Licenses, Loopholes, and the Myth of “Real” Operators
Every country has its own way of sorting radio amateurs into neat little boxes: Foundation, Intermediate, Full; Technician, General, Extra; ON3 and HAREC. Somewhere along the way, someone decided that memorizing formulas equals competence — and thus, a hierarchy was born.
From the outside, the divide looks mostly cosmetic. The “entry-level” crowd spends their evenings actually doing radio — building antennas, tinkering with baluns, chasing DX — while the full-license holders can quote Kirchhoff’s Law by heart yet still wonder why their 9:1 unun smokes at 40 meters. One applies Ohm’s law; the other venerates it.
Memorize, forget, repeat
Most exam systems reward short-term memory. You study the question pool, memorize just enough to pass, and once you’ve unlocked the HF bands, all that impedance-matching theory fades faster than a 5 MHz NVIS path at noon. The goal isn’t understanding — it’s access. Learn, pass, forget, transmit.
Yet, every year, exam committees act as if the world is saved one multiple-choice question at a time. The real irony? Many of the best operators — those who know what ferrite mix to choke with, how to read a Smith chart, or why their SWR meter lies — learned none of it from the syllabus. They learned it by breaking things and fixing them again.
“Entry-level” doesn’t mean entry-skill
Across continents, the same pattern repeats. In the UK, Foundation licensees are experimenting with digital modes and building portable field stations. In the US, Technicians are running APRS and LoRa gateways. In Belgium, ON3s are out in the field setting up inverted-V’s that actually resonate. Meanwhile, the so-called “Full” license crowd is still debating if a vertical needs a counterpoise on Facebook.
Knowledge doesn’t correlate with callsign class; curiosity does. The exam might get you access, but curiosity gets you progress. That’s why the most interesting operators often don’t care what’s printed on their license — they care what comes out of their feedline.
The real skill test
If we truly wanted to assess technical skill, every license upgrade would include a mandatory build challenge: make a working 20 m antenna from scrap wire and a biscuit tin. Get on air with 5 W and make a contact 2 000 km away. Explain, on the spot, what “current” actually means in a balun. Those who can do it wouldn’t need a theory exam; those who can’t wouldn’t pass one anyway.
— And yes, the biscuit tin would still outperform some commercial antennas.
The spectrum doesn’t care
At the end of the day, the radio spectrum doesn’t care about your certificate. It only reacts to physics. Whether you’re a Foundation, Technician, ON3, or Extra, you either understand what’s happening in your coax — or you don’t.
And even if you don’t, there’s still a place for you on the air. Operating well is its own form of skill. Not everyone has to build or model antennas — some excel at reading FT8 or WSPR propagation maps, tracking grey-line openings, or managing pile-ups like seasoned traffic controllers. Those talents aren’t lesser; they’re simply a different branch of the same tree. With good mentors and enough curiosity, even a “plug-and-play” operator becomes part of the learning chain that keeps amateur radio alive.
Everyone starts somewhere — the spectrum rewards curiosity more than seniority.
Mini-FAQ
- Does a higher license guarantee better understanding? — Not really. Exams test recall, not reasoning. Real understanding comes from experience, not repetition.
- Why do some “entry-level” hams outperform veterans? — Because curiosity beats compliance. They build, test, and learn by doing — not by memorizing what to say on air.
- So should exams be abolished? — No, but they should evolve. Replace rote theory with practical proof — show you can make a safe, clean signal, not just tick the right boxes.
Interested in more technical content? Subscribe to our updates for deep-dive RF articles and lab notes.
Questions or experiences to share? Contact RF.Guru — we love hearing how operators learn by doing.