David Cameron is the nineteenth prime minister who went to Eton. So did Robert Walpole, the Duke of Wellington, William Gladstone, Arthur Balfour, Anthony Eden and Harold MacMillan. And two of his cabinet ministers.
Eton, built on the banks of the Thames near Windsor more than five hundred years ago, is not the most expensive public school in the U.K., nor do its graduates necessarily get the best exam results. But the boys – no girls – who go there know what it means to be an Etonian. It means – in one word – nobility. It means they have a better chance to become prime minister than the old boys of Westminster School in London, which his deputy and coalition partner, Nick Clegg, attended – also an excellent and venerable public – i.e., private – school, but not Eton. Of course not every Etonian has that chance. The sons of Russian oligarchs and Årab sheiks and others without the right background do not have it. They will have to be satisfied with merely making money.
In spite of the far-reaching changes in English society that have taken place since the war, David Cameron’s rise to power clearly demonstrates that the class system in the U.K. is fundamentally intact, even if some observers have suggested the Etonian label contravenes the zeitgeist after thirteen years of Labour and was a handicap rather than an asset. In any case, he is unlikely to back any radical social changes by following the example of Nicholas Sarkozy, who recently caused an outcry (by some) in France when he demanded that les grandes écoles admit thirty percent of their students from low income groups. The schools’ umbrella organization immediately declared that any attempt to weaken entry qualifications would inevitably lead to a lower standards.
In the foreseeable future Eton is safe.
According to the author Nick Fraser, it deserves its success because of the extraordinary range of freedoms it grants to pupils. They are particularly well-prepared for a life in politics, he believes, because so many school societies, sports clubs and other activities are run by the pupils themselves.
“Boys elect each other to positions of influence. So from a very early age, you become adept at being charming, buying votes, being smarmy.”
Others have observed that the school puts a premium on individualism: “You’re encouraged to pursue any dream you might have,” an old boy declares. “Eton allows a degree of dissent and, to a certain extent, encourages it. That’s very helpful to anyone who wants a leadership role.”
Many do.
The prime minister of Thailand, Abhisit Vejjajiva, is an Old Etonian.
Eric Koch’s book, The Weimar Triangle, is available at Indigo-Chapters and in your local bookstore. 
The hapless Sir Alec Douglas-Home (pronounced Hume) was an old Etonian, and the last prime minister from the school.
Wellington hated the place, according to his biographer, and never said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton.
Of course he didn’t. He was too busy playing the violin!
Probably the battle for Bangkok will not turn out to have been won on the playing fields of Eton, either.
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