Everyone praises education. Politicians declare it the foundation of freedom. Parents call it the key to success. Reformers dream of its ability to lift the poor. But beneath these warm slogans lies a colder reality. Education was not born to enlighten. It was born to prepare nations for competition. And in doing so, it turned people into competitors too.
The origin: A tool of the state, not the individual
Mass schooling did not appear when humanity discovered the value of books. It appeared when states discovered the need for soldiers, clerks, and workers. The Prussian model in the 18th century set the standard. It delivered punctuality, obedience, and literacy. And it inspired imitators. France, Britain, Japan, and later the United States followed. They did not do so out of love for knowledge, they did so out of fear. They feared falling behind.
As industrial power grew, so did the need for a standardized, trainable population. Reading allowed men to follow instructions. Math allowed them to calculate costs. Geography helped them navigate borders. Education, then, became a weapon. A weapon for national survival.
The international arena: Competing states
No nation could afford to remain ignorant while its rivals advanced. Literacy rates became national statistics. Exam results became diplomatic anxieties. If one country produced more engineers, it could dominate trade. If another trained better soldiers, it could conquer. Thus, education became the bloodline of national pride. It was no longer a luxury. It was compulsory. And the more the world modernized, the more this compulsion deepened.
But while the surface promoted equality, the deeper function was hierarchy. Not everyone could become a scientist. Someone still needed to sweep streets, fix sewers, and deliver boxes. Therefore, the school system began to sort.
Internal logic: The race within
Children entered classrooms not just to learn, but to compete. Grades ranked them. Tests compared them. Certificates separated them. One child moved forward, another stayed behind. This was not accidental. It was designed. Schools were built not only to teach—but to filter.
And so, education became a contest. One where winners gained access to universities, stable jobs, and professional prestige. The losers, meanwhile, were directed elsewhere. Some took manual jobs. Others vanished into the informal economy. The rest became part of an invisible majority—those who “did not make it.”
Education as leverage: individual climbing
In this system, education became not just a duty—but a ladder. A child who could master the codes of grammar, algebra, and obedience could rise. Especially in societies where class mobility was restricted, education promised an exit. It became the great lever of social advancement.
But that lever had weight. The higher the child wanted to climb, the more resources they needed. Private tutors, calm homes, nutrition, and connections all influenced success. Thus, while the ideal was meritocracy, the reality was stratified access. The rich could buy success. The poor had to outperform.
And yet, every family was told the same myth: study hard, and you will succeed. For a few, it worked. For most, it did not.
Those who do not make it: The human cost
The system does not merely leave people behind. It marks them. A failed student is not just someone without a diploma. They are someone whom society declares unfit. And once that judgment is made, opportunities close.
Job interviews disappear. Credit access vanishes. Social status sinks. Self-worth deteriorates. And so, exclusion becomes pathology. Without access to stable income or identity, many turn to substitutes. Alcohol becomes a comfort. Drugs become an escape. Violence becomes expression. Suicide becomes an exit.
Statistical maps show clear patterns. Regions with high dropout rates often show high murder rates. Unemployment correlates with educational failure. Incarceration follows school expulsion like shadow follows body. This is not coincidence. It is systemic fallout.
Moreover, unemployment itself becomes a trap. Long-term joblessness is not just an economic issue. It is a psychological rupture. People without work for years begin to lose social skills, motivation, and basic self-esteem. Their family life suffers. Domestic violence increases. Children are neglected. Shame replaces ambition. Depression becomes chronic.
Eventually, entire neighborhoods fall into cycles of despair. Without qualifications, residents are locked out of the formal economy. Without hope, crime fills the void. Theft, drug dealing, and gang activity do not arise from evil—they arise from exclusion.
Mental health services rarely reach these zones. Job retraining is often symbolic. Government aid is stingy and humiliating. And so, the victims of educational failure become labeled as “lazy” or “dangerous.” Society fears them, isolates them, and forgets that it built the trap they fell into.
Even worse, these patterns are generational. Children growing up in such conditions are far more likely to repeat the same path. Their schools are worse. Their role models are absent, their futures are judged before they begin. Educational exclusion becomes a hereditary curse.
Male disadvantage: A hidden crisis
While gender equality remains a battle, one overlooked dynamic is the collapse of male achievement in schooling. Especially among working-class boys, the system appears hostile. It penalizes impulsivity, it stigmatizes physical energy. It rewards linguistic precision and emotional compliance. These are not biologically male weaknesses. They are culturally loaded expectations.
As boys fall behind, they are disciplined harder. Suspended more often. Diagnosed more quickly. Their path narrows earlier. And by adulthood, they dominate the ranks of the unemployed, imprisoned, and addicted.
Society talks about broken men. But it rarely asks: who broke them?
Illusion of mobility, reality of reproduction
Politicians claim that education is the ladder out of poverty. But the data shows otherwise. Most children born into the bottom stay there. Most children born into wealth retain it. Schooling offers symbols of merit. But beneath those symbols lies continuity.
Elite families send children to elite schools. They hire elite tutors. They live in elite neighborhoods. Their children compete—but only with each other. For the rest, public schools offer underpaid teachers, outdated materials, and overcrowded classes.
Yet everyone takes the same exam. And the results are called fair.
Psychological warfare: The price of performance
Even those who succeed pay a price. Anxiety disorders, depression, and burnout now define youth in competitive societies. The pressure to perform replaces the joy of discovery. Children study not because they are curious, but because they are afraid. Afraid of failure, afraid of shame. Afraid of being discarded.
Parents echo this fear. Entire households orbit around school calendars. Success becomes identity. Failure becomes existential. Childhood becomes preparation, not experience.
What could be: A system beyond ranking
Imagine schools without ranking; imagine learning without fear. Imagine an education system designed to explore, not to exclude. Where creativity mattered more than repetition. And where cooperation replaced rivalry. Where every child mattered—not just the top ten percent.
Such a world is technically possible. We have the tools. We have the knowledge. What we lack is incentive.
Because the current system works—for those who benefit from it. It sorts society. And it manufactures labor. It protects privilege. And it allows elites to point at diplomas as proof that they earned their status.
Conclusion: School as a structure of competition
Education began as a response to geopolitical fear. It evolved into a machinery of internal competition, it now serves to filter society, reproduce class, and manage human surplus. It still teaches. But it also excludes. It inspires—but it also wounds.
Until we confront the structural violence within the school system, reform will remain cosmetic. And until education values humans over hierarchies, the system will keep producing winners who burn out—and losers who break.
Compulsory schooling was built to help nations win wars. Today, it helps individuals fight each other. And both battles leave victims in their wake.
Further reading: IQ 400: Rise of AI-Humans and Robots (Jan Bryxí, 2025)
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