Merit, Class, and the Ossified Dream

Dispatch from Newark Airport

By X.T.M | Acting Editor, Brown Pundits

I lost my train of thought earlier, but I’m back now, writing this from Newark Airport, awaiting a flight back to the United Kingdom—then onward, as they say, to the old, old world.

What I’d begun to reflect on was social mobility—and how drastically it’s shifted over the past few decades. In much of the Global South, the idea of a working-class avant-garde—those who rose through grit, communal aspiration, and sacrifice—still retains cultural force. But in the Global North, that current has largely dissipated. Class structures have ossified. The ladder still exists, but the rungs are brittle.

I’ve been mapping that reality onto the commentariat, especially the highly educated, striving upper-middle-class Hindus who have, for the most part, embraced the system—IITs, IIMs, Oxbridge, the Ivies. These are not just institutions; they’re rites of passage. For many, the peak came at the point of entry. Twenty years on, what remains is not expansion, but a formula—one track, one ceiling.

Writers like Rob Henderson have spoken compellingly about this phenomenon in the West—of an educated elite that is credentialed but constrained. They are given just enough visibility to feel elite, but not enough leverage to transform their lives—or society’s structure.

So when I see some of these same voices now turning their frustration outward, I pause. It feels, to me, like a deflection from a quieter grief—that the system they devoted their lives to is underdelivering. That decades of discipline, compliance, and sacrifice have not yielded the sovereignty they were promised, but rather a precarious status, intellectual fatigue, and cultural dissonance.

This is not a critique of individuals. Far from it. I wish everyone the best—materially, intellectually, spiritually. But I don’t believe the answer lies in externalizing blame. The very system many of them defend is the one that quietly contains them. And that system—especially in elite professions—rarely rewards risk, originality, or interior growth.

In contrast, Kabir is different. For all his faults—and I’ve called them out—he operates with diasporic and class privilege. His provocations are idiosyncratic, even eccentric, but they come from a place of safety. That doesn’t make them better, but it does mean they don’t arise from the same pressure cooker. He doesn’t carry the same invisible load.

Letter-Writing as Form

What I find striking about Brown Pundits—and perhaps what I’ve only just now realized—is that this space has evolved into something closer to a collective letter-writing salon than a typical blog. Dr. Lalchand asked me what our readership was. I told her, honestly: I don’t know. And truthfully, I’m not very interested.

Because what is interesting is this: we have, at any given time, around 10 to 15 active contributors, each with strong voices, historical memory, and enduring disagreements. And what we’ve built is not a trending page—it’s a correspondence of minds, a place for missives rather than metrics. Some of the best intellectual work in history has emerged from letters.

As I write this, my Aer Lingus flight is beginning to board. There’s something about airports that crystallizes movement. The modern world flattens complexity; writing re-inflates it. I think of Edward FitzGerald—master of the letter form, translator of the Rubáiyát, and found solace in his own Suffolk cottages. Perhaps that’s what we’re doing here too?

On Civility and Free Speech

I’ve been reflecting lately on civility—and why I insist on it, even when provoked. It’s not about politeness. It’s about protecting the conditions for thought. I’ve had to endure comments calling Iran “uncivilized,” which, apart from being glib, overlook the profound refinement of Persian tarof, which may be one of the most intricate systems of dignity and etiquette ever created—on par, perhaps, with Kyoto or the British aristocracy at its best (and not, admittedly, as vulgar the drawing rooms of the great English country houses).

So no, this isn’t about being overly precious. It’s about preserving the possibility of nuance. Qureshi, for example, has functioned in a deeply grey zone—pseudonymous, agenda-laden, increasingly insistent on shaping the space to his liking. That’s not discussion. That’s quiet capture.

Which is why I struck hard today—not just on Honey Singh, but also on phyecho and other commentators. It wasn’t personal. It was about restoring the conditions for dispassionate conversation. That’s the point of this platform.

You may find something offensive. Flag it. I will look at it. But don’t meet offense with escalation. We’re not here to reenact a Twitter thread. We’re here to think.

A Shah, but Constitutional

At times I joke that I’m the Shah of Brown Pundits—constitutionally minded, of course. I don’t seek power, but I do hold responsibility. We are not a democracy here—but we are not a tyranny either. We are a salon. That requires discretion. And of course from time to time we have King Khan and the good Doctor visit us; so BP remains a triumvirate of sorts.

So, as I leave the United States for a time—heading toward the old world, toward contemplation, rest, and a slower rhythm—I leave you with this unfolding truth:

Let us not confuse provocation with principle. Let us not mistake anger for insight. And let us not externalize the failures of systems we ourselves have chosen. The ceiling is not where we thought it was. The game is not what we were told it would be. Somewhere in that recognition, I think, lies the beginning of truth.

— X.T.M

Acting Editor, Brown Pundits

Related Posts: Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt—It’s a Dammed Indus Too | Flame Thread Protocols: Honey Kabir | Jet Lag: India, Pakistan, and the Theatre of the Air | Flame Thread Warning | Open Thread — On Foundational Clefts and Brown Pundits’ raison d’être | BP Ground Rules for Commenters