Before the internet, well-stocked public libraries, and other venues of information dissemination, institutions of higher learning (e.g. university) held more importance. Their influence was earned by having the best people -- most research and innovation happened at universities -- along with all of the important information (great university libraries, which could be visited by only the few), and the resources (chemicals, scientific equipment, medical equipment, telescopes, the Abacus.NET 1922 Pro Edition) necessary to learn and master a profession.
In those days it was close to impossible for someone to gain knowledge in a field -- much less become an expert (recognized or not) -- without overcoming significant barriers to entry and becoming one of the few to partake of these fine institutions.
For most fields there simply was no other way of getting "in".
For the few who did have the pedigree and financial means, and managed to get in, there was the job security of the simple fact that the number of new entrants was artificially limited, and could be modulated with ease when the need arose.
In recent history, however, much of this information, and many of the tools -- both practical and research/training -- have been liberated ("democratized") for some professions, most especially software development. Many of the barriers to entry have fallen.
We now live in an era where it's entirely possible for a grade school dropout to learn from the best minds in the industry, to freely use some of the best tools and innovations available (when I started in software development, the costs for even the basic tools were substantial, and of course piracy options for those so inclined were much less accessible: Your peers could get you a copy of Wing Commander or Mule, but not Visual C++ 1.0. Now anyone can get incredibly rich development platforms and tools for nothing, even for the Microsoft platform), and to build class-leading solutions using the best industry patterns and practices.
All without getting their break via the traditional route.
Even for those with their computer science degree -- university is vastly more accessible, both from availability and financial perspectives -- often they'll tell you that what they're applying today is a combination of what they knew before they went, what they learned during intern/co-op placements, and what they learned after getting out.
Graduates of the University of Waterloo CS program, for instance, are in heavy demand largely based upon its excellent and comprehensive co-op placements. In essence employers like it most for the time the students spent out of the classroom -- time where they often acted as extremely junior development partners, many times relegated to mindless grunt work. [Another reason for the University of Waterloo's excellent reputation is a bit recursive: Given its reputation, there's the presumption that the best of the best apply, and only the best of the best of the best get in. It's a bit of a self-sustaining loop, so a Waterloo degree is often used as a sort of crude filter, in the same way that Ivy league degrees have influence]
So why bother with the whole going-to-class-for-four-years supposedly to learn CS thing? It almost seems more effective for everyone to compete to get on an artificially short list, after which they can go on Manpower assignments for several years.
Really that's sort of where the field seems to be going.
Many software development employers ask only for a University degree nowadays -- regardless of the lack of relevance of the major -- using it only as a resume deflection shield, presuming (often incorrectly) that it'll yield them candidates meeting a minimum level of intelligence and commitment. Past whatever largely arbitrary minimum requirements are mandated, relevant experience is often considered far more important than educational accomplishments.
This is an acknowledgement that this profession is at a point where anyone can have the best tools in the industry with just a couple of downloads (those expensive tools that many large shops still like to embrace are more frequently a hindrance than a help, and offer few advantages), and they can leverage and learn from the solutions and experience of the best the industry has to offer. There are remarkably few barriers to entry, outside of a couple of niche areas where experience on uncommon platforms (e.g. SAP) or hardware (e.g. mainframes) is required.
Oh, except skill. There's still that barrier to entry. It tends to be a pretty big barrier to entry.
In many ways software development is mirroring the literary or culinary worlds, where higher learning is pursued for the skills gained rather than the credentials, and competition is open for anyone with just a pen and a pad of paper (or better yet a typewriter and a stack of 8 1/2 x 11), or a couple of pans and a stove.
We can all cheaply talk about how we'd like to write the next Great [Insert Nationality Here] Novel, but really it's nothing more than cheap talk if we aren't well on our way to actually doing it. There's nothing externally stopping us, yet remarkably few of us ever will.
Remarkably few of us really have the innate skill, regardless of the seeming ease of taking the first steps. We could all be great chefs (great chefs aren't just people who have been anointed by a group or individual -- they're actually capable of extraordinary things, and earn respect for what they can do) with a couple of pans and ingredients at the grocery store, but most of us never will be.
You can buy yourself the most expensive pens, or the most incredible pans on the most expensive Viking stove, using the rarest and most exclusive ingredients you can find, but it still won't automatically make you any good.
This all came to mind after hearing yet another comment that my photographs of my children were "professional quality". While my photos are half decent, it's more indicative that people need to modify what they consider "professional" in the field of photography, because the bar has substantially raised. A quick browse through the endless extraordinary photos on flickr makes that quickly evident.
There was a time, in the era before digital cameras, and perhaps moreso before accessible 35mm cameras, where one became a "professional" photographer largely by putting out a significant chunk of capital and buying some expensive equipment. Put out the cash and buy a nice medium-format camera and all of the accessories (the more lenses, flashes and cool looking gizmos, the more professional one was), and one was 80% of the way towards being considered a pro. Everyone else was stuck using garbage little cameras that were basically incapable of taking good pictures.
Hang your sign and start photographing weddings.
With the dropping price of 35mm cameras, things improved somewhat, but even then there was the substantial barrier to entry in the form of learning through experience: Going through rolls and rolls and rolls of film, and the corresponding development, was a very expensive way to learn through mistakes. I remember the serious contemplation that preceded every single shot with my 5xi 35mm, because it would end up costing me over $1 a shot after adding in processing.
Taking multiple shots with differing exposures or focuses or depths of field simply wasn't an economic possibility, so many scenarios where I might have gotten a great shot were limited by my fiscal constraints.
Now with digital cameras, especially some of the nicer offerings, learning through experience is inexpensive and provides immediate feedback, and there are controls for virtually everything. While there are still the diehards who'll go to the ends of the Earth defending 35mm film (which itself was considered laughably inferior to medium format at the time), the results of my Canon Digital Rebel XT are far beyond anything I ever achieved before. Couple this with the fact that I can take thousands upon thousands of amazing pictures, experimenting with exposure and focus and depths of field and motion blur and shutter speeds.
Invariably some of them turn out pretty good. I've actually read the manual to my camera, and have long understood the basics of photography, but I am hardly a professional in this field.
The barrier to entry to take some great photos has substantially fallen, and I'm sure it's put tremendous pressure on a lot of hack photographers. Many of them are loading up on as many expensive lenses they can buy, even where they don't use them, and as extravagant of hardware as they can find, all to try to differentiate themselves from the commoners, yet ultimately the only thing that matters is results.
I've seen some pictures taken using low-end consumer cameras -- quality has risen so much, even at the lowest levels -- that are breathtaking. These are taken by people who would have never ventured into photography at all before.
Of course being able to luck into, or at least hack into, some good results doesn't make me a great photographer. I wouldn't hire me as a wedding photographer, where you can't luck into a couple of good photos, but rather have to capture fleeting moments with quality and consistency.
So while the barriers for neat or beautiful or staged photos have dissolved, for critical fleeting-moment types of needs there still remain some barriers to entry, in that few will trust someone with their event just because they took some good photos of livestock. In those niches you need proven experience before people will give you the opportunity to gain experience.