Office Hours for the Soul: From coups to college, meet Pierre Englebert

(Courtesy • Pomona College)

Before he became a professor, Pierre Englebert sold his guitar, bought a one-way ticket to Burkina Faso, Africa, and landed in the middle of a revolution. Now, decades later, he jokes that his music was “in a coma for 20 years” before it was revived. Meet Pomona’s very own Pierre Englebert, living proof that sometimes academia and rock and roll aren’t so far apart.

A professor of international relations and politics, Englebert is full of surprises. When I first walked into his office, I braced myself for the standard-issue political science professor: tweed jacket, stacks of papers, maybe a faint smell of coffee and old books. Instead, I stepped into a room that looked more like a sunlit daydream, complete with bright posters, warm light and intentional clutter that suggested Englebert had some stories to share. Five minutes into our conversation, it was clear he wasn’t your average professor.

When I asked about his research — a safe, predictable question — his response somehow transported us to Africa. “I sold my guitar and amplifier, bought the cheapest ticket I could to Africa, and landed in Burkina Faso right after a coup,” Englebert said. While there, he researched Congo and Central Africa and even met Thomas Sankara, the prime minister of Burkina Faso. 

For a twenty-year-old, it was a crash course in life, politics and risk-taking that led Englebert to his teaching career. He saw revolution and resilience, which shaped how he views the world today. It wasn’t theory; it was lived experience. The months in Burkina Faso didn’t just prepare him to teach about international relations; they gave him the kind of perspective one cannot learn from a textbook — the kind that comes from standing in the middle of history as it unfolds.

Remember tthat guitar and amplifier he sold to get to Africa? Well, Englebert is also a not-so-secret musician, boasting a wide variety of rock and pop music across streaming platforms like Apple Music and Spotify. Though research kept him away temporarily, he found his way back to music as his children grew up. 

With most of his children now out of the house, he has found more time to reconnect with his creative side, culminating in the release of his 2024 album,Mistakes Were Made.” His curiosity about modern culture extends into the classroom, where he teaches a Critical Inquiry Seminar (ID1) exploring contemporary music. When I asked what inspired this choice, his answer was simple: his kids.

“I have five kids, and I’m really proud of them,” Englebert said.

Clearly, he’s been steeped in pop culture at home — so much so that he can turn musical obsession into a legitimate seminar. It’s a level of adaptability I respect: His kids’ conversations in the family group chat inspired a college course, and that’s next-level parenting and academic improvisation.

Back at Pomona, Englebert has learned to intertwine his musical and scholarly careers. “Composing is a little bit like researching and writing an article,” Englebert said. “It follows different rules, but it’s the same rigorous exercise of building something out of nothing, it’s more than a hobby — it’s almost like a liberal arts pursuit.” 

He gives praxis to this liberal art of music in his first-year seminar, where students listen to songs and study their structures, answering questions such as: “Why do Taylor Swift’s hooks work?” and ”How does Beyoncé build her sound?” For Englebert, it’s bringing his love of music into the classroom in a direct way.

How fun is that? A class I would absolutely sign up for, because honestly, I will take any excuse to discuss Taylor Swift in an academic setting (or any setting at all). Her new album, “The Life of a Showgirl,” deserves a dissertation of its own, and I’m here for it. 

His journey back to music is inspiring. We tend to think of these lost hobbies as relics of our younger selves, like old Tamagotchis or half-finished scrapbooks. They are proof that we were once ambitious, or at least optimistic. But when talking to Englebert, it’s clear these creative passions don’t vanish as we get older — they simply go into hiding for a while. So maybe it’s time to drag that crochet hook out of hiding, the one you bought three months ago, promising yourself you’d become “artsy.” Do it before that lost hobby files a restraining order for neglect.

His optimism carries into the advice he gives his students, especially now, when scrolling through the news can feel like voluntarily sticking your head in a blender. “I would tell students not to despair,” Englebert said. “Try to think of others, even those you disagree with, as having legitimate concerns. See to what extent you can come together, instead of taking positions that may feel pleasing but are polarizing.”

Basically, he’s saying: don’t become the person yelling into the void just because it’s fun or satisfying. Instead, try listening, empathizing and — here’s the kicker — consider that maybe your fiercest X opponent has a point buried under all that rage. Perhaps, if Englebert can keep his perspective with a résumé that includes observing a coup, selling his guitar to fund research in Africa and turning pop fandom into a legitimate lesson for Pomona freshmen, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us yet.

In the end, Pierre Englebert reminds us that curiosity, creativity and a willingness to improvise can coexist, whether you’re analyzing Central African politics or breaking down the perfect pop hook. His journey, from chasing revolutions to rediscovering music, proves that the serious and the playful aren’t opposites; they’re collaborators.

So maybe it’s time to pick up that long-neglected instrument or dive into the project you’ve been postponing. If Englebert can juggle coups, kids and Taylor Swift without losing his humor or his rhythm, then surely the rest of us can manage a little creativity, empathy and maybe even a pop obsession of our own.

Siena Giacoma PZ ’27 survives on endless cycles of caffeine, half-written drafts and lofty promises to “finish that book tomorrow.” Her cat, Olive, remains skeptical, offering judgmental stares in place of encouragement.

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