Will abandoning the arts in favour of science produce better politicians? | thearticle

In 1959, the chemist, novelist and mandarin CP Snow delivered a famous lecture on “The Two Cultures”, berating the British establishment for its indifference to science. Has anything really

changed? On _University Challenge_, Jeremy Paxman recently had occasion to remark that arts students were just as scientifically illiterate as their predecessors sixty years ago. “I see the

two cultures are alive and well,” he observed drily. How many younger viewers, though, would have picked up the reference? Yet something has changed. University admissions figures reveal a

huge decline in the proportion of undergraduates choosing arts subjects over the past decade. English literature degrees have collapsed by a third and modern languages by at least 36 per

cent since 2011. Even history, the most popular arts degree, has declined by a fifth. Medicine, computing and engineering are, by contrast, more popular than ever before. The pandemic is

likely to have accelerated the trend by encouraging young people to choose medical and biological degrees.   So is the boot now firmly on the other foot? After generations in which the

humanities have been dominant, are we witnessing their disappearance from the corridors of power? (The phrase comes from one of Snow’s _Strangers and Brothers _sequence of novels.) Can

Britain expect to see another scientist in No10 any time soon? So far, the only one has been Margaret Thatcher, who had to contend with prejudice on that score, as if snobbery and misogyny

were not enough. During the present crisis, many have compared the Balliol classicist Boris Johnson unfavourably with his German counterpart, Angela Merkel, who has a doctorate in physics.

Yet we should be careful what we wish for. Of course a better balance between arts and sciences among those in positions of leadership is welcome. It is also undoubtedly overdue. But to

assume that a kind of oligarchy of the arts is about to be overthrown is a crude caricature of past, present and future. Until the latter half of the 19th century, it was unusual for British

prime ministers to go to university at all. The same applied to most other public figures, including some of the most intellectually gifted. This applied to both the Cromwells (Thomas and

Oliver), both the Pitts (Elder and Younger), Nelson and Wellington, Palmerston and Disraeli. The scholarly statesmen Thomas More and Francis Bacon did admittedly study at Oxford and

Cambridge respectively, but neither took a degree. Even in the last century, a substantial minority of our prime ministers never attended university; they include the two great wartime

leaders Lloyd George and Churchill. There was, indeed, much to be said for the role of autodidacts in politics, as in other walks of life. Yet they have largely vanished from our councils of

state. The last two to occupy 10 Downing Street, the late Lord Callaghan and Sir John Major, were only moderately successful leaders. It is now almost inconceivable that we shall ever see a

non-graduate at the helm again. We live in a meritocracy which only recognises academic achievement. The only science that has rivalled history as a training for high office has, of course,

been the dismal one: economics. What was once known as political economy is now often studied as part of the combined degree, originally restricted to Oxford, known as PPE (politics,

philosophy and economics). Yet only one Prime Minister has so far held office who could be described as a professional economist: Harold Wilson. This experiment enjoyed mixed success. Wilson

won four elections, but under his stewardship the economy lurched from one crisis to the next.  In any case, economics is a social rather than a natural science. The current vogue for

“STEM” subjects (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) is a new phenomenon for this country and will eventually feed into public life. But is the prospect of a Parliament

dominated by boffins, geeks and medics talking incomprehensible jargon really any more enticing than the present ascendancy of slick lawyers and smug historians? True statesmanship resides

in the combination of wide and rich experience, the ability to listen as well as to communicate, strong convictions and the courage to stick to them. These qualities cannot readily be

taught, but are acquired in action. “The university of life” may be a cliché, but there is truth in the notion that leadership skills in any field can only evolve beyond the laboratory and

the lecture hall. The survival of the fittest for political office is not for the squeamish: when Disraeli reached Downing Street, he is said to have declared: “I have climbed to the top of

the greasy pole.” In that slippery ascent, those who are familiar with the past perhaps have an advantage over those who always start from first principles. Perhaps the greatest leader this

country has ever produced, Winston Churchill, had enormous respect for science and scientists. He also read and wrote a great deal about it, often prophetically; he foresaw the threat of

nuclear war decades before others. Yet his advice to a teenager was unambiguous: “Study history, study history. In history lies all the secrets of statecraft.” We need our posterity to be

equally at home in both cultures, the sciences and the arts. The specialist is indispensable, but only the generalist can survey the whole scene. A MESSAGE FROM THEARTICLE _We are the only

publication that’s committed to covering every angle. We have an important contribution to make, one that’s needed now more than ever, and we need your help to continue publishing throughout

the pandemic. So please, make a donation._