Everything you said is true but not necessarily the problem of the cooks. IMO about 15 years ago in North America, you could not "swing a cat" (as they say down south) without hitting a "Restaurant Consultant". Graduate Schools were cranking out MBA's a bit too fast and there was just nothing for them to do. Then some bonehead decided that "All business is business". Period. All business school knowledge was transferable. No difference between a car factory and making a Terrine of Foie Gras with Pistachio Veloute. (Plus every restaurant in the US wanted to hang a sign outside that said "1 Billion Served" and the Consultants told them it was as easy as pie.)
As any kitchen pro knows, the hardest thing about your job is usually your staff. How do you attract someone to work for just barely above slave wages, sitting on top of a hot grill and make them CARE about whats going on? The answer, as any first year business school grad. student will tell you, is: MARKETING. There was a better chance of getting a "Chef" for 6.50/hr. than a plain old cook.
Cooks became CHEFS, Chefs became CELEBRITIES and people didn't go to culinary school to learn how to cook, they went to culinary school to become celebrities. People walk out of cooking school after a 1 or 2 year program and take their first job in a real kitchen (by that I mean a kitchen where people pay the cooks to cook. Not one where the cooks pay the owners of the school for the privilege of cooking.) And actually think they know more than someone that has never been to a brand-name Institute but has been working in a commercial kitchen for years. There is a very, very good reason an amazing % of cooking school grads. never last more than their first year in reataurant/commercial cooking.
But, it is not the fault of that 18 year old, well meaning "cook" that he/she walks around saying that he/she is a "CHEF". That is what the consultants, schools and Personnel Managers told them. Try walking into a European kitchen, 1 month out of school and saying "I am a Chef." You will probably find yourself in a tiny room, at the end of a long hall, lit by a dim lightbulb hanging from a wire, chopping carrots to brunoise until you learn a little respect.