Often in
public controversies, what’s not talked about is more interesting than
what is. So it is with the question of Muslim headscarves in
schools. We’ve had a lot of debate about whether they should be compatible with school uniforms (including a very thoughtful piece by Leslie Cannold in this morning’s Age), but no-one’s arguing about the propriety of forcing students to wear uniforms in the first place.

Conservatives
love school uniforms; it was one of the signs of Bill Clinton’s shift
to the right in the mid-1990s that he started talking about them
obsessively. They fit well with Brendan Nelson’s salute-the-flag
crusade. But I can do a computer course, or learn a foreign language,
or get a post-grad diploma, without having to wear a special costume.
Same with any other service that I purchase.

Children, however,
can’t fight back. Adults can use them at will to project their own
fantasies, whether it’s compulsory skirts for schoolgirls,
military-style uniforms for schoolboys, or just the sadistic pleasure
of making people wear uncomfortable clothes that they don’t like.

Defenders
of uniforms will point out that they’re common in the workforce,
such as for bank tellers and flight attendants. But that misses the
point: school students aren’t employees, they’re customers. Even Qantas
doesn’t demand that the passengers should wear uniforms.

Uniforms,
of course, promote “school spirit,” a sort of corporate identity for
schools. But if I bank at Westpac, they don’t demand tokens of
my loyalty or “bank spirit” against the hated rivals at ANZ. The very
idea is absurd.

Apart from schools, the only significant
industry that requires uniforms from its “customers” is the prison
system. That comparison tells us a lot about the education debate.