely as straightforward as a number on a test paper. It is not a neatly stacked deck where the highest card always wins. No, intelligence is a far more complex currency, one that Oxbridge and the world at large trade in shrewdly.
You want to talk about grades?
Let’s talk about them. They are a fine metric, yes, but they are also an instrument easily sharpened by the right tutors, the right school, the right family name.
A perfect score doesn’t just measure raw intellect it measures preparation, privilege, and often the simple good fortune of being trained in the right kind of game.
And yet, even if we were to strip all that away and talk about pure, unadulterated cognitive horsepower, let me ask you this:
What is a university’s purpose?
Is it to collect the highest-scoring automatons and line them up like trophies on a shelf?
Or is it to cultivate leaders, thinkers, and influencers who can shape the world?
Because if you think a university is just a temple to IQ points, then you have misunderstood the very essence of power and influence.
Oxbridge isn’t in the business of handing out medals for memorization. It is in the business of curating a class of individuals who will rise, who will connect, who will move the levers of power.
Intelligence is useful, but it is not enough. The right personality, the right background, the right connections these things matter just as much, if not more.
So if you’re worried that someone with lesser grades is sitting in a space you believe should be yours, then perhaps the real question isn’t whether they belong.
The real question is why don’t you?