This week, I was struck twice by the same theme. First, by the cover of L’Express predicting “la crise des diplômes qui vient.” Then, by Ne faites plus d’étude ! — the latest provocation from Laurent Alexandre and Olivier Babeau. Both deliver a stark message: in a world where knowledge is instantly accessible, where competencies fade faster than ever, and where diplomas are granted more often than earned, the traditional model of higher education is losing its meaning.
This argument is not new, but the acceleration of artificial intelligence gives it unprecedented force. For the first time, the very premise of human expertise is being challenged by machines capable of absorbing, interpreting, and creating knowledge faster than we ever could. Diplomas are no longer the precious differentiators they once were; they are increasingly mere paper. Worse, the knowledge they certify is often obsolete the day it is awarded.
The observation is uncomfortable but accurate. Academic inflation has eroded the symbolic power of credentials: in France, 80% of a generation now obtains the baccalauréat, compared with less than 30% in 1985. The democratization of education — an undeniable social success — has paradoxically weakened its signaling power. What was once a selective key to opportunity has become a universal rite of passage.
But rather than mourning this shift, I would like to see in it the opening of a new chapter. The rise of artificial intelligence does not make education irrelevant; it makes it indispensable. What changes is not whether we learn, but how we learn, when we learn, and why we learn.
The role of higher education will no longer be to teach fixed knowledge but to cultivate adaptive intelligence — the ability to learn, unlearn, and relearn continuously. The winners of tomorrow will not be those who have mastered a body of knowledge, but those who have mastered the art of reconfiguring it. Like a tennis player anticipating the opponent’s move, the agile mind will be defined by anticipation, pattern recognition, and curiosity.
Alexandre and Babeau, in Ne faites plus d’étude !, argue that universities are becoming obsolete. And yet, when asked what advice they would give their own children, they answer: “Study — but in elite universities.” That contradiction is revealing. What they are really saying is that institutions still matter, but only those capable of signaling excellence, adaptability, and purpose.
For me, higher education has always rested on three intertwined missions. The first is the most visible: the transmission of knowledge and skills. The second is subtler: serving as a signal of intellectual agility — a demonstration that one can reason, analyze, and persist. And the third is the most enduring: building human networks, communities of trust that span generations. The universities that thrive will be those able to renew all three missions, not just the first.
Knowledge today is no longer a scarce resource; it is a commodity. What becomes scarce is meaning — the ability to make sense of information and connect it to human aspirations. That is where universities can, and must, play a central role. Their mission is not to compete with AI in efficiency, but to complement it in purpose.
I would like to believe that the university of tomorrow will need to embody four essential qualities.
First, it should train students not to master a discipline once and for all, but to master the discipline of learning itself. The half-life of skills will continue to shrink, but the capacity to adapt can be cultivated for life. In this context, general culture will become a greater asset than narrow technical expertise. It fosters the ability to connect ideas across domains, to question assumptions, and to challenge the outputs of artificial intelligence models with nuance and judgment. When machines can generate answers instantly, the true mark of intelligence will lie in knowing which questions to ask — and why they matter.
Second, it should accompany learners beyond the campus. Lifelong education will no longer be a slogan — it will be an operating model. Institutions will have to maintain a continuous relationship with their alumni, supporting reskilling and intellectual renewal throughout their professional journeys.
Third, it should signal excellence through a clear and credible academic brand. In a world flooded with content and credentials of uneven quality, reputation becomes not vanity but necessity. Employers will continue to rely on trusted institutions to identify individuals with intellectual resilience and curiosity.
Finally, it should preserve the human bond that no algorithm can replace. Learning is a social act. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two — and, increasingly, throughout life — education shapes not only competence but character. Universities are one of the few remaining spaces where individuals learn to confront ideas, collaborate, and form values together. That dimension of shared humanity is the last, and most important, frontier that machines cannot cross.
Artificial intelligence will transform professions, perhaps even redefine what “expertise” means. But it will not eliminate the need for human mediation, trust, and empathy. A patient will still prefer a human doctor to a robotic assistant, not because the machine is less accurate, but because the relationship itself carries meaning. The same is true of education: the transmission of knowledge is inseparable from the relationship that conveys it.
Higher education therefore stands at a crossroads. The question is not whether universities will survive, but which ones will reinvent themselves fast enough. Those that cling to the old model — the transfer of finite knowledge — will fade. Those that embrace agility, lifelong engagement, and the social fabric of learning will thrive.
I would like to see the mission of higher education not as resistance to technological change, but as its humanization. The true measure of an institution will no longer be how much knowledge it transmits, but how deeply it transforms the minds — and the lives — of those who pass through it.
Higher education is not dying. It is evolving. What must disappear is the illusion that a diploma alone defines intelligence or success. The institutions of tomorrow will not simply teach; they will illuminate. They will help individuals remain human in a world that is becoming exponentially digital.
That is the future of learning I would like to build — one where the mind never stops growing, the human never disappears, and education, far from ending, begins again every day.