The Publishing Paradox: Why Exeter’s MA Course Survives Amid Humanities Cuts
The University of Exeter’s recent announcement that it has ‘no plans’ to close its MA Publishing course, despite slashing 150 full-time roles across the humanities, is a fascinating contradiction. On the surface, it seems counterintuitive: why spare a niche postgraduate program while gutting the broader department? Personally, I think this decision reveals a deeper tension in higher education—one that pits marketability against academic tradition.
The Survival of the ‘Practical’
What makes this particularly fascinating is the implicit hierarchy of value at play. Publishing, as a field, straddles the line between academia and industry. It’s not just about literary theory; it’s about producing tangible products—books, journals, digital content. From my perspective, this practicality might be its saving grace. Universities are increasingly under pressure to justify their programs in terms of employability, and publishing, with its clear career pathways, fits the bill.
But here’s the irony: while the MA Publishing course survives, the humanities cuts threaten the very disciplines that feed it. English, history, philosophy—these are the fields that produce the writers, editors, and thinkers who populate the publishing world. If you take a step back and think about it, this is like preserving a factory while dismantling the supply chain. What this really suggests is that universities are prioritizing short-term market demands over long-term intellectual ecosystems.
The Publishing Industry’s Quiet Influence
One thing that immediately stands out is the publishing industry’s unique position in this debate. Unlike other humanities fields, publishing has a direct line to commercial interests. Book trade professionals, literary agents, and publishers are vocal about their needs, and universities often listen. What many people don’t realize is that these industry ties can act as a protective shield for programs like Exeter’s.
In my opinion, this raises a deeper question: should academic programs be saved because of their industry relevance, or because of their intrinsic value to society? The publishing industry’s influence here is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it ensures the survival of programs that produce skilled professionals. On the other, it risks reducing education to a vocational training ground.
The Broader Implications for Humanities
A detail that I find especially interesting is how this situation reflects a global trend. Across the UK and beyond, humanities departments are being gutted in favor of STEM and ‘high-demand’ fields. Exeter’s decision is just one symptom of a larger disease: the commodification of education. If universities continue to prioritize programs based on marketability, we risk losing the very disciplines that foster critical thinking, creativity, and cultural understanding.
This isn’t just about publishing or Exeter—it’s about the soul of higher education. Personally, I think we’re at a crossroads. Do we want universities to be factories for job-ready graduates, or incubators for intellectual curiosity? The survival of Exeter’s MA Publishing course is a small victory, but it’s also a warning sign.
Looking Ahead: What’s Next for Humanities?
If there’s one thing this situation teaches us, it’s that the humanities need to fight smarter, not harder. Publishing’s survival strategy—aligning with industry needs—could be a blueprint for other fields. But it’s a risky game. Too much emphasis on practicality could dilute the very essence of the humanities.
What this really suggests is that we need a new narrative for the humanities—one that highlights their relevance without sacrificing their integrity. From my perspective, this starts with challenging the false dichotomy between ‘useful’ and ‘useless’ degrees. The humanities aren’t just about preparing for a job; they’re about preparing for life.
Final Thoughts
Exeter’s decision to spare its MA Publishing course is both a relief and a red flag. It’s a relief because it preserves a valuable program, but it’s a red flag because it underscores the precarious state of the humanities. Personally, I think this is a wake-up call. If we don’t start advocating for the humanities as essential, not optional, we risk losing them altogether.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how it forces us to confront our own biases about education. Do we value knowledge for its own sake, or only for its utility? In my opinion, the answer should be both. But until universities—and society—recognize this, we’ll continue to see decisions like Exeter’s: practical, but profoundly unsettling.
