Adminocracy, in its very essence, is troubling enough. Yet, the true peril emerges when this bureaucratic regime begins to seep into the lifeblood of academia—into the steadfast realms of research and teaching. It is then that we find ourselves complicit in our own subjugation, preemptively acquiescing to a system that thrives on control. We begin to whisper to ourselves, almost as if seeking solace: “Perhaps it is wise to have rules? Who knows what chaos might ensue if we were left to govern our own intellectual pursuits?” And so, the creeping logic of adminocracy takes root, its shadow obscuring the clarity of what should be inviolable: the freedom to teach and to explore without fetters.
In this fog of bureaucratic rationality, decisions about what research may flourish or what teaching may proceed are no longer made in the light of academic judgment but are instead swallowed by the dark machinery of administrative oversight. The ideals of free inquiry and unbridled pedagogy—absolutes that should stand as the very foundation of intellectual life—are quietly eroded. What replaces them is not wisdom or expertise but a hollow deference to those who are woefully unqualified to dictate the course of scholarly endeavor.
This is no sudden coup, but a slow surrender, a gradual relinquishing of power to forces that neither understand nor cherish the delicate art of knowledge creation. It is a betrayal of what academia ought to be—a sanctuary for curiosity and innovation—sacrificed at the altar of order and compliance. If we do not resist this encroachment, we risk losing not only our autonomy but also the very soul of academic freedom itself.