The College Degree Is Not A Widget

It seems morbidly fitting that in today’s Silicon Valley–infused landscape of infinite scalability, we have decided that the college degree is now just another widget. We confused correlation for causation when, in our infinite wisdom, we concluded that since those with a bachelor’s degree tend to earn more over their lifetime, the degree itself must be the key to prosperity. But perhaps it is not the paper that creates the value, but the person behind it—the kind of mind capable of enduring the rigor of real higher education is often the same kind of mind that would thrive in any demanding enterprise. We have now made it national policy to mass-produce the sheepskin, relegating it to the level of pork bellies or barrels of crude—just another commodity in the machinery of the modern world. I assert that we have lost the true purpose of higher education—to cultivate the best and the brightest—sacrificed on the altar of corporatism, credentialism, and the sentimental fiction that all are equally capable of intellectual greatness.

Having handed the university over to corporate groupthink, we should not be surprised that its mission has changed accordingly. We put the proverbial cart before the horse when, in the supremely misguided era of “self-esteem,” we observed that degree-holders often climb the corporate ladder more quickly. But is this because the individual is a disciplined, well-rounded thinker steeped in the classics and guided by a foundation in philosophy? Of course not. We simply look at the surface, see a flashy title like “VP of Marketing” and the concomitant salary, and assume it must have been the marketing seminar he took at Podunk Valley Community College—or perhaps the group project in “Agile Workflow Fundamentals” that made him executive material. And so, over time, the university became a bloated and sclerotic training ground for corporate America. You can now find courses on “Emotional Intelligence in the Workplace” or “Branding in the Age of TikTok,” or even seminars on how to market to Gen Z furries who only eat soy on Wednesdays. But the real issue isn’t the absurdity of individual courses—it’s the market segment they’re designed to attract. There is real talent and intellectual rigor to be found in unconventional subjects, but these are often buried beneath the glut of mid-brow offerings for mid-brow students checking boxes en route to middle-management jobs that may not even exist by the time they graduate. These are the students who now clog the arteries of the modern academy—not thinkers, but consumers of The Credential.

Consequentially, this gives rise to a culture of relentless credentialism. Once the box has been checked, the product leaves the factory ready to insert tab A into slot B for the global corporate Leviathan (Copyright, Trademark, All Rights Reserved). But upon arrival, our freshly credentialed hire discovers that dozens of others are doing the exact same job with the same “qualifications.” Could there really be a need for 27 marketing executives in one department (and why is it always marketing)? And so, to eventually stand out, our intrepid middle-manager must now check even more boxes and collect even more widgets: a master’s degree, perhaps, a professional certification or two—maybe even a second master’s and three more certifications for good measure. Fortunately, there’s no shortage of “institutions of higher learning” eager to take his money and fire up the printing press. Or really, I should be saying “her,” shouldn’t I? Women now outnumber men in colleges and universities by a ratio of nearly 3 to 2. This creates its own set of cultural and institutional challenges—important ones—but those are best left for another essay.

Yet this perpetual credential capture has consequences not just for individuals but for the institutions themselves. Now that he has decided to go back to school and collect even more widgets, the cycle is complete; the revolving door of the corporate-collegiate conspiracy will keep them coming back again and again. But, what greets him is the familiar visage of his peers—each of them having made the same calculation. And stacked atop this cycle is the flood of first-time students who have been told their entire lives that they must go to college or be doomed to infinite poverty. Logistics be damned: seminars now host hundreds of students in lecture theaters that would make the Greeks of ancient Athens blush. More money is spent on simply managing the throngs than on professor salaries or adequate facilities—especially at mid-tier institutions. Never mind the fact that many of these students received a substandard secondary education, leaving them with little chance of getting anything—let alone the most—out of a college education. This is evident in the abysmal standardized test scores coming out of America’s high schools, and the precipitous drop in the number of students reading at a twelfth-grade level, let alone capable of handling the demands of college-level coursework.

Which brings us to the uncomfortable truth—our dirty little secret. The plain fact is that these people aren’t actually going to college—at least not in the true sense of the word. If you look back before the era of self-esteem worship, you’ll find that only a strikingly small portion of the population pursued higher education. In the 1950s, average college enrollment hovered around 13%, and in some years fell below 10%. While some of this consisted of legacy admissions—students granted entry through family connections—most still had to submit themselves to the full demands of the institution or risk expulsion and the shame of having disgraced the family name. Then, somewhere along the way, we became utterly bewildered and decided that it was something intrinsic in the piece of paper itself that mattered—a magical ticket to the ball of economic prosperity. And that ticket, over time, became the widget we now know today.

It is a national disgrace that we have misallocated so much productive human capital to what amounts to running on a hamster wheel. There is blame enough to go around. The elites who champion ineffective teaching methods. The politicians and administrators who lack the courage to tell teachers—and parents—that their children are not upholding the standards expected of them. Or worse, who have abandoned the idea of standards altogether. What we need is a radical reformation of the American university: a reassertion of rigor, merit, and the celebration—not denigration—of discipline and hard work. And we must also be honest about this: many will not and should not go on to college, and that is not a failure. There are myriad other paths to a productive, meaningful life, and these must be honored—not condescended to—by those who ascend the privileged ranks of elite institutions.  The jobs of skilled laborers and craftsmen are essential to the functioning of society.

The solution is simple and straightforward. First, the American university is not a training ground for corporations. You do not need degrees in marketing, communications, or “team synergy in a data-driven world.” You cannot teach entrepreneurship in a classroom. You do not need two master’s degrees to be an effective accountant. Second, we need a revival of classical education—literature, philosophy, the ancient world, and yes, even Latin. We must once again cultivate young minds into thinkers, not box-checkers; individuals who pursue truth, not just credentials. The humble bachelor’s degree, from a truly rigorous institution, must regain its reverence. And if one wishes to pursue that path, he must be well-equipped for the gauntlet— prose, wit, and mind sharp as a razor. It must be without question that it was all earned, that he had what it took, and that there is no doubt he belonged there.  Man or woman, it matters not.  This is the way.