Why essays still matter (even now)

But rather than academic essays becoming less relevant, I have a feeling they will remain just as relevant. Maybe more so. Why? Well, let’s put AI aside for a moment. Before we even get to that conversation, and that will probably be another post, I think it's worth asking a more basic question.

What the fuck are essays even still doing in higher education?

Ok. Brace yourself.

Most students think essay writing is about responding to a question set by your lecturer. It's a test, right? Wrong. Big mistake. That's not why you’re ‘made’ to write essays.

Long-form academic essays are not tests. They are pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps intellectual engines. And that is exactly why they are still used. Let me explain.

What an essay actually is.
An academic essay is a structured attempt to answer a complex intellectual problem under constraint. Let's unpack that because it does sound like a lot of academic bullshit.

It’s structured. It has an architecture. It is not a just a random stream of thoughts.
It’s an attempt. It’s provisional. You are not delivering truth. You are constructing a defensible position.
It’s a complex problem. Good essay questions do not have obvious answers.
It’s all done under constraint. Word limits, evidence limits, time limits.

An essay, if approached properly, forces you to decide what matters and what doesn't. To take a position rather than hide behind a summary. To organise competing ideas coherently. To justify your reasoning using evidence.

That process is very cognitively demanding in a way that short-form testing is not. You see the essay is not checking whether you have consumed information. It is checking whether you can do something with it. And that cognitive demand doesn’t just come from deep reflection on what you have read. It comes from the sheer avalanche of skills that need to be employed and developed WHILE you’re trying to construct an essay.

Essay writing involves a shit-ton of skills.

You have to research, which means trawling through databases, skimming abstracts, deciding what's worth reading properly and what isn't. You have to absorb and challenge what you've read, which is a completely different cognitive gear from finding it in the first place. Then you have to organise your sources so you can actually find them again when you need them, instead of spending two hours at midnight shouting "where the f*ck did I see that quote?!" while your flatmates try to figure out whether to make you a calming mug of chamomile tea or call home to see if your prescription was missed.

Then you have to plan an argument. Then you have to write it, which is a different skill again, because crafting a clear, persuasive piece of prose has almost nothing in common with the reading and thinking that got you there. Then you have to edit it, which requires you to switch from creator to critic and read your own work as if someone else wrote it, which is terrifying! Then you have to format, reference, and proofread, all of which is tedious but will cost you marks if you get it wrong.

Research. Critical thinking. Information management. Argument construction. Communication. Editing. Project management. You are expected to do all of these, often for the first time at this level, in a single piece of work. And the hat-switching is relentless. The part of your brain that combs through journal articles is not the same part that writes a compelling opening paragraph. The skills you need for editing are almost the opposite of the skills you need for drafting.

That is why essays feel so hard. Not because you're not smart enough. But because nobody at university honestly frames the sheer complexity of what you're being asked to do.

But, and it’s big but, that struggle, all of that complexity, the relentless hat-switching, that feeling of being pulled in six directions by a single assignment? That's the point!

Essays are, for want of a better metaphor, weightlifting for the brain. Every time you struggle through the mess of researching, organising, arguing, writing, editing and referencing, you are building cognitive muscle. Not just learning about your subject, but training yourself to think, decide, communicate and manage complexity under pressure. Not regurgitation. Not elegant paraphrasing. Not decorative referencing. Judgement.

That is why essays persist. Not because universities are nostalgic. But because few other assessment formats develop as many meta-skills simultaneously.

Which brings us back to AI. If essays were just about producing text, then yes, AI would make them pointless. But essays were never about the text. They were about the thinking that produces the text. The decisions, the trade-offs, the judgement calls you make along the way. AI can generate words. It cannot do your thinking for you. And if you let it, you're skipping the exact thing the essay was designed to build.

So no, essays are not going anywhere. And the students who understand what essays are actually for, not a test of knowledge, but an engine for developing judgement, are the ones who will thrive. Whether AI is in the picture or not.

If this made you rethink how you approach your next essay, please forward it to a friend who's still in the writing-weeds, and lamenting their decision to go to university. If they are feeling miserable and stretched about their assignments, let them know that that’s exactly how they are supposed to feel. The fight is the point!