The invisible hierarchy of majors
Amal Mouaouia, Contributor |
The question no student can seem to escape, the one asked at every family dinner, every first date, in lecture halls, by strangers and loved ones alike, is seemingly innocuous.
‘What’s your major?’
But for many students, this is never truly just a question. It is an appraisal. An almost imperceptible judgment that places them somewhere on an unspoken ladder. One that nobody officially endorses, and yet nearly every student can map with precision.
Engineering sits near the top. Medicine hovers above it. Business occupies an anxious middle.
The humanities drift toward the bottom, tethered there by the devastating follow-up, ‘what do you do with that?’
This is the invisible hierarchy of university majors, a system with no formal architecture, yet one that shapes how students introduce themselves and how they value their own intellect. Which fields are soft, smart, or punchlines and whether they can state their discipline out loud without flinching.
Beyond campus
The instinct to rank fields of study is by no means a modern innovation. Throughout history, some disciplines have been deemed more serious, useful or intelligent than others.
However, this prestige has never been fixed. Society’s regard for certain majors has shifted in response to politics, economics, war, industry and cultural anxiety. What society values in education tends to reveal what society believes it needs.
In Ancient Rome, education for elite men was centred on rhetoric, philosophy, poetry, history and ethics, as these subjects were considered imperative for participation in civil life.
During the Renaissance, scholars renewed emphasis on history, literature, classical languages and moral philosophy, believing education should form character. In these traditions, to be educated was not to be employable, but rather to be articulate, historically informed, ethically serious and capable of participating in public and intellectual life.
The value once placed in these studies contrasts with the reality many modern humanities students currently face.
Are some majors given more?
Mount Royal University history and psychology student Ry-Lynne Cambell says this shift can still be felt in how her education is valued today.
“Sometimes it feels as though there are many more opportunities for STEM students,” she says. “This perception has made me feel that I have to work harder to be recognised in my field.”
The historical context begs the question: if what society values is prone to change, can we expect the pendulum to eventually swing back towards the liberal arts?
While there is no clear answer, capitalism has become the dominating force of modern life, and education has become increasingly tied to productivity and the job market.
University of Calgary (UofC) computer science student Abdul Rahim feels that his major has become increasingly less serious.
“It literally sounded like a CIA-level job to be in comp-sci, but now it’s one of those majors that’s deemed totally pointless since the job market in tech is garbage right now,” he says. “It’s almost laughable now to even be majoring in comp-sci.”
Rahim offers the perspective that it is not simply that STEM fields are deemed valuable, but rather the majors are performing best in our current job landscape.
Clearly, we are far from Ancient Rome, as we no longer ask ourselves, ‘what kind of individual does this education form?’ but rather ‘what career does this education lead to?’
Cambell points to the issue that a degree does not lack value, but rather others fail to see it as legible in a marketminded culture.
“Employment connection is the reason why other majors can be seen as prestigious. With science degrees, it’s almost guaranteed employment,” says Cambell.
A similar push towards employability appears even in fields that are more often regarded with rigour.
UofC biomedical science student Ravnoor Dhadly described the awkwardness of sharing her degree, only to be met with questions about her career trajectory.
“The first question I get is ‘what do you want to do with your degree?’ or ‘so you want to go to medical school?’” she says. “Saying yes sets the bar so high while saying no invites the assumption that the degree leads nowhere.”
Even a well-regarded field can come to be viewed with suspicion when its career path is not guaranteed.
Despite students generally disagreeing with the notion that one field of study is more legitimate than another, the structure remains.
Hierarchies upon hierarchies
Amira Najmadeen, a marketing student at the University of Alberta, found there was also an internal hierarchy in the business program.
“Within business, accounting majors are on the higher end, finance used to be perceived as higher but less so now due to the sheer amount of finance students, and business law and economics are higher up as well,” she says.
Dhadly also finds a sciencemajor sub-ladder.
“Some people view health science as higher status than a biology major because the class is smaller and the acceptance rate is lower,” she says.
Many disciplines seem to contain their own miniature hierarchy, replicating the same logic that ranks the disciplines themselves. It’s hierarchies all the way down.
While students can describe the hierarchy and locate themselves and others within it, they all vehemently reject it. This structure is not sustained by student conviction, but rather by inertia. It is sustained by adults who question the practicality of your degree, by centuries of cultural priorities, and by the stereotypes and jokes associated with each major.
If the past teaches anything, it’s that societies revalue knowledge when circumstances change.
An evolution
Already, there are signs that the conversation is shifting. As artificial intelligence, automation and digital saturation transform work and communication, the skills long associated with the humanities may come to be widely regarded as essential.
However, students cannot wait for history to vindicate them. Young people are choosing their futures now. Making decisions in a system that rewards legibility over curiosity, and the cost of this is not only personal.
Every student who abandons a field they love for one they can more easily defend at a dinner table represents a quiet loss for the professions they leave behind.
