Today’s post was an absolute treat to prepare. It gives us an opportunity to rise above the tactical aspects of economics education (i.e. syllabi and exams) to consider issues of grand strategy in higher education.
Charles Kindleberger was one of my professors in graduate school. Though I did take his course in European economic history, I must confess that I was not ready to absorb much of the intuition and wisdom that he tried to share with us. That said, my classmates and I very much respected his old-school, gentlemanly charm and deeply appreciated the scholar-economist dutifully warning us whipper-snappers that “the second-derivative is the refuge of a scoundrel!”
While this essay from 1966 mostly appears to present a distillation of Kindleberger’s experience at M.I.T. in the economics department and as chairman of the Institute Faculty, in it you will find timeless insights into the nature of higher education in general and of training in economics in particular.
Research Tip: I found this jewel of an essay while trawling through the collection of Technology Review ar srchive.org.
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The following essay was one of three papers having the theme “Innovation in Education” prepared for the 1966 M.I.T. Alumni Seminar.
Charles P. Kindleberger is professor of economics and chairman of the Faculty at M.I.T. He is known for teaching and research on world trade and economic development, and he is a member of the President’s Committee on International Monetary Arrangements. As chairman of the Faculty, Dr. Kindlberger has participated directly in many of the recent developments in professional undergraduate curricula at the Institute.
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Professional Education:
Towards a Way of Thought
by Charles P. Kindleberger
Technology Review, November 1966
THE age of the amateur is dead. Professionalism rules — in the cockpit of spaceships, in football, and in learning. We have abandoned the British tradition of the amateur who was good at everything for that of the Grandes Ecoles, with rigorous scientific training leading to professional competence. “He’s a pro,” which used to be insulting in Britain, is now a compliment everywhere.
There is some room left for the amateur tradition — in politics. It is not good enough to duck the question of where the Inner Belt road should be located by saying that these are matters for resolution by experts. In economics, also, the number of distinct opinions on a given issue is frequently greater than one and sometimes approaches the number of experts. Social scientists resent that mere people feel entitled to have opinions on issues on which popular knowledge and capacity for theorizing are limited, but they have found no way to prevent it. And there is claimed to be scope for flair, inspiration and style — the hallmarks of the amateur — at the frontiers of science, when the ordinary professionals have carried the subject as far as they can. On the whole, however, the demand for professionals and professional education is greater than it has ever been.
Part of this demand is wasteful. An economic study some years ago claimed that there was not so much a shortage of scientists and engineers as very wasteful use of those on hand. Some part of the demand for Ph.D.’s today could perhaps be satisfied with M.S.’s, and some of the jobs seeking master’s could be filled by bachelor’s. During the long years of inadequate effective demand and considerable unemployment, we have tended to upgrade job requirements throughout the economy.
But the upgrading of the educational requirements of business and the professions goes well beyond snobbism and cultural lag. Knowledge has expanded. There is 100 times more information to be obtained today than in 1900, and it is estimated that by 2000 A.D. there will be 1000 times as much knowledge. Periodicals have risen in number from 45,000 in 1950 to 95,000 currently. Librarians blanch under the prospect of coping with the accelerating torrent of periodicals, books, monographs. A major problem in research is to find out what has been done by others so as to avoid rediscovering the same information.
The result is more professional education and more specialization. Eighty-five per cent of today’s new doctors are trained as specialists rather than general practitioners. Lawyers are experts in taxation, trusts domestic or international corporate law, or anti-trust. The man who used to be merely an economist is now a specialist in international economics or African trade. The one year of internship in medicine which was normal in 1945 has been extended to two, three or even four. Business recruits directly from the universities but increasingly from graduate schools of business, and even then the bright young graduate in management is put into a training program. Increasingly the practice is to spend a year in post-doctoral work in another university to extend one’s research training even beyond the scope of the doctorate. This stretching of the educational process to the point where the first professional income is not earned until age 25, or in some lines, 30 is expensive in many, as has been widely recognized by foundations, government, and, somewhat earlier, by parents. Together with the knowledge explosion, it is putting enormous pressure on our educational institutions to break out of old patterns and to find new ways of producing and packaging professional education.
These problems can properly be discussed in three Parts — preprofessional education, professional education as such, and mid-career upgrading. The divisions are hard to keep distinct, as will become apparent, but each section presents particular problems for the university in trying to rationalize and increase the efficiency of its professional mission.
BY preprofessional education is meant the provision of the prerequisites for professional training. In some fields such as law these are nothing more than the good general education which used to be required of the British civil servant. But I refer rather to the mathematics and physics which are needed for engineering, to organic chemistry and anatomy which used to be all that were needed as prerequisites for medical school, and to the elementary courses in a given field which must be mastered before a student goes on to the advanced reaches of any subject.
Any subject can be taught as general education, as preprofessional training, and for professional uses freshman mathematics can be taught so that the student learns to differentiate and integrate, which he needs to know preprofessionally outside of professional mathematics, or he can be taught them and mathematical analysis as well, either for general education, which includes a glimpse of the beauties of the mathematician’s universe, or as part of preprofessional work in mathematics. The clash between two of the ways of addressing a subject was neatly illustrated last spring by the resignation of 11 members of the Dartmouth medical school faculty who wanted to teach biochemistry, micro-biology and cytology as professional subjects rather than as preprofessional training for medicine.
The problem in the humanities is easier. One can argue that the ability to write a simple sentence is preprofessional education widely neglected, but for the most part English is taught as general education. But mathematics, physics, and chemistry are general education of a special sort, preprofessional education more narrowly.
The Challenge of Teaching
Most professional mathematicians, physicists, and chemists — and economists, political scientists, and psychologists as well — prefer professional to general preprofessional teaching. Preprofessional teaching for the narrow group or students which you know is going to be drawn further into the professional subject being taught is challenging and fascinating, but as general education, or preprofessional training for other fields, such training often fails to engage the excitement of the ordinary as opposed to the great teacher. The ordinary teacher is more engaged by the subject than by the students as people. The result is that he may succumb to the temptation to neglect this teaching, or to make it interesting to himself by making it more professional, or both. On his side the student is either bewildered or bored, or both. It is on this account that the quality of teaching in the first two years presents a problem of particular difficulty.
The problem is met not only at the university level. In medical school, I understand, the first two years are taken up with some anatomy and physiology but with a great deal of preprofessional training in biophysics, biochemistry, and subjects like pharmacology. It is difficult to have these well taught on the one hand, and well learned on the other, when the main professional mission or the school is clinical medicine.
Articulation: Skip or Repeat?
Articulation is painful. If the superbly trained preprofessional has to follow the regular route he is bored and discouraged. If he tries to skip large portions of early professional training which his preprofessional work presumably covered, he is never quite clear what of the work the others are taking he has mastered and what he has not.
Medical schools’ admissions officers profess to be looking for broad-gauged young men and women with wide-ranging interests developed through general education rather than those who have extensive study and good grades in biology, chemistry, mathematics and physics. In their admissions choices, however, they are likely to favor the science specialist over the generalist on the score or preprofessional advantage. But this leaves the particularly well-trained young scientist likely to waste a great deal of the first two years of medical school while his generalist colleagues catch up. The problem is particularly acute for graduates of such preprofessional curricula as molecular biology at places like M.I.T. for they are catapulted somewhere into the middle of the normal first two years of training in medicine
We have a similar problem in graduate education in economics for those students who come to us with excellent training in social science from their undergraduate institutions. For them to take the first year of graduate training — the regular courses in micro- and macro-economic theory, mathematics, statistics and economic history — involves a duplication of some 60 to 75 per cent of what they have already studied. The second time around, and more systematically, this material is warmed-over porridge and not very appetizing. But to leap right into the second year of graduate work runs the risk of missing vital elements of preparation in the 25 to 40 per cent which has been missed. And we find that the undergraduate teachers have exhausted a considerable portion of the wonder and beauty of first looking into Marshall’s Principles, if I may transliterate a line from Keats; indeed, a small but disturbing fraction of our best-taught young men become sufficiently discouraged to drop out. This can be regarded perhaps a difficulty of articulating professional rather than preprofessional education, but it is a general one.
The Several Routes to a Profession
Some of these difficulties might be overcome if the choice of profession were made earlier and all students followed the same path. But this is impossible. Professional choices are not made consistently by various young people at the same stage, with the result that there must be a variety of avenues to professional education rather than merely one. And if professional choice is made only in the junior year of college, at 21, it is hard to push the preprofessional training to lower levels.
While there are children who have known since the age of five that they wanted to be involved with electricity, or machinery, or the human body as a life’s work, career choice is more and more presenting a difficult problem to American youth. Two generations ago father dominance helped, and hurt, such choice. Today fathers know enough not to push their children in directions of which they approve — or most of them know enough. The result is that career choice is much more squarely left to youth and is consequently fraught with youthful tension. The college dropout phenomenon is one aspect. Some young men welcome the army, the Peace Corps, or a year of travel, as legitimate means of delay in facing the necessity for career choice. Certain types of graduate training — business and law — are an escape from the need for decision. But even at M.I.T. at least 30 per cent of our undergraduates end up majoring in a different field than they put down as their intended specialization when they were admitted, and 20 per cent actually switch majors after they have chosen one at the end of their freshman year.
The social sciences labor under a considerable disability here, because fixing on a social science as a career comes as a rule much later than comparable decisions in science, engineering, medicine, or humanities. Children are aware of the body, animals, earth, sky, machines, and even prose, poetry, and the existence of the past, long before they become aware of the complexities of human society. The early models for career choice, as is well known, are firemen, policemen, and, in my day, streetcar conductors.
The consequence of late career decision is that one cannot insist that all applicants for professional training have completed their preprofessional work on admission — that all M.I.T. students, for example, come with calculus, or all medical students already have molecular biology, biochemistry, and biophysics. The only equitable, and I may add efficient, system of education is to keep all options open as long as possible. In consequence preprofessional cannot be dumped completely onto other training systems — by the technological institutes on to the schools, and by the graduate training programs on to the colleges. Some preprofessional education must be kept side-by-side with the professional, to offer a chance for the later chooser to catch up. This means that professional education must maintain a several-track system.
To keep preprofessional and professional education side-by-side in the same institution presents problems of teaching, as has already been mentioned. The ordinary instructor finds it easy and productive to take on advanced professional students — undergraduates in their senior year, or graduate students who have mastered the fundamentals. They work together, as members of a scholarly team, able to communicate in two directions. Preprofessional teaching, as I have said is less interesting.
There is no good solution for this problem. To divide the university into upper and lower division, as is sometimes done, creates a two-class system with invidious overtones. To separate preprofessional training off into colleges with dedicated teachers, and admit students to the universities only into graduate school from the four-year colleges and into the upper classes from junior colleges would not only violate traditions — which are important in the lives of institutions — but also compound the problem of articulation. The solution we see at M.I.T. is to strengthen the place of preprofessional teaching in the value system of the Institute, to restore it to the high esteem it enjoyed before it slipped under the pressure on staff of research, consulting, professional service and keeping up with the literature. No one contemplates that it is possible to staff a first-rate technological institution completely with instructors who are first-rate at teaching as they are at research and professional service. But the administration, the faculty, and the students can let all instructing staff know that whatever the professional demands on their time, teaching is not the marginal and dispensable activity.
Professional Education
The central issues in professional education have mostly been touched upon already: the extension or the material to be mastered, the difficulties of starting earlier because of late career choice, the downgrading of the bachelor’s and master’s degrees, the development postdoctoral training, the need for a rigorous scientific (instead of rule-of-thumb and seat-of-the-pants) approach in the applied fields because of the rapid rate of obsolescence, and so on. But I would make three points.
First, there is a risk that the revulsion from the empirical approach to engineering and applied social science in favor of science and pure theory can be carried too far. The simplest solution to a problem is not only the most efficient; it is also the most elegant. While it is true that one can stumble on solutions to applied problems as a by-product of pure theory, it is also true that theory is sometimes pursued for its own sake beyond the point of diminishing returns. It is not clear how much biophysics should be known to the gynecologist, how much topology to the student of fiscal policy, how much communication theory to the professor of the French language. I sometimes characterize these problems by a reference to medieval scholasticism and ask how many angels can dance on the rate of interest. Theory and pure mathematics are at the top or the pecking order in the intellectual world, and this is as it should be, just as the theoretical and mathematical requirements for the lowliest professional specialties have been increased. But high power can be overdone.
Second, the question of interdisciplinary education remains complex. The practitioner continues to be trained in a variety of fields — history, law, economics and political science for the foreign service officer; contracts, property, wills, constitution and international law for the lawyer (although the Yale Law School curriculum has been altered to include a year and a half of specialization); finance, statistics, accounting, marketing, and psychology for business; and so on. At the same time, research is increasingly conducted by centers which bring different specialists to bear on a single problem with the vantage point of their own focus: aeronautical, electrical, and mechanical engineers in instrumentation, for example. But the professional teaching which produces these scholars cannot be widely interdisciplinary. A man must master one social or physical science before attempting to integrate two. In my experience, the joint degree which bridges two or more fields in one Ph.D. is satisfactory neither for the student nor the faculty involved, and not only because of jurisdictional jealousies. Each field has an intellectual integrity as a discipline, much as it may lack in providing the complete answer to a complex research problem. The attempt to master them all ends in a mastery of none.
This is a pat answer which does not fully satisfy me. More and more professional practice is becoming the equivalent of research. Architectural design of a building is no longer a simple problem of drawing and construction engineering; as we at M.I.T. are acutely conscious, an architect needs to master the Venturi principle if his skyscraper is not to set up wind currents or micro-meteorology which makes it difficult to open the building’s doors. The designer of a rehousing project has to understand sociological grouping into communities.
Third, the narrowing distinction between research and practice leads me to question the desirability or intermediate degrees between the master’s and the doctorate, which we have developed at M.I.T. in the engineer degrees. These degrees are awarded to students who have completed the course work for the doctorate but who do not write the thesis. Their justification is that the student has undertaken course work beyond the master’s level and should get academic recognition for it. I can understand awarding the intermediate degree as a consolation prize to a student who is not being allowed to go on for the doctorate because of insufficient research creativity, or to a fully competent student who is unable for one reason or another to finish his thesis and who has gone far beyond the master’s level. But these degrees should not become ends in themselves. Teachers should have had exposure to a substantial research experience. and so. if possible, should practitioners.
IF there is an overpowering amount for professionals to learn, not only in the separate fields but in combining one or more of them, there is no need to learn it all at once, in the four, five, six to ten years between high school and professional practice. One of the most interesting developments in professional education today is mid-career schooling. This began in the business schools and is spreading rapidly. At M.I.T. we have the Sloan School of Management programs for junior and senior executives, the new Center for Advanced Engineering Study, and a host of one- and two-week summer courses. The larger companies — General Motors, General Electric, I.B.M., to cite only those I have lectured to — run training programs for their own executives. The American Bar Association has a Committee on Continuing Legal Education which runs week-long, weekend and day seminars on new problems in the law. The medical associations, national, state, and specialty groups, conduct study sessions of varying length in new techniques, medicines, specialties.
Mid-career education presents serious teaching problems. The engineer returning to the Center for Advanced Engineering Study, or the young executive enrolled in the Sloan Fellowship Program at M.I.T., is likely to need preprofessional brushing up before he can handle the material taught in professional subjects. The Sloan Fellows’ beginning experience is a summer term spent in a specially designed course which gets them up to first-year graduate speed for the regular year. The Center for Advanced Engineering has had design and give special subjects in modern calculus and quantum mechanics. This preprofessional teaching, I can say from experience, has its own special rewards for the teacher, because the students have a fresh point of view, a capacity to relate theory to real situations in a way that the undergraduate and regular graduate student cannot do. But here is another special job of teaching, and that is expensive.
Mid-career education is expensive for the university, for the student (who must uproot his family for the time) and for his company, which normally pays both his salary and tuition charges. Its great contribution is not the correction of obsolescence though this has importance. The real point is to give an opportunity in today’s complex world for a man who has worked his way through one field, and demonstrated his capacity, to introduce a slight shift in orientation and train for wider responsibilities. It used to be that only the armed services were wise enough to see its desirability and budget for the expense of training at all stages of a successful career. The State Department has long had program of sending individuals to do a year of graduate work and is now beginning to operate its own foreign Service Institute course of six months. It seems inevitable that government, industry, the learned professions and, above all others, university instructors must count on continuing education and re-education in a world of changing knowledge and maturing people.
This mid-career training need not be undertaken by the universities. The costs of adding to the diversity of the multiversity are high. It is more cheaply done without uprooting families. And yet there is benefit in bringing people from different companies, backgrounds and experience to rub elbows, in plunging the man of affairs back into the scholarly environment. The profit is mutual, so long as mid-career trainees do not overwhelm the academic tradition. There are obvious limits to how far universities can respond to the demand. If mid-career education grows, as is likely, it is reasonable to expect the development of new institutions which provide the specialized preprofessional training and mix students from different backgrounds.
No pat series of answers emerges from a discussion of professional education. I feel confident in rejecting a number of proposals for major reform. Starting professional studies earlier is undesirable insofar as it cuts general education on the one hand and closes off options for late deciders on the other. Eliminating the doctoral dissertation, or converting it to a longish paper representing a couple of months’ work, abolishes the vital test of whether a man can organize and carry through a substantial research project, a test of increasing importance in a world where the distinction between research and practice is narrowing. Dividing the university into divisions for general education and professional training not only misses the point that the same treatment of a subject can be preprofessional, general, or professional education for students with different abilities, backgrounds, and programs, but divides the faculty into elite and non-elite members in a way which subverts morale and harms the teaching mission of the university. How to improve the university’s performance in discharging the mission of general and preprofessional teaching remains an imposing challenge. Social science is a long way from ability to change value systems, and the real solution to the problem of undergraduate teaching is to restore the prestige accorded to non-professional teaching in the value systems or university staffs.
We have come a long way in American education, I believe, when we recognize that we have serious problems of what, when and how to teach and are prepared to modify the traditional system and to experiment with new techniques. The exact character of the new techniques may be less important than the attitude that the subject is important and that present conditions can be improved.
My basic conclusion is the trite one: professional education is a vastly different process than providing a young man with a hatful of formulas and training him to select the right one for the right occasion. The real task is to teach — if it can be taught, or by example to train — the young to attack a problem as a good experimental physicist, biologist, engineer, or economist would; to have a feel for the data and for the limits of standard analytical techniques; to sense, after a time, the distinction between the run-of-the-mill textbook case and that with new and puzzling complications. It is not enough to do what a professional does: one must think the way a professional thinks. And this capacity is communicated in a complex osmotic process which may be independent of or only very loosely connected with prerequisites, examinations, credits, and theses, much less closed-circuit television, teaching machines, computers, and high-powered mathematics. The educational process is an elusive one, but I venture to predict that in the long run it will be found to resemble more the chemistry of slow-cooking on the back of the stove than that of infrared split-second broiling of steaks from the deep freeze.
Source: MIT, Technology Review, 69(1), November 1966.
Image Source: Portrait of Charles Poor Kindleberger at the MIT Museum website. Colorized by Economics in the Rear-view Mirror.
