The Importance of Being ‘Useless’: What Universities Accidentally Proved
When Dhanwanti Nayak wrote “The Importance of Being Useless,” she was defending something beautiful.
She was defending literature, philosophy, art—the parts of education that don’t immediately produce profits, patents, or PowerPoint presentations.
The things people call “useless.”
Her argument was simple: what looks useless is often what makes us human.
Poetry teaches empathy.
History teaches perspective.
Philosophy teaches doubt.
Without them, we produce professionals who can operate machines but cannot understand people.
It’s a powerful argument.
Unfortunately, universities misunderstood the assignment.
They didn’t defend useless knowledge.
They became useless themselves.
Two Kinds of Uselessness
There are two kinds of uselessness in the world.
The first kind is the one Nayak celebrates.
This is the uselessness of curiosity.
Reading novels.
Thinking about society.
Studying culture.
This uselessness produces ideas.
The second kind is the uselessness perfected by universities.
This uselessness produces committees.
Committees: Academia’s Natural Predator
In theory, universities exist to produce knowledge.
In practice, they produce committees that decide whether knowledge is allowed to exist.
A research proposal enters the system.
It is examined carefully.
Not for intellectual merit.
But for something far more important:
whether it irritates anyone with authority.
If it does, the proposal is rejected.
Feedback is optional.
Explanation is unnecessary.
Silence, in academic culture, is considered a sophisticated form of communication.
The Suspicion of Real Experience
Universities claim to prepare students for the real world.
They advertise “industry relevance” with the enthusiasm of a startup pitch deck.
But when someone with actual industry experience enters the room, something strange happens.
The room becomes nervous.
Because real-world knowledge introduces a dangerous variable:
evidence.
Evidence asks uncomfortable questions.
Questions like:
- Why are we teaching things that stopped working ten years ago?
- Why are people with practical experience treated like outsiders?
- Why do committees reject ideas without offering guidance?
These questions threaten the delicate ecosystem of academic authority.
So the system does what it does best.
It rejects the idea.
And calls the process rigorous evaluation.
The Academic Philosophy of “Figure It Out”
One of academia’s most profound teaching methods is known as The Pedagogy of Figure It Out Yourself.
Here is how it works.
A scholar proposes a research topic.
It is rejected.
They ask why.
The response is philosophical.
“Go figure it out.”
This approach has several advantages.
It requires zero intellectual labour from the authority figure.
And it transforms mentorship into a form of performance art.
Imagine a swimming coach pushing someone into the ocean and shouting:
“Discover hydrodynamics!”
The Magical Identity of the PhD Scholar
PhD scholars are extraordinary creatures.
Their identity changes depending on institutional needs.
When classes need teachers → they are faculty-like.
When exams need invigilators → they are staff-like.
When conferences need organizers → they are event managers.
But when they raise questions?
They instantly revert to students who should know their place.
It is the only professional category in the world that exists in a permanent legal and existential grey zone.
Simultaneously essential and disposable.
Universities and the Fine Art of Ethical Amnesia
Universities proudly claim to promote:
- ethical responsibility
- critical thinking
- intellectual courage
These values look wonderful on banners and convocation speeches.
But occasionally someone makes the mistake of practicing them.
Someone raises concerns about dignity.
Someone questions authority.
Someone points out something uncomfortable.
At this point, the institution performs a remarkable intellectual maneuver.
The conversation stops being about ethics.
And starts being about the person who raised the issue.
Suddenly the problem is not the injustice.
The problem is the individual who noticed it.
It’s a brilliant strategy.
If every whistleblower becomes “unstable,” institutions never have to admit wrongdoing.
The Colonial University
Many universities operate less like communities of scholars and more like small colonial administrations.
Authority flows downward.
Obedience flows upward.
Public humiliation occasionally substitutes for mentorship.
And questioning authority is treated as a form of rebellion rather than curiosity.
Which is ironic.
Because curiosity is supposed to be the entire point of universities.
The Hidden Economy of Doctoral Labour
Universities also run on a fascinating economic model.
PhD scholars perform enormous amounts of labour:
- teaching classes
- evaluating answer sheets
- organizing academic events
- assisting with administrative tasks
All while supposedly producing groundbreaking research.
It is a bit like asking someone to run a restaurant while simultaneously writing a cookbook.
And then complaining that the cookbook is taking too long.
Meanwhile, Dhanwanti Nayak Is Talking About Poetry
While all of this bureaucratic theatre unfolds, Nayak’s essay quietly reminds us of something profound.
She argues that the humanities connect knowledge with life.
They help us understand suffering, injustice, and complexity.
They remind us that society is made of human beings, not just systems.
Reading her essay alongside real university experiences creates an unexpected effect.
It turns the essay into a kind of accidental satire.
Because the institutions that should embody these values often behave like the exact opposite.
The Real Use of Uselessness
In the end, Nayak is absolutely correct.
Society desperately needs the so-called useless things:
- philosophy
- literature
- art
- critical thought
These things produce imagination.
They produce dissent.
They produce the courage to question authority.
Which may explain why some institutions quietly prefer a different kind of uselessness.
The bureaucratic kind.
The kind that rejects ideas, protects hierarchies, and survives indefinitely through committees.
Final Thought
If uselessness were an Olympic sport, universities would dominate two events.
In the first event—useless knowledge—they would reluctantly award medals to poets, philosophers, and artists.
In the second event—institutional uselessness—they would win gold themselves.
And somewhere in the background, Dhanwanti Nayak would still be making the same quiet argument:
That the things we call useless may be the only things keeping society human.
Which raises an uncomfortable possibility.
Maybe the real uselessness was never the humanities.
Maybe it was the bureaucracy running them.
Reference:
Dhanwanti Nayak (2010). "The importance of being useless."
https://apfstatic.s3.ap-south-1.amazonaws.com/s3fs-public/The%20Importance%20of%20Being%20%E2%80%9CUseless%E2%80%9D2010IssueXV.pdf
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