Scholar

A scholar, apparently, is a person who dedicates their fleeting existence to the relentless pursuit of academic discipline, either as a dedicated researcher or as one who has somehow managed to accumulate enough expertise to be considered a 'master' of a given field. More often than not, this designation extends to an academic – that esteemed individual who occupies the hallowed halls of a university as a professor, a teacher, or a researcher, often burdened with an advanced degree or, perhaps more impressively, a terminal degree. Think of it as a badge of honor, or perhaps a scar, earned through years of intellectual combat, typically culminating in a master's degree or the much-coveted doctorate. Yet, the universe, in its infinite wisdom, also allows for the existence of independent scholars and public intellectuals. These peculiar individuals operate beyond the structured confines of the academy, preferring to publish their insights in academic journals and, God forbid, engage in scholarly public discussion, proving that some minds simply refuse to be caged.

Definitions

In the bewildering landscape of contemporary English usage, the term "scholar" frequently finds itself interchangeable with "academic." It’s used to describe that rare specimen: a university-educated individual who has, against all odds, achieved an intellectual mastery of an academic discipline, both as an instructor attempting to impart wisdom (or at least facts) and as a researcher perpetually questioning the very fabric of reality. Interestingly, before the industrial-scale production of knowledge in universities became fashionable, the term "scholar" held a more singular, almost sacred, meaning. It was reserved for the intellectual whose primary occupation was the professional pursuit of research, an endeavor often undertaken in solitude, far from the madding crowds of lecture halls.

In 1847, the Reverend Emanuel Vogel Gerhart, with a surprisingly perceptive grasp of the ideal, articulated the role of the scholar in society, suggesting a rather lofty aspiration:

[A] scholar [is one] whose whole inward intellectual and moral being has been symmetrically unfolded, disciplined and strengthened under the influence of truth... No one faculty should be drawn out to the neglect of others. The whole inner man should be unfolded harmoniously. [1]

Gerhart, in his infinite optimism, posited that a true scholar could not possibly confine themselves to the narrow strictures of a single discipline. He argued, quite rightly, that a broader understanding, a knowledge of multiple fields, was not merely beneficial but essential to contextualize each individual discipline and to foster its deeper development. To truly understand the universe, one must, apparently, attempt to grasp more than just a single star.

[T]o be a scholar involves more than mere learning... A genuine scholar possesses something more: he penetrates and understands the principle and laws of the particular department of human knowledge with which he professes acquaintance. He imbibes the life of Science... [and] his mind is transfused and moulded by its energy and spirit. [1]

One might interpret "imbibing the life of Science" as a rather poetic way of saying one must become utterly consumed by the subject, allowing it to reshape one's very thought processes. A romantic notion, perhaps, but not entirely inaccurate.

A more recent, and perhaps less poetic, examination in 2011 outlined a rather exhaustive list of attributes commonly ascribed to these intellectual beings, noting "some slight variations in the definition" but essentially arriving at a consensus [2]. These attributes paint a picture that is both admirable and, frankly, exhausting:

The common themes are that a scholar is a person who has a high intellectual ability, is an independent thinker and an independent actor, has ideas that stand apart from others, is persistent in her quest for developing knowledge, is systematic, has unconditional integrity, has intellectual honesty, has some convictions, and stands alone to support these convictions. [2]

"High intellectual ability" — a subjective measure, but one we all pretend to recognize. "Independent thinker and independent actor" — a rare and often inconvenient combination in any hierarchical structure. "Ideas that stand apart from others" — which usually means they’re either brilliant or utterly mad. "Persistent in her quest for developing knowledge" — or perhaps simply too stubborn to quit. "Systematic" — a necessity, lest one drown in the chaos of information. "Unconditional integrity" and "intellectual honesty" — ideals, certainly, but ones often tested by the inconvenient realities of funding and publication. And finally, "has some convictions, and stands alone to support these convictions" — a lonely path, but one that occasionally shifts the very ground beneath us.

To navigate this treacherous terrain of knowledge, scholars often rely on what is grandly termed the scholarly method, or simply "scholarship." This isn't just a casual stroll through facts; it's a formidable body of principles and practices meticulously employed by scholars to ensure their pronouncements about the world are as valid and trustworthy as humanly possible. And, crucially, to ensure these pronouncements are made known to the wider scholarly public, because what good is profound insight if it remains locked in one's own head? It encompasses the systematic methods that propel the teaching, research, and application within any given scholarly or academic field of study, all through the crucible of rigorous inquiry. True scholarship, in its essence, is fundamentally creative, capable of being documented for posterity, open to replication or further elaboration by others, and, most importantly, subjected to the merciless scrutiny of peer-reviewed processes through various established methods [3]. It's a system designed to catch the lazy, the uninspired, and the outright charlatans, though it doesn't always succeed.

Role in society

Historically, scholars have enjoyed a rather enviable position, generally being upheld as creditable figures of high social standing, engaged in work deemed fundamentally important to the progress of society. A quaint notion, perhaps, but one that held sway for centuries. Consider Imperial China, for instance. In the expansive period from 206 BC right through to AD 1912, the intellectual elite were the celebrated Scholar-officials, often referred to as "Scholar-gentlemen." These individuals were not merely thinkers but were civil servants, hand-picked and appointed by the Emperor of China himself to shoulder the rather significant burden of daily governance. These formidable public servants earned their academic degrees through the notoriously demanding Imperial examination, a brutal test of intellect and endurance that could make modern university entrance exams seem like child's play. Beyond their administrative prowess, they were also typically skilled calligraphers and intimately versed in the intricate tenets of Confucian philosophy. As the esteemed historian Wing-Tsit Chan concisely concludes:

Generally speaking, the record of these scholar-gentlemen has been a worthy one. It was good enough to be praised and imitated in 18th century Europe. Nevertheless, it has given China a tremendous handicap in their transition from government by men to government by law, and personal considerations in Chinese government have been a curse. [4]

A worthy record, indeed, but one that ultimately highlighted the inherent limitations of governance reliant on the wisdom of individuals rather than the impartial application of law. The human element, it seems, always complicates the ideal.

Similarly, in Joseon Korea (1392–1910), the intellectual class was known as the literati. These were individuals who possessed the rare and valuable skills of reading and writing, and who were formally designated as the chungin — literally, the "middle people" — within the rigid Confucian social hierarchy. Socially, they occupied a fascinating space, forming a kind of petite bourgeoisie, comprising scholar-bureaucrats, professionals, and technicians who were tasked with the meticulous administration of the dynastic rule of the Joseon dynasty [5]. It seems that throughout history, the literate and the learned were often deemed the most suitable to manage the affairs of state, a concept that, depending on the day, still holds some merit.

In his 1847 address, Emmanuel Vogel Gerhart, ever the idealist, asserted that scholars bear a profound obligation. This obligation, he argued, was to rigorously and continuously pursue their studies, an endless quest to remain abreast of the ceaseless torrent of new knowledge being generated [1]. Furthermore, they were expected to contribute their own unique insights to this ever-expanding body of knowledge, making it accessible to all who dared to seek it:

The progress of science involves momentous interests. It merits the attention of all sincere lovers of truth. Every ...scholar is under obligations to contribute towards the ever-progressive unfolding of its riches and power. [They]...should combine their energies to bring to view what has eluded the keen vision of those men of noble intellectual stature who have lived and died before them. [1]

A rather daunting task, wouldn't you say? To stand on the shoulders of giants and then attempt to see beyond their already keen vision. A scholar's work is never truly done, it seems, much like the universe's capacity for generating new questions.

Many scholars, perhaps out of a sense of duty or simply to justify their existence, also dedicate themselves to the teaching of others, becoming professors. Yet, there exists a specialized breed: the "Research Professor." In a number of countries, this title refers to an individual who is primarily engaged in research, mercifully unburdened by the usual teaching obligations that plague their professorial counterparts. This specific title is employed in this sense in the United Kingdom, where it is known as Research Professor at some universities, or as Professorial Research Fellow at other institutions, and similarly across northern Europe.

A Research Professor is often considered the most senior rank within a research-focused career trajectory in the U.K. and northern Europe, and it is universally regarded as being equal in rank to a full professorship that includes teaching duties. Crucially, the position of research professor frequently comes with permanent employment, akin to a tenured professor in the U.S., and is typically bestowed upon a particularly distinguished scholar. Consequently, the title is often perceived as carrying even greater prestige than a traditional teaching full professorship, likely due to the unadulterated focus on pushing the boundaries of knowledge rather than merely disseminating existing information.

A research professorship carries a somewhat similar, albeit nuanced, sense of prestige in the United States. The key distinction, however, is that research professors in the U.S. frequently occupy non-permanent positions, saddled with the rather unpleasant requirement of funding their own salaries from external sources [6]. A harsh reality, indeed, for those who merely wish to think. This funding model stands in stark contrast to the more secure arrangements found in most other countries, highlighting the differing priorities and economic realities of academic institutions globally.

Independent scholars

An independent scholar is, quite simply, anyone who possesses the audacity and drive to conduct scholarly research outside the traditional confines of universities and established academia. They are the intellectual renegades, the self-starters, or perhaps, the simply disenfranchised. In 2010, it was observed that a notable twelve percent of US history scholars operated independently [7], a small but tenacious minority. These independent scholars typically hold an advanced degree, usually a Master's degree or a PhD, indicating that they have at least endured the initial rites of academic passage. In the field of history, independent scholars are critically differentiated from popular history hosts on television shows or mere amateur historians by the stringent level to which their publications demonstrate analytical rigor and adhere to a recognized academic writing style [7]. It's not just about telling a good story; it's about proving it.

Throughout previous centuries, a rather impressive roster of independent scholars managed to achieve widespread renown, proving that institutional affiliation isn't always a prerequisite for intellectual impact. Figures such as Samuel Johnson and Edward Gibbon illuminated the 18th century with their brilliance, while Charles Darwin and Karl Marx fundamentally reshaped scientific and political thought in the 19th century. The 20th century saw similar luminaries in Sigmund Freud, Sir Steven Runciman, Robert Davidsohn, and Nancy Sandars, all operating, to varying degrees, outside the conventional academic framework. Their independence often granted them the freedom to pursue radical ideas that established institutions might have been hesitant to embrace.

There also existed a venerable tradition of the man of letters, exemplified by figures like Evelyn Waugh. This term, "man of letters," originates from the French term belletrist or homme de lettres, though it is crucial to note that it is not synonymous with "an academic" [8] [9]. In the 17th and 18th centuries, the designation "Belletrist(s)" came to be applied to the literati: those erudite French participants in — and sometimes even self-proclaimed "citizens" of — the Republic of Letters. This informal but influential network of intellectuals and writers eventually evolved into the famed salon, gatherings explicitly aimed at edification, education, and the refined pursuit of cultural enlightenment. A time when intellectual discourse was a social event, not just a conference panel.

For those independent scholars who crave a semblance of professional camaraderie, various organizations have emerged. In the United States, a dedicated professional association exists specifically for independent scholars: the National Coalition of Independent Scholars. Across the northern border in Canada, the equivalent professional association is the Canadian Academy of Independent Scholars, operating in association with Simon Fraser University. Similar organizations, presumably for those who wish to discuss their solitude collectively, exist around the globe. Membership in such professional associations typically necessitates a certain degree of post-secondary education and a demonstrable record of established research [10] [11]. When these independent scholars manage to participate in academic conferences — often feeling like interlopers — they may simply be referred to as an unaffiliated scholar, a polite way of acknowledging their lack of institutional endorsement.

Despite the romantic appeal of intellectual freedom, the life of an independent scholar is fraught with rather mundane challenges. While they might manage to eke out an income from sporadic part-time teaching gigs, speaking engagements, or consultancy work, the University of British Columbia rather bluntly identifies earning a consistent income as the most formidable challenge facing the independent scholar [7]. Indeed, due to the inherent difficulties of making a sustainable living as a scholar without the steady embrace of an academic position, "[m]any independent scholars depend on having a gainfully employed partner" [7]. A stark reminder that intellectual pursuits often require a practical anchor. Furthermore, the simple act of accessing libraries and other essential research facilities, which academics take for granted, often requires independent scholars to actively seek special permission from universities [7], a bureaucratic hurdle that adds insult to injury.

The very term "independent scholar" itself has not escaped scrutiny and criticism. Writer Megan Kate Nelson, in her pointed article "Stop Calling Me Independent," argues that the term effectively "marginalizes unaffiliated scholars" and is unfairly perceived as an indicator of "professional failure" [12]. It's a label that, rather than celebrating autonomy, can inadvertently stigmatize. Rebecca Bodenheimer, another independent scholar, echoes this sentiment, observing that when she and others like her attend conferences without a university name emblazoned on their official name badge, the "independent scholar" designation is often perceived as "a signal that a scholar is either unwanted by the academy or unwilling to commit to the sacrifices necessary to succeed as an academic" [13]. A rather grim assessment, suggesting that the path less traveled is often simply viewed as the path of least success, which is, of course, a rather shallow interpretation of success.

Scholar

Definitions

Role in society

Independent scholars

See also