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For many, collecting qualifications is a way to measure self-worth, personal attainment and personal intellectual effort. It’s about satisfaction, not just employability. Achieving a level of study reflects time, discipline and personal ability, it is measurable — not luck. If recognised by a non-corrupt organisation, it can be meaningful. But that recognition is fragile, often subject to trends and politics.

Qualifications can offer mostly a fair evaluation if accredited, until they expire if applicable and as where and when. Updating them becomes a revenue stream for institutions, whether public or private. It’s a form of indirect taxation, used to patch over departmental overspending or fund salary increases. Political parties vary in how they value qualifications, but the system often treats them as commodities.

Among the working classes; the so-called “Minions”, access to top universities is limited. These institutions prioritise foreign students who bring in revenue, reducing opportunities for domestic talent. Home-grown students cost more and expect more, which affects government spending and institutional profit margins.

This short-sighted approach is a temporary fix for a deeper problem in British education. It’s visible across industry and commerce. Some see it as aristocratic self-preservation, a generational gravy train. Even wealthy families can be sacrificed when necessary, if tradition demands it. Most of those holding power understand when it’s time to fall on their sword reluctantly, but strategically. There are obviously the odd exceptions.

Ultimately, qualifications are embedded in the national consciousness as valuable, but their worth is shaped by trends. In the UK, they’re issued like confetti, a tactic to blur the lines and to boost income. “Bums on seats” becomes the metric, not depth or

quality of learning. It’s a numbers game and the system plays it well.

Quality, as we once understood it, has become rare. It’s now a questionable concept, recognised only by those with a conscience and lived experience. Qualifications are shaped to suit trends, often driven by institutional income rather than individual development. They’ve become a form of currency among employers and peers, traded not for depth of learning but for compliance and optics.

The rise of low-value or “Mickey Mouse” qualifications reflects this shift. These courses offer the illusion of opportunity; a symbolic golden ticket to 'Willy Wonka’s factory'. But access depends on personality fit, conformity and unpublished rules. If your face fits, you might start as a floor-sweeper and work your way up to teamaker, provided you don’t rock the boat. Along the way, you learn to be a confidante. Loyalty, trust and hard work becomes the real qualifications — traits not taught in any syllabus but expected as signs of good character, confidentiality, loyalty and upbringing.

Employers reward these traits with minor incentives, certificates! bonuses! internal recognition! All designed to maintain control and avoid disruption. The fear of betrayal, of a knife in the back like Caesar, (The Ides of March), shapes workplace culture. Independent thinkers or overqualified applicants are often seen as threats. Thinking outside the box can be unacceptable or unpredictable.

Qualifications offer personal value. They build confidence, self-worth and sometimes ego. They can motivate, even corrupt. They give people an edge however; small and feed the cycle. Some say, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” But that depends on your moral compass.