If there is one piece of advice I would offer to anyone seeking relevance in their academic career, it is this. Embrace the difficult thing. Dare to try what you do not yet understand. The world is moving rapidly and those who choose to remain static will inevitably be left behind. But those who lean into discomfort, who take the risk of venturing into new territory, often find that the world eventually makes room for them.
Over the past few days, I have been receiving a steady stream of messages in response to my recent essay on the importance of following the money to remain relevant in academia. The responses have been overwhelming, and I am grateful to those who took the time to engage with the piece. As I am currently traveling, I have not been able to reply to everyone, but I have read most of the messages. What has surprised me most is that the majority of responses did not come from early-career academics or graduate students, as one might expect, but from senior lecturers and professors. Many of these seasoned scholars described the essay as a wake-up call. Some called it transformative. Others said it helped them reflect on their academic journeys in ways they had not considered before. That level of feedback made me realise something important. Certain truths only become visible after one has journeyed long enough. It takes years of experience, reflection and the clarity that comes with emotional distance to truly appreciate some of the deeper questions about academic relevance.
|
|
One trend in the feedback left me both humbled and slightly puzzled. A number of accomplished scholars from disciplines quite different from mine asked me for advice on which areas they should now focus on in their fields. I could see that they were serious. Many of them had achieved a great deal but were seeking new direction. But I believe this question slightly misses the core message of my essay. In the original piece, I gave examples from my own field to illustrate a way of thinking. My goal was not to dictate a single path for everyone but to share a mindset that could help others explore the changing landscapes in their own disciplines.
The real message was about learning how to think in alignment with the evolving world around us. It was about remaining curious, adaptive and strategic. I am not in a position to tell an economist, a historian or a biologist what to study next. They have deeper expertise in their fields than I ever will. What I can say is that the mindset of relevance requires us to stay alert to shifts in the world. It asks us to regularly step back and ask whether our work still matters in light of those shifts. It demands that we engage with difficult and unfamiliar territory when necessary. This is never easy. The human instinct is to stay within familiar ground. New areas come with uncertainty and the potential for failure. It is much more comfortable to continue building on what we already know than to take a risk on something we do not.
|
|
|
|---|
Another thing to consider when thinking about relevance and long-term advantage is how we use the learning opportunities that academic environments provide. One practical strategy is to focus on acquiring the skills that are harder to master outside of school. I have a colleague who studied public policy at Harvard. When she was given the opportunity to choose elective courses, she deliberately opted for mathematics courses instead of the easier non-quantitative options. Her reasoning was that school creates the structure and motivation needed to learn difficult subjects, especially ones like mathematics that require discipline and consistent practice.
Outside of school, it is much harder to stay committed to such learning without deadlines, instructors or peer accountability. Today, she works in a role where the quantitative skills she gained give her a significant advantage. Her decision to face the harder path in school has paid off. This mindset, of making the most of school by embracing what is best learned in that setting, offers a useful lesson for those thinking about how to prepare for an unpredictable future.
I understand this deeply because I once stood at a similar crossroads. In 2014, I had two offers for graduate study. One was from Cranfield University in England, where I had proposed to work on carbon capture and storage, a subject I had no background in. The other was from a university in Scotland, where a professor had already drafted a proposal for me. The topic was ready, the pathway clear. All I had to do was accept and begin. The Scottish offer came with ease, stability and minimal uncertainty. It was the safer choice. On the other hand, Cranfield was filled with unknowns. I would be stepping into a technical field that was completely new to me. The risk of failure felt real. But after much thought, I chose Cranfield. I told myself that growth often lies beyond the boundaries of comfort. That choice changed everything.
I still remember my arrival at Heathrow. As the bus took me to Cranfield, I could feel the anxiety tightening in my chest. My heart pounded. I was heading into unfamiliar territory, and I was scared. But in that moment, I remembered a passage from Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist: “Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.” That quote gave me strength. I reminded myself that the greatest enemy was not the complexity of the subject but the fear I had allowed to grow. And so, I moved forward. I studied hard, asked questions, made mistakes and learned quickly. Eventually, I found my footing. That journey taught me one of the most important lessons of my life, which is that the people who do remarkable things are not necessarily more brilliant than the rest of us. They are simply people who chose to act despite their fears. They moved forward even when the path was unclear.
If there is one piece of advice I would offer to anyone seeking relevance in their academic career, it is this. Embrace the difficult thing. Dare to try what you do not yet understand. The world is moving rapidly and those who choose to remain static will inevitably be left behind. But those who lean into discomfort, who take the risk of venturing into new territory, often find that the world eventually makes room for them. Academic relevance is not about chasing fads. It is about understanding how global priorities are shifting and learning to position yourself in relation to them. It is about asking hard questions and being willing to adapt. Sometimes, it is about reinventing yourself. That process will not always be smooth. There will be failures. But relevance does not require perfection. It only requires persistence and courage.
As I continue to receive more messages, I hope people will see that the essay was not a roadmap but a mirror. A mirror to help them reflect on where they are and where they might go next. The answers will not come from me or from anyone else. They will come from being honest with oneself, from listening to the world and from daring to walk toward the unknown.
Mohammed Dahiru Aminu ([email protected]) wrote from Libreville, Gabon.
