Losing your faculties? 'Hybrid' talents can create their own destiny
As a 25-year-old journalism and communication major, I've been wrestling with mixed feelings since hearing about Fudan University's cuts to liberal arts enrollments.
I chose the humanities simply because I loved them since childhood — devouring novels, obsessing over historical intrigues, and chasing answers to philosophical questions like "Who am I?" These weren't just academic interests. Reading The Dream of the Red Chamber taught me to decode human relationships, while studying communication theories helped me dissect viral social media phenomena. To me, the humanities aren't just school disciplines — they're tools for understanding humanity itself.
Yet Fudan's decision makes practical sense, and that's what stings. With China urgently needing tech talent in fields like AI and semiconductors, adjusting enrollment ratios seems logical. As their president noted, society doesn't need that many liberal arts graduates, and trimming "less relevant" programs sounds reasonable.
But I worry that this sends a dangerous signal.
The "useless liberal arts" narrative keeps gaining traction online, but I find them one-sided, reducing our value to employment statistics while ignoring what we uniquely offer. Can AI address algorithmic bias's ethical dilemmas? Can it appreciate the anguish in Chu Ci's verses? These require humanistic thinking.
The job market reality hits harder. At campus recruitment fairs, I'd watch engineering students get snapped up while we humanities graduates queued for scarce positions. Competing for a copywriter role once during undergraduate studies, I faced dozens of applicants — all with solid portfolios and internships, making it very hard to stand out. Our pink-tasseled graduation caps felt like a "badge of disadvantage". A bitter joke circulated: "Life can be an open field, but humanities graduates walk a single-plank bridge."
All the jokes and banter reflect a brutal truth that it is not easy to find jobs for humanities graduates, let alone high-paying jobs.
But maybe crisis breeds reinvention. Fudan's emphasis on interdisciplinary studies points the way. What if we combine our strengths with tech skills? Learning basic coding or data analysis could make us "hybrid talents" — communicators who understand AI ethics.
Ultimately, I believe the humanities' true worth lies beyond spreadsheets. Our training in critical thinking, cultural insight and nuanced communication — these can't be automated.
As Fudan's president said, mature societies need the humanities more, not less. But we must evolve. Instead of clinging to traditional paths, let's become "hexagonal warriors" who discuss Socrates at morning meetings and debug Python code by afternoon.
The challenge isn't just to survive the STEM tide, but to prove why humanistic perspectives remain irreplaceable in shaping our technological future.
