Meritocracy Is a Fairy Tale

The Joke We Took Seriously

The word meritocracy was invented by a man trying to warn you. Michael Young, a British sociologist, published The Rise of the Meritocracy in 1958. It was satire. A dystopia. The book describes a society that replaces aristocratic privilege with test-score privilege and watches everything go to hell in exactly the same ways. Young spent the rest of his life frustrated that people took his cautionary tale as an instruction manual.

That alone should give you pause. The foundational text of meritocratic thinking is a book about why meritocracy is a terrible idea. We just skipped the reading and kept the vocabulary.

What the Data Actually Says

Here is the single most reliable predictor of how much money you will make in America: how much money your parents made. Not your SAT score. Not your work ethic. Not your grit or hustle or whatever else the self-help industry is selling this quarter. Your parents' income.

Raj Chetty and his team at Opportunity Insights have built the most comprehensive dataset on economic mobility in American history. Their findings are blunt. A child born into the bottom fifth of the income distribution has a 7.5% chance of reaching the top fifth. If meritocracy were real (if talent and effort were roughly evenly distributed across income brackets, which they are) that number would be closer to 20%.

The Great Gatsby Curve, named by economist Miles Corak and popularized by former Council of Economic Advisers chair Alan Krueger, plots income inequality against intergenerational mobility across countries. The relationship is almost perfectly linear: the more unequal a society, the more your parents' position determines yours. The United States sits at the high-inequality, low-mobility end. The country that talks the most about meritocracy has some of the weakest evidence for it.

Zip Codes as Destiny

Chetty's research goes further. He can tell you, with startling precision, how much a given neighborhood will affect a child's lifetime earnings. Move a low-income kid to a better neighborhood before age 13 and their adult income increases by roughly $302,000 over their lifetime. After 13, the effect shrinks dramatically.

Think about what that means. The same kid, with the same brain, the same capacity for effort and creativity: that kid's economic future is largely written by where they happen to grow up. Not by who they are. By which patch of geography their parents could afford.

School funding in the US is tied to property taxes. Wealthy neighborhoods fund wealthy schools. Poor neighborhoods fund poor ones. This isn't a secret. Everyone knows it. We just don't call it what it is: a machine for reproducing class position across generations, dressed up in the language of local control.

The Legacy Admission Racket

If meritocracy were a real operating principle in American life, legacy admissions at elite universities would be illegal. Instead, they're tradition.

A 2019 study by economist Raj Chetty (yes, him again; the man has receipts) found that students from families in the top 1% of income are 77 times more likely to attend an Ivy League school than students from the bottom 20%. Legacy applicants at Harvard have been admitted at roughly five times the rate of non-legacy applicants. At some schools, legacy status provides an admissions advantage equivalent to scoring 160 points higher on the SAT.

This is not a system selecting for merit. This is a system selecting for inherited advantage and calling it merit after the fact. The degree from Princeton doesn't prove you're brilliant. It proves you had the resources, networks, and often the bloodline to get into Princeton.

And the kicker? The people who benefit most from these advantages are the loudest defenders of meritocracy. Of course they are. The story that says "I earned this" is more flattering than the story that says "I was born into this."

The Effort Myth

None of this means effort doesn't matter. It does. But effort operates within constraints that are set long before you make your first choice. A kid born in the South Bronx who works twice as hard as a kid born in Scarsdale will, on average, earn less over their lifetime. That's not a failure of effort. It's a failure of the system that pretends effort is the primary variable.

There's a useful concept from sociology called cumulative advantage, sometimes called the Matthew Effect, after the biblical verse about the rich getting richer. Small early advantages compound over time. The kid whose parents read to them every night enters kindergarten with a larger vocabulary. That vocabulary gap predicts reading ability. Reading ability predicts academic performance. Academic performance predicts college admission. College admission predicts income. Each step is "meritocratic" in isolation. In aggregate, it's a conveyor belt.

The same compounding works in reverse. A kid who misses school because their parent can't afford childcare falls behind. Falling behind predicts lower test scores. Lower test scores predict fewer opportunities. Fewer opportunities predict lower income. Every step feels like individual failure. None of it is.

Who Meritocracy Serves

So why does the myth persist? Because it's extraordinarily useful for the people at the top.

If outcomes are determined by merit, then inequality is just. The rich are rich because they're better. The poor are poor because they didn't try hard enough. Redistribution isn't justice; it's punishment of the talented. Safety nets aren't compassion; they're enabling laziness.

This is a theology. It has all the characteristics of one. An unfalsifiable core claim (the system rewards merit). A way to explain away contradictory evidence (anyone who fails despite effort must have a hidden character flaw). A moral framework that just happens to justify the existing power structure.

The political scientist Michael Sandel calls this meritocratic hubris, the tendency of winners to believe they deserve their success and, more damagingly, the tendency to believe that losers deserve their failure. It corrodes solidarity. If your position is earned, you owe nothing to anyone below you. Empathy becomes optional. Social programs become charity rather than obligation.

The Honest Version

What would it look like to be honest about this? It would mean saying: success in America is partly effort, partly talent, and largely circumstance. It would mean acknowledging that the single biggest factor in most people's economic trajectory was decided before they were born. It would mean building institutions that compensate for unearned disadvantage rather than laundering unearned advantage through the language of merit.

It would mean abandoning the comforting story that the hierarchy is natural. That the people on top belong there. That the people on the bottom had their chance and blew it.

Young knew this in 1958. He wrote a whole book about it. We've had almost seventy years to absorb the warning.

Instead, we built the world he was afraid of and named it after his satire. The joke landed. We just didn't get it.