President’s Memo: Winter 2026
Over the last several years, I’ve experienced a recurring conversation among friends and colleagues. These exchanges vary, but the common refrain in them is the bewilderment the speaker describes at the increasing lack of competency he or she encounters in professional settings. Increasing incompetency and—correspondingly—diminishing evidence of the human qualities that make competency steadfast: attention, curiosity, a dedication to a high standard, and the self-discipline to reach it. The bafflement these folks express has followed everything from visits to the doctor and interludes on a company helpline, to airline flights or check-ins at a hotel. Identifying what might be responsible has become a darkly humorous parlor game: Is it the plague of mobile phones and social media? A lingering symptom of the pandemic? Is it because the “professional class” has lost sight of whom they serve and therefore expertise as a concept has become more suspect? Whatever the cause, the wish remains the same: a deep and abiding hunger to find, and restore, expertise. As one colleague put it to me: “Where have all the professionals gone?”
That question is one for which the Department of Education (DOE) recently provided an answer. A perplexing one, as it happens, particularly from an agency whose very name suggests an unswerving belief in expertise. If you’re not aware, this past November, the DOE downgraded some experts—well, whole professions, really—as non-professional. Accountancy was one such field, as was engineering, nursing and architecture. The redesignation is not merely cosmetic; it affects how much aspiring professionals can borrow to be educated in their complex subjects. In dollars and cents, beginning in July 2026, promising young CPAs from all walks of life will face a reduced borrowing limit of $20,500 per year – compared to $50,000 for degrees the DOE continues to label “professional.” Imagine the talent drain here; then imagine your future standard of service as a consumer on the other end. This all comes at a time when the intricacy of global markets, business and retirement portfolios require a robust, educated workforce on whose expertise and integrity we all depend.
All this has me thinking. What exactly is a profession? What separates a profession from a trade? Why must one be pitted against the other when both are essential? And why is public accountancy, which has been a licensed profession since 1896, not seen in the same way as those fields excluded from the DOE reclassification? You may recall in the Diagnostic analysis that was presented at our Annual Meeting just a month before the DOE’s announcement that one underlying force affecting NASBA turned out to be accountancy’s “identity crisis,” or whether we consider ourselves to be a profession or trade.
Having reflected on these questions for most of my career, there are, in my view, three factors that define a profession:
1. The amount of knowledge needed.
- Professions tend to crop up in subject areas that are too layered to fully comprehend within a short exposure. Only repeated, in-depth engagements with the subject matter will allow those wanting to become an expert to fully see that subject’s pieces and parts—and how to apply them in constantly evolving scenarios.
Which leads to the second factor:
2. The rate of change in the knowledge needed.
- One reason most professions require continuing education is because there’s a constancy of change in the field. Accountancy in 1946 was different from the one in 1896, as 1996 differed from 1946, and 2026 will differ from them all. The expectations of those who hire CPAs change commensurately, too—and rightly so. Only those willing to put in the work to gain the amount of knowledge a profession demands—and to stay current with the pace of “knowledge-change” that same profession observes—can truly call themselves professionals. Not coincidentally, it’s only a person with this caliber of dedication who can, and will, ensure our financial systems remain valid and trustworthy.
3. A commitment that goes beyond transaction or personal advancement/enrichment.
- A job is one thing, and of course we all need to provide for ourselves and our families. In my three decades as a CPA, I’ve found that professions—and professionals—are motivated by something more. These are “callings” for a reason. Professionals want to give something back, advance humanity in some vital way, whether through scientific research, academic breakthrough, or innovations that change how we think or live. The CPAs I know tend to be motivated as much by a desire to uphold the integrity of our financial ecosystems as they are by earning a livelihood.
In these ways, professionals and trades are distinct, though both are essential to a functioning society. I have a deep respect for the skill and contribution of tradespeople. The distinction I’m drawing is not about dignity or worth, but about structure and obligation.
Licensed professionals are built upon extended formal education, rigorous entry standards, ongoing oversight, and more. Their knowledge base is layered and continuingly evolving. That framework—education, licensure, regulation—is what differentiates a profession from other vital forms of work.
It’s no coincidence that the increasing attacks on professions—and the movements to dilute requirements to qualify as a professional—are contributing to the social bewilderment people keep experiencing and talking about. More troubling than these outcries, however, are the public disasters and public distrust that emanate from incompetence. Whether it’s the Boeing 737 Max catastrophes (faulty engineering) or the Surfside condo tragedy (ignored building codes), we abandon our covenant with professions at our peril.
We have reached a point where the reassertion of professions is both timely and necessary. I don’t believe we’re too late to this conversation, but we’ve lost time and ground in not speaking full-throated about who—and why—we are. Frankly, accountancy can’t afford an identity crisis. Too much—and too many—depend on us.