Volume 66, No. 1

Is higher education in a creativity crisis? Is AI to blame for taking away what is believed to be uniquely human creativity? Before defaulting to blame, remember: AI is built from human-generated datasets (Runco and Jaeger 2012). Bias appears not because machines are political, but because humans initially put it there.

Consider how creativity has been defined, to whom it has belonged, and how it has been regulated in higher education, particularly in music. The word creativity comes from the Latin creare, meaning to bring forth or produce (Boden 2004). In early English usage, creation was tied to divinity. Humans did not create; they were “inspired,” serving as vessels through which something higher moved (Burnard 2012).

It was not until the 19th century that creativity came to be understood as human, though philosophers like Kant associated it with rare genius (Kant 1790). Psychologists in the early 20th century, such as Guilford, framed creativity through divergent thinking, and Csikszentmihalyi emphasized flow and social processes, making creativity potentially available to all, though still legitimized by systems of recognition (Guilford 1967; Csikszentmihalyi 1999). Today, technology—through digital audio workstations (DAWs), social media, and accessible production tools—broadens participation in creative production. Almost anyone can now create, distribute, and monetize their work, making creativity remarkably young as a widely accessible concept.

Rather than ask whether creativity is disappearing, interrogate how it functions. Creativity is a socially situated, intentional process (Burnard 2012). An oyster can produce a pearl, but that is not creativity. A jeweler who intentionally transforms it into something new—that is creativity (Burnard 2012). Creativity relies on novelty and usefulness: what is new, for whom it functions, and what problems it engages. These judgments are made over time by experts, institutions, and fields that hold power (Csikszentmihalyi 1999; Runco and Jaeger 2012).

This distinction of creativity being novel and useful brings another tension: reproductive versus productive activity. Reproductive activity emphasizes replication and mastery; productive activity uses prior knowledge to imagine new possibilities (Allsup 2016). In music, this can sound like a sonic explosion shaped by divergent thinking. Rap legends A Tribe Called Quest captured this when they proclaimed “We Got the Jazz,” building on previous knowledge to generate something new that moved bodies, heads, and meaning.

Creativity is inseparable from power. It is about who gets ideas, who gets credited, and whose knowledge is recognized. Non-White knowledge, particularly Black and Brown knowledge, has often been valued for cultural contribution while excluded from scholarly legitimacy (Dixson 2017; McCall 2017). The Western European conservatory model continues to dominate, leaving Black and Brown musicians and scholars underrepresented, and their music designated as merely supplemental (NASM HEADS Data Summaries 2020–21). When creativity is embraced as a process rather than mere compliance, non-White populations from all backgrounds can march to the beat of their own creative djembe—while also engaging interculturally with musical epistemologies both familiar and unfamiliar.

Zooming out, I ask respectfully: Why, in higher education music circles, is there still debate over the need for creativity? And more layered: Why has higher education not moved further, collectively or systemically, to address this? Why have curricula, pedagogy, policy, and learning spaces not been fundamentally redesigned to equitably advance creative flourishing?

From my perspective—and perhaps from the perspectives of others—the reason for the persistence of this situatedness is that hegemony still exists, and White supremacy continues to creatively shape institutions and curricula in ways that disadvantage racially minoritized scholars and students (Ewell 2020). I describe this system as part of a process I call White monometrics: institutional rhythms of Whiteness that package diversity into neat, measurable units. These rhythms produce syncopated acculturations that leave racially minoritized individuals in a state of societal dysrhythmia—unable to fully conceptualize their identities within spaces that were never designed for them. For many Black scholars, creativity is a cultural responsibility—an act of survival and self-liberation under the White gaze (Dixson 2017; McCall 2017; Ewell 2020).

So, the question is no longer whether institutions can change. The question is whether they want to change.

Supporting creativity requires system redesign. Schools of music might consider disrupting epistemic hierarchies (Dixson 2017; Bourdieu 1993); designing for productive friction (Freire 1970; Allsup 2016); redistributing power in learning (Allsup 2016); and reimagining assessment as generative (Burnard 2012; Csikszentmihalyi 1999).

Equally important is attention to space, time, and ethics. Schools of music might also focus on creating flexible boundaries between institutions and life (Burnard 2012); designing spaces that invite difference (Burnard 2012; Dixson 2017); protecting time for unproductive work (Burnard 2012; Csikszentmihalyi 1999); and centering ethics and responsibility (Dixson 2017; Freire 1970).

Creativity should not be conceptualized as a skill to achieve or weaponized in a battle against AI, but as a normalized and embedded center of actualized learning. The work is to redesign conditions—curricular, pedagogical, political, and spatial—so that diverse ways of knowing can collide, coexist, and create futures otherwise unimaginable.

References

1. Allsup, Randall Everett. 2016. Remixing the Classroom: Toward an Open Philosophy of Music Education. Indiana University Press.
2. Boden, Margaret. 2004. The Creative Mind: Myths and Mechanisms (2nd ed.) Routledge.
3. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1993. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature. Columbia University Press.
4. Burnard, Pamela. 2012. “Musical Creativities in Practice.” In Oxford Handbook of Music Education, edited by Gary McPherson, 248–266. Oxford University Press.
5. Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly. 1999. Implications of a Systems Perspective for the Study of Creativity. In Handbook of Creativity, edited by Robert Sternberg, 313–335. Cambridge University Press.
6. Dixson, Adrienne D., and Celia K. Rousseau Anderson. 2016. “And We Are STILL Not Saved: 20 Years of CRT and Education.” In Critical Race Theory in Education: All God’s Children Got a Song, 32–54. Routledge.
7. Ewell, Philip A. 2020. “Music Theory and the White Racial Frame.” Music Theory Online 26(2). 10.30535/mto.26.2.4
8. Freire, Paulo. 1970. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Continuum.
9. Guilford, J. P. 1967. The Nature of Human Intelligence. McGraw-Hill.
10. Kant, Immanuel. 1790. Critique of Judgment. Translated by Werner Pluhar. Hackett, 1987.
11. McCall, Joyce M. 2017. “Speak No Evil: Talking Race as an African American in Music Education.” In Marginalized Voices in Music Education, edited by Brent C. Talbot, 13–27. Routledge.
12. NASM HEADS Data Summaries. 2021. Ethnic Characteristics of Faculty and Students in NASM-Accredited Programs, 2020–21. National Association of Schools of Music. https://nasm.arts-accredit.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2022/04/M-2020-2021-HEADS-Data-Summaries.pdf
13. Runco, Mark A., and Garrett J. Jaeger. 2012. “The Standard Definition of Creativity.” Creativity Research Journal 24(1): 92–96. 10.1080/10400419.2012.650092