Navigating the Ivory Tower: Lessons from a Lifetime in Education

Introduction

Looking back 30 years after obtaining my doctorate, I can reflect on the profound influence my teachers and professors had on my intellectual development and academic journey. Of course, they do not bear sole responsibility, as the path I ultimately chose was a function of my own decisions and the guidance of my highly educated parents - a Dutch theoretical physicist father who loved mathematics, and an Italian comparative literature scholar mother who continued publishing into her 90s.

Enthusiastic PNG University of Technology students
after boycotting classes for 5 weeks to demand good 
University governance

The spectrum of educators I encountered ranged from the exceptional to the abysmal, with the majority falling somewhere in the middle. The average professors have become entirely forgettable, their names long since faded from memory. Yet the average schoolteachers, through the culture of constant assessment, managed to impart the fundamental knowledge and skills required for their subjects, leaving an indelible mark.

My Primary School: Shaping Worldviews

In primary school, a child not only acquires the basic "three R's," but also develops a worldview that will shape their later political orientations. Regrettably, my 4th-grade teacher instilled a biased perspective. His extreme egalitarian views led him to force me, a precocious student who completed all classwork and homework quickly, to spend an entire year focusing solely on developing my (largely nonexistent) artistic skills through endless drawings of trees, windmills, and horses.

The 1970s worldview presented by many teachers portrayed the "Second World" of the USSR, China, and Eastern Europe as places where people were just as content with their guaranteed state services and lifetime employment as in the "First World." The absence of consumer goods and basic freedoms was conveniently overlooked. It was not until secondary school trips to East Berlin that students discovered the flaws in these teachers' perspectives.

Amidst this bias, one exceptional primary school principal, Mr. Holt, stood out. Appalled by my atrocious handwriting, he took it upon himself to reteach me the fundamentals, providing grade 1 exercise books. With the help of a fountain pen purchased by my also left-handed father, I learned that progress occurs at different paces, and that sometimes we must humbly revisit the basics.

Secondary School: Honing Language and Reasoning

My secondary school, "Het Nieuwe Lyceum," followed the continental "gymnasium" tradition, with a strong emphasis on the core sciences, mathematics, and both modern and classical languages. The rigorous curriculum, including 7 hours per week of Latin instruction and advanced math coursework, equipped me to become an independent, self-directed learner. Oddly, the assessments placed little emphasis on essay writing, which I later struggled with at the university level.

While we encountered a few average teachers, many were exceptional. I vividly remember an outstanding English teacher who helped us avoid the common mistakes made by Dutch students, a French teacher who registered the entire class for a singing competition (which we won), and both older and younger German teachers who imparted deep knowledge of language origins and native fluency, respectively. The Latin and physics teachers, holding doctoral degrees themselves, demonstrated extraordinary subject mastery.

My high math scores, however, can be attributed to the weekly one-hour tutoring sessions provided by my physicist father, who loved the subject. This personalized instruction supports Bloom's hypothesis that individualized tutoring can raise average performance by two standard deviations.

Tertiary Education: Seeking Truth and Facts

Enrolling in the humanities faculty at the University of Utrecht, where both my parents taught, proved disappointing after the stimulating environmet and academic rigor of secondary school. Eager to pursue economics, I was dismayed to find it unavailable, and so settled for history remaining close to home. I was 17 when I entered university.

Most of my peers had not received the same level of excellent secondary education, and the university lecturers had significantly "dumbed down" the material. A post-graduation survey revealed that a staggering 70% of graduates were still unemployed two years after completing their degrees - a clear sign that I had likely squandered my talents in mathematics and science.

While a few professors stood out, such as a theatrical lecturer who engaged and motivated students, the majority were tedious, prompting me to avoid their classes. However, the history program's emphasis on small-group work and research assignments was invaluable, requiring extensive time in university libraries and local archives.

Through these research projects, I discovered major flaws in the conventional interpretations of Dutch and European history that we had been taught. Assignments on the 18th-century Patriotten movement, the 1848 radicals, and the concept of nationality and betrayal in the "Oranjegezinden" and "Staatsgezinden" political parties opened my eyes to the biases inherent in much of the "official" historical narrative.

Disillusioned by the lack of opportunities and prevailing mediocrity in the Utrecht humanities faculty, I was effectively forced to transfer to the University of Leiden in my third year. There, classes started on time, and students could make appointments with professors for advice - a stark contrast to the irregular situation at Utrecht, where the "red women" had taken over the department and decreed that the sole third-year offering would be "gender history."

After graduation, I undertook mandatory military service, during which I was given the chance to serve as an officer, teaching international humanitarian law, history, and defense policy at the Royal Dutch Air Force Officers' School. This invaluable experience allowed me to learn about effective teaching and collaborating with colleagues to deliver high-impact programs.

The Doctoral Journey: Navigating the System

Dutch doctoral education was in disarray at the time, with only 10% of candidates completing their degrees within four years. Recognizing this, I decided to apply for two competitive scholarships for Dutch history students offered by the renowned European University Institute in Florence, Italy, which specialized in economic history.

My Spanish thesis supervisor, however, proved to be a real surprise. In Spain and Portugal, it seemed, one could become a professor without ever publishing. Unsurprisingly, this supervisor was extremely insecure, subjecting his doctoral students to his whims and indecision. Tensions escalated towards the end of my studies when I managed to secure a publishing contract with Cambridge University Press for my thesis, with the book published in 1997.

Fortunately, the other members of my thesis committee, including the esteemed economic historian Geoffrey Williamson from Harvard University, shielded me from the worst of the supervisor's tribulations. Williamson, who had come to Italy for a year to write a book, graciously agreed to serve on my committee, but when I asked for his feedback on my draft, he candidly admitted that it would have been much stronger had he been involved earlier.

Exceptional Mentors

Among the exceptional professors I encountered, Jeffrey Williamson stands out. When I attended a workshop at Harvard, he took the time to provide me with valuable advice and share amusing anecdotes about his experiences with students. Later, when I was unlawfully detained and falsely told that I had not obtained my doctoral degree, Williamson, as a member of my thesis committee, wrote a letter to the Prime Minister on my behalf.

Two other exceptional professors were Sir Nicholas Stern, a development economist at the London School of Economics with vast knowledge and policy experience, and Professor Dougherty, also at LSE, who taught econometrics. Dougherty was a pioneer in educational technology, using "Lotus Freehand" to create dynamic slides that clearly explained his formulas and graphs. These experiences instilled in me a positive bias towards the UK and US higher education systems, where they seemed to have better aligned personal and institutional incentives to produce excellent teaching and meaningful research.

When at the LSE, I also met the editor of the Cambridge series on Italian history, as well as an Australian doctoral student who became professor at Australia National University and gave me invaluable advice and unwavering support. Universities that manage to uphold their reputation for excellence through integrity, become places where good things happen.

The Perils of the Ivory Tower

As I was about to complete my doctorate and secure a publishing contract with Cambridge University Press, I had a revealing lunch with a professor from the University of Utrecht who was one of the only two quantitative economic historians in the Netherlands. What followed was not merely "bad" but truly "ugly."

When I mentioned that I was considering applying for a university position and expected a postdoctoral appointment to convert my thesis into a book, the professor was shocked. He explained that "all decisions at the university are made in committee" and that he could not take on any more doctoral students, as he already had the maximum of five - two excellent like me, two average who might not finish, and two weak who probably never would. He then delivered the zinger: "You would have to wait until all of them have finished." I laughed and told him that, by his own admission, I would be waiting an eternity. Much later I understood his hesitations better, since in the first decades of its existence the European University Institute had made some major mistakes in the appointment of professors and selection of doctoral candidate, ruining its reputation in the Netherlands. Fortunately, after two excellent presidencies these issues have now been addressed.

This conversation was a pivotal moment, as it revealed the perverse incentives and toxic environment that often pervade public universities. The first "big lie" is that professors are not subject to a "publish or perish" meritocracy - some, as I experienced, never publish anything and are not actively engaged in research. The second "big lie" is that universities can compel professors to care about teaching, when in reality, many leave all instruction to adjuncts or assistants, sometimes teaching only a few hours per week, if that.

Professors can be likened to a hereditary caste, akin to the heads of organized crime syndicates, wielding absolute power. This is not an extreme or novel view, as substantial research has been published on the subject.

The toxic environment fostered by these "big lies" often leads to rampant inbreeding, where a professor handpicks their successor to ensure the position. Universities receive public funding to educate a professional workforce, yet their internal incentives are misaligned, leading to a sector that is ripe for major disruption - a disruption that will likely come from outside the traditional university system.

Lessons Learned

One key lesson I learned is that one should never laugh at a professor, as their fragile egos cannot withstand it, dooming the student to become a lifelong outcast. Another is that a department's reputation can be thoroughly destroyed by admitting unqualified doctoral candidates or appointing professors who have never published.

Ultimately, I decided not to pursue an academic position at a Dutch university, a decision vindicated when I later encountered a former classmate who had returned to the university after receiving his doctorate from the European University Institute - a move that clearly offered him no prospects for advancement. Nevertheless, I continued to work in higher education, mainly with the mission to change it from within, something I was partially successful when working on research funding at Maastricht University, and as Vice-Chancellor at the Papua New Guinea University of Technology.

Today, with matching learning changing fundamentally how we interact with computers, the university sector, with its extreme resistance to change, is ripe for disruption. I find this quote from the American biologist and writer Edward Osborne Wilson particularly fitting for the current situation at universities: “The real problem of humanity is the following: We have Paleolithic emotions, medieval institutions and godlike technology.”

However, it is likely that the disruptors will emerge from outside the traditional university system. As for the professors who prioritize their egos and personal interests over teaching and research, I take solace in the poetic justice that while none of their students likely attended their funerals, save for a hand-picked successor, my mother's funeral was attended by six of her graduate students who traveled great distances to honor her life and legacy as an educator.

Call to Action for Early-Career Educators

As aspiring educators, you've likely heard the myths and half-truths that pervade the hallowed halls of academia. But after reading one individual's harrowing journey through the university system, it's time to confront the harsh realities head-on and forge a new path forward.

I tried to lay bare the perverse incentives, toxic environments, and shameless self-interest that plague far too many of our public universities. The "big lies" of meritocracy and teaching commitment have allowed a hereditary caste of professors to entrench their power, prioritizing personal agendas over student success.

It's time to rise up and challenge this status quo. As early-career educators, you have the opportunity to reshape the system and reclaim the true purpose of higher education. Here's how you can make a difference while operating within the university system:

1. Reject the "publish or perish" mentality. Value teaching excellence and student engagement above all else. Demand accountability for those who neglect their classroom responsibilities.

2. Foster inclusive, collaborative, interdisciplinary environments. Break down the silos that breed insularity and inbreeding. Seek out diverse perspectives and empower students to think critically.

3. Champion transparency and merit-based advancement. Call out the backroom deals and nepotistic hiring practices that stifle innovation and opportunity.

4. Embrace technology and pedagogical innovation. Leverage the power of digital tools and teaching methods to enhance the student experience. Lead by example in adapting to the evolving needs of learners.

5. Forge connections beyond the ivory tower. Engage with industry, community organizations, and policymakers to ensure your institution remains relevant and responsive.

The task ahead is daunting, but the potential for transformative change is immense. By standing firm in your principles and galvanizing the next generation of educators, you can disrupt the entrenched systems that have held our universities back. The time for complacency has passed. The future of higher education is in your hands. Will you answer the call?