Against Boutique Education

Fellowships are valuable, but they can’t replace universities.

Colin Redemer, in his “The Return of the Fellowship,” proposes vastly increasing the number of fellowships—tailored programs of study—as a solution to the problems of higher education. Higher education is an unreformable morass, doomed by the challenge posed by artificial intelligence (AI). Sprightly, unbureaucratic fellowships such as the Claremont Institute, Redemer argues, offer an easier and more effective path for higher education reform.

Redemer’s fellowships are fine creatures, and they surely deserve support. But they serve boutique purposes and cannot be adapted to the mass education and credentialing functions of the universities without becoming universitieswith all their attendant bureaucracies and dysfunctions. Redemer is acute about the problems afflicting the university and the virtues of fellowships, but he does not convince in his argument that the latter is a solution to the former.

The modern university is supposed to provide mass education and mass credentialing. Education is supposed to be general, educating students to pursue any career in the country. Credentialing is also meant to be general, a way for employers who do not personally know their students or their recommenders to hire a new employee with some guarantee that they will be halfway decent at their jobs. The modern mass universities aren’t supposed to be utopias of scholarly and teaching excellence—though they should aspire to those ideals. They are supposed to be guarantees of moderately rigorous all-purpose adequacy.

This function is opposite to that of Redemer’s preferred fellowships. These are meant to provide a personal seal of approval for ideologically formed cadres, steering them into leadership roles in civil society and government. They are meant to provide a form of redress to the ideological capture of mass education, but they are not themselves engaged in mass education. Fundamentally, they still depend on the mainstream K-12 and university system. The fellowships assume basic competence in the awardees, from literacy to research skills, and they employ Ph.Ds to teach. Redemer received his from the University of Aberdeen. Fellowships, as they now stand, are fundamentally dependent upon the existing university system.

Fellowships, to provide a true challenge to the universities, would have to be provided to create a teaching cadre. The fellowships would need to be expanded to provide teachers across a wide range of subjects. The fellowships would have to create a system of mutual recognition. The fellowships, as their predecessors nigh a millennium ago, would have to become universities. There might be some temporary benefit in creating new universities without the dysfunctions of the old. There probably would not be enough benefit to make the experiment worthwhile.

Depoliticized universities evolved from fellowships and would still face the AI challenge that Redemer so acutely analyzes. The AI challenge, at the least, is that most students seem prepared to cheat with AI for any task where they cannot be directly proctored. We, therefore, are evolving toward a regime in which students receive only classroom instruction, do no homework, and never acquire the habits of independent reading, independent writing, and sustained independent initiative and effort necessary to maintain the modern economy and government, much less to innovate and improve them. We will depend utterly on AI since our children will have become lazy semi-literates incapable of independent thought or work.

This is a terrible challenge. But Redemer’s fellowships do not offer a solution to it. Claremont’s fellowships are excellent at educating a limited number of fellows who already have received a decent college education to know something of the basics of America’s principles. They never claimed to offer a solution to mass cheating, mass illiteracy, and mass unwillingness to do homework, and they are not well-suited to provide one.

Not that the universities offer a better solution. Redemer accurately states that they are corrupt labyrinths. I have argued elsewhere that it is still worth fighting to reclaim the university, cantonment by cantonment—but Redemer’s judgment that it is not worth the fight is a powerful rejoinder. I think it is a necessary fight, however difficult, but Redemer may be proven right. Still, even if he is right that the universities are not worth the fight, I don’t think his fellowship alternative can succeed.

I don’t have a perfect solution. Part of the answer lies in creating a network of K-12 schools that teach students the basic habits of honor, honesty, reading, writing, initiative, and hard work. The Classical education schools offer our best current hope of providing that network for the nation. Some part lies in creating effective standardized assessments—the Classic Learning Test, ideally expanded to include equivalents of the GRE and the SAT. Some part lies in discerning between what is needed to educate good engineers to work on the latest projects of Peter Thiel and Elon Musk and what is needed to create leaders imbued with the ideals of Western civilization and able to preserve our republic.

All these parts of the solution might still fail to meet the challenge of AI. The scope of AI’s challenge seems to increase by the week, so we should not search too quickly for comprehensive solutions. What I proffer I think is a step in the right direction—but I offer that judgment very tentatively. As for Redemer’s fellowships, they will not help us restructure the university or meet the AI challenge. But they are still good ideas and worth supporting. They will help us greatly, even if they are not panacaeas.

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  1. The Connecticut ministers started Yale because they weren’t happy with the ministers they were getting from Harvard. 119 years later, believing that Harvard had “gone to hell”, a group of Harvard professors went out and founded Amherst College in the distant Pioneer Valley.

    One of the Amherst college yearbooks from the early 1930s mentions an incident where the freshman class was attempting to light a bonfire, and the sophomore class rolled “a barrel of gasoline“ down a hill so as to prevent them from doing so. 20 years later, an Amherst College undergraduate (who would later become a UMass professor) and his fraternity brothers would entertain themselves on Friday nights by throwing purple paint at every car that drove through downtown Amherst — purple being the color of Amherst College.

    There was also something about stealing the mascot of rival Williams College and getting it onto a railroad flat car that was part of a train that went through Amherst during a Amherst/Williams football game. Dismissed as a fraternity prank in the 1950’s, it wouldn’t be today — Amherst College eliminated fraternities in 1984, and banned participation in off campus fraternities in 2014.

    I mention this to challenge the Halcyon views that many seem to have about high education of the past. I’m old enough to have had to deal with sorority hazing at a tiny teacher’s college that had changed little from the era of Jack Kennedy, and as a boy, I remember reading about students in the Boston University Towers throwing “flaming tennis balls“ out the windows at pedestrians walking below.

    And the 2001 movie “Blow” was essentially about drug dealing at UMass Amherst…

    Higher education today is an eminent jeopardy, I fully expect the whole thing to implode the way the railroads did in the 1960s — although the railroads had problems before then, and we need to remember that higher education did too. Perhaps not the same problems, but it definitely had problems, and I think it’s a mistake to take a Halcyon view that it didn’t.

    So let’s look at where these institutions came from and why they were created. Initially they were divinity schools, and as a denomination got established, it wanted to have its own divinity school, as well as a college for the gentlemen of its denomination.

    I’m not gonna get into John Henry Newman‘s Idea of a University here beyond stating that such an institution was gladly designed for the sons of the idle rich — they, who did not need to worry about making a living, had time to enjoy the humanities. Had the money to enjoy the humanities, and I think we need to make a distinction between people who have the financial ability to do this and the vast majority of college students whose primary objective of going to college is to enhance their ability. TO MAKE A LIVING.

    The first wave of public colleges, many of which still remain as state colleges today, were normal schools. Teachers colleges.

    It wasn’t K-12 back then, at best it was 1-8, often in a one room schoolhouse, but the goal was to improve elementary education in the country. So as we talk about our need to improve K-12 today — and we definitely do — I suggest we look back at the origins of our state colleges.

    And then that was Joseph Morrill who wanted to keep the young people in Vermont and to do that he knew he had to find them jobs. Well, not jobs like we think about today, but he had to help them wrestle a living out of the rocky soils of Vermont.

    This is where we got the land grand colleges and the push towards scientific agriculture and mechanical arts, otherwise known as engineering. Most state universities today started out as land grant colleges. And while they taught the humanities as well as physical education and military science, the basic principle goal of the land grant college was to teach scientific agriculture and engineering. And the purpose of doing this was to get the kid a job.

    Well, the definition of “a job” has changed, for most students the goal remains the same — to provide the knowledge and accreditation necessary for young people to do things that will enable them to make a living.

    And right now, we’re not doing that….

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