In Profile: Michèle Tertilt

On this icy December morning, the economics building in L7 feels half-asleep at 8:30 a.m. Along the long first-floor corridor, every office door is closed — except one. Inside, 53-year-old economist Michèle Tertilt is already at her desk, fully alert and deeply focused on her computer. Asked how much time she has, she glances at her watch. “In exactly one hour, someone will knock on that door. I wonder whether half a life in research can fit into one hour.” Then she begins her story.

She sits upright as she speaks, recalling events with ease and obvious pleasure. Her memories are vivid and richly detailed, carrying the listener through the stages of her career: to her former university in Bielefeld, to the student apartment she shared at Purdue, to the beaches of California, and to the beautiful campus of Stanford University. Anecdotes come to mind in quick succession, and she shares them freely, laughing warmly and insisting with emphasis: “Those were wonderful years.” Yet even if her career has unfolded largely according to plan, she admits that its beginnings were somewhat less certain.

Finding a field of study

University was always a given. Higher education ran in the family: both grandfathers had been teachers and school principals, and her father held a doctorate in business administration. Choosing what to study, however, proved less straightforward. “After finishing school, I had no idea what subject to choose,” Tertilt recalls with a smile. She spent six months working as an au pair in Spain, hoping that distance from home might bring clarity. It did not. She returned just in time for the summer semester and enrolled at Bielefeld University to study mathematics — largely because she enjoyed it.

She thrived academically, earning excellent grades, yet sensed after her first semester that something was missing. “Mathematics alone felt a bit too abstract,” she says. “I had always been interested in social issues and wider societal concerns — in improving the world in some broader sense.” Her father and a family friend, himself a professor of business administration at Bielefeld, offered a decisive suggestion: why not try economics? It would allow her to combine her mathematical talent with her interest in real-world problems.

Crossing the Atlantic

Economics proved an immediate fit. Here, Tertilt felt at home. Hard work and ambition were accompanied by a stroke of good fortune when, shortly after completing her foundational coursework, she and a friend applied for an exchange program. “We could spend a year at one of three American universities. Only four students from Bielefeld were selected — and somehow the two of us both got in and were even sent to the same place,” she recalls with a laugh. That place was Purdue University in Indiana. The year there became a decisive one in her career. The two students were allowed to enroll in graduate-level courses — “very demanding, sometimes overwhelming,” she says — and shared an apartment together, while Bielefeld suddenly felt very far away. “A phone call to Germany cost two dollars a minute. You thought twice before calling home.”

The path to a professorship

After that experience, the next step was clear: she wanted to pursue a doctorate. There was an appealing offer from Tilburg, but Tertilt chose once again to study at an American university — the University of Minnesota. She spent six years there, completed her PhD, and met inspiring people she is still in touch with today. Only two weeks earlier, she had returned to her former university. “I was invited to give the Minnesota Lecture as an alumna,” she says. “What makes it special is that the students decide whom to invite — and this year they chose me. That meant a great deal.”

Looking out at the audience, she recognized many familiar faces, including one in particular: her doctoral advisor. Thinking of Larry Jones, Tertilt speaks with warmth. He had always encouraged her to pursue her unconventional dissertation topic. Rather than offering top-down advice, he kept asking thoughtful questions. They share a special bond, not least because Tertilt was the first woman to complete a doctorate under his supervision.

Her dissertation, Polygyny and Poverty, examined polygamy as an economic factor in developing countries. Many had advised her against the topic beforehand — too niche, too unconventional. But the young scholar’s willingness to take risks paid off. The thesis received the University of Minnesota’s award for best dissertation in 2004 and attracted considerable attention in academic circles. From that point on, Tertilt remained committed to the field of family economics. Later, as an assistant professor at Stanford University, she investigated the relationship between economic growth in the nineteenth century and the expansion of women’s rights. Still later — by then already two years into her professorship at the University of Mannheim — she conducted research on gender differences from a macroeconomic perspective and was awarded an ERC Starting Grant by the European Research Council.

Looking ahead

Tertilt is currently focusing her research on fertility rates and the global decline in birth rates. She often discovers new research questions in the daily news — and continues to follow the same guiding principle: “I always follow my curiosity,” she says. “That would also be my advice to young women researchers: the main thing is to have a genuine interest in your topic — to feel passionate about it. As a researcher, you constantly have to convince others of the importance of your work and your findings. To do that, you first have to be completely convinced yourself.”

One advantage of such an approach, she adds, is that enthusiasm can be contagious. It has now been 15 years since Tertilt returned to Germany and joined the University of Mannheim. Over that time, she has built a substantial research group working on issues in family economics. What was once considered a niche topic has long since become an established field — and Tertilt a sought-after expert worldwide, the recipient of numerous major research awards.

Just as she begins outlining her plans to spend a research term in Barcelona in 2027, there’s a knock at the door. She glances at her watch. Exactly an hour has passed. So yes — half a life in research does fit into an hour. You feel you could have listened much longer.

Text: Jule Leger / April 2026