Why money cannot - and should not - buy a place at Oxford

In 2005 Trinity College, Oxford celebrates its 450th anniversary. Coincident with this significant date in the college's history, we have lodged an appeal. It has a twofold aim - to secure our academic base against the vagaries of government and university policy by financing our fellowships, and to protect ourselves against becoming an enclave for the rich only by endowing a significant number of bursaries.

This week, as reported, the co-Chairman of our Appeal Committee, a loyal and valued alumnus, resigned his post and withdrew a pledge of a substantial benefaction. Why? Because his son had just received a letter informing him that Trinity could not offer him a place in 2002.

Any Head of House in Oxford or Cambridge smiles wryly when Gordon Brown inveighs against an admissions system allegedly reminiscent of an old boy network. Of the many parents and teachers who are most vociferous about the rejection of their offspring and pupils, it is the old boys (may be within a short time at Trinity, the old girls, the first generation of whose children are already attaining university age) who are most wounded, no doubt because their affection for the college is the deepest, and their past contribution the greatest.

But equal treatment cuts both ways. Laura Spence was turned down by Magdalen because in open competition she ranked overall less highly than other candidates; a product of her school won a place at Trinity this year because of his merits; and next year at least one second-generation Trinitarian will come through the college gates, again because of his own qualities. Damon Runyon once wrote that all life is 2:1 against; but the odds against an applicant to Oxford are longer by far. This year in Trinity there were 343 applications for 78 places, although we successfully exported 38 to the other colleges. Many call; few are chosen. Successful candidates are to be congratulated; unsuccessful ones are not in any sense failures. Many are well-qualified for university study (as was the child of our disappointed alumnus) at Oxford or elsewhere. The Oxford admissions process is the academic equivalent of an Olympic final: a high-class competitor can finish well down the field. What counts is not how one fares against some fixed standard but how one compares with one's peers.

Access - the contemporary buzzword - means different things to different people. To me it is a means to an end - and the enhancement of the academic quality of my college's student community - not an end in itself, something subordinate to political correctness or social engineering. We are looking for potential in whatever area of the school system (here or abroad) we can find it. The exercise is one of judgment: and judgements will differ. We are not entitled to take risks, to prefer the uncut stone, which may be a diamond, over a polished semi-precious gem. But the selection process whose objectives are meritocratic and whose methods are as transparent and fair as they can be, will not disadvantage the Paulina or the Etonian any more than the rich sixth-former at an inner-city comprehensive.

The Shavian dilemma of choosing between offering a place to a suitably qualified candidate, whose father has promised in return a gift which would be of benefit to generations of students, at the expense of a worthy candidate, who would bring no such dowry in tow is not open to an Oxford Head of House. The bargain conventionally struck by major American private universities, which give alumnus connection weight in the admissions process and use alumnus generosity to fund places for the children of financially disadvantaged parents, is the product of a different culture. With fewer resources, less space, strict government quotas and substantial dependence on public monies, we do things differently here. Access is the friend of intellect but the enemy of income. But, as our campaign literature states, "our aim is to build up the capital funds needed to support the traditional disciplines which have sustained our past achievements and to reflect the new territories which have become visible on the map of learning".

We do not know why Chatham, our most eminent graduate sent his son (Pitt the Younger) to Cambridge. But he is not the only Prime Minister to have chosen a college other than his own for a son. Parentage, like patronage, no doubt conclusive in 18th-century Oxford admissions, is irrelevant in those of the 21st century. A college can sometimes pay a high price for its pursuit of the path of virtue.

Michael Beloff QC, is President of Trinity College, Oxford

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