As we all know, “God” doesn’t exist. Still he (or she, or it), like so many other fairytale creatures, can be a useful illustrative tool. For example, understand the Idea of a god and you can, maybe, understand the secret desires of academics.

I’m not a great believer in original thought - it always seems terribly over-enthusiastic compared with, say, plagiarism - which is why the title of this column has been borrowed from a marvellous Terry Prachett novel.

The theme of said novel is not an uncommon one amongst those who write on deities; it is the notion that the power of the gods comes from worship. The more supplicants that supplicate, the higher the higher being.

It’s an appealing idea, for it tempers the strength of the divine with something more manageable, something bounded and, perhaps, something not even all that desirable.

After all, would you really want to prostrate yourself on the altar of prayer? (Actually, I suppose the flock would be doing the prostrating while you were idolized up on the altar.)

It seems as if, in the real world at least, it would take a peculiarly warped mind to decide that their fate should be decided by the accolades of acolytes. However, what is “true” in Valhalla, Olympus and the Pantheon turns out to hold in academia as well.

Each corner of the intellectual world is its own particular religion, and every type of worship can be found. From the folksy rituals of anthropology to the elaborate pageantry of electrical engineering, we have them all.

Now, if we have religion, where are the gods? Well, we have a fluid and dynamic power structure, for our gods are raised from amongst us and they feed upon our worship.

To be at the top of your profession as an accountant, banker or a consultant is to be paid well, to be looked upon as a success. Great legal and medical minds are to be respected, not bowed before. Even in the glitzy spheres of show business and sports, worship comes with frequent criticism, mockery and occasional scorn.

Academics residing at the top of their profession, though, are truly Small Gods. If you are regarded as a lion in your field, you will have that power. A single comment from a woman at the top of her field will shape a decade’s worth of research. A paper from the right guy deriding a new avenue of inquiry will slam down on the brakes. (How’s that for mixed metaphors?)

Actually, the power and influence bestowed by having followers is not the point. It’s the worship itself we crave.

What draws people to a life in quads, halls and office hours? It’s certainly not the money, and frankly that intellectual curiosity thing is seriously overrated. As for the constant availability of ever younger youth, well, they have rules about that sort of thing these days.

No, the thing that pulls us in is the simple desire to be looked upon as gods. There is no other field where success pays, not in gold, but rather, in a far older offering, one with fewer letters.

It is, I suppose, a very human thing to want to be loved and respected. It is even human to admit as much. However, that secret desire that many of us have for both love and respect, in combination with being feared and inspiring awe, is rarely admitted.

Who would answer questions of career choice with the response: “A living god”? Who would even think it?

Well, those of us of academia may not care to confess our deepest, darkest desires (mine involve an inordinate amount of leather), but believe that at their heart lies a dream. A dream of having the awe of the world upon you as you stand that little higher than the rest. A dream of having a little, just a little, of God within you.

Did you find this blasphemous? Are you distraught and troubled? Did your dreams die today? Email someone cares. On the other hand, if you have something interesting to say, you can get me on navins@stanford.edu.