The European Academy of Sciences of Ukraine is honored to present an exclusive interview with its President — Professor Jerome Krase, Emeritus and Murray Koppelman Professor at Brooklyn College CUNY. In this discussion, Professor Krase examines the limitations of hyperspecialization and explores the transformative potential of integrating knowledge across disciplines. Drawing on his extensive academic experience and collaborations with Dr. Oleg Maltsev, he offers a compelling perspective on the challenges polymaths face and demonstrates how interdisciplinary approaches can unlock new opportunities for scientific and societal progress.

Question: Professor Krase, as we know, the term “polymath” and the concept of polymathy have existed since ancient Greece, but today it seems that narrow specialists have displaced polymaths in science. In your opinion, what defines a polymath in the modern world, especially in the context of developing scientific and academic fields?

Jerome Krase: The term itself is rarely used nowadays, except in historical contexts when referring to prominent figures like Isaac Newton or Leonardo da Vinci. There is also a common misconception that all polymaths are geniuses. That might be true in some cases, and most of the people I know who could claim this title are indeed exceptionally intelligent. Whether they qualify as geniuses is open to interpretation and testing.

Another source of confusion arises from the fact that the word “polymath” is seldom used in modern times. In many fields—particularly in the social sciences and humanities—academic focus has grown increasingly narrow, concentrating on highly specialized disciplines.

Because of this, when individuals step outside the mainstream of their discipline, their actions are often questioned. Why does this happen? One reason is the response of those who see themselves as the most important figures within their field. They often want to be the ones acknowledged or cited, and they tend to be wary of others stepping beyond the traditional boundaries. This is a form of boundary maintenance in science.

However, what has become clear in recent years—if not recent decades—is that this narrow approach is not advantageous for any discipline. As a result, there has been a growing emphasis on interdisciplinary research. Nevertheless, interdisciplinary work is not the same as polymathy.

Q: What does this term mean to you, and how would you explain it?

JK: Polymathy, when considered in terms of a person, refers to someone who can think and act across many disciplines (this is the "poly" part) or across various talents and areas of thought. That is essentially what it means.

What this requires is something I believe my friend, Academician Oleg Maltsev, possesses—a willingness to stretch the mind and venture into new areas. These might even be areas where one is not particularly expert. However, if you are a bright person, as he is, you will uncover insights that you would not have found otherwise. This is how I define it, and my definition aligns closely with the dictionary’s. It includes the willingness to stretch one's mind—in other words, a readiness to learn a different language, explore art if you are a scientist, or study music if you write statistical reports.

In each of these cases, you gain more knowledge and develop a broader perspective, allowing you to see a subject from multiple angles you might not have considered before. That is why I have always been impressed by Maltsev’s work. Even though many of the things he does are outside my area of expertise, when I look at his work, I think, "That is an interesting idea." This is what we are supposed to do—discover new ideas, test them, and share them with each other.

Q: You mentioned that you immediately recognized Oleg as a polymath. What was it about him that made you feel confident in calling him that right away?

JK: I’m not sure if I actually used the term "polymath," but I described him as someone interested in many different topics. One of our first interviews made this clear to me. If I remember correctly, it was in August 2020, and we talked about visual sociology. We also discussed his expeditions, including one to Croatia. During our conversation, he brought up various sources of information and different perspectives on things. At that point, I concluded—and later told several people—that he was someone who knew many different things and approached various topics from multiple angles.

I think this is also why I appreciated seeing Oleg’s interest in Jean Baudrillard’s work. We even discussed my research on ethnic theme parks in that context. You can’t truly understand someone like Baudrillard unless you’re willing to venture into unfamiliar places and, more importantly, take the chance of discussing them. In the scientific and professional worlds, people are often afraid of making mistakes within their disciplines. They hesitate to push boundaries or think beyond the conventional. But that’s precisely what a polymath does.

If you consider the nature of their work, they challenge the norm by proposing ideas that not only others fail to believe in but often fail to perceive the relevance of. I’ve encountered this myself. A genius is someone who aims at a target that no one else sees and hits the bullseye. And that’s the issue—often, Oleg, myself, or others see problems or opportunities that others simply do not perceive. Then, we study the subject through multiple lenses and arrive at valid, reliable conclusions, which we present.

Q: What is your perspective on how these new ideas are received in the academic world?

JK: Often, what happens is that the conclusions are rejected because others don’t understand what we were examining. I also believe that much of the reaction from people within the academic world is rooted in jealousy. In other words, it’s the mindset of, "I didn’t do that, so it can’t be important," or "You didn’t quote me, so it’s not valuable," or "You didn’t acknowledge that my work led you to this conclusion."

This is a common challenge faced by those who think expansively. Historically, in the sciences, discoveries that were initially rejected are often later "rediscovered" by individuals at the center of the discipline, who were made aware of them by someone previously dismissed. These individuals then take credit for the discovery, even though it was made earlier by someone they fail to acknowledge. I have experienced this many times in my own work.

We see this repeatedly—the rejection of ideas simply because they don’t come from someone already recognized as a leading figure. This rejection is often tied to jealousy and an attempt to maintain hierarchy. Those who didn’t make the discovery, or who can’t connect your discovery to their own work, often dismiss it.

I’ve written about this extensively, but it’s important to remember that science is a social system, and like any social system, it has its flaws. It’s also a political system with a hierarchy that seeks to enforce its order. Take Galileo, for example, who may or may not have been a polymath. If we assume he was, his ideas were rejected not because they were wrong—many people actually understood what he was saying—but because they challenged the established order.

Q: Historical examples show us that polymaths often face challenges like criticism, persecution, stigmatization, accusations of superficial knowledge, and so on. What do you think might be the root cause of these difficulties?

JK: Historical circumstances play a significant role. I have written about this before and even touched on it during some EUASU discussions. During times of crisis, as Thomas Kuhn described in his work on scientific revolutions, we see how difficult it is for these shifts to occur. Whether they represent true scientific revolutions or simply the introduction of new ideas, such innovations disrupt the system. They challenge its hierarchy, social structures, cultural norms, and even political dynamics—essentially, the distribution of power within the system.

The connection to polymathy lies in how it challenges established systems by drawing on knowledge from outside those systems. For example, if a biologist were to assert that a phenomenon is better explained by atomic physics, the established field of biology might resist, insisting on explanations rooted in its own accepted framework—what Thomas Kuhn refers to as "normal science." Polymaths and geniuses, while not always synonymous, share a key trait: they step beyond the boundaries of the system. This willingness to look outward often leads to groundbreaking ideas.

When someone introduces ideas that lack roots within an established system, those ideas are frequently met with resistance. This resistance stems from challenges related to social, cultural, and political norms. During times of crisis—such as war, famine, or ecological disasters—this resistance becomes even more pronounced, as people seek stability and prefer to rely on what is already accepted as truth.

I have encountered this many times in my work, realizing that my ideas might not always be accepted within my discipline. As a result, I have sought perspectives outside my field, engaging with historians, sociologists, anthropologists, and others, striving to integrate their insights.

Q: Can you provide an example of this?

JK: For instance, in my focus on visual approaches to society and social relationships, I faced significant resistance early on. Fifty years ago, discussions about imagery and perception were largely dismissed. My first book, The Presentation of Community and Urban Society, explored how marginalized groups, such as Black communities in America, faced stigma that extended to their neighborhoods and surroundings—a concept that was novel at the time.

I encountered significant challenges in getting my work published, especially in the beginning. Today, the ideas I explored are more widely accepted, but only because key figures in the field have embraced them. Of course, they won’t credit me—acknowledging where they learned it isn’t how things typically work.

Perhaps someday, someone criticizing Oleg will reference his findings without mentioning his name, claiming they were the ones who made the discovery. That’s just how things are. Some of the most prominent figures in my field have discussed my work without ever mentioning my name. I understand how the system operates because science is a social organization. It’s structured with hierarchies and governed by rules.

Oleg, however, never follows the rules. One of the things we talked about was his skeet shooting. My son-in-law's father was a skeet shooter, so we had a connection there. We also discussed martial arts, and I know he enjoys riding motorcycles. These kinds of activities set him apart from the typical image of a scientist.

I would tell him not to expect to be quoted much. You know how we scientists are—we can be very egotistical. The first thing we do when we read an article or book is check whether our name is mentioned. I’m certain that some of the people critical of Oleg do exactly that, scanning his work to see if he acknowledged them.

Q: What do you think needs to change in society to make it more accepting of polymaths?

JK: There are two approaches to addressing this: a theoretical one and a practical one. The theoretical approach involves considering how to change society so that it becomes more accepting of differences. It’s about convincing your opposition, showing them how they can benefit from your work, and thereby changing the system. As Thomas Kuhn explained, when new ideas are eventually accepted, they become part of the new canon. However, the cycle continues—when another new idea emerges, it is rejected again until it too is eventually incorporated into the system.

On the practical level, for the polymath who may not want to challenge the system, the key is to understand the system they exist in and learn how to navigate it for their own benefit.

Q: Could you explain that in more detail?

JK: What I recommend—though it’s a cynical approach, as you’ll recognize—is to work within the system's constraints. I’ve never followed this path, and it’s one of the reasons why it took me so long to find success in my field. It simply isn’t my style. Oleg might be the same way.

When I talk to graduate students, I always emphasize the importance of understanding the system if they want to get published in a journal. They should study the journal, look at the editors, and see what topics have been covered. It helps to cite the editors’ work or write in a way that aligns with the system, making it more likely for their article to be accepted. That’s the practical route.

What I advise my graduate students to do is something I didn’t do myself, and it cost me professionally. Always read the journal before submitting an article. Don’t submit something—even if you think it would benefit the journal because it’s a new idea—unless it fits. I can give you a direct example: In the 1970s, long before you were born, I wrote an article about stigma and submitted it to a journal. The article discussed how certain territories become stigmatized when specific groups occupy them. The journal rejected it because it didn’t fit. The editor even told me he thought it was a good article, but it was so unconventional that it didn’t align with the journal’s scope. If I had known better, I would have researched the editors and ensured it fit.

Years later, people have written about the same concept and received all kinds of recognition, while my theory has been tested repeatedly without any reference to the original work from the 1970s.

What you also need to understand about the social system is that people at the lower levels of the scientific hierarchy often have their work taken without attribution. Because they’re not seen as important, others at higher levels can read their work, claim it as their own, and put it into practice. There’s even a rule in the discipline that discourages citing minor studies.

The way your work is judged depends on the quality of citations, referred to as the citation index. So, if I quote someone outside the discipline, that’s a problem. But if I mention that an undergraduate student of mine came up with a good idea, my work will be considered lower in value because it’s relying on someone at a lower level. That’s the social structure.

You could wait for the system to change, or you could work within it: understand the rules and follow them. Don’t wait until you’re 80 like I am.

Q: Thank you, Professor, for this explanation. It is especially important for young researchers and scientists to understand. Looking back through history, what do you think drives society’s fear and occasional hostility toward polymaths? How would you describe the nature of this reaction?

JK: To expand on my earlier comments without repeating myself, the core of this issue lies in the social structure. A polymath—someone bringing new ideas from outside the system—poses a challenge to that structure. Those who see themselves as above such a figure perceive this challenge as a threat to their own position. Acknowledging the polymath’s work, which stands independent of theirs, would undermine their authority. That is the fear at the heart of it: a professional, cultural, and psychological fear.

And from this, hostility can arise. You may not realize it, but many individuals in the academic world are not particularly “nice people.” They are often self-aggrandizing, unwilling to relinquish their position, and, in some cases, willing to harm others professionally just to maintain their standing and keep others in their place.

Q: Could you provide an example to clarify your point for a better understanding?

JK: I’ll give you an example from my experience. I had an African-American undergraduate student, and while I’m not sure how much he learned from me, I certainly learned a great deal from him through his experiences. I assisted him in getting into a doctoral program, and he eventually pursued his PhD at a prestigious university.

His doctoral committee consisted of top experts in the field. After he wrote his dissertation, I reviewed it as part of his committee and was invited to discuss it. During my visit, the committee raised several issues with his work, but as his mentor, I defended him. Being a social psychologist myself, I could understand where their objections were coming from.

One of the objections was that he wasn’t citing them enough. The second issue was more complicated. The two white men on his committee, both from upper-middle-class backgrounds, couldn’t relate to him—a Black young man from a working-class family living in a racist society. I understood that he saw the world differently than they did. He was expressing a truth they simply could not grasp.

I explained to him that they not only didn’t understand him but also COULD NOT understand him. I advised him to reframe his experiences—to translate his story into their language so they could comprehend it. He took that advice, and as a result, he earned his PhD and is now a professor.

Q: You have found a solution to this situation.

JK: Yes, based on my experience. No one ever explained it to me. When I was working on my dissertation, one of the most prominent sociologists on my committee suggested I publish my book in a certain way. I didn’t understand what he meant because I didn’t come from that world. I came from a poor background, and the academic world was a strange place to me. I thought of it as a Pure White Tower, where everyone had high morals, but I didn’t realize it was just like my old neighborhood…

So, the fear and hostility stem from the challenge. One needs to find practical ways to navigate this—ways to work within the system.

Q: Peter Burke, in his article about polymaths, argues that narrow specialists have replaced polymaths in modern academia. He claims that the power over knowledge has fallen into the hands of mediocrity. For narrow specialization, outstanding abilities are not only unnecessary but even harmful. He contends that we have regressed in our knowledge and understanding and have now reached a dead end: narrow specialists are simply incapable of coping with the avalanche of problems the 21st century has unleashed upon us. What do you think are the consequences for modern society and science of narrow specialists replacing polymaths?

JK: I believe this is true and has always been true. As I mentioned earlier, those who challenge the system often face resistance. If you look back through the centuries, the line between science and religion was frequently blurred. Think of great geniuses like Galileo and Kepler, who faced significant difficulties in having their ideas accepted, often long after they were first introduced.

In my lifetime, particularly in science, I have seen how extreme specialization within disciplines has had negative consequences. About ten years ago, however, people began to recognize this issue and started discussing interdisciplinary approaches. They even created a journal dedicated to this idea. Now, interdisciplinarity has become a specialty in itself, with teams of specialists coming together.

The assumption is that teams of specialists will produce the same outcomes as individuals who possess knowledge across many subjects. I do not think that is the case. Unless there is someone leading the team who understands the broader picture and can guide them in the right direction, the results may fall short of what is needed.

I believe this is detrimental to the world of science, and to the world itself. I truly think that more people who can see and understand things broadly are necessary.

Q: How can that be accomplished?

JK: The difficulty lies in the fact that it is always challenging. Leaders of disciplines and ideas often view this as a threat. Take Al Gore, for example—when he talked about the environment, his ideas were rejected because they were too broad for people to fully grasp. They understood some parts but not others. This issue is still evident in environmental discussions today. For instance, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. approaches the topic too narrowly, missing the broader perspective, which leads to problems.

To truly understand climate change, you need to consider many disciplines, not just focus on one aspect. People might claim it’s all about carbon dioxide, but it’s not just that—it’s methane, biomass, ocean currents, atmospheric pressures, the Earth’s magnetic field, and even paleontology. All of these elements are necessary to fully comprehend what’s happening.

Now, consider fundamentalists who believe the world is only 40,000 years old based on the Bible’s description. If you present evidence of Earth’s changes, such as fossil records dating back 20 million years, they deny the existence of such distant history. Burke is absolutely right—the world suffers from this narrow mindset.

The more they try to block insights from individuals like Dr. Maltsev—and I’m not the only one who has faced this—the more harm they cause. Oleg’s book on War Crimes offers critical insights. It’s not about moral judgments; it’s about understanding how things truly are. Without these perspectives, the world—and not just science—suffers. The application of science itself is diminished.

Q: In your opinion, is the 21st century the time for polymaths or hyperspecialists?

JK: I believe the 21st century needs polymaths. There is simply too much knowledge to tackle, and while polymaths don’t have to be experts in every field, they need enough understanding to grasp various concepts. Otherwise, narrow specialists end up making one mistake after another. When science is applied and doesn’t work, it’s often the result of specialists who cannot step outside their narrow focus. A polymath—someone well-versed in multiple subjects—is much more likely to diagnose the problem. Specialists may make mistakes within their discipline, but those errors might not apply outside their specific area of expertise.

Q: I understand that you’ve probably answered this question already, but I’d like to clarify it more specifically. You may know that Oleg Maltsev’s work spans diverse fields such as criminology, psychology, history, and sociology. How do you think his polymathic approach has influenced his unique methodologies and results?

JK: I believe his multidisciplinary approach—rather than just an interdisciplinary one—adds significant value to his work. This is what makes it more important than it might otherwise be. It’s essential, and I think this is also why it’s so challenging, as there are very few people capable of taking such an approach. But this, in my view, is the core of his work.

I recognized this early on, from our first meeting in August 2020, when we discussed visual sociology. It was clear then that the conversation was enriched by the many other elements he brought into it, making it a far more meaningful discussion. So, I believe his approach is not just positive but also leads to a deeper understanding of situations.

Q: The next questions are important for the future. How can institutions and academic structures more effectively foster the development of polymathic approaches and interdisciplinarity?

JK: In certain places, interdisciplinary studies are becoming more common, but what institutions at the highest levels need to do is actively encourage them by recognizing the benefits they bring. They must understand the value of such approaches. In some American universities, attempts have been made to adjust departmental structures—for example, grouping fields like economics, sociology, political science, and psychology under the umbrella of social sciences. While these departments are housed together, the level of cooperation between them can vary. Similarly, the natural sciences are often grouped together in a similar way.

Q: How can we encourage polymathic thinking?

JK: To encourage polymathic thinking, it’s essential to combine both the sciences and the social sciences. While focusing solely on social sciences is valuable, social scientists should also engage with the natural sciences, and vice versa. For example, social scientists should examine biology, and biologists should explore anthropology.

Encouraging these interdisciplinary connections is crucial, and university leadership must recognize their benefits. This can be facilitated through conferences and meetings where individuals from different disciplines share their work. For instance, a sociologist might present their research to a group of biologists and chemists, allowing the social sciences to learn from chemistry and improve as a result.

Q: Do you apply this approach in your work?

JK: Yes. For example, I believe my class on race and ethnicity is enriched by discussing genetics. While I am a social scientist and not an expert in biology or genetics, I have learned enough to integrate these concepts into my social science class. This should be recognized as a benefit.

What is also needed is a greater number of multidisciplinary or interdisciplinary journals and publications. These would encourage people to explore social topics and demonstrate how knowledge from fields like biology or chemistry can contribute to understanding them. This approach must be actively encouraged. Some universities, particularly those founded in the 19th century in Europe, attempted to bring together different disciplines to create alternative educational models. Unfortunately, as you pointed out earlier, specialization has become dominant.

In New York City, there is a school called The New School, which blends various social sciences. This is an example of interdisciplinary studies in practice, and such models should be valued.

Q: Is there any other way to promote it?

JK: I once gave a talk at an undergraduate conference at Macaulay Honors College at the City University of New York. This part of the university emphasized what could be called polymathic thinking, though it leaned more toward interdisciplinarity. They offered seminars that integrated many different sciences around a single topic—in this case, "New York City."

The seminar brought together social scientists, political scientists, chemists, biologists, anthropologists, and archaeologists, each applying their discipline to the same subject. This year-long course I helped develop exposed students to a broad range of perspectives. Some students would say things like, "I’m not very good at science," but they could see how science could be applied to the central theme. This kind of approach is often referred to as area studies.

For instance, if there’s a single topic, like the Baltic Sea, you could study its history, geology, politics, and archaeology all as part of one subject. Through this approach, students begin to appreciate the value of each discipline and understand how they interact with one another. For example, the geology of the Baltic Sea greatly influences the history of settlements in the region. By studying biology and genetics in the context of the Baltic, you can learn about the different groups of people in the area and their DNA structures—where they came from and where they went. That is my suggestion.

Q: What kinds of benefits can come from using the polymathic approach?

JK: I would say that throughout my many years of involvement in various fields—environmental work, community organizing, political matters, and more—I have found that having a broad understanding of multiple disciplines, even at a basic level, has always been helpful. This has been evident in all of my work.

For instance, when I was president of a development corporation working to build housing for those in need, I realized that it wasn’t just about sociology; I also needed to understand economics, architecture, and the geology of the areas where we planned to build. This kind of cross-disciplinary knowledge has always been essential.

This may seem like a small example, but for larger problems, the importance of a polymath becomes even clearer. Sometimes, people believe that a team can solve the problem. However, as I mentioned earlier, if the team leader is not a polymath, the chances of success decrease. Each specialist will provide a unique report that needs to be integrated, and that can be challenging without someone who understands the broader picture.

Q: Just to clarify: In order to be a polymath in the modern world, is it necessary to make groundbreaking discoveries or create a great legacy like Leonardo da Vinci or Pythagoras?

JK: I don’t think so. If we view the polymathic approach as someone possessing extensive knowledge across various subjects, that person may or may not make a groundbreaking discovery. However, in my opinion, this type of individual is the most likely to make such discoveries.

When we look at the social structure, I can give you an example. Many scientific institutions now use teams of different scientists to work on the same problem. The leader of that team should, in my view, be a polymath—someone who understands at least a bit about each of the disciplines they are bringing together. Otherwise, they won’t be able to fully grasp the issue.

Q: Before we end, let’s leave on an inspiring note. Since the world needs more polymaths, what would be your heartfelt wish or message to inspire people to cultivate and embrace the qualities of a polymath?

JK: As a scientist and a member of the scientific community, I believe that if we are truly committed to addressing the most pressing challenges facing the world today, the best approach is through a polymathic perspective. We must move beyond our specialized fields and even beyond broader interdisciplinary frameworks, striving to understand as many different scientific approaches and disciplines as possible to tackle the growing problems we face now and in the future.

Thank you very much, Professor Krase, for this insightful discussion, which has provided a deeper understanding of the importance of polymathic thinking, along with your personal experiences.