When I, in another life and another age, was an 18-year-old filling out my UCAS application, my second choice behind Cambridge was Warwick. Perhaps I was swayed by the sunny weather on the open day or the happy conversation I struck up with a Liverpudlian art teacher on the train home, but one feature drew me there above all: its embrace of interdisciplinary study. At Warwick, a first-year History student, for example, has two free module slots that can be filled with papers from almost any other degree programme, provided they can keep up.

Though no system this open could exist at Cambridge, Warwick’s encouragement of intellectual curiosity beyond one’s degree subject is an admirable principle. Cambridge’s borrowed papers and joint-honours options are scarce and scrappy, and any student bold enough to cross the academic border into the turf of another tripos will soon be assaulted by a barrage of timetable clashes, administrative issues, and an opaque lack of clear communication. Officially, this reflects the principle that a Cambridge education provides rich depth, not superficial breadth. In practice, however, it often feels less like principle than negligence, to the detriment of academic growth. Exposure not only to other lecture halls, but also to different supervisions and exams, is an opportunity for enrichment that Cambridge too readily discourages.

“This reflects no consistent pedagogical logic, only the comically brittle and arbitrary administrative scaffolding of Cambridge academia”

My own degree, Asian and Middle Eastern Studies (AMES), exemplifies the arbitrary way Cambridge handles subjects that cross tripos boundaries. MML students can combine languages such as French, Spanish, and German with History, yet no equivalent exists for Arabic or any other AMES language. Even so, I have a freer menu of options than some. Students of Middle Eastern languages may combine with MML languages, producing pairings such as Spanish & Arabic, French & Persian, or hypothetically even something as esoteric as Portugese & Hebrew. But students in East Asian Studies cannot: Chinese and Japanese students may study Korean, but the door to MML is closed to them – nor can they combine with each other. Officially, this is because such languages are considered too demanding. But Arabic is no easier: the US Foreign Service Institute ranks Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and Korean together in its highest difficulty category. This mismatch therefore reflects no consistent pedagogical logic, only the comically brittle and arbitrary administrative scaffolding of Cambridge academia.

But maybe I should be grateful for my limited interdisciplinary options, because those audacious few who enter this uncharted no man’s land between triposes are quickly punished for their boldness. Ben Lubitsh, Varsity’s very own Deputy Editor, told me of his tribulations in borrowing a History and Philosophy of Science (HPS) paper, property of the Natural Sciences Tripos, as a Philosophy student:

“There are multiple instances every week where my HPS lectures clash with my other Philosophy ones, forcing me to pick between one and hopelessly catch up on the other. Given Philosophy is a relatively low contact hour degree, it really doesn’t seem that difficult to avoid this.”

This recalls another example of arbitrary Cambridge policies that seemingly serve no purpose but to make students’ lives’ difficult: the widespread opposition to recording lectures. Ben also told me that basic information about HPS, such as examination methods, was information that he had to chase up himself. The University’s traditional justification that students should focus on their single subject, depth over breadth, is null and void here. HPS is in the academic domain of philosophy – it simply happens to be placed in the administrative territory of another tripos. The systemic mess here is not the justifiable result of any educational principle; it’s just bad management.

“A student of almost any discipline who has exposed themselves to other halls and subjects will come out as a stronger and more original thinker”

The most unfortunate victims of this aspect of the Cambridge system are the permanent residents of the no man’s land between triposes: joint honours students. I spoke with Arushi Dattani, a student of French and Greek (combining MML with Classics). When first entering her paper choices, the post–A-Level Greek language paper didn’t come up as an option, and for a time it seemed that she would have to do the ab initio paper despite having studied Greek for four years. Only with the help of her MML DoS was this resolved after two months of uncertainty. This is compounded by the familiar issues of double-booked lectures and classes, as well as the bizarre unilateral verdict that in her final year she will be unable to study Classics at all, unless she borrows papers. But Dattani is ultimately positive about her degree:

“They compliment […] each other well while also providing some variety […] I even remember flicking to the footnotes of one of my French texts, only to find a reference to a Greek text I had literally been translating that day – I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry!”

This exposes a reality that should have always been obvious: the idea that combining different subjects is a disreputable decision that sacrifices enriching depth for superficial breadth is myopic; academic disciplines constantly overlap, especially in the humanities. Surely an English student will become a stronger literary critic with access to the content of Classics and ASNAC, thereby allowing them to dig deeper into literary history than their tripos’ start date of 1300? Will a History student interested in the 20th century really have their academic development impeded by borrowing a HSPS paper on political theory? I argue that a student of almost any discipline who has exposed themselves to other halls and subjects will come out as a stronger and more original thinker.

There is nothing abnormal about flexibility between academic disciplines: it is the norm at most UK universities, and film and TV have made us all at least passingly familiar with the American language of ‘majors’ and ‘minors’. Nor is there anything detrimental in it – it can enrich, not detract from, the study of your main degree subject. So, why does Cambridge choose to turn the fertile points of overlap between subjects into a needlessly fraught no man’s land?