Decline and fall: how university education became infantilised

Last month, after 21 years studying and teaching Classics at the University of Cambridge, I resigned. I loved my job. And it’s precisely because I loved the job I was paid to do, and because I believe so firmly in preserving the excellence of higher education, in Britain and beyond, that I have left.

When I arrived in Cambridge two decades ago, giants were still walking the earth. Students could attend any lecture, at any level, in any department; graduate and research seminars were open to any interested party, and you could sit at the feet of the greats. Unforgettable gatherings of everyone from undergraduates to professors would discuss the big questions late into the night.

Cambridge’s historic strength came through respecting students’ abilities and giving them freedom to pursue their studies how they wished, but with some important restrictions. The so-called ‘supervision system’ is the beating heart of this: each week students (especially in the arts, humanities and social sciences) are sent away to read up and write on a single question. The challenge is to take a position, craft an argument, and be prepared to defend it during an hour’s discussion with an expert in the field. Under such scrutiny students learn where the inconsistencies of their position lie and develop the intellectual humility and adaptability that are the lifeblood of academic research.

It is fundamentally through this process that Cambridge evolved to become one of the best universities in the world. This is why its contribution to the arts and sciences outstrips any other institute of higher education.

Cambridge students’ performance is measured by examination – which, crucially, was for centuries a public matter. The results, posted as class lists on Senate House, were also published in the press.