Watch out, it's Bruiser Clarke the boffin-basher

His dead-eyed utilitarian code reduces education to churning out limited, wealth-producing units

There is something aggressively contemporary about the new facial fashion statement for middle-aged men of a certain type – the half-beard. What on a young man could be described as harmless designer stubble takes on a different character when the hair is grey and the chin from which it sprouts is a snowdrift of pale flesh tumbling downwards to the neck. The leering tabloid journalist Gary Bushell has one, as do the ill-tempered chairman of Chelsea Football Club and Eric "Slowhand" Clapton. The most obtrusive half-beard of the moment is that of the Education Secretary, Charles Clarke.

If by their chins ye shall know them, what do half-beards tell us about their owners? That they are uncomfortable with middle age? Of course. That they are troubled by the number of chins they see in the mirror? Almost certainly. That they have not quite got the nerve to have an honest growth like David Blunkett, or Alfred, Lord Tennyson or Keith Flett, president of the Beard Preservation Society? Perhaps.

But there must be something more to it that that – after all to remain scrupulously semi-shaven must take time and effort. It seems that the main reason why these men (with the possible exception of Slowhand) have gone for the half-beard look is that they want to appear hard.

In the case of Charles Clarke, the need to be considered a bruiser is significant. He is in charge of a major ministry and, given the size of the Government's majority and his personal ambition, it is likely that his decisions will profoundly affect the future of the nation's children. Here, half-beard pattern behaviour matters to us all.

Clarke's bull-in-a-china-shop approach to his job had, at first, something refreshing about it. He went stubble-to-stubble with Ken Bates, pointing out that, in spite of its wealth and influence, Chelsea had refused to join a rather brilliant initiative encouraging young fans to attend study centres at their local football clubs. If some of the new Education Secretary's remarks had teachers blubbing into their coffees, that was not necessarily a bad thing either. As anyone who has visited schools will know, not only are some bright, saintly teachers to be found there, but also some lazy sods who would be unable to hold a job down anywhere else – "dead wood", as David Blunkett once described them.

It has somehow been no surprise that one of the minister's better ideas, to talk to authors like Philip Pullman and Andrew Motion about teaching English, has already received a scurfy put-down from the educational establishment. "I hope Clarke is not being seduced by fame and wealth," John Dunford of the Secondary Heads Association has said. "We can see what happens when legions of pop stars start trooping into No 10."

Why the sneer? The fact is that the obsession with exams, league tables and prescribed texts, all pioneered by Labour, has made teaching – and, more significantly, learning – duller, while doing little to raise standards. Naturally it is easier to teach to a government-ordained script – imagination involves effort – but one would like to think that teachers would welcome the involvement of intelligent outsiders at the "creativity summit" which the Education Secretary will be holding next month.

But then, in a typically half-bearded way, Charles Clarke has been sending out precisely the opposite signals when it comes to universities. Governments should only pay for higher education that has a "clear usefulness", he has announced, adding, "I don't mind there being some medievalists around for ornamental purposes, but there is no reason for the state to pay for them."

Clearly, these are not merely views that Clarke expresses out of a spirit of mischief; not so long ago, he was gaily dismissing the importance of classics in higher education. Presumably, according to this dead-eyed utilitarian code, English, History, Philosophy and other disciplines lacking in "clear usefulness" should expect no support from the Government.

This, of course, is the precise opposite of what his creativity summit will be setting out to do. It reduces education from its time-honoured role of bringing out the intellectual and moral potential in a young person to the task of churning out well- qualified but limited, wealth-producing economic units.

The implications of Clarke's views are not only philistine, but sinister and fascistic. It should hardly need saying that, in an evolved and civilised society, higher education exists at least in part to help members of an élite to think for themselves, to look beyond the surface of things, to analyse the world about them with a healthy curiosity and scepticism.

It may well be that some of the stubbled thugs in public life would prefer there to be as few people behaving in this unco- operative way as possible. That is precisely why they are needed.

terblacker@aol.com