Dear Magicians,

I’m watching Gladiator 2 at cruising altitude, which feels like the perfect metaphor for modern academia – artificial combat in a pressurized environment. Russell Crowe and I have both expanded since the original film, though I suspect for different reasons. His involves method acting. Mine involves tenure.

Consider this.

The ancient Romans had a term: “Suppositicii” – disposable gladiators. Built-in obsolescence, but for humans. The kind of gladiators you’d find in the clearance section of the arena, if Roman amphitheaters had clearance sections. Which, in a way, they did.

Today I’m flying to meet Neil deGrasse Tyson. On my first appearance on StarTalk Radio he told me that, to him, looking at stars feels like looking into the past. Perhaps looking at academia is too. The same hierarchies. The same brutal efficiency. The same disposability, just with better coffee and fewer lions.

My university even made it to it a physical coliseum for an epic battle — that’s right, March Madness! It was UCSD’s first time at the Big Dance. They lost, but they lost with dignity. Unlike most academic careers, which just… fizzle out, fading without so much as an echo.

Think about your average adjunct professor.

They’re like a Suppositicii with a PhD. Fighting for survival in fluorescent-lit corridors instead of sun-baked sand (arena in Latin, get it?). Their weapons? PowerPoint and peer review. Their colosseum? The freshman weed-out course. Their reward? A parking spot, if they’re lucky. Usually with a meter. If not, summarily fired .

Are you not entertained?

Let me be specific.

I’ve achieved “tenure” – academic immortality, or at least its closest approximation. I like to think I’ve earned it. I’ve graduated over 15 PhDs, all gainfully employed, obtained two US Patents, built a thriving education/public outreach channel and my h-index — analogous to being inscribed on a Roman libelli (honorific columns) is several ticks above my age. As Maximus (Crowe) would say “What we do on the tenure-track echoes in eternity!”

Here’s the thing about disposability.

It’s not just about people. It’s about ideas. Values. The notion that worth equals productivity. That humans are resources to be optimized, like buffer sizes in a computer program. Or gladiators in an arena.

But wait.

What if we’re asking the wrong questions? What if the real measure of a society isn’t how efficiently it produces papers, but how carefully it protects its Suppositicii? Its adjuncts? Its graduate students surviving on ramen and optimism?

Consider the alternatives.

We could build universities that value human flourishing over h-indices. Create departments where “publish or perish” becomes “publish and thrive.” Design systems where the only disposable things are our assumptions about what academia should be.

The path forward isn’t perfect.

But neither was the original Gladiator. And look what they did with the sequel.

Think about it.

Test it.

And maybe pack a lunch for your local adjunct professor. They’re probably hungry.

Until next time, have a M.A.G.I.C. Week, and let me know: Do you give this message a 👍 or 👎?

Brian