Zahraa Sulaiman Al-Balushi
Graduate, College of Education
Every now and then we hear about a university closing some of its humanities programmes. We have grown almost numb to such disturbing news, which no longer stir the public as they used to. This is understandable since humanities, since time immemorial, have been held for questioning and stood at a crossroad. However, the latest case, or at least the last which I encountered, struck me differently. Reading about the amputating of key humanities majors including Arabic Language, History, and Sociology in a revered Arab university in the Gulf region left me with acute uneasiness.
This time the news coincided with me graduating from a humanitarian major myself, thus coinciding with the familiar existential questions that accompany the completion of a BA degree after years of studying and suddenly being released into a large expanse of uncertainty. Perhaps, it was the timing of the news that made the announcement strikingly shocking as though it were implying something not only about the long-established deteriorated future of these disciplines, but about those of us who have chosen to devote ourselves to them; are we in danger too?
People received the news, and as usual, such headlines have the ability of dividing people between opponents and proponents, and with it, resurrecting the immortal rivalry, between STEM vs Arts, which we all have found ourselves drawn into at some point in our lives. Logically, with every news, the attention will no sooner be geared towards finding the reasons behind these continuous closures, not only in a specific university but worldwide. Explanations vary from the perceived underperformance of certain humanitarian programmes, the decline in enrolment numbers, financial pressures, and political considerations, but the most argued about reason has and will always remain: the glaring clash between these programmes and the reality of the workplace’s demands; they are not needed in the job market!
The last reason, which is, in fact, a truth universally acknowledged, may suggest that humanities have lost their sparkle, ironically, among human beings themselves. This is mainly due to how AI breakthrough has been heralded as the new frontier of knowledge. With many assuming that humanities disciplines will soon become extinct, if some have not already vanished.
Yet, amid this very troubling climate of uncertainty, we are, unfortunately, asking the wrong questions. Why do we insist on asking whether humanities and liberal arts are at stake or not , and whether humanities devotees are in lethal danger or not yet , thus framing the issue more or less as a survival matter while reviving the never-obsolete rivalry (stem vs arts) and searching for a single villain, be it AI or something else!
By posing such questions, we are unconsciously architecting a culture in which universities are no longer the anchors of knowledge and the citadel of higher education. Not only that, but we are paving the way for a culture which measures and defines universities by their ability to secure jobs for their alumni. For many, the sacredness of campuses has already ebbed turning them into mere hubs for granting degrees and credentials which may or may not be able to bless one with a job. This growing focus on marketising universities is narrowing the essence of higher education. Because of that, we see teens already abhorring the idea of humanities, because “they will not secure me a job”, hence we have more and more humanities majors disappearing.
This is not to say that seeking a lucrative job is not a priority or that universities should not prepare undergraduates for the job market. But that should not be the whole story. A university degree cannot merely be a springboard which ought to throw us into a safe career path, or else, they can be disregarded. Such narrowed vision harms all fields of study, but especially the humanities since their value does not always have to be tangible.
Ultimately, the closure of humanities programmes signals crisis, not only in specific majors, but extends to higher education institutions as a whole, and even to the cultures shaped by them. These closures signal a cultural shift towards-market-driven ethos that alter the entire concept of knowledge-seeking. So even if a science major fails in bringing measurable financial returns and specific credentials, it too might be the next victim to be seen on the next headline. Then, the right question to be asked is, did our definition of knowledge-seeking change and why?