For the last three decades, education policy in the UK and the USA has been driven by a seductive narrative. We are told that by introducing “market forces” into schools, we empower parents with “choice.” We are told that “raising aspirations” is the key to social mobility, unlocking the slumbering potential of disadvantaged youth. It is a story of meritocracy, where the right attitude and the right choices lead inevitably to success.

However, a robust body of sociological research suggests this narrative is not only flawed but fundamentally deceptive. Far from being a neutral mechanism for improvement, the education market operates as a sophisticated class strategy that reproduces inequality. From the anxieties of working-class parents to the rise of global educational elites, the evidence reveals that the neoliberal experiment in education is a “degenerating research programme,” failing to deliver on its promises of efficiency and equity.

The Myth of the Neutral Market

The foundational promise of the education market is that competition will drive up standards for everyone. Proponents argue that if parents act as consumers, schools will be forced to improve or close, much like businesses. However, this “idealized” view of the market ignores the messy reality of social class.

Sociologist Stephen Ball argues that markets in education are not neutral; they are politically constructed to favor those who already possess cultural and material advantages. In a market system, the “self-interest” of the consumer is paramount. But this self-interest is not just about finding a good school; it is about securing relative advantage over others. For middle-class families, education is a mechanism for class reproduction. They use their cultural capital—knowledge of the system, confidence to negotiate with teachers, and social networks—to navigate the market effectively.

Crucially, the market does not just allow parents to choose schools; it allows schools to choose students. In a competitive environment, schools are incentivized to recruit “value-adding” clients—students who are academically able and easy to teach—while screening out those with “expensive” learning needs or behavioral issues. This “cream-skimming” creates a stratified system where popular schools thrive by excluding the very students who need the most support. As Ball notes, this turns the logic of public service on its head: schools shift from a commitment to service to a commitment to survival.

The “Aspiration” Trap: Governing the Soul

If the market mechanism rigs the game structurally, the discourse of “aspiration” rigs it psychologically. Since the early 2000s, policy rhetoric has increasingly blamed low social mobility on a “poverty of aspiration” among the working class. This narrative frames structural disadvantage as a psychological deficit, suggesting that if young people simply “aimed higher” and developed more “resilience,” they could overcome material poverty.

Researchers Spohrer, Stahl, and Bowers-Brown argue that this focus on aspiration is a neoliberal “technology of government”. It seeks to govern individuals “from the inside” by requiring them to work on their inner selves—their attitudes, desires, and self-esteem—to become economically productive subjects. This discourse positions young people in a contradictory way: they are seen as having “deficit” (due to their background) but also “potential” (if they transform themselves).

This creates a “cruel optimism.” Young people are sold an unachievable fantasy of the “good life” through social mobility, ignoring the reality of a shrinking labor market and intense competition. When they inevitably face structural barriers, the failure is internalized. If success is a matter of “attitude,” then poverty becomes a personal moral failing rather than a systemic injustice. As distinct from a genuine attempt to help, raising aspiration strategies often serve to legitimize inequality by shifting responsibility from the state to the individual.

Spoilt for Choice: The Lived Reality of Class

The abstract theories of market choice crash against the hard rocks of working-class experience. While middle-class parents often approach school choice as a strategic game they expect to win, working-class parents frequently experience it as a high-stakes gamble they are likely to lose.

Research by Diane Reay and Stephen Ball reveals that for many working-class families, choice is infused with ambivalence, fear, and a desire to avoid humiliation. Memories of their own educational failures make them reluctant to push their children into high-pressure academic environments where they might not “fit in”. Instead of maximizing academic advantage, working-class choice is often governed by a logic of pragmatism and safety—choosing the local comprehensive where their child will feel “at home” rather than risking rejection at a prestigious selective school.

This is not “bad parenting” or a lack of ambition; it is a rational response to a system that stigmatizes working-class identity. Working-class parents are often acutely aware that the educational market judges them and their children as less valuable assets. Consequently, they engage in a process of “self-elimination,” effectively removing themselves from the competition before it even begins. The market, therefore, doesn’t just sort students by ability; it institutionalizes a sense of social worth, distinguishing between the “valued” middle-class consumer and the “residual” working-class client.

The Global Arms Race: Positional Competition

The intensity of this competition is exacerbated by globalization. Education is increasingly a “positional good”—its value depends not on how much you have, but on how much you have relative to others. As access to higher education expands, the value of a standard degree diminishes, triggering a credential arms race.

Hugh Lauder and Phillip Brown point out that the “war for talent” has gone global. Multinational corporations and global elites are no longer satisfied with national credentials; they seek “gold standard” qualifications like the International Baccalaureate (IB) to secure entry into elite global universities. This has led to the explosion of international schools, which cater to a transnational ruling class or aspiring indigenous elites.

This global dimension creates a “democratic deficit.” These elite circuits of schooling operate beyond the control of national governments, allowing the wealthy to bypass local educational systems entirely. Meanwhile, the “knowledge economy” rhetoric justifies massive public investment in higher education on the false premise that supply creates demand—that having more graduates will automatically lead to high-wage jobs. In reality, we are seeing a “productivity problem” and the collapse of the graduate wage premium for all but the top decile of earners.

Beyond the Banking Model

Underlying all these policies—markets, aspiration, and global competition—is what Paulo Freire termed the “banking model” of education. This model views education strictly as an investment: students are deposits, knowledge is currency, and the goal is a financial return in the labor market. It reduces learning to the acquisition of “human capital” and forces schools to focus narrowly on test scores and league tables to prove their “efficiency”.

However, this model is bankrupt. It fails to account for the intrinsic value of education or the need for “human flourishing” beyond economic productivity. The relentless focus on testing and accountability has produced a “state theory of learning” that damages student mental health and narrows the curriculum, without delivering significant improvements in genuine educational standards.

We need a paradigm shift. We must move from a “banking model” to a “growth model” of education. This would prioritize “learning to be” and “learning to live together” over mere credential accumulation. It would recognize that human capabilities are not fixed “stocks” to be traded but dynamic flows that develop over a lifetime.

Conclusion: The End of an Era?

The neoliberal consensus in education is cracking. The evidence shows that markets do not create equity; they entrench advantage. The “aspiration” agenda does not empower the poor; it pathologizes them. And Human Capital Theory can no longer explain the broken relationship between education and the economy.

These are, in the words of Hugh Lauder, “degenerating research programmes”. They are kept alive not by evidence, but by political ideology and the vested interests of those who benefit from the current hierarchy. To move forward, we must stop asking how to make working-class children more like the middle class. Instead, we must interrogate the structures that necessitate “winners” and “losers” in the first place. We must abandon the fantasy that the market can solve social inequality and return to the difficult, necessary work of building an education system based on democratic values, community, and the genuine development of every individual—regardless of their economic utility.

The experiment has failed. It is time to stop playing a game where the rules are rigged, and the dice are loaded. It is time to rethink the very purpose of education.