Danny Crichton

Originally published in the Stanford Weekly as part of a column series known as Academe's Vanguard that explored issues related to the Stanford University community.

Choosing a major used to be a relatively simple proposition. In the 12th century, the University of Paris had four faculties - law, medicine, arts and theology. They must have done something right, since these are the same disciplines that make an appearance here at Stanford (with a couple of additions over the years).

Those original four lasted for centuries, gradually expanding as new forms of scholarship emerged - engineering and social sciences, for instance. There was a slow accumulation of disciplines - a trickle that has seemed to become a flood in recent memory. Some universities now offer hundreds of majors. Stanford has crept past three digits as well, including both undergraduate and graduate programs.

This reflects a broad trend at Stanford and in American society - the forceful push toward greater levels of specialization. The common wisdom is that one cannot letter in the broad liberal arts without serious long-term economic consequences when others are focusing on tightly-defined specialties. That wisdom is false. I argue that a very different trend is emerging - and students can be at the forefront.

This problem of over-specialization is not exclusive to the humanities. Further specialization is happening across the university. At one point, a Computer Science degree was the end goal - a broad understanding of a relatively compact field. But a major revamp later, the program is now comprised of specialty tracks - seven of them in fact. To be fair, one does not have to be specialized - there is always the "unspecialized" track for those poor souls.

Specialization is good. I am reminded of the adage "when you are one

This Op-Ed was originally written for the Human Biology Core, as part of the Writing in the Major requirements.

Swine flu is over - are you still alive?

From across American and across the world, panic and fear took hold of the public at a potentially dangerous foe too small to see. Bold headlines splashed across the cable news networks, constantly juxtaposed with images of crying children leaving their closed school and panning shots of the grittiness of Mexico City where the whole thing started.

Amidst the sheer chaos that was the news response, people around the world were hearing their local leaders give conflicting reports about what to do and don't. Some countries, like Russia and China among others, banned the importation of pork from North America. Influenza cannot be transmitted from pork products. Close to home, scores of schools shut down to prevent the spread - with varying levels of necessity.

The gap seen between the real-world horror show that emanates from the upper digit channels and the everyday lives of American citizens is where public health education must step in. With global interconnectedness comes the ever-present danger of new infections and public health emergencies. Educating the public and especially local political leaders during a crisis is ineffective. Public health needs to improve its relationship with the very people its name invokes.

Public health as a true discipline came into its own in the 20th century with population-wide immunization and vaccination programs that has led to an increasing change from acute to chronic illness. The eradication of smallpox became a cause célèbre within the community and soon proved successful. Today, the field has expanded to include more than thirty schools of public health with thousands of graduates.

Today, public health can no longer work from behind the scenes.