A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love, 1973
Since the rise of homo sapiens (literally the “knowing man”) some 250,000 years ago, the body of human knowledge has grown exponentially. Over the same period, the intellectual capabilities of humans have remained mostly stable: the brain still holds roughly the same finite capacity to store information, and life expectancy, despite its improvements, has been hopelessly outpaced by the amount of years that would be required to learn, well, everything there is to be learned.
The implication is a decreasing capability, in relative terms, of humans to absorb knowledge. The depth at which knowledge is now available, regardless of the field, calls for an ever-increasing specialization of the mind in order for one to be able to contribute meaningfully. This gives students an incentive to engage in highly specialized studies that will ensure their employability – i.e. they are led to choose depth over breadth of knowledge. Jacks-of-all-trades are increasingly cornered by the masters of, well, just one. An effective indicator of this trend is degree inflation, which is the raising of academic requirements for a particular job over time. As an ever-increasing proportion of a class age reach higher academic distinctions, with often too few qualified jobs for everyone, employers are able to hire only the most skilled candidates, and leave others to take on lower-paid jobs, often below their own qualifications. This in turn creates a new standard for those lower-paid jobs, where, for example, a graduate degree may become the norm when a bachelor degree used to be a sufficient entry ticket. Similarly, the increased competition among universities pushes them to be less selective and demanding from their students, and to award degrees at a lesser standard of performance over time.
This degree inflation has two practical implications: first, working professionals must ensure that on-the-job learning increases their employability faster than their own degrees erode in value – otherwise, they will be naturally replaced by less experienced versions of themselves, only cheaper and with more advanced degrees. This in turn calls for increased attention to lifelong learning, and professional certifications in particular in order to validate the on-the-job learning. The second, and deeper, implication of increased specialization is that communication across practitioners of different disciplines becomes more challenging. The depth of current knowledge means that two PhDs, for example in theoretical physics, may speak different languages altogether depending on their field of specialization; as the difference between subtopics such as string theory and quantum chromodynamics is as wide today as the gap between, perhaps, mathematics and biology may have been a hundred years ago.
There is no indication today that this trend will not carry into the future; for there is no indication either that the growth human knowledge will decelerate or reach a plateau. But this author believes that this trend will come at a cost – in the harsh words of George Bernard Shaw, “no man can be a pure specialist without being in the strict sense an idiot”. Shaw was probably referring to a lesser-used etymology of the word “specialist” into the Greek ἰδιώτης, “idiôtès”, literally “private” i.e. idiot not by being ignorant or mentally deficient, but by lacking a broader perspective on the issues at hand (ironically, Shaw went on to co-found the London School of Economics which specialized many a mind since then). This specialization of the minds into narrow fields could lead to a society of “idiot savants”, largely unable to comprehend, contribute or function effectively beyond their respective academic silo. Of course, one could expect those “idiot savants” to contribute greatly to their field – but what if they entered a research dead-end and needed to backtrack? Wouldn’t they actually resist change and hinder progress if all they had was their flawed, deep but narrow education to live by? And what if the next scientific breakthrough came not from chasing the n-th decimal down the path, but from stepping back and connecting dots across several, seemingly-unrelated disciplines?
Case in point: two astrophysicists recently came up with a breakthrough theory – that cancer was a normal, albeit primitive, cell growth mechanism which the body would revert to under certain conditions of stress. How did astrophysicists, of all people, come up with a radical new perspective in oncology that goes pretty much against decades of highly specialized studies? Well, precisely that – they were not oncologists. They had a fresh perspective; from their astrophysical background, they became interested in astrobiology to imagine life on exoplanets, and that led them to the mechanisms of cell differentiation in early terrestrial life. Then they followed a course on cancer, and heard about how cancer cells reverse-differentiated… They eventually connected the dots by suspecting that the same genes that had a role to play in differentiating cells in multicellular organsims like us, also played a part in the same cells reverting back to a primitive state of aggressive growth – what we call cancer.
How many astrophysicists can we count on, now and in the future, to step outside of their comfort zone and bring fresh insight into foreign disciplines that are suffering from tunnel vision?
Now may be an appropriate time to resurrect the XVIIth century concept of honnête homme – French for “honest man”, a “well-educated, nonpedantic man of manners, as much at home in a salon as in his study, a gentleman of smiling wisdom and elegant, discreet disenchantment” as per the Encyclopædia Brittanica. The expression is not meant to convey “honesty” in its modern meaning, but rather to describe well-educated gentlemen (Montaigne’s XVIth century word for that was “gentilhomme”) of reasonably broad knowledge, albeit of limited expertise. The concept will take a modern twist however – the level of knowledge needed to be considered a honnête homme is not just higher than it used to be, it is also qualitatively different. While a XVIIth century honnête homme might have education in Latin, ancient Greek, poetry, astronomy and botany, the modern one may be versed in modern philosophy, particle physics, computer science and economics. Irrespective of their natural inclination for one field or the other, this modern breed of gentlemen must qualify in enough topics that are relevant to our times so as to be nexialists – sharp minds who are intuitively (rather than deductively) able to create connections across widely different fields that practitioners of these fields alone would be unable to make (science fiction author Alfred Elton van Vogt first coined “nexialist” as “one skilled in the science of joining together in an orderly fashion the knowledge of one field of learning with that of other fields”). The premise behind nexialism is that there is value in “stepping back”, looking at modern science’s big picture, and applying some meta-thinking into linking dots above the laser-like focus that is the rule in today’s research – as illustrated by our astrophysicists-turned-oncologists (interestingly, Mike Lazaridis, founder of Research in Motion and father of the BlackBerry, invested $100M of his personal wealth in 2001 to create the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics, with the aim to promote interactions and cross-breeding of ideas across loosely related disciplines to generate new insight). All knowledge is inter-related; for instance, politics are an emerging property of sociology; which itself is driven by biology; which itself is driven by physics… The deeper one undertakes to study a field, the more removed one becomes from the needed contributions of other disciplines. This is where the nexialist steps in.
Becoming a nexialist can seem dauting – it implies exposing oneself to the whole spectrum of human knowledge, across disciplines but also across time (we are, after all, the product of our history, and cannot be taken out of that context). As an added difficulty, the goalposts keep changing – the body of knowledge is increasing so fast, that it will have changed more in the course of one’s life, than it has over the course of five previous lifetimes. To stay current, the nexialist must keep himself aware of all the major developments taking place, everywhere, in all disciplines – a daunting task that can only be unlocked with a high degree of intellectual curiosity and perseverance (and free time!). The make matters worse, the utilitarian view of academic degrees that prevails in the age of science means that humanities, for example, are disregarded as not applicable to the real world. To a limited extent, this is true – companies expect students to be fully functional fresh out of university, and at face value nexialist knowledge (which requires liberal arts among other things) seems superfluous. This has given academia the incentive to teach trades, with immediate professional applicability, at the expense of breadth of learning and general human enlightenment. This was not always the case – first, liberal arts used to encompass science as well (“artes liberales” in latin means “freeing arts”, as in making humans free); second, corporations used to have a societal responsibility in training their new hires, while university would focus on producing well-rounded people, not dissimilar to Montaigne’s gentilhommes. Now that this is less the case, some of the side-effects are showing – high-profile corporate fraud cases in the 2000s, for example, have caused a backlash and pushed some universities to put the philosophy of ethics back into their business curriculum. But these efforts are timid and, to a large extent, driven by opportunity. We have yet to see a formal curriculum that teaches inter-disciplinary relationships as a subject matter in itself (although there are meta-studies, like epistemology, but with limited practical applications).
Next: a second installment on the topic of the future of education, with a focus on how transhumanism will revolutionize the way we learn through brain implants and learning robots.









