UNESCO (1993) Thinkers On Education-Vol 3 PDF
UNESCO (1993) Thinkers On Education-Vol 3 PDF
UNESCO (1993) Thinkers On Education-Vol 3 PDF
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Volume 3
Editor-in-chief:
Series editor:
Zaghloul Morsy
ISSN 0033-1538
© UNESCO/IBE 1994
Prmted m France
Con ten t s
Prefatory note 6
Ibn KHALD jj N Abdelsselam CHEDDADI 7
Christen Mikkelsen KOLD Jens BJERG 21
Janusz KORCZAK Tadeusz LEWOWICKI 37
Nadezhda Konstantinovna K RUPS KAY A Mihail S. SKATKIN
and Georgij S. TSOV'JANOV 49
John LOCKE Richard ALDRICH 61
Anton MAKARENKO G. N. FILONOV 77
MAO Zedong ZHUO Qmgjun 93
Jose MARTI Ricardo NASSIF 107
MEN CIUS GE Zhengming 121
M ISKAWAYH Nadia GAMAL AL-DIN 131
MONTAIGNE GirardWORMSER 153
Maria MONTESSORI Hermann ROHRS 169
Sir Thomas MORE KeithWATSON 185
J. P. NAIK A. R. KAMAT 203
Alexander Sutherland NE I LL Jean-Franc.;ois SAFFANGE 217
Peter NO I KOV Zhecho ATANASSOV 231
Julius Kambarage NYERE RE Yusuf KASSAM 247
Jose ORTEGA Y GASSET Juan EscAMEZ SANCHEZ 261
Robert OWEN Peter GORDON 279
Johann Heinrich P ESTALOZZ I Michel SOETARD 297
Jean PIAGET AlbertoMUNARI 311
PLATO Charles HUMMEL 329
Joseph PRIESTLEY Ruth WATTS 343
Isma'i1 AL-QABBANi Mahmud KOMBAR 355
Herbert READ Davld THISTLE WOOD 375
Contributors to this volume 391
Thinkers on education in this series 399
P r e fat 0 r y not e
This is the third volume (Ibn Khaldun to Read) of our four-volume series of
Prospects containing a total of 100 monographs on Thinkers on education'. The
whole series will cover the issues of Prospects scheduled for 1993 and 1994 in
the form of four double issues, namely: nos. 85/86, 87/88, 89/90 and 91/92.
For a thorough analysis of the reasons for this series, the selection of
famous educators, the order of presentation and the intended readership, readers
are referred to the introduction written by Zaghloul Morsy, 'The Paideia
Galaxy', which appeared in no. 85/86.
A complete lxst of the thinkers on education appearing in this series,
together with the names of the contributors, is given at the end of this issue.
The editorial preparation of this issue has been undertaken by the staff of
the International Bureau of Education, Geneva, Switzerland.
7
I B N K H A L D u
(A.D. 1332-1406/A.H. 732-808)
Abdesselam Cheddadi
At first sight, the place held by education in Ibn Khaldun's sociology appears
uncertain to say the least. What today we understand by the term 'education' -
the replication of individuals and groups, firstly at the level of values and
secondly at that of knowledge and know-how - is found in the Muqaddima
[Introduction to History] only in a scattered and incomplete fashion, in an order
and pattern whose meaning escapes us at first sight. More important, Ibn
Khaldun makes no use of a general concept in speaking of education. This is all
the more surprising as he accustoms us elsewhere to a systematic approach to the
main phenomena of life in society. However, upon closer view we discover that
this ambiguity and these lacunae in fact reflect the state of the Muslim system of
education, and we are forced to admit that, in this field as in many others
connected with the knowledge of Muslim society, Khaldun's contribution is the
most complete at our disposal.
The education system in Muslim societies was without a doubt one of the most
extensive and most developed of all those prevailing in pre-industrial societies,
which was due to the very nature of Muslim society itself. Compared with agro-
literate societies contemporary with it, Muslim society stands out for its more
flexible and less hierarchically organized structures. The body composed of scho-
lars and the literati was open, non-centralized, non-hereditary, non-exclusive,
with a fluid organization that implied no formal hierarchy,2 thus giving rise to a
relatively broad education and teaching system that in many ways prefigured our
modern systems. 3
Like the society itself, the education system was both segmented and uni-
fied. It was a reflection of the profound separation between the rural and urban
worlds: agrarian or agro-pastoral communities of peasants and stock-breeders on
the one hand, and an urban society of merchants, artisans, clerics and State civil
8 Abdesselam Cheddadi
servants, on the other. And, at the same time, it was unified by the common
adherence to Islam, identification with which was tangibly represented by the
universal Koranic teaching that was virtually obligatory for all. Although educa-
tion was informal and imparted by the family and the community in rural areas
and among the urban poor, there was formal schooling for the children of the
mercantile, clerical and political elite. Children were frequently placed under a
tutor or received longer, more diversified instruction in a school that went well
beyond the teaching of the Koran and the rules of religious practice.
Independently of this education of children and without any structural connec-
tion between the two, there was also vocational teaching to prepare the learned
for various professions. Theoretically available to all, covering all fields of know-
ledge both ancient and Muslim, homogeneous in its methods, it came to form
part of institutions only on a partial basis and at a late date. 4 It is within this
educational setting that the madrasa (college), the model of the medieval univer-
sity in France and Italy and of the English 'college'S - which was later to give rise
to the modern university - came into being.
This basic education, religious above all, and this system of the replication
of scholars, was paralleled by what could be called a system of general adult
instruction. In Islamic thought, education, which here takes in religion and
morals, is a process that ends at no determined stage or age but lasts an entire
lifetime, as expressed in the saying attributed to the prophet Muhammad: 'Learn
science from the cradle to the grave.' Such figures as that of the literate man
(adib), the pious man, the fakir or dervish, and that of the burgher or governor
consorting with the learned, so typical of Muslim society, owed a great deal to
this system of general instruction based on such institutions as the mosque or the
zaouia, and carried forward by such people as the sermon-writer (khatib, wa 'iz),
the poet, the religious reformer or the saint, and by a vast literature of populari-
zations made up of literary anthologies, encyclopedias, local or general histories,
biographical dictionaries, pious works, mystical treatises, etc.
The educational and cultural Islamic system led to the production of an
abundant literature setting forth its organization and functioning, analysing its
standards and values. Philosophers such as al-Farabi 6 and Miskawayh 7 proposed
a theory of education whose end was to allow human beings to reach the perfec-
tion proper to their nature. At another level, al-Mawardi 8 proposed an education
programme reconciling wordly and religious interests, and al-GhazaII,9 in his
celebrated Ihya' 'utzlm at-dIn [The Revival of the Religious Sciences], formulated
a theoretical basis and devised a practical method for attaining the religious ideal
of the good Muslim. All these educational theories, in line with a tradition that
goes back to Graeco-Roman antiquity, are interested in the human being per se,
considered in every aspect of his or her being. They do not concentrate on a par-
ticular stage of human life or a particular type of instruction or institution; they
lay down a number of fundamental educational principles, albeit in a subsidiary
and cursory manner: the restrained use of authority and corporal punishment,
the need to awaken the child's interest, the value of example, and progression in
B N K H A L DON 9
learning. Above all, they insist on the importance of the pedagogical relationship
and define the respective roles and duties of master and student.
Thus, in Islamic thought, education was perceived as a matter that, during
infancy, devolved upon the family, especially the father, whereas in adulthood it
became the individual's own responsibility. Yet no clear awareness of a unified
system of education as a fundamental component of the social system bringing
together all aspects of the replication of individuals and groups had come into
being. The accent was placed rather on the individual soul, which had to be cor-
rected (taqwlm), improved (tahdhlb), reformed (islah) and healed of its sickness
(mudawat). General concepts such as ta'dlb (educate) or ta'llm (instruct) concer-
ned individuals and comprised acts or relations involving person-to-person rela-
tionships. There was no generic term designating education as a social institution
or the education system as a set of institutions, practices and items of knowledge,
which in any case was not specific to Muslim society. Such a concept, together
with the reality behind it, is closely linked to the emergence of modern nations
and States, one of whose principal duties is in fact to manage and develop educa-
tion. IO
procate aggression against oneself. Ibn Khaldcm calls it a natural tendency that
has always existed in human beings. It transmits itself spontaneously from one
generation to the next and needs to be neither learned nor taught. It is to be
found at the deepest level of a sort of instinct of preservation. But Ibn Khaldcm
admits that the relations that people are forced to maintain between themselves
out of vital necessity are orderly and obey rules and laws. One of the functions of
thought is to 'allow people to acquire, through their dealings with their fellows,
knowledge of what they must do and what they must not do, of what is good
and what is evil'.12 Thanks to 'empirical intelligence', individuals are capable of
discovering for themselves the rules and values that must guide their acts and
their social life; but, as Ibn Khaldcm points out, this would take too much time,
'as everything that depends on experience requires time'.13 A much shorter way
lies in imitating one's parents, teachers and elders in general. Ibn Khaldcm thus
poses the problem of the reproduction of values at the most general level, placing
himself at the point of view of the individual, however, not that of society,
without considering the social function of the reproduction of values as such. He
fails here to disengage himself from a general attitude we find in philosophers,
religious thinkers and moralists, one that might be called 'edifying'. Individual
improvement and salvation are the aims here, requiring the acquisition of certain
forms of behaviour and the assimilation of certain rules and values. Ibn Khaldun
does not state exactly which ones, but it can safely be affirmed that he means
here what Muslim thinkers commonly call the adab, ways of doing, social
conventions or rules of behaviour. The adab reach into all fields of human activi-
ties and behaviour. They have been codified down to the smallest details, as can
be seen in al-Mawardi and al-GhazalI, forming a part of that broad, permanent
moral and religious mechanism for human education referred to above.
In other respects, Ibn Khaldun adopts an approach that could without hesi-
tation be described as sociological. It can be illustrated by three examples -
examples in which he analyses the courage of rural folk, the corruption of urban
dwellers and the phenomenon of imitation.
Courage is a cardinal virtue among country people, he observes. They have
neither militia nor walls nor gates. They see to their own defence, bearing arms
and keeping themselves on the alert at all times. In them, therefore, 'daring has
become a character trait, and courage second nature'. Among townsmen, how-
ever, this virtue is nearly absent since they are brought up in a state of depen-
dence, sheltered behind their walls and protected by their militia and their gover-
nors; they are used to peace and comfort. In addition, their spirits are weakened
and their courage annihilated by the weight of the constraints imposed on them
by 'governmental and educationallaws'.14
Corrupt morals are virtually inescapable for urban dwellers. An affluent life
leads to the search for pleasure, the appearance of new habits and of new needs.
These become increasingly difficult to satisfy, particularly when dynasties decline
and taxes become heavier. Townspeople use any means, good or bad, to cope,
ineluctably entering 'the ways of immorality'.15 In rural areas, on the other hand,
B N K H A L 0 U N 11
a life of making do with the bare necessities constantly calls for control over
appetites. The vices and defects that can be acquired are few compared to those
of townspeople, and countrypeople remain close to their original natural state
and are more inclined to good. 16
Imitation is held by Ibn Khaldun to be a general phenomenon: the domina-
ted always imitate those who dominate them. This is true of children viS-Cl-vis
their parents, pupils viS-Cl-vis their teachers, subjects viS-Cl-vis their princes and
dominated nations vis-a-vis dominant nations; it holds true as much for custom
and behaviour as for all aspects of civilization. Ibn Khaldun finds the explanation
for this phenomenon in the fact that the dominated believe in the perfection of
those who dominate themY
In all three examples, the question of values and their transmission is no
longer presented as an exclusively individual matter. The courage of rural folk,
like the corrupted morals of townspeople and the phenomenon of imitation, do
not depend only on subjective will, nor are they the result of incitement: they are
the outcome of actual conditions.
As can be seen, without stating the matter explicitly or systematically, Ibn
Khaldun deals with all aspects of the reproduction of values in Muslim society.
He begins by assuming, in a sort of philosophical anthropological postulate, that
human beings, who are endowed with the faculty of thought, organize their rela-
tions with the world and each other according to laws and rules that each indivi-
dual learns through his or her own personal experience, and especially by
impregnation from the family and cultural milieu. At the same time, he reveals
deeper, more underlying values, connected with the very functioning of society,
whose reproduction occurs independently of individual wills.
Lastly, it is important to note that Ibn Khaldcm brings up twice, although
both times in an incidental manner, the matter of the inculcation of religious
values. Speaking of the consequences of Koranic instruction on mental develop-
ment, he points out that it has become 'the symbol of Islam in all Muslim cities',
as it allows articles of faith to be inculcated in the heart of the child from the ten-
derest age. In his analysis of the methods practised in the various regions of the
Muslim world, he stresses the 'total' linguistic 'deficiency' to which precocious
Koranic instruction leads, particularly when it is unique and exclusive, as it was
in North Africa. He approves, at least in theory, of the reforms proposed by Abu
Bakr Ibn al-'ArabI, whereby the child would first be taught language and the
rules of calculation, but he finds that such ideas clash with habits too deeply
ingrained to allow those ideas to be implemented,18 thereby confirming one of
the structural features of the Islamic education system, namely that of the basi-
cally religious nature of the instruction given to children and of the discontinuity
between that instruction and the training of scholars. Moreover, when examining
the matter of faith and works in the chapter he devotes to theology, Ibn Khaldun
gives a personal interpretation of it based on his theory of habitus (malaka, see
'Learning the Arts' below). In substance, he says that what is required in faith
and works is not just a formal declaration or mechanical gesture but a 'know-
12 Abdesselam Cheddadi
Ibn Khaldon deals with the learning of trades and the teaching of the sciences in
connection with the 'means of existence' argument and the general table of the
sciences of his time drawn up in the last and very long chapter of the
Muqaddima. It is not certain that he would agree with our reconciliation of the
two, since he sees technology as a field of knowledge and of thought linked to
action and consequently inferior to science, which is pure speculation.
In Ibn Khaldon's theory of society, the development of the arts (i.e. the
trades, in the language of the period) and the sciences corresponds at the human
level to the perfection of the spiritual nature and at the social level to the final
stage of the gradual transition of society from the rural order to the urban order.
The gulf between the rural and urban worlds is perceived as a natural conse-
quence of the passage from the 'necessary' to the 'superfluous', from the 'simple'
to the 'complex'. Rural society, being satisfied with the necessary, cultivates only
the simplest of the arts, such as agriculture and weaving; it has no knowledge of
writing and the sciences, and though at times some of its members may take an
interest in such matters, they can never reach perfection. 2o In the cities, the arts
and sciences develop as production expands and diversifies, as wealth increases
and as a taste for the superfluous and luxury comes into being. 21
The term 'art' (sina'a) is used by Ibn Khaldon in a very wide acceptation,
covering even the vocational and practical aspects of scientific activities. The
various arts, presented in relation to 'the means of existence', are classed accor-
ding to their uses and their social importance before more systematic exposes are
made on the main ones. The religious and intellectual offices, such as those of the
judge, the mufti or the teacher, are placed on the same level as the other arts
considered as 'means of existence'. But, as Ibn Khaldon points out,22 though
these are 'noble' as to their ends, they are generally poorly paid.
Ibn Khaldon limits himself here to two remarks: the arts must necessarily be
learned from a master; they are highly specialized, and a person who masters one
art cannot generally master a second. He does not conceive of technology as a
body of knowledge independent of those who possess it. Technique, though
understood as something at once practical and intellectual (amr 'amalr fikrr), is
reduced to a skill that may be learned only by observation and imitation (naql al-
mu'ayana). Learning itself is seen by Ibn Khaldon as the acquisition of a habitus
(malaka). He uses this concept, which for philosophers 23 had an essentially moral
B N K H A L 0 (j N 13
and intellectual meaning, very widely to cover a vast field going from language to
faith, the arts and the sciences. He defines it as 'a stable quality resulting from a
repeated action until its form has taken final shape'.24 Habiti are like gradually
formed 'colours' of the soul. They take shape when a person is still in his or her
'state of natural simplicity'. Once the soul acquires a given aptitude it loses its
primary simplicity, its readiness weakens and its capacity to assimilate a second
aptitude diminishes. We shall return to this important concept later.
The ideas developed by Ibn Khaldlm on teaching belong to his encyclopedic pre-
sentation of the sciences. This opens with a theory of knowledge and a general
presentation of the socio-historical and epistemological bases of scientific devel-
opment. Then the sciences, categorized as the rational - 'those that people can
apprehend by virtue of the very nature of thought'25 - and the traditional -
'those founded upon authority'26 - are described as to their subjects, their
methods, their results and their historical development. Teaching is approached
at the end of this enumeration and before the sections on language, the learning
of language and the various forms of literary production. Two sides can be dis-
tinguished to Ibn Khaldun's presentation, one covering the principles of teaching,
the other its methods and content. The learning of language is dealt with separa-
tely.
PEDAGOGICAL PRINCIPLES
Ibn Khaldun approaches the question of the teaching of the sciences from his
concept of the habitus. In order to master any discipline and fully possess it, he
says, it is necessary to acquire 'a habitus that allows the principles and rules to be
grasped, problems to be fully understood and secondary questions to be drawn
from principles'. 34
The formation of such a habitus demands a rigorous approach in which
must be taken into consideration the student's 'receptivity' and power to assimi-
late, together with the quantity of information contained in the subject to be
taught and its complexity. Ibn Khaldun considers that the process must take
place in three progressive stages, whose object and means he is careful to
explain. 35
The first of these is a preparatory stage. Its object is to familiarize the stu-
dent with the subject being taught and to prepare him or her to grasp its pro-
blems. This stage is limited to giving an overall view of the subject and emphasi-
zing its main points. Explanations must be kept simple and general and allow for
the student's capacity for understanding and assimilation.
The second stage goes deeper. Now the subject must be looked at from
every angle and generalizations transcended. Explanations and commentaries
must be exhaustive and all divergent points of view examined.
The third stage is that of consolidation and mastery. The subject is again
studied, in extenso, from the beginning, but this time the most complex and obs-
cure points are gone into.
Ibn Khaldun lays great emphasis on the principle of the progressive
approach. He says it is a serious error to begin by the most abstruse problems, as
do many teachers who take no account of the student's state of preparation. Such
a practice is most harmful, as the student tires rapidly and becomes discouraged.
Worse still, in the belief that the difficulties encountered are intrinsic to the sub-
ject, the student turns away from it and abandons it. Going further into the mat-
ter, Ibn Khaldun perceives clearly that the inculcation of a body of knowledge is
inseparable from the development of the mental aptitudes necessary for that
knowledge to be assimilated. As he points out:
At the beginning the student is literally incapable of understanding anything at all, except
for a very few points that, in any case, he or she grasps only in an approximate and sum-
mary manner, when they are explained with examples drawn from sensory expenence.
Then the student's readiness gradually develops: the problems of the subject become more
familiar with every repetition, and he or she then goes from approximate knowledge to an
ever deeper assimilation. 36
passing on to others; not teaching two subjects at the same time; not stretching
out the study of a subject over too long a period, in order not to break the inter-
dependence between its different facets. He advises students not to 'dwell on dis-
putes over words' and especially not to weigh themselves down with formal
logic. 'Indeed,' he says, 'the only natural means of attaining truth is the natural
readiness to think, once it is relieved of all false ideas and the thinker places his
or her entire confidence in divine mercy. Logic is nothing more than a description
of the act of thinking and in most cases follows it.'37
On the question of the content of science teaching, Ibn Khaldiln limits him-
self to a few remarks inspired by the actual state of education in his time. He
denounces three abuses: the overload of work imposed on students; the excessive
importance given to the 'instrumental sciences'; and the use of precis. The
sciences, particularly religious and literary science, had undergone considerable
development under Islam, and Ibn Khaldiln describes it in detail. In agreement
with his contemporaries, he judges this development to have reached its apogee
and its term. 38 How and in what form should the enormous accumulated corpus
be transmitted? During the preceding centuries, sustained efforts had been made
to devise adequate didactic forms: syntheses, treatises, precis and commentaries.
For each subject there was a plethora of works available. Each school of thought
or trend had its own collection, often with methods and terminologies that were
peculiar to it. Ibn Khaldiln wondered how the average student could be required
to assimilate it all. Teachers, he suggests, should limit themselves to teaching
their students the subject-matter of their own schools. But he barely believes in
this solution himself, 'owing to force of habit'. Precis do not seem to him to fur-
nish an effective remedy; on the contrary, they only increase the harm done.
Intended to 'facilitate memorization for students, they render the task harder for
them'. Ibn Khaldiln makes two reproaches: by trying to 'fit a maximum number
of ideas into a minimum number of words', they are injurious to the quality of
expression and lead to comprehension difficulties; and they sow confusion in the
students' minds 'by presenting them with the ultimate findings of a subject before
preparing them to take in those findings'.39 Faced with such a situation, it is
understandable that he should speak out against the propensity of his age to
dwell on the study of the sciences described as 'auxiliary' or 'instrumental' - such
as grammar, logic and legal principles. These are theoretically only means to be
placed at the service of the fundamental sciences that are sought for their own
sakes. Thus, philology and arithmetic should serve the religious sciences, while
logic and philosophy should be similarly available to theology. Too much time
spent on the religious sciences is only further weighing down the burden borne
by students and distracting them from the essential. 40
This view of education is not seen by Ibn Khaldiln as being linked to insti-
tutions or places. It appears rather as a private, individual matter at the level of
each of its three components: science, teachers and students. The individual soul
fulfils itself in and through knowledge. The invention and development of the
sciences meets a spiritual necessity above all. Although perfectible, the sciences
B N K H A L DUN 17
Notes
1. The author's original tltle was 'Education m Ibn Khaldun's Muqaddima'.
2. See E. Gellner, Nations and Nationahsm, pp. 11-18,29-35, Oxford, Basil Blackwell,
1983.
3. See G. Makdlsi, The Rise of Colleges, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1981;
The Rise of Humanism 111 Classical Islam and the Christian West, Edmburgh,
Edinburgh University Press, 1990.
4. See H. J. Cohen, The Economic Background and Secular Occupations of Muslim
]urlsprudents and Traditionists in the ClaSSical Period of Islam (unttl the Middle of
the Eleuenth Century), Journal of Economic and Social History of the Orient
(Leiden, Netherlands), January 1970, pp. 16-61; J. E. Gllbert, The 'Ulama of
Medieval Damascus and the International World of Islamic Scholarship, Ann Arbor,
University Mlcrofilms, 1977 (Ph.D. dissertation).
5. Makdisi, op. Clt.
6. See particularly Arc7' ahl al-madlna al-fc7dila [The Opmions of the Inhabitants of the
Vlrtuous City] and Kltab tahSil as-sa 'c7da [The Book of the Attainment of
Happiness]. A profile of al-FarabI is included in this series of 'lOO Thinkers on
Education'.
7. See Kltdb tahdhJb al-akhhlq [Treatise on Ethics].
8. See Adab ad-dunya wa-d-dln [The Rules of Propnety for the Wordly Life and the
Religlous Life].
18 Abdesselam Cheddadi
IN ARABIC
Kitab al-·Ibar [The Book of AdVice]. Ed. by N. Hurim. 7 vols. Cairo, Bulaq, 1867 (a.h.
1284).
B N K H A L DUN 19
Muqaddima Ibn Khaldlln [Ibn Khaldun's Introduction to History]. Cairo, 'Abd a-Wahid
WafT, 1957.4 vols.
The Prolegomena of Ibn Khaldrm. Paris, E. Quatremere, 1858. 3 vols. (In ArabIC.)
Shlf((' as-sirilli tahdh-lb al-mas(/'il [Satisfying Questions on the Correction of Problems].
Istanbul, M. Ibn Tawit at-Tanji, 1958.
At-Ta'rif bi-Ibn Khaldlln lOa rihlatuhu gharban lOa sharqan [An Introduction to Ibn
Khaldun and His Travels in West and East]. Cairo, M. Ibn Tawit at-Tanji, 1951 (a.h.
1370).
T{lrlkh <1d-duwal <11-islcimiya bl-l-Maghnb [A History of Islamic Countnes in the
Maghreb]. Algiers, W. M. de Slane, 1847 (a.h. 1263).
IN TRANSLATION
Ahmad, A. The Educational Thought of Ibn Khaldun. Journal of the Pakistan Historical
Society (Karachl), Vo!. 14, 1968, pp. 175-81.
Berque, ]. Ville et universlte: apen;u sur l'histoire de l'Ecole de Fes [Town and UniverSity:
A Glimpse on the History of the Fes School]. Revue histonque de droit fral/(;ais et
hranger (Pans), 1948-49, pp. 64-117.
Buhs, H. The Educational System of the Muslims in the Middle Ages. Islamic Culture
(Hyderabad), Vo!. 1, 1927, pp. 442-72.
Bulliet, R. The Patricians of Nlshapur: A Study in Medieval Islamic Socwl History, pp.
249-54. Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1972.
Keddi, N. (ed.). Scholars, Saints <1nd Sufls. Berkeley, Calif., UniverSity of California Press,
1972.
Muhasib, ]. At-Tarbiya 'ind Ibn Khaldun [Education according to Ibn Khaldun]. Al-
Mashriq, Vo!. 43, 1949, pp. 365-98.
Qurayshi, M. A. The Educational Ideas of Ibn Khaldun. Journal of the Maharaj<1
Sayajirao Ul1Iverslty (Baroda), Vo!. 14, 1965, pp. 83-92.
Sourdel, D.; Makdlsi, G. (eds.). L'Enselgnement en Islam et en Occident au Moyen Age
[Education In the Islamic World and In the West in the Middle Ages]. Rel'ue des
Etudes Islamlques (Pans), Vo!. 44, 1976. (SpeCIal issue.)
TibawT, A. L. Philosophy of Muslim Education. Islamic Quarterly (Hyderabad), Vo!. 4,
No. 2, 1957, pp. 78-89.
21
1
lens Bjerg
Around the middle of the nineteenth century, Christen Mikkelsen Kold gave the
Danish free school and the Danish folk high school the form they have today.
Kold's life and work must be seen against the background of N. F. 5. Grundtvig's
revolutionary ideas about new ways of educating people and the need for general
reforms of the Danish education system at the time. 2
Christen Kold was born at Thisted in north Jutland in 1816. At the age of
11 he was put to work as a shoemaker's apprentice in his father's shop. As he
showed little or no aptitude for the trade, it was decided that he should become a
teacher. Having served as a tutor on an estate, he was admitted to a teachers'
training college in 1834 and graduated two years later.
Even though he wrote practically nothing about educational principles,3
Kold's influence was enormous. 50 much so that he is surrounded by an almost
myth-like aura today. However, in order to understand the originality of Kold's
ideas, they must be placed in the broader context of Danish culture and society
in the early nineteenth century.
The distinctive features of Kold's pedagogy can be traced back to his conversion
and revolt against the preachings of the established Church. For 'awakened'
souls like Kold, the immaculate conception of Christ, his descent into Hell and
ascension to Heaven were real events. Damnation and Hell were concrete and
inevitable destinies for those who did not see the light in time. Baptism and
Communion were actual meetings with God. Heaven was a real place, a safe
haven for the awakened. In Kold's view, such matters could not, and should not,
be reduced to symbolic representations of the struggle between good and evil, as
the established Church would have it. Later in life 4 Kold referred specifically to
his awakening in 1834 as the source of his ideas about education:
22 lens Bjerg
Earlier, I thought God was a policeman, a stnct schoolmaster, who watched over us and
gave us a good box on the ear when we were bad. Now I realized that God loved both
humanity and me, and I had this feeling that I too loved mankind - and to a lesser extent
myself - and I felt JOY because God loved me. I have never experienced anything like the
life, the joy, the strength and power that suddenly arose in me. I was so happy about that
discovery that I did not know which leg to stand on. I sought out my good friends in town
and told them the wondrous news. I hardly knew what I was saYing, but I managed to
convey to them that God loved me and the whole of mankind despite our being sinners. 5
The fact that his friends thought him out of his mind was to Kold further proof
of the authenticity of his experience, the early Christians having been treated in
the same way.
I saw how the power of the word could make hearts happy. It was the second time thIS
realization dawned on me, the first being when my mother imbued me WIth that feeling. It
soon became clear to me that God had given my words such power or put such words In
my mouth that I could do the same. I made up my mind that very moment that this
should be my bUSiness in life. I was not going to quit the teachers' training college. I
would endure It, but my main task in the world would be to make hearts happy with the
message that, although we were sinners, God loved us through his son, Jesus Christ. 6
These two passages are characteristic of Kold's style. He would use examples
from his own life to encourage people or to enlighten them. Usually, it is the edi-
fying tale about how to achieve one's goals in life without failing in one's obliga-
tions to oneself and to others.
In 1825, Grundtvig had started his crusade against the established Church
by maintaining that Christian dogma about the conception, death and resurrec-
tion of Christ were contrary to reason. The crucial point was a question of faith,
not of reason. Christianity, in Grundtvig's view, was incompatible with the kind
of enlightened reasoning and rationality preached by the established Church.
Reason could never be the source of a Christian morality, just as faith could
never be a derivative of biblical exegesis. The foundations of Christianity were
the Apostles' Creed, faith in the Holy Trinity and the renunciation of the Devil
and all his works. A true Christian, Grundtvig claimed, need only follow these
simple precepts to prove his sincerity. Sophisticated and hair-splitting biblical
exegesis was not only superfluous but harmful. Grundtvig's writings had an
immense influence on people's view both of church and school. To some extent,
the religious fundamentalists agreed with him, though they did not abandon the
idea of the Scriptures as the basic source of inspiration for the church.
At the age of 19, Kold had been introduced to all these issues by teachers in
his college and by revivalist preachers who travelled round the country. The
following year he graduated as a teacher, but had difficulty in finding employ-
ment as he refused as a matter of principle to use the obligatory textbook on reli-
gious instruction. He gained some support for his position from Grundtvigean
clergymen, but in reality he was blacklisted and debarred from teaching in public
schools for the rest of his life.
CHRISTEN M I K K E LSE N K 0 L 0 23
Kold set about propagating his cause. Orally and in writing he argued against the
use of compulsory textbooks and rote learning in Danish schools. Education in
public schools was based on the Education Act of 1814, which did away with the
widespread education of children at home, stipulating that public schooling was
to be compulsory - at least for the children of the populace. Up to that time
parents had been free to use children to work on farms, in workshops or in trade
as they saw fit, and they were equally free to give them any instruction they
thought necessary. Kold sympathized with the underlying principle of this state
of affairs: his idea of a school was one that, above all, complied with parental
wishes. A school should teach things to children that were in accordance with
their parents' Christian faith and particular way of life. So when, for brief per-
iods of time, Kold managed to land a job as a teacher in a public school, he
steadfastly refused to follow the regulations laid down by clergymen, who func-
tioned as the official board of control. In Kold's view, children were not to be
taught to read and write until they were able fully to understand what they were
reading or writing about. Instead, they were to be taught biblical and general his-
tory. Neither should they be confined to a classroom: the teacher should arrange
outings and excursions and use these opportunities to give children relevant
information. At the same time, children should be free to tell the teacher any-
thing that crossed their minds. For Kold, all education was centred round the act
of narration: everybody has something to tell which is worth listening to.
Imaginative play with reality and the telling of stories are indispensable to the
activity of learning, which is why children should be allowed to remain children
for as long as possible and be given a free hand to fantasize and play.
An idea which immediately suggests itself is that Kold was familiar with the
thinking of Pestalozzi. Even if Kold nowhere refers directly to him, it is a fact
that Gerhard Peter Brammer, the principal of the teacher-training college that
Kold attended, was much influenced by Pestalozzi. In his 'Lecture on the
Centenary of Heinrich Pestalozzi, 12 January 1846', Brammer said that, in all his
pedagogical work, the image of Pestalozzi had constantly been present, some-
times as instruction, at other times as elevation and now and then as humiliation.
It is true, Brammer continued, that the image of Pestalozzi was marked by deep
shadows, but he would be remembered always for his love of children and his
sympathy for the poor. For him, teachers should not be 'soulless censors', but
bearers of the 'living word'. Education was a matter of oral presentation, and
private schools were infinitely preferable to public schools. Incidentally,
Pestalozzi was required reading in Danish teacher training colleges at the time. 7
Such ideas stood in sharp contrast to the dominant enlightenment ideology
of the Danish Church and school. The clerical view was that rote learning was
the central element in the education of a child and that the measure of successful
education was how much pupils had learnt by heart. Kold was an instinctive fol-
lower of Grundtvig in his crusade against the rationalist ideology of Church and
24 Jens Bjerg
school, and from personal experience he was convinced that Grundtvig was right
in stressing the importance of narration and dialogue in any educational process.
The single most important element in Grundtvig's falling out with Church and
school was the issue of whether faith should be grounded in the reading of books
or based on personal experience. For Grundtvig, it seemed obvious that if
reading became the crucial factor, lay people and the populace at large would
have to submit to the clergy and the professional classes, whose judgement was
at best doubtful. This anti-authoritarian attitude appealed immensely to Kold.
In a broader context, Kold's ideas, as they were articulated between 1835
and 1870, fell into a hiatus between an autocratic ancien regime and the begin-
nings of a bourgeois society that opened up vistas of social mobility and indivi-
dual liberty. Kold's ideas had an immediate appeal for many farmers and
peasants, who were struggling to gain economic and, above all, political
influence. Though numerically impressive, they were badly organized and had
little political clout. The main reason for the success of Kold's ideas is to be
found in the convergence of Grundtvig's and his own ideas combined with a
widespread animosity, especially in rural areas, towards the Establishment in all
its forms.
In the spring of 1838, Kold took a job as a private tutor in North Schleswig after
he had once again been denied a teaching post at a public school. Partly as a
result of his own workings and partly as a result of the efforts of the Reverend
Ludvig Daniel Hass (1808-81), an ardent supporter of Grundtvig, Kold became a
potent symbol for the struggle between rote learning and Grundtvig's 'living
word', even though Kold himself never thought of himself as a fully committed
Grundtvigean.
The following year, as a direct result of the growing tension between
Denmark and Germany over the border between the two countries, Kold started
a series of meetings with the declared intent of setting in motion a popular and
national awakening. The main fare of each meeting was the recounting of Danish
historical romances for young people fashioned in such a way as to make pos-
sible an awakening in the same way as he himself as a young man had experi-
enced a religious awakening. As far as the education of children was concerned,
he was quite explicit about this mixture of secular and religious motives in so far
as his aim was 'to enlighten them and imbue them with such a desire, energy and
vigour as to make them believe in the love of God and the happiness of
Denmark, and to make them work for this end to the best of one's modest abili-
ties'.8
Kold was now convinced that children could learn anything if teaching
took the form of narration instead of the reading of books. In his own work as a
tutor he concentrated exclusively on oral narrative and gave up rote learning in
all its forms. And, more importantly, he was now sure that his mission in life was
CHRISTEN M I K K E LSE N K 0 L 0 25
to work as a teacher, both for children and adults. This was his destiny, inspired
partly by Grundtvig and partly by his own religious awakening.
However, he was still kept out of the public schools. Frustrated and
unhappy, Kold eventually accepted an offer from Hass in the autumn of 1841 to
accompany him on a missionary trip to Turkey.
Hass and his family settled in Smyrna. Kold had expected to work together
with the priest, but in this he was disappointed. His job was to wait on the
family, which he did until he managed to set himself up as a bookbinder. He
stayed in Turkey for five years. When he decided to return to Denmark, he sailed
first from Smyrna to Trieste in Italy. There he bought a push-cart for his belong-
ings and proceeded to walk on foot the 700 miles to Denmark. During his stay in
Turkey he had managed to save up money which he was determined should be
used to start his own free school.
regions. The children of the poor would attend these schools from the age of 7 to
the age of 14. Whether or not they retained their original social status afterwards
was not of the slightest importance to Kold. The important thing was that,
through the spoken word, these children would become enlightened and awak-
ened in the same way as he himself had been. This was a far cry from the philo-
sophical ideas that had inspired the Education Act of 1814 and his programme
had little in common with Grundtvig's School for Life and the Academy in Soer.
The central point for Kold was the enlightenment - in a religious/national sense -
of children. The main obstacle to the achievement of that goal, as he saw it, was
the emphasis on rote learning in schools, and so he started to experiment.
In the morning I started right away by telling the children a piece of biblical history, which
they loved to hear. However, the problem was whether they would be able to remember It
once they were called on to do so at their confirmation or at an exam. So for a fortnight I
told them the story about joseph, which to me seemed the best place to start. Then I set
out to check whether the children could remember the story, and much to my surprise
they were able to repeat it word for word the way they had heard it from me. Children
have this strange ability that they can repeat thmgs that they have heard word for word,
and once one gets to know children, It IS easy to understand why. We adults cannot do the
same thing because in admitting what we hear into our hearts, we cannot but refashion It
a little bit accordmg to our own heart before we pass it on. But when children admit
something into their hearts, they pass it on m the very same form in which they have
heard it. I reflected on this and saw that now we had found the method to teach all
Danish children and the best means to recreate Denmark such as it once was."
wIll be found as they are needed. And this had come to pass.... He related all this in a
simple and straightforward manner, without the least trace of pompousness and with fre-
quent references to thmgs and conditions that were familiar to his audience - all in order
to give them confidence and courage in their efforts to reach for higher thmgs. Again and
again there were instructive examples from the Bible. One could feel and sense his convIc-
tion that he had received a special callmg, and thiS conviction communicated Itself to his
apprentices. It was just a little bit overwrought. Be that as it may, it had none of the mor-
bid exaggeration so characteristic of the truly self-absorbed. It was more like the spark
from a holy flame found in all powerful characters who have contributed to the better-
ment of the world. Except for the strongly felt presence of Kold's personality there is
nothing in the school that makes It different from other Grundtvigean schools or folk high
schools in general. There are the same relaxed teaching methods, the same lack of compul-
sory homework, self-instruction through the readmg of first-rate authors, essay-wntmg
and, finally, a fresh and vigorous song. 1O
Kold himself wanted his students to think of their expenence in the following
way:
We are a group of young farm lads, who are staying for some months at the home of
Chnsten Mlkkelsen Kold, a farmer in Hjallelse. We lend him a helping hand m hiS work,
we have conversations mside and outside, we listen to talks, we improve our writmg,
anthmetic and such things, and when those months are over, we go each hiS own way,
resume our usual tasks and are the same plam farm lads as we were before. l !
Kold insisted that a school ought to resemble the pupils' home as much as pos-
sible in order that they might feel receptive and relaxed. The classroom, for ins-
tance, should look like an ordinary living-room. This, however, did not imply
that the bringing-up of children was in any way the responsibility of the school,
let alone the state. Parents alone were responsible for the upbringing of their chil-
dren, and the task of the free schools was to emulate the kind of education and
training that used to take place at home before the Education Act of 1814. This
became part of the official programme when, in the spring of 1852, Kold and
Poulsen Dal set up the first free school for children in the small village of Dalby,
at the same time as their high school for young men was moved from Ryslinge to
Dalum.
The last and biggest school that Kold built was a high school at Dalum near
Odense, which was opened on 1 November 1862 with an intake of fifty-eight
students, all of them male. The following year eighteen young women were
admitted to the school. Here Kold spent his last years. In 1866 he married Ane
Kirstine Jacobsen and became the father of two daughters. He died on 6 April
1870, aged 54.
From around 1850, when he set up his first school, until a few years before
his death, Kold had constant financial problems. He received help from sympa-
thizers, but it was only after he had settled at Dalum that he managed to repay
all his debts as the schools became economically viable. He also had altercations
with principals of other emerging high schools, whose teaching methods differed
28 lens Bjerg
from his 'Christian, historical and poetic' pedagogy. Kold's aim was always to
enlighten, encourage and awaken while the programmes of other schools were
more in accordance with Grundtvig's idea of enlightened instruction through the
spoken word. Also, Kold's overwhelming personality reduced his fellow teachers
to little more than stand-ins, which was one reason why the high school at
Dalum closed only a few years after his death.
Kold was a man of the people who remained loyal to his social origins. His
ambition in life was to create a school of and for the children and youngsters
from the poorer classes. As it turned out, it attracted pupils mainly from better-
off farming communities and never managed to gain any kind of foothold among
the growing industrial workforce in the cities. That set the limits to Kold's
achievement. At the same time, it goes some way towards explaining the endu-
rance and success of his ideas. The fact that the free schools and, at a later stage,
the folk high schools managed to establish themselves as an integral part of, and
yet as an alternative to, the established education system was to a large extent
due to Kold's personal efforts and zeal. !2
It would be foolish of me to deny that a government may not have good reasons to want
the population to be well informed; any father would want the same for his own children;
but not knowledge which is dead. Education, says Professor Slbbern, is more than instruc-
tion [in dead knowledge] and goes on: How many people do we not see who are well
read, prohclent and in possessIOn of fine skills, but in whom these things do not appear as
the baSIS of their existence. They have not become flesh of their flesh, blood of their
blood. They possess them, but they have not acqUired them. And more than both instruc-
tion [in knowledge] and education, IS refinement of the spirit. One wants to see one's chil-
dren well-instructed; one wants more; one wants them to be educated; but ought one not
30 lens Bjerg
to wish for even more? Ought one not to wish to see them moving along freely and
spnghtly in life with open minds and brimmmg with certain fundamental ideas and inter-
ests, whIch might mfuse all that has been instIlled into them by instruction and all that
they have acquired through education, and make it bear on fine and healthy lIves so that
all will not stagnate in them?16
To Grundtvig, 'the living word' was a unity of something sensual and ethe-
real. As a grateful recipient of God's love and mercy, he was more than willing to
talk about sensuality. For Kold it was almost impossible because sexuality and
the sensual touched on deep-seated fears in him. In Grundtvig's view, love of the
world was a precondition for a cognition of the love of God. Kold, on the other
hand, had to suppress it to come to terms with God. Grundtvig made a sharp
distinction between the human and the divine to prevent men from striving in
vain to suppress their sensuality, whereas Kold was so obsessed by his love of
Jesus that his own sensuality was a lifelong source of loathing and fascination to
him. Kold was familiar with the works of S0ren Kierkegaard, and it is pure
Kierkegaard when he talks about the fear of a punishing God as the touchstone
for all human actions or the importance of the choice if freedom is not to become
a burden. Born and raised in widely different Clrcumstances, Kold and
Kierkegaard had nevertheless both of them experienced a religious awakening
and both of them were haunted by the fear of damnation. Grundtvig's brand of
Christianity was a different thing altogether. 20
The fundamental event in Grundtvig's life was the realization that human
existence could not, and should not, be regulated according to a Christian ideal,
since the essence of Christianity was the Gospel and not a set of laws to be bro-
ken or obeyed. This was the point of departure for his attacks on the established
church and the education system. He wanted to challenge all pious orthodoxies,
classical education, the death, as he saw it, of a living culture. In the face of thiS,
life could not but be right, life as we experience it, in ourselves, in people and in
the march of history. It was for this purpose Grundtvig wanted to use the folk
high schools. He wanted ordinary people to discover the same insights and reach
the same conclusions as he had. 'We need a People's Enlightenment, an enlighten-
ment of life, to fight death in whatever form it takes: the authoritarian coercion,
the snobbery for everything foreign, the contempt for all that is one's own, all
spiritual domination, the hopelessness .... ' To Grundtvig, Christianity was one
thing, humanity another. God had created the world as a place for man to live in.
Good works should be of use to people in this world. They were not to be
understood as some kind of preparation for a life to come. It is in this light that
Grundtvig's ideas about education should be understood. The school should be
of use to life on this earth. It should be a school 'for life', as he himself put it, not
for eternity.21
Kold never understood Grundtvig's approach to Christianity and, conse-
quently, never fully agreed with his views on education. The decisive moment 10
Kold's life was the realization that 'God loves humanity' and that changed his
life. From then on his main preoccupation was the struggle for salvation and
eternal life, not just for himself but on behalf of all. This was why the notion of
'awakening' - in a religious sense - became of crucial importance in his schools.
It is true that Kold and Grundtvig to some extent used the same vocabulary
-'enlightenment' and 'encouragement' - to describe what they were trying to
accomplish. But their ultimate goals and visions were, if not incompatible, at
32 lens Bjerg
least very dissimilar, something which is still noticeable in the different kinds of
folk high schools found today.22
It was Kold who gave the free schools and folk high schools their present
form. Students spend five months at a school in continuous contact with the
principal and the teachers, eating at the same table, sharing the same amenities,
etc. 'Kold made it all very down-to-earth, having realized that one had to be one-
self and that things had to be plain in order to be true. He founded his high
school on a discovery that gave him the courage to be himself: the discovery of
God's love.'23 In different circumstances and on the basis of a different philoso-
phical stance, other educational thinkers have reached almost the same conclu-
sions as Kold. For instance, John Dewey's ideas about education have many affi-
nities with Kold's thinking, and even today they seem to have a genuine appeal.2 4
Today there are about 200 free schools and 100 folk high schools in Denmark.
They represent the heritage of Grundtvig and Kold, especially on the question of
parents' right to decide the kind of instruction that they want for their children.
In that respect, both Grundtvig and Kold have left their imprint on the public
system of education. 2s At the same time, the teaching methods and programmes
of the free schools and folk high schools have changed - some would say that
they have been diluted - so that today there is a broad range of different
approaches and subjects on offer.
The high school today is many different things, perhaps as many and as different as there
are high schools. They come in all shapes and forms, from the most boringly reactionary -
constantly harping about genullle peasants and the good old days - to the opposite
extreme, the opportunistic, trendy school whose main ambition seems to be to attract
more students. And in the middle of all this there are still schools with a sober and respon-
sible approach to problems and issues from the past and the present. There are schools
where nothing seems to have changed slllce the time of the popular enlightenment III the
nineteenth century, and schools that under the impression of the present confusIOn have
discarded Damsh poetry and Danish history and seem set on students' creativity as the
only patent medicine. Classes in ceramics, drawlllg, embroidery - with a total disregard
for quality - have taken on a religious function. But there are also schools, whose point of
departure is today's livlllg conditions and the problems that we face, which do their best
to open up young people's eyes by confronting them with more genuine experiences and
broader philosophies of life than can be found III the products of the endlessly triumphant
entertainment industry.26
Be that as it may, Danish scepticism of any form of spiritual and political autho-
rity is closely connected with the ideas of Denmark and a particular Danish natio-
nal identity that developed from the 1840s to the 1940s. The source of that scepti-
cism is to be found in the ideas of Kold and Grundtvig. The latest evidence of the
tenacity of that tradition came in 1992 with the Danish referendum and the refu-
sal by the population to ratify the Maastricht Treaty of the European Community.
CHRISTEN M I K K E LSE N K 0 L D 33
Notes
1. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Professor Gunhild Nissen of Roskilde
University Centre for numerous useful suggestions, and to Henning Silberbrandt,
lecturer at Roskilde University Centre, for the translation of this article into Enghsh.
2. A profile of N. F. S. Grundtvig also appears in this series of '100 Thinkers on
Education'.
3. Except for a few brief texts, Kold only wrote one treatise, Om Borneskolen [On the
Children's School] (1850), published posthumously in 1877.
4. In 1866 Kold gave a lecture at a two-day meeting in Copenhagen. HIs manuscript is
lost, but the lecture was later published on the basis of a short-hand account. It is
one of the most important sources for an understanding of his life and work.
Grundtvig introduced Kold to the audience and said among other things: 'And so I
have asked Kold, the main inspiration of the popular enlightenment in Funen, to be
so good as to tell us how he originally came to embrace hiS fruitful career and in
what light he regards the whole issue of education, both the children's school and
the school for adults. And I have only one further remark to make, one that I
usually never address to any speaker, which is that I hope that he won't be too bnef.
This man has remained silent for so long that he probably has a good deal to tell us,
and I believe that we have all the time III the world to listen to him.'
5. Klaus Berntsen (ed.), Blade til mindekransen over hOJskoleforstander Kristen Kold
[Leaves in the Memonal Wreath for High School Principal Kristen Kold], 2nd ed., p.
11, Odense, 1913.
6. Ibid., pp. 12-13.
7. Johannes Pedersen, Fra frlskolens og bondehojskolens forste tid [From the First
Days of the Free School and the Folk High School], p. 23, Copenhagen, 1961.
8. Berntsen, op. cit., pp. 14-15.
9. Ibid., p. 16.
10. Ibid., pp. 62-64.
11. Niels Ho]lund, FolkehoJskolen i Danmark [The Folk High School in Denmark],
p. 29, Copenhagen, 1983.
12. There are at least two accounts of Kold's life and work in Enghsh: Thomas Rordam,
The Danish Folk HIgh Schools, pp. 58-64, Copenhagen, 1965; and Steven
M. Borisch, The Land of the Living: The Danish Folk High Schools and Denmark's
Non- Violent Path to Modernization, pp. 186-92, Nevada City, Calif., Blue Dolphin,
1991.
13. For the following text, I am indebted to Carl Aage Larsen, Kolds pcedagogiske teori
[Kold's Educational Theory], III Johannes Hagemann et a!. (eds.)., Christen Kold. 1:
Pcedagogik [Chnsten Kold. 1: Pedagogy], pp. 49-61, Copenhagen, 1967.
14. Johannes Hagemann and Harald Sorensen (eds.), Christen Kold. 2: Udvalgte tekster
[Christen Kold. 2: Selected Writings], p. 34, Copenhagen, 1967.
15. Jens Bjerg, 'Provincial Reflections on the Danish Educational System'. Compare
(Abingdon, United Kingdom), Vo!. 21,1991, pp. 165-78.
16. Hagemann and Sorensen, op. cit., p. 63. F. C. Sibbern (1785-1872) was professor of
philosophy at the University of Copenhagen from 1813 to 1870. He was inspired by
the German Romantics' rejection of the philosophy of the Enlightenment, especially
by Fichte, Schiller and Schleiermacher.
17. Ibid., p. 43.
34 lens Bjerg
JANUSI KORCIAK
(1878-1942)
Tadeusz Lewowicki
Janusz Korczak (whose real name was Henryk Goldszmit) is one of the greatest
and most impressive figures in contemporary pedagogy. His was a multi-faceted
personality, with broad interests and extensive knowledge, a great empathy with
children and a genuine concern for all social problems. A doctor by education
and an educator by predilection, his passion for improving the reality he obser-
ved drove him to writing and journalism.
His life, his community activities, educational work and creative output
cannot be squeezed into any standard mould, or even presented in a complete
manner. For Janusz Korczak was the kind of individual who exerted a strong
influence on his surroundings, changed social practice, destroyed petrified scien-
tific dogma and laid the foundations of new theories. At the same time he was
involved in wide-ranging practical activities, in the fields of medicine, education
and journalism. He condemned all manifestations of evil, and derided stupidity,
while himself setting an example of how the world could be made better and
more beautiful. He fought for this better and more beautiful world especially for
children. He set the highest value in his life on the happiness of children, and
their smiling, unhampered development. In fact, he devoted his entire life to
trying to bring happiness to more and more children.
Janusz Korczak was born in Warsaw in 1878. His father, J6zef Goldszmit, was a
respected lawyer with broad scholarly interests and ambitions. The Goldszmit
family had a living tradition of community activity. Janusz Korczak's grand-
father, Hirsz Goldszmit, was very much involved in progressive Polish Jewish
circles, belonging to 'Haskale' (which represented the Enlightenment movement
in the Jewish milieu), and also practised medicine. l His father's brother, Jakub,
was a lawyer, also involved in journalism.
38 TadeU5Z Lewowicki
His sensitivity to social issues, acquired in the family home, made it impossible
for Janusz Korczak not to react to all manifestations of evil, unfairness and injus-
tice. He was aware of these phenomena both on a social and an individualleve!.
He protested against numerous cases of coercion, whether material or spiritua!.
He also spoke out against poverty, unemployment, exploitation and social
inequality. He did so as 'a man following a lonely path of individual decisions
and deeds',4 for he did not belong officially to any political organization, but
devoted all his energy to social activity, fighting for the dignity of human beings
and their right to a full life, both in writing and in speech.
Janusz Korczak was closely bound to his country, occupied as it had been by
invaders for so many years. Since he was deeply concerned about the fate of
Poland and the Poles, he was close to those social groups that desired and actively
JANUSI K 0 ReI A K 39
was involved in journalism, was active in the Warsaw Hygiene Society and wrote
substantial literary works; he worked in a hospital, and also served as a teacher
and educator. Among other things, he was a doctor and tutor at summer camps
for children. He also travelled: in 1899 he visited Switzerland, where he was
interested in health service subjects, but where he also studied diligently the edu-
cational ideas of Pestalozzi.
He obtained his medical diploma in March 1905, when he was mobilized
and had to go to the front during the Russo-Japanese War. He was sent to
Harbin and Tao'an Xian to work in evacuation centres, and then spent some
time in Khabarovsk. He witnessed directly the horrors of war, treated others and
fell ill himself. After several months he returned from the front.
While at the front in the Far East he kept up a journalistic correspondence.
The awfulness of war did not keep him from writing; not only did he continue to
send in articles on the war, but also wrote some on sociological or educational
subjects. His journalistic output did not flag after his return to Warsaw. He
published articles in medical journals, such as the professional Krytyka Lekarska
[Medical Critique], as well as in other periodicals and in book form. Among
other things, he wrote about the state of public health, problems encountered by
physicians and the work of midwives. s He gave many lectures to medical
audiences.
To further his professional knowledge, he travelled to Berlin in 1907, and to
Paris in 1909, to study. At this time he also published articles on the care of new-
born babies, for example: 'Waga dla niemowlat w praktyce prywatnej' [Scales for
Infants in Private Practice], '0 znaczeniu karmienia piersia niemowlat' [On the
Importance of Breast-feeding], 'Niedziela lekarza' [The Doctor's Sunday],
'Kropla mleka, czy niedziela lekarza?' [A Drop of Milk, or the Doctor's
Sunday].6
Unlike his other publications, his medical writings are usually signed with
his real name - Henryk Goldszmit. Most of these articles appeared in the first
and second decades of the twentieth century.
During the First World War he was once again forced to practise medicine
under extreme circumstances. He found himself in charge of a ward in a field
hospital on the Ukrainian front, where the fate of children with war injuries
made a particularly strong impression on him. In 1917 he came upon shelters for
homeless children in Kiev.
Janusz Korczak's professional activity as a physician became less intensive
with time. He devoted more and more time and attention to education, in both
theoretical and practical terms. Although he remained a doctor in his educational
work, he did not maintain a regular practice, for it seemed to him that this was
not the most effective way of improving the world. While medicine can prevent
and cure illnesses, it cannot turn people into better individuals. Therefore he
chose to work as a teacher and educator, which would give him greater opportu-
nities for influencing individual characters, and consequently for bettering the
social environment. 7
JANUSI K 0 ReI A K 41
As was the case with many contemporary teachers and educators, Janusz
Korczak's views were formed under the influence of turn-of-the-century educa-
tional thought. The theories of Dewey, Decroly and Montessori were receiving
much attention. The so-called educational progressivism or New Education
Movement was in full bloom. Schools were also being affected by the ideas of
many other European and American educators. The development of educational
thought in Poland was being influenced by new psychological works, and Polish
education and psychology were themselves developing rapidly.
Janusz Korczak studied psychological and educational literature from his
early youth. He was very interested in the history of educational thought, he was
familiar with the works of Pestalozzi and Spencer, and was attracted by the
contributions of Frobel. Right from the start of his journalistic activities, he
expressed respect and even fascination for the works of these authors. In 1899 he
wrote in one of the periodicals of the day: 'The names of Pestalozzi, Frobel and
Spencer shine with no less brilliance than the names of the greatest inventors of
the twentieth century. For they discovered more than the unknown forces of
nature; they discovered the unknown half of humanity: children.,g
Korczak frequently read the works of Tolstoy. The ideas contained in the
essay 'Who Is to Learn from Whom How to Write: Peasant Children from Us, or
We from Peasant Children?' were particularly close to his own. Like Tolstoy, he
proclaimed the need to rise up and open our minds to the thoughts, emotions
and experiences of children. 9
Korczak's programme of educational work was based on the thesis that
children should be fully understood, that one should enter into the spirit of their
world and psychology, but that, first and foremost, children must be respected
and loved, treated in fact as partners and friends. In his own words: 'Children
are not future people, because they are people already ... Children are people
whose souls contain the seeds of all those thoughts and emotions that we pos-
sess. As these seeds develop, their growth must be gently directed.'lo
The view that children differ but little from adults permeates almost all of
Korczak's actions. Thus he himself treated each child as one ought to behave
towards a respected, thinking and feeling adult human being. He would assert
that the main differences between children and adults can be observed in the
emotive domain, and drew the conclusion that it is necessary to study this
domain, and acquire the ability to participate in children's experiences.
On the basis of Korczak's written and practical legacy, we can outline many
other key ideas of his educational programme. Some of these thoughts are still
relevant today.
Apart from those mentioned above, involving a specific view of the child's
social status, they also include deliberations on the need to introduce new ways
of teaching in school. He criticized teaching through lectures, detachment of
school curricula from life, and excessive formal relationships between teachers
42 Tadeusz Lewowicki
and pupils. He called for the establishment of schools that children would like,
offering interesting and useful subjects, and promoting a harmonious educational
relationship. He stressed the need to create a holistic system of education, with
co-operation between the school, the family and various social institutions.
No doubt these ideas were partly derived from the pedagogy of the New
Education Movement, but they were partly the fruit of Korczak's own experi-
mentation and meditation. The originality of his educational concepts was most
clearly evident in the work he did in reform institutions, orphanages and chil-
dren's summer camps.
The apparently minor and unimportant educational and protective meas-
ures, applied by Korczak in his work with children, in fact constitute a set of
logically consistent and well-conceived actions. For instance, he assumed that a
group of children can function well only if provided with appropriate daily living
conditions. Therefore, he paid attention to children's living quarters, diet, oppor-
tunities for rest and hygiene. In this respect he was both a typical representative
of contemporary pedagogy, which paid much attention to these very matters, and
a physician conscious of the importance of such conditions for child develop-
ment.
It was a central idea of Korczak's pedagogy that children should be provi-
ded, as far as possible, with a proper educational atmosphere in a home environ-
ment. For those children with a family home, this atmosphere should be created
by the parents, whereas in the case of orphans or children with no family home
for some other reason, the appropriate educational climate must be created in the
orphanage or child-care institution. In such institutions, the children themselves
should fulfil functions typical of family members; for instance, older children
should take care of younger ones and should participate in home-making activi-
ties. For such participation to be meaningful, they must carry out specific chores.
Respect for work and an understanding of the need to work are important com-
ponents of the educational programme adopted by Janusz Korczak.
Self-government
The introduction of the principles of self-government had to become, in
Korczak's opinion, a significant characteristic of educational work with children.
Together with adults, children had to agree on the rules governing the life of the
child-care institution, and then see to it that the rules were followed. Self-govern-
ment of this form, which is truly authentic self-government, was introduced by
Korczak in the orphanages with which he worked. The children's self-govern-
ment bodies were a self-government council and a system of arbitration by fel-
low-inmates. The establishment of rules to be followed by both staff and inmates
was an important component of self-government. 11
In an atmosphere of joint responsibility and self-government, children cared
a lot about the opinions of their comrades and staff concerning tasks carried out,
progress in studies or other matters, constituting the life of the group or its indi-
JANUSZ KORCZAK 43
Korczak's legacy
ness, and the warm sentiment he displayed for those in his care. It springs from
his life itself and the sacrifice of his life under tragic circumstances.
Obstinately and with unwavering conviction, he strove to overcome the
social evils affecting many people, in particular children. He managed to help
children by involving adults of goodwill in the creation of better living condi-
tions. He persevered in his work to the very end, providing an example of social
and professional activity worthy of emulation. The model he left behind is per-
haps his most valuable legacy. He also left future generations a challenge expres-
sed in the words: 'It is inadmissible to leave the world as one finds it.'24
Notes
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid.
18. See A. Lewin (ed.), Janusz Korczak, Bibliografia 1896-1942 [Collected Works,
1896-1942], Heinsberg, Agentur Dieck Verlag, 1985.
19. Ibid.
20. M. Ciesielska, 'Charakterystyka spuscizny pisarkiej ]anusz Korczak' Uanusz
Korczak's Legacy as a Writer], in Korczak, op. cit.
21. Ibid.
22. See Lewin, op. cit.
23. See J. Korczak, 'Smiej sie' [Burst Out Laughing], Czytelnia dla Wszystkich
[Universal Reader], No. 2, 1900.
24. This sentence was written by]anusz Korczak in 1937, after many years of expe-
rience and strife, and still full of the will to contmue his work.
Bibliography
Beiner, E; Dauzenroth, E.; Lax, E. J. Korczak. BibllOgraphze, QuelIen und Literatur 1943-
1987 U. Korczak: Bibliography, Sources and Literature, 1943-1987]. Heinsberg,
Agentur Dieck Verlag, 1987.
Janusz Korczak. Bibltografza, 1896-1942 [Bibliography, 1896-1942]. Hemsberg, Agentur
Dieck Verlag, 1985.
Janusz Korczak. Bzbltografia polska, 1943-1987 [Polish Bibliography, 1943-87].
Heinsherg, Agentur Dieck Verlag, 1988.
49
A life history
Krupskaya was born in St Petersburg on 14 February 1869. Her parents were
descended from poor landowners and shared the views of the revolutionary
democratic intelligentsia of the day, a fact which naturally helped to shape a pro-
gressive world view in this lively and inquisitive girl. 'Already in those days',
N. K. Krupskaya subsequently wrote, 'I heard a great deal of revolutionary dis-
cussion, and my sympathies were of course with the revolutionaries' (Vol. 1,
p. 9).2 From her early youth, Krupskaya was interested in the teaching profes-
sion. She completed her secondary education in 1886 with flying colours and
began her year of teacher training. On completion of her studies, however, she
could find no primary teaching post in either town or country. Compelled to
tutor and give private lessons in the upper forms of a boarding school, the young
teacher evinced great teaching ability, formidable learning and a conscientious
attitude to her work. In 1891 she became a teacher at the workers' Sunday eve-
ning school in St Petersburg.
50 M i h ail S. S kat kin and G e 0 r g i j S. Ts 0 v' j an 0 v
conditions that shaped it. The concluding paragraph of the book serves to sum-
marize her analysis of the history of work education:
As long as the orgamzatlon of schooling stays in the hands of the bourgeoisie, the vocatio-
nal school will be a weapon directed against the mterests of the working class. Only the
working class can turn the vocational school mto 'a tool for the transformation of
contemporary society'.
people with an integral view of the world and a clear understanding of what was
happening around them in nature and society; people prepared at the theoretical
and practical levels for any kind of physical or intellectual work, and able to
build a rational, fulfilled and happy life in society (Vol. 2, p. 11).
Such aims for education naturally called for the establishment of a single,
all-embracing education system. When the Soviet authorities put all the country's
educational establishments under the control of the People's Commissariat, it
became possible to open the doors to the entire working masses, whatever their
social status, nationality, creed or sex, and at the same time to establish genuine
continuity between primary, secondary and higher education.
Of course, it was not easy to build a consistently democratic system of
public education on the ruins of the old system, and the process was impeded by
widespread destruction and famine, the civil war unleashed by counter-
revolutionary forces, foreign intervention and mass illiteracy. The old textbooks
were done away with, but new ones had not yet been written; the production of
educational supplies and equipment had not been put in order; there were not
enough school buildings and existing ones were not heated; a significant propor-
tion of the teachers, of whom even earlier there had not been nearly sufficient,
were sometimes encouraged by representatives of the old regime to sabotage the
new system, and at first no new teachers were available to replace them. 'Yet in
spite of all those difficulties', Krupskaya wrote in 1918, 'the development of
public education is set its on course and will soon assume the definite organiza-
tional forms that life itself dictates' (Vol. 2, p. 38). The key to success was in
total support for party and government policy from the mass of workers and
peasants with their thirst for knowledge. The organization of education became a
matter for the whole people: community soviets for public education were set up
everywhere, and parents' committees were organized in schools.
A decisive role in the socialist reconstruction of education, however, was
assigned to the teacher. The fact that not all of them were capable of understand-
ing the essence of the revolutionary changes taking place in the country and the
new tasks facing schools was not so much their fault as their loss. Krupskaya
observes (Vol. 2, p. 57):
In fact, the people's teacher IS close to the people's environment, and in most cases IS
connected with it in a thousand ways; the divide between the teachmg profession and the
people was artificially created, for a specific purpose. The new situation is abolishing thiS
divide, and forms of collaboration between teacher and population must be established
that put an end to that unnatural diVision. . . . This rapprochement will ensure that
schools flourish, and that through hard work together the cultural level of the country
will rise, and that we will have a better future; it promises a renaissance of the teaching
profeSSIOn, whose role can now become honoured and respected.
Much was done in the USSR to encourage teachers to accept the new tasks, to
stimulate them with a fresh formulation of educational problems, to improve
their material situation and enhance their social status. Courses, semmars,
N A 0 EZ H 0 A KO N S TAN TIN 0 V N A K R UPS K A Y A 53
teaching methods groups and other assoCiatiOns were formed throughout the
country for the retraining of older teachers; a vast network of training institutes
for teachers in secondary and higher education was set up.
An important axis of Krupskaya's work after the October Revolution was her
contribution to a radical alteration in the content of education, the development
of new curricula and teaching methods for school, and the writing of new text-
books. 'It is now necessary to give new content to teaching, to link school as
closely as possible with life, to bring it closer to the population, and to organize
genuine communist education of children' (Vo!. 2, pp. 596-97).
The knowledge imparted to children at school must prepare them for crea-
tive activity, work and the construction of socialist society. Krupskaya wrote: 'We
must not content ourselves with teaching reading, writing and arithmetic; pupils
must learn the rudiments of the sciences, without which it becomes impossible to
make a conscious, active contribution to life.' She saw natural science as a funda-
mental discipline that afforded a materialistic understanding of natural pheno-
mena and the ability to use the forces of nature wisely; another basic discipline
was social science, which explained class relations and the ways in which society
developed. Krupskaya believed that schools for the masses should provide a suf-
ficiently high theoretical level of knowledge; and in 1918 she expressed the prin-
cipal task of Soviet education as follows: 'We must take from science all that is
important, substantial, vital - we must take it and immediately apply it to life,
put it into circulation.'
Surrounding herself with the most talented people in education, Krupskaya
in effect led the development of new content for formal education based on the
achievements of science. She carefully studied the proposed curricula and re-
viewed new textbooks, and strove to establish closer thematic links between the
two. In this connection she wrote: 'The workload should not overwhelm pupils
and should leave them sufficient time for independent work, participation in the
collective life of the school ... physical work and active involvement in daily life'
(Vo!. 3, p. 44).
The development of cognitive activity in students is another important sub-
ject in Krupskaya's educational legacy. This should not be a formalized system
but rather 'a fortifying understanding of things, of their very essence, which faci-
litates the comprehension of the development, interrelations and manifestations
of phenomena - an integrated system' (Vo!. 3, p. 544). In this way she sought to
ensure that the knowledge imparted by general education would help students to
form a scientific view of the world.
Krupskaya's work on teaching methods had a considerable effect on the
development of methodology and its use in Soviet schools. She considered that
the principal objectives of teaching methods were to induce pupils to think inde-
pendently and act collectively in an organized fashion, to be aware of the effect
of their actions, and to develop a high degree of initiative. The teacher should
also show children how to acquire knowledge by themselves, to work with books
and newspapers, to express their thoughts in speech and in writing, and to form
NA 0 EZ H 0 A KO N S TAN TIN 0 V N A K R UPS K A Y A 55
correct conclusions. Since the pre-revolutionary schools had not attached any
significance to the development of scientific teaching methods, Krupskaya
worked hard at developing a completely new approach to teaching methods and
enhancing their place in the education system. She wrote that the teaching
method should be organically linked with the essence of the subject being taught
and with the history of that subject's development. In an article entitled 'Notes
on Methods', she described the special features of teaching methods deriving
from the context of such disciplines as mathematics, the natural sciences and the
social sciences.
According to Krupskaya, further criteria for proper determination of
teaching methods were: consideration of the child's personality, age and psycho-
logy; the organization of independent observations and practical activity;
development of the ability to distinguish the particular and specific from the
general and generic; teaching students to express and defend their own thoughts;
fostering an inquisitive approach to the world outside school hours; inculcation
of skills for work, research, etc.
Krupskaya was sure that well-devised methods for the organization of teaching
would help suppress formalism and regimentation, passivity and insecurity in
children. For this reason she believed that a teacher's mastery of methods was a
combination of creativity and craftsmanship, and she made high demands on
teacher training. She maintained that Soviet teachers should not only know their
subject well, but also have a command of teaching methods and be familiar with
what effective teaching was.
Polytechnic education
It was Krupskaya who proposed the idea of polytechnic education based on the
ideas of Marxism-Leninism, developing its educational basis and putting it into
practice in schools. She wrote that the universal implementation of the polytech-
nic system in education was to 'present students with the basics of modern engin-
eering, which all its diverse branches have in common' (Vol. 10, p. 333). Modern
engineering was to be studied in all its aspects, that is, 'in connection with gene-
ral scientific data on the mastery of the forces of nature', and also 'with the orga-
nization of labour and the life of society'.
Study of the bases of production can take on a truly polytechnic character
only when the theoretical learning of the students is closely linked with their
practical participation in productive activities. 'Such a combination', Krupskaya
observed, 'will help the rising generation to comprehend the economy as a
whole, without which it is impossible to become a genuine builder of socialism.'
Krupskaya did not consider the polytechnic system to be a separate subject
with an independent curriculum, specialized teacher and textbook. The applica-
tion of the polytechnic principle was not to be confined to the school, the primi-
tive school laboratories of those times, verbal explanations, excursions and meet-
ings with leading workers. It was meant to be above all a component of general
56 Mihail S. Skatkin and Georgij S. Tsov'janov
Krupskaya notes, however, that it would be wrong to conclude that the polytech-
nic system is simply a matter of acquiring an aggregate of knowledge and skill, a
number of crafts, or merely the study of modern engineering. The polytechnic is
a whole system which studies the bases of production in their various forms,
states of development and manifestations.
Making schools polytechnic allows the outlook of the younger generation
to be considerably broadened, helps students to assimilate the ways in which the
process of production tends to develop, and in this way enables them to become
fully developed persons: pupils do not limit themselves to the acquisition of par-
ticular skills for work, but assimilate the technical, technological and organiza-
tional bases of production, adapting easily to any innovation and working
creatively and with great efficiency. With such an approach, school not only
helps pupils to develop harmoniously but also 'captivates them with the romance
of modern engineering' (Vol. 4, p. 195).
This would, of course, involve only work that was within the capacity of chil-
dren and adolescents.
In a number of speeches and articles, Krupskaya refers to Marx's observa-
tion that the combination of instruction with productive and manageable work
early in life is a powerful means of restructuring modern society and fostering the
harmonious development of students. Krupskaya gives these ideas specific
content, shows how they can be implemented, and analyses the first attempts at
doing so.
In the early days of the Soviet regime, not all schools had the wherewithal
to organize productive work. Krupskaya explained that it was not necessary for
NADEZHDA KONSTANTINOVNA KRUPSKAYA 57
the work of children to take place within the school. In those days, children
began their working life alongside adults early, especially in the countryside. That
was real work and it had to be taken as the starting point and combined with
instruction.
Later, when workshops had been set up in many schools, Krupskaya recom-
mended that the work of schoolchildren should be of a productive nature, and
the workshops were linked up with local industry.
Krupskaya considered that implementation of the polytechnic system,
which provided a good awareness of production processes, and of working abili-
ties and skills, was not in itself enough to solve all the problems connected with
the preparation of active workers. People should love their work; also, they
should have a conscious inner will to work, an understanding of the significance
of their contribution to the common weal and a sense of responsibility for the
work entrusted to them. If these qualities are to develop, then the scientifically
organized work of children and adolescents must contain some new, unknown
element. Such work is fascinating to children; it gives a creative character to their
work and prepares them for the working life ahead. Krupskaya writes: 'The
work must be interesting and manageable and, at the same time, it must be crea-
tive and not merely mechanical work' (Vol. 4, p. 247). The work must always be
able to educate and raise the student to a higher level of development.
Another important aspect of labour education for Krupskaya was the incul-
cation of a sense of comradely mutual assistance and collective responsibility for
the work done. To this end she advised those responsible
to consider to what extent the work imparted the skills of collective labour: an ability to
establish the principal aims, to get an overall picture of the work, to plan it and divide It
up in such a way as to ensure that each was allotted the most appropnate task Within his
or her powers; the ability to come to the assistance of comrades in their work, a capacity
for evaluation of the work of each person in the productive process and of the results and
effectiveness of the work (Vol. 10, p. 507).
Krupskaya saw such organization of collective work as one of the most impor-
tant means of conducting the communist education of the next generation.
Properly established polytechnic and labour education and upbringing in
conjunction with the whole range of educational and extracurricular activities
contribute to the accomplishment of a further important task in society. They are
the basis on which students, while still in the process of general education, decide
for themselves their future place in society, making a fully conscious choice of
vocation in accordance with their abilities.
Conclusion
Notes
1. This artICle was originally published in Prospects, Vo!. 17, No. 2, 1987.
2. Quotations from the works of "'-J'adezhda Konstantinovna Krupskaya are taken from
Pedagogic'eskie soc'inemja v 11 tomah [Educational Works m Eleven Volumes],
Moscow, APN RSFSR, 1957-63.
3. Profiles of Comenius, Dewey, Pestalozzi, Rousseau, Ushinsky and Tolstoy appear m this
series of '100 Thmkers on Education'.
60 M i h a i IS. S kat kin and G e 0 r g i j S. T s 0 v ' j a n 0 v
Works by N. K. Krupskaya
Prepared by Y. A. Alferav
Prepared by Y. A. Alferav
J o H N L o c K E
(1632-1704)
Richard Aldrich
Seventeenth-century England
In the seventeenth century England experienced two revolutions. In 1649, after
years of civil war, the first culminated in the execution of King Charles I of the
Stuart family and the establishment of a Commonwealth, replaced in 1653 by a
Protectorate under Oliver Cromwell. In 1660 the monarchy was restored under
Charles 11 and, on his death in 1685, the throne passed peaceably enough to his
younger brother, James. Once again, however, the country's parliamentary tradi-
tions and Protestant Church were perceived to be in danger. Further resistance to
the Stuart monarchy arose and in 1688 a second revolution occurred, though on
this occasion James 11 fled to France, thus avoiding the fate of his father. The
throne was assumed by his elder daughter Mary and her husband, Prince William
of Orange.
These events must have touched the lives of many, if not all, of those who
lived in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales during the seventeenth century.
They are integral to an understanding of the life and work of John Locke, who
62 Richard Aldrich
was both a keen observer of, and at times a participant in, the political, constitu-
tional, religious, economic and educational controversies of these momentous
times. Indeed, he was closely connected with one of the great politicians of the
day, Anthony Ashley Cooper, the first Earl of Shaftesbury.
In 1683 Locke thought it politic to remove himself to the Netherlands,
though whether for his political or physical health is not entirely clear. In 1688
he returned to England as a supporter of the new regime and indeed was favour-
ed by William of Orange with the offer of the post of ambassador to the Elector
of Brandenburg, a post he refused. Nevertheless, other government appointments
followed: as Commissioner of Appeal and member of a new Council of Trade.
But the 1690s were important not mainly for Locke's involvement in politics, but
because it was now possible for him to publish his major works, works which in
some cases he had been preparing for many years. These included the Letter
Concerning Toleration (1689), An Essay Concerning Human Understanding
(1690), Two Treatises of Government (1690), and the book upon which his
reputation as an educator mainly rests, Some Thoughts Concerning Education,
the first edition of which appeared in 1693 (hereafter referred to as Thoughts).
A life in education
John Locke was born on 29 August 1632 at Wrington in the county of Somerset
in the south-west of England. His father, also named John, was a lawyer and
small landowner who supported Parliament against Charles I and served as a
captain in the Parliamentary army during the English civil war. His mother
Agnes, the daughter of a local tanner, Edmund Keene, was some ten years older
than her husband, and 35 years of age when John, the first of their three sons,
was born. It would appear that Locke's father was a stern man (for example an
advocate of the severe whipping of unmarried mothers) who did not believe in
indulging his son as a child, but in keeping him in awe of his father and at some
distance. Whether Locke as a boy appreciated the benefits of this severe regime is
not clear. Certainly as an adult he counselled parents to a similar course: 'For,
liberty and indulgence can do no good to children: their want of judgment makes
them stand in need of restraint and discipline' (Thoughts, s. 40). 'He that is not
used to submit his will to the reason of others, when he is young, will scarcely
hearken or submit to his own reason, when he is of an age to make use of it'
(Thoughts, s. 36).
Little is known about John Locke's early education, though he doubtless
grew up in a bookish household, and it was not until the age of 15, in 1647, that
he was sent to Westminster School in London, then under the aegis of one of its
most famous headmasters, Dr Richard Busby. Busby's reputation was based upon
the length of his tenure of office (some fifty-seven years), his scholarship, his skill
as a teacher and his unsparing use of the birch upon recalcitrant boys.
Westminster must have come as a considerable surprise to the young Locke.
The physical contrast between the large urban school with more than 200 boys,
o H N L 0 eKE 63
which stood in the very shadow of Westminster Abbey itself, and the far-reaching
landscapes viewed from Belluton, the Locke home in Somerset, which stood
above the little market town of Pensford, must have been considerable. Even
more disconcerting, perhaps, to one who had been brought up in a strict Puritan
and Parliamentarian atmosphere, would have been the discovery that Richard
Busby was an avowed Royalist, who made no secret of his political sympathies.
Indeed, prayers for the King were offered within the school an hour or so before
his execution, which took place on 30 January 1649 at Whitehall, only a few
hundred meters away.
Locke's studies at Westminster were centred upon the classical languages of
Latin and Greek, and he also began to study Hebrew. He was clearly a hard-
working boy and in 1650 was elected to a King's scholarship. This gave him the
right to free lodgings within the school, and also access to major scholarships at
both Oxford and Cambridge. This became Locke's ambition and he took extra
lessons with Busby for a fee of £1 per quarter, and spent the summers not in
Somerset, but at the under-master's establishment at Chiswick, near London, for
the purposes of further study. In 1652 Locke's diligence was rewarded when he
was elected to a £20 scholarship to Christ Church, Oxford.
Though Locke no doubt felt gratitude towards Busby and Westminster
School for his formal education, and for his entrance to Oxford, other aspects of
school life were probably less congenial. The excessively hard academic regime
(the day began at 5.15 a.m.), the severe floggings, coupled with the licence which
prevailed among the boys outside the periods of formal instruction, appears to
have contributed towards Locke's considerable aversion to schools, and a strong
preference for private and domestic education. Certainly in 1691 he advised
Edward Clarke that if his son's lack of educational progress were a result of a
lack of application, one remedy might be to send him: 'to Westminster, or some
other very severe school, where if he were whipped soundly whilst you are look-
ing out another fit tutor for him, he would perhaps be the more pliant and
willing to learn at home afterwards' (quoted in Sahakian and Sahakian, 1975,
p.16).
Locke's formal, and no less rigorous, course at Oxford (the day began at
5 a.m.) would have included classics, rhetoric, logic, morals and geometry, and
he took his Bachelor of Arts degree in 1656. This was followed by further study
for the Master of Arts degree, taken two years later, in June 1658. Other subjects
of study with which he was concerned were mathematics, astronomy, history,
Hebrew, Arabic, natural philosophy, botany, chemistry and medicine.
Locke saw little POInt in the traditional scholastic disputations and wrang-
lings which occupied so much of the undergraduate course. Rhetoric and logic,
as taught In the Oxford of his day, earned his particular condemnation. Rather
was he attracted to aspects of the new learning (including Cartesian rationalism)
and from the beginning of his time at Oxford he kept a medical notebook, which
began, simply enough, with family medical recipes collected by his mother. This
progressed to the reading of the latest medical textbooks and to simple experi-
64 Richard Aldrich
mentation. The catalogue of his final library shows that of more than 3,600
books, 402 were medical and 240 scientific (Axtell, 1968, p. 71). In December
1658 Locke was elected to a senior studentship at Christ Church, and thereafter
was able to broaden the range of his studies. In 1660 he was appointed Lecturer
in Greek, and in 1662 Lecturer in Rhetoric. In 1663 he was elected to the office
of Censor of Moral Philosophy, one of the senior disciplinary roles in the college.
Locke's work as a tutor was not merely confined to an academic role.
Though he himself had been 20 years old when entering the university, the
majority of students in his care came at an earlier age, most commonly 16 or 17.
One indeed, Charles Berkeley, was only 13. Locke supervised not only their
courses of study, and supplied them with individual reading lists according to
their abilities and interests, but also exercised guidance in matters of finance and
morals.
Locke's concerns for students would have been all the more pointed given
that in 1663 he himself must have felt rather alone in the world. By that date
both his parents and his two brothers were dead and, in spite of some female
attachments, Locke remained a bachelor to his dying day.
In 1667, at the age of 35, Locke left the University of Oxford to take up a
post in the household of the Earl of Shaftesbury at Exeter House in London.
There his duties were to act as medical adviser to the family and as tutor to
Shaftesbury's son, also named Anthony Ashley Cooper, then a somewhat sickly
and rather backward boy of 15 or 16. Locke not only fulfilled this task but also
arranged young Anthony's marriage to Lady Dorothy Manners, and subse-
quently attended her during one miscarriage and at the birth of her eldest son,
the third Anthony Ashley Cooper, as well as other children.
For some years Locke continued in this role of medical and educational
adviser to the family, even after Shaftesbury's death in 1683. He supervised the
education of the third Anthony, both through the appointment of a governess,
Elizabeth Birch, who could speak both Latin and Greek, and directly himself.
Subsequently, the boy attended Westminster School.
Although Locke's medical advice was valued within the Shaftesbury house-
hold and outside (in 1675 he received the degree of Bachelor of Medicine from
the University of Oxford), his own health was never robust. Locke suffered from
asthma, and found London air uncongenial. In the 1670s, while in France for the
benefit of his own health, he acted as tutor to Caleb, the son of Sir John Banks, a
friend of Shaftesbury. For some two years from 1677, Locke and the young
Caleb, who was 15 when he came under Locke's care, travelled in France, with
much time spent in Paris.
By the 1680s Locke had gained considerable experience and reputation as a
tutor to the sons of the nobility and gentry: at university, in a household and on
the grand tour. In Holland from 1683 he was frequently called upon to give
advice upon education. From 1687 Locke lived in Rotterdam in the house of his
friend Benjamin Furly, who at the time had five children aged between 6 years
and 12 months - Benjohan, John, Joanna, Rachel and Arent. No doubt Locke
o H N L 0 eKE 65
observed them closely and played some part in their upbringing. Indeed, he de-
signed an engraved copy sheet for teaching children to write with Arent in mind.
But the Thoughts originated not from Locke's immediate concerns with the
children of his acquaintances in Holland but from a request from an English
friend and distant relative, Edward Clarke. Clarke was a landowner who lived at
Chipley in Locke's home county of Somerset and who was concerned with the
education of his children, particularly his eldest son, also named Edward, who
was 8 years old in 1684 when Clarke wrote seeking Locke's advice.
Locke's first letter was written on 19 July 1684 and was received by the
Clarkes on 3 August. The letters continued throughout 1685 and 1686, even
after 1687 by which time the Clarkes had engaged a tutor for their son. After
Locke's return from Holland in 1689 it appears that the Clarkes, and others to
whom they had shown the manuscripts, urged Locke to publish them. After
much revision, the first edition of Some Thoughts Concerning Education duly
appeared in July 1693.
Locke's final years from 1691 were spent at Oates, a small Tudor manor
house in Essex, just north of Epping Forest, some twenty miles from London.
There he lived as a paying guest of Sir Francis and Lady Masham: writing further
works on educational, philosophical and political subjects, publishing replies to
his critics, visited by his friends, and taking much pleasure and interest in two of
the Masham children, Esther and Francis. By this time he was a very famous
man, described indeed by Lady Mary Calverley as 'the greatest man in the world'
(quoted in Dunn, 1984, p. 4). His final years were painful, afflicted as he was by
swelling of the legs and deafness, but his mind and pen remained as active as
ever. He died at Oates on 28 October 1704 and was buried in the churchyard of
the nearby parish church at High Laver. His epitaph (in Latin) which Locke
wrote himself, in free translation begins:
Near this place lies John Locke. If you wonder what kind of man he was, the answer is
that he was one contented with his modest lot. A scholar by trainmg, he devoted his stu-
dies wholly to the pursuit of truth. Such you may learn from his wntings.
All Locke's published works, including those which had been issued anony-
mously, were bequeathed to the Bodleian Library, Oxford. His personal papers,
however, were left to his young cousin Peter King (who subsequently became
Lord Chancellor of England) and remained within the family. Some use was
made of this material, for example by the seventh Lord King in The Life and
Letters of John Locke, published in 1829, and by Richard Aaron in his John
Locke, the first edition of which appeared in 1937. Not until 1948, however,
were these papers open to general access when they were sold by King's descen-
dant, Lord Lovelace, to the Bodleian Library. The Lovelace papers, which com-
prise some 4,000 items, provide substantial biographical material and the most
revealing insights into the life and purposes of a rather private, indeed at times
secretive, man who, through his public writings, became the leading philosopher
and educational thinker in English history.
66 Richard Aldrich
A theory of knowledge
Although the Thoughts was most immediately concerned with education, by far
the most important of Locke's writings, and one which had great significance for
education, was the Essay Concerning Human Understanding (hereafter referred
to as the Essay). Indeed, Peter Laslett went so far as to claim that 'everything else
which he wrote was important because he, Locke of the Human Understanding,
had written it' (Laslett, 1960, pp. 37-38).
The Essay originated in 1671 when, as Locke records in his epistle to the
reader, a group of five or six friends met to discuss a point in philosophy.
Difficulties arose and Locke proposed a prior inquiry: 'to examine our own abili-
ties, and see what objects our understanding were, or were not, fitted to deal
with'. Two preliminary drafts of the work were prepared in 1671, but not until
1686 was the whole Essay in anything like final form. The first edition bore the
date 1690, although copies were on sale in London and Oxford in December
1689 (Aaron, 1971, p. 55).
Locke's purpose was to examine the nature and extent of human knowledge
and the degree of assent which should be given to any proposition. He began by
rejecting the doctrine of innate ideas, associated with Plato, and also in his own
day with Descartes; indeed, the first book of the Essay was largely devoted to
accomplishing this task. Unfortunately, Locke's alternative image of the mind as
a 'white paper void of all characters' (Essay, 2.1.2) has often been interpreted as
meaning that all human beings start as equals. Locke did not believe this; on the
contrary, he was conscious that the differing personalities and mental and physi-
cal capabilities of individuals were to some extent a product of nature rather
than of nurture.
Locke's rejection of innate ideas even extended to moral principles. Justice
and faith were not universal, nor was the idea of God. Differences in the ideas of
people stemmed not from differences in their abilities to perceive or release their
innate ideas, but from differences in their experiences. Even though certain ideas
appear to be widely held, he argued, indeed even:
If it were true in matter of fact that there were certain truths wherein all mankind agreed,
it would not prove them innate, if there can be any other way shown how men may come
to that umversal agreement, III the things they do consent in, which I presume may be
done (Essay, 1. 2. 3).
How then was knowledge acquired? How might men come to universal agree-
ment? 'To this I answer, in one word, from experience' (Essay, 2. 1. 2). But expe-
rience itself, gained via the senses, was not sufficient of itself for knowledge. That
also required the active agency of the mind upon such experience.
Follow a child from its birth and observe the alterations that time makes, and you shall
find, as the mind by the senses comes more and more to be furnished with Ideas, it comes
to be more and more awake; thinks more, the more it has matter to think upon. After
some time it begins to know the objects, which being most familiar with it, have made
o H N L 0 eKE 67
lasting Impressions. Thus it comes, by degrees, to know the persons It daily converses
with, and distinguishes them from strangers; which are instances and effects of its coming
to retain and distinguish the ideas the senses convey to it (Essay, 2. 1. 22).
The senses at first let in particular Ideas, and furnish thiS yet empty cabinet, and the mind
by degrees growing familiar with some of them, they are lodged in the memory, and
names got to them. Afterwards the mind, proceeding further, abstracts them, and by
degrees learns the use of general names. In this manner the mind comes to be furnished
with Ideas and language, the matenals about whICh to exercise its discursive faculty. And
the use of reason becomes daily more visible, as these materials that give it employment
increase (Essay, 1. 2. 15).
It must be admitted that Locke's derivation of all ideas ultimately from expe-
rience is not without its difficulties. Though, for Locke, experience embraced
both sensation and reflection, clearly there are substantial qualitative differences
between the simple sensations of infants, and the complex and abstract reflec-
tions of the mature adult mind. One way of attempting to resolve such difficul-
ties is to recognize that Locke envisaged ideas of different types.
For example, John Yolton has suggested that ideas in Locke fall into four
main categories:
Some of the ideas relate to children, to the learning process, to the early stages of the deve-
lopment of awareness Other ideas relate to self-knowledge, to learning about our
own mental operations A third class of ideas found in Locke's derivation programme
plays an explanatory role, helping to make sense of experience, linking one experience to
others.... Still other ideas relate to scientific observation, to the sCience of nature, expres-
sing Locke's endorsement of the methodology of the Royal Society (Yolton, 1985, p. 140).
In the eighteenth century the German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, would argue
the extent to which 'though our knowledge begins with experience, it does not
follow that it arises out of experience', when he emphasized the active agency of
the mind in manipulating experience. In the twentieth century Sigmund Freud,
the Austrian founder of psychoanalysis, would explore the non-rational forces of
the human mind.
Locke, however, was neither a dogmatist nor a builder of systems. He ack-
nowledged the possible existence of certain eternal verities - God, morality, the
laws of nature - whose essence might be confirmed, rather than discovered by
experience and reason. He also admitted the existence of some innate powers or
qualities, recognizing that some children seem to be from birth innately more
adept than others in certain respects. Nevertheless, in spite of these qualifica-
tions, Locke inclined towards nurture rather than nature and may be categorized
as the founder of empiricism, a tradition which has predominated in English phi-
losophical and educational thought until this day.
This empirical approach not only had importance for Locke's educational
theory and practice but also was entirely consistent with the burgeoning contem-
porary revolution in thinking consequent upon the development of scientific
68 Richard Aldrich
Locke brought to the practice of education his own considered views on such
subjects as philosophy, psychology, Christianity and government. His medical
knowledge contributed to a concern for the physical, as well as the mental and
spiritual, well-being of children. He was not only a founder of empirical thought,
with all that meant for ways of learning, but he also may be counted as a pioneer
of scientific psychology. He believed in the importance of observing children, and
of tailoring education to their needs and capacities. Above all, though he was
aware of innate differences between individuals, he was a firm believer in the
power of education. As he stated in the first paragraph of the Thoughts: 'Of all
the men we meet with, nine parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, useful or
not, by their education' (Thoughts, s. 1).
The opening phrase of the Thoughts, 'A sound mind in a sound body is a
short, but full description of a happy state in this world', a quotation from
]uvenal, and indeed given in Latin in the letter to the Clarke family and in
manuscripts prior to the first edition, launches the book into a discussion about
the health of the child. Locke's advice in this respect was generally sensible, if at
times a trifle idiosyncratic. Thus his views on 'plenty of open air, exercise and
sleep; plain diet, no wine or strong drink, and very little or no physick'
(Thoughts, s. 30) would command general support today, though his advice on
toughening the feet by wearing thin or leaky shoes so that gentlemen's sons might
acquire the ability, if necessary, to go barefoot as the poor do, might seem to be
somewhat harsh. Locke's advocacy of the benefits of cold water extended to tea-
ching children to swim, both for the general promotion of their health and for
the preservation of life (Thoughts, s. 8).
Food for children, according to Locke, should be plain and wholesome,
with sugar, salt and spices used sparingly. Locke was generally in favour of fruit -
apples, pears, strawberries, cherries, gooseberries and currants were encouraged
- but he was less keen on melons, peaches, plums and grapes. Clothes should not
be too tight, neither for boys nor girls - important advice in an age when swadd-
ling was still prevalent.
Other recommendations designed to accustom children to cope with minor
physical adversity were that beds should not be excessively comfortable, nor
I
o H N L 0 eKE 69
But although Locke was writing for a small minority of the population of
his day, all boys and girls had parents, even though few children might go to
school. Moreover, the theory of knowledge set out in the Essay was of universal
application. In consequence, it is possible to argue that much of the advice to
parents given in the Thoughts - good habits at an early age, paying attention to
the child's real needs, the use of esteem and disgrace rather than of corporal
punishment to discipline children, the importance of good parental example -
was applicable to all ranks in society. Yolton and Yolton (1989, p. 18) have
argued that, though the Thoughts are concerned with the education of a gentle-
man's son, the 'treatise is less about gentlemen than it is about developing a
moral character. Morality was not limited to gentlemen.' This wider application
was acknowledged by contemporaries, both within England and without. For
example, Pierre Coste, in the preface to his first French translation of the
Thoughts, entitled De l'education des enfans, and published in Amsterdam in
1695, stated:
It is certain that this work was particularly designed for the education of gentlemen: but
this does not prevent its serving also for the education of all sorts of children, of whatever
class they are: for If you except that which the author says about exercises that a young
gentleman ought to learn, nearly all the rules that he gives, are universal (Axtell, 1968,
p.52).
Priorities in education
Traite. Such similarities, however, depended not upon simple borrowing, but
upon the fact that writers such as Comenius, Dury, Fleury and Locke were
attempting to reconcile the objectives of education as set down by the ancients,
particularly by Aristotle, with the Christian faith. Indeed, as early as 1667 Locke
produced the following list: virtue, religion, breeding, wisdom and study (Mason,
1965, p. 75).
Virtue was placed first in the education of a gentleman by Locke as 'absolu-
tely requisite to make him valued and beloved by others, acceptable or tolerable
to himself' (Thoughts, s. 135). Such virtue depended upon 'a true notion of God'
and a love and reverence for 'this Supreme Being' (Thoughts, s. 136), which was
to be promoted by simple acts of faith - morning and evening prayers, the lear-
ning and recitation of the Creed. It also required the development of 'a power of
denying ourselves the satisfaction of our own desires, where reason does not
authorize them' (Thoughts, s. 38).
Virtue, for Locke, was of supreme importance. As Yolton and Yolton
(1989, pp. 18-19) have observed:
Some Thoughts IS in effect a manual on how to guide the child to virtue. Close to half of
its total sections are concerned with this topic.... There is no other work in the seven-
teenth century that gives such a detailed account of moral man, and of how to develop
that man mto a responsible person.
Wisdom was to be of a practical kind: 'a man's managing his business ably and
with foresight in this world' (Thoughts, s. 140). It did not mean being crafty or
cunning, but rather to be open, fair and wise. Such wisdom Locke placed above
the immediate reach of children, but children should be encouraged to strive
towards this goal by becoming accustomed to truth and to sincerity, by submit-
ting to reason and by reflecting upon the effects of their own actions. True wis-
dom involved the application of both reason and experience.
Good breeding was a subject upon which Locke had much to say. He
sought to avoid a 'sheepish bashfulness' on the one hand and 'misbecoming
negligence and disrespect' on the other (Thoughts, s. 141). Locke's maxim for
avoiding such faults was simple: 'Not to think meanly of ourselves, and not to
think meanly of others' (Thoughts, s. 141). The best way to cultivate a proper
conversation and behaviour was to mix with people of genuine quality. There is a
foretaste of Newman's ideal of a gentleman in Locke's advice that two qualities
are necessary: the first a disposition not to offend others; the second the ability to
express that disposition in an agreeable way. A well-bred person would exhibit
goodwill and regard for all people and eschew the habits of roughness, contempt,
censoriousness, contradiction and captiousness. Not that children should be
encouraged to an excess of ceremony, the 'putting off of their hats and making
legs modishly' (Thoughts, s. 145).
Finally Locke came to learning. He acknowledged that some might be sur-
prised that this was to be placed last, especially by such 'a bookish man'
(Thoughts, s. 147). Locke, of course, wanted all sons of gentlemen to acquire the
72 Richard Aldrich
The curriculum
Consideration of Locke's views on priontles in learning leads naturally to an
examination of his proposals on the curriculum.
Locke had an overall view of the curriculum which was coupled with tea-
ching methods. He believed in starting with the plain and simple, and of build-
ing, as far as possible, upon children's existing knowledge, of emphasizing the
interconnections and coherence of subjects.
Children should be taught to read at the earliest possible age - as soon as
they can talk. But the learning should not be irksome; on the contrary, Locke
believed that it would be better to lose a whole year rather than to give a child an
aversion to learning at this early stage. Locke commented upon how much
energy, practice and repetition children happily put into play, and therefore sug-
gested 'dice and play-things with the letters on them, to teach children the alpha-
bet by playing' (Thoughts, s. 148). From letters they should proceed to syllables
and then to easy and pleasant books, such as Aesop's Fables, preferably in an edi-
tion which included pictures. Locke advocated the use of 'pictures of animals ...
with the printed names to them' (Thoughts, s. 156). In recognition of the difficul-
ties inherent in such essential learning as The Lord's Prayer, Creeds and Ten
Commandments, Locke recommended that these should be learned not from the
printed word but orally and by heart. Locke warned against the use of the Bible
as a reading book for children, a most common practice in his day, 'for what
pleasure or encouragement can it be to a child to exercise himself in reading
those parts of a book, where he understands nothing?' (Thoughts, s. 158).
Writing should begin with correct holding of the pen and the copying of
large letters from a sheet. Writing would lead naturally to drawing, with due
attention to perspective, a most useful skill for those who would engage in travel,
so that buildings, machines and other interesting phenomena might be quickly
sketched. Locke believed that a good drawing was more useful in conveying an
idea to the mind than several pages of written description. Locke also urged the
value of shorthand for the purpose of making quick notes.
o H N L 0 eKE 73
As soon as children could speak English they should begin French, by the
conversational method. Once children could speak and read French well, a task
which Locke envisaged would take but a year or two, they should begin Latin.
Latin, Locke declared, was 'absolutely necessary to a gentleman' (Thoughts,
s. 164), and once again he advised that it should be taught by the conversational
method. Locke was against plunging children into a mass of grammatical rules,
observing that if English could be learned naturally then the same must be true of
other languages. He was also against the common practice of writing elaborate
themes and verses in Latin. If there was a difficulty in securing a tutor who could
teach through conversation, then Locke recommended the use of easy and inter-
esting books in Latin, with the literal English translation written between the
lines of Latin. Latin, of course, was still essential for certain professions and for
attendance at the universities, for many lectures and books were provided only in
Latin. But Locke also recognized that Latin (and Greek) occupied too large a
part in the curricula of his day, particularly for boys who were intended for trade
or farming. These would be better employed in learning to write a good hand
and to maintain accounts, skills not generally taught in seventeenth-century
grammar schools. Locke was also doubtful about the value of memory training,
particularly the practice of learning pages of Latin by heart to promote this
faculty. If children were to learn by heart it should be the learning of maxims,
rules and other knowledge which had a direct utility in itself.
Other subjects which Locke commended for a gentleman's son included
geography, arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, chronology, and history, and gener-
ally in that order. Locke was particularly keen on this last: 'as nothing teaches, so
nothing delights more than history' (Thoughts, s. 184). History would naturally
lead on to a study of law and government, subjects of importance for future
gentlemen who might be required to assume public office, either locally as
Justices of the Peace, or at Westminster as Members of Parliament. Reasoning
and eloquence, other skills necessary for public life, Locke urged, were best
gained by practice and not by formal studies in rhetoric and logic.
In respect of science, which in the seventeenth century was usually referred
to as natural philosophy and lacked disciplinary organization as such, Locke
urged the study of the several manifestations of nature even though 'all the
knowledge we have ... cannot be brought into a science' (Thoughts, s. 193).
The curriculum should also include other types of accomplishment.
Dancing was recommended from an early age, though learning to play a musical
instrument was not encouraged as 'it wastes so much of a young man's time'
(Thoughts, s. 197). The two military exercises of fencing and riding the 'great
horse' or charger were commended, though Locke feared that fencing might lead
to duelling and on that ground suggested wrestling as an alternative.
Locke also advised that every gentleman's son should learn at least one
manual trade, and preferably two or three. Such a skill might be useful in itself,
should the gentleman fall on hard times, but also promoted physical well-being
and was a useful antidote to too much bookish study. Locke, who was himself a
74 Richard Aldrich
Conclusion
Four points may be made in conclusion.
The first IS to note that Locke was, by any standards, an expert education-
ist. He was both a successful practitioner and writer to whom parents naturally
turned for advice. Many of his educational maxims - praise in public, blame in
private; the most efficient way of truly learning something is to have to explain it
to others - are broadly recognized. Given this expertise, it is difficult to agree
with M. V. C. Jeffreys who, while acknowledging Locke's common sense, wit and
felicity of expression, described his views on education 'as the amateur, slightly
garrulous reflections of an elderly bachelor' (Jeffreys, 1967, p. 108). Although by
the time he wrote the Thoughts Locke was both elderly and garrulous, in educa-
tional matters he was hardly an amateur and, though a bachelor, he had a more
genuine interest in children than many parents. As Yolton and Yolton (1989, p.
6) have commented: 'Locke was apparently fascinated with children and liked by
them. His correspondence is filled with many references to the children of his
friends.'
In consequence there are broad educational principles (as well as many
maxims) in Locke's writings which are as applicable today as they ever were.
Paradoxically, however - and this is our second point - one of the most crucial
of those broad elements is an emphasis on individual differences. In one sense
Locke, with his world of gentry and tutors, may appear to be far removed from
the educational concerns of the twentieth century - the provision of mass school-
ing in a technologically based society. But his stress on the personal relationships
in education, on the importance of the parental role, and on the need to treat
children as individuals, may be seen as useful correctives to the supposed univer-
sal panacea of ever more efficient national schooling. In concluding the
Thoughts, he emphasized again that: 'Each man's mind has some peculiarity, as
well as his face, that distinguishes him from all others; and there are possibly
scarce two children, who can be conducted by exactly the same method'
(Thoughts, s. 216).
o H N L 0 eKE 75
This emphasis accords well with the textual analysis of the Thoughts by
M. G. Mason who has concluded that Locke's final additions to them probably
represented the most sophisticated and developed parts of his educational theory.
Mason's analysis reveals these to have been: (a) the vital importance of individual
temperament; (b) the need to make education more attractive, or at least not so
repressive; (c) the stress on reasoning and practice; and (d) the role of habit in the
non-intellectual aspects of education (Mason, 1961, p. 290).
Third, it is clear that, in spite of the fact that Some Thoughts Concerning
Education, as its title indicates, was never intended to be a comprehensive educa-
tional treatise, but originated rather as a collection of separate pieces of advice,
the book soon became widely known. During the eighteenth century the
Thoughts appeared in more than twenty editions in English (excluding collec-
tions of Locke's works), as well as in French (the first French edition appeared as
early as 1695), Dutch, German, Italian and Swedish (Axtell, 1968, p. 17).
Finally, it is important to recognize Locke's place in the history not only of
educational thought, but of thought itself. He lived in turbulent times and his
major writings (including the Essay and the Thoughts) were published in the
final decade of a century which had seen great strife: constitutional, religious,
economic and intellectual. Locke was invariably on the radical rather than the
traditional side in such struggles, but his radicalism was constructive and charac-
terized by circumspection, humanity and common sense. In consequence, he was
eminently qualified to distil and to transmit the new knowledge and values of his
day to succeeding generations. As Aaron (1971, p. 302) noted: 'His writings
secured for posterity the advances which had been made by the most radical and
progressive elements of society in the seventeenth century. . . . Locke's works
dominated the English mind in the first half of the eighteenth century and his
influence was almost as great in America and France.'
References
Tarcov, N. 1984. Locke's EducatIon for Liberty. Chicago, 111., University of Chicago
Press.
Yolton, J. W. 1985. Locke: An Introduction. Oxford, Basil Blackwel1.
Yolton, J. W.; Yolton, J. S. (eds.). 1989. Some Thoughts Concerning EducatIOn by John
Locke. Oxford, Clarendon Press.
ANTON MAKARENK0 1
(1888-1939)
C.N. Filonov
The establishment and development of educational theory and the education sys-
tem in the USSR was closely bound up with the scientific creativity and practical
efforts of an outstanding group of Soviet educationists. Pride of place among the
educationists who were determined to establish democratic ideas and principles
in educational theory and practice belongs to Anton Makarenko (1888-1939);
his name rightly figures high among the world's great educators, and his books,
published in editions of millions on all the continents of the globe, have enjoyed
enormous popularity. Makarenko's work has been the subject of research in
many countries and efforts have been made to apply his ideas creatively in the
education of children today. On the other hand, it still happens, and not infre-
quently, that, in specialist and popular literature alike, the 'Makarenko phenom-
enon' is explained in a one-sided or sometimes erroneous manner.
For some reason, certain foreign students of Makarenko's life and work
consider that he was a 'self-taught genius', and portray his education system
without any reference to its historical links with the progressive education of the
past and present. This is to some extent due to the fact that in his published and
widely known works, Makarenko himself makes comparatively few direct ref-
erences to his attitude towards the world educational heritage and to his contem-
porary fellow-educators in the former Soviet Union and abroad. The most recent
research, however, based on documentary evidence, shows that despite his
extremely modest origins and the difficult circumstances of his early years (his
father was a painter and decorator and he himself began work at the age of 17 as a
teacher in an elementary school for the children of railway workers), Makarenko
was deeply versed in the history of education. Many important principles which
he established theoretically and proved in practice were the development of the
ideas of Pestalozzi, Owen, Ushinsky, Dobroljubov and other distinguished past
proponents of democratic education in the world. 2
78 C.N. Filonov
Makarenko's ideas concerning the relationship between education and other dis-
ciplines, whether in the humanities (philosophy, ethics, aesthetics and psycho-
logy), or in the natural sciences (biology and physiology) deserve serious atten-
tion. More particularly, his investigation of the essentials of a new, socialist
pattern of moral and ethical relations led him to enunciate this very important
idea, namely: make as many demands as possible on people, and at the same
time show them as much respect as possible. This idea is occasionally criticized
by some modern educationists for putting the principle of demanding something
of people in such a prominent position in the 'demandlrespect' dyad. Makarenko
himself pointed out that, from a humanitarian point of view, respect for and
demands on a person were not separate categories, but were related facets of an
indivisible whole.
Makarenko's views on the nature of the relationship between education and
psychology, biology and - more specifically - physiology are extremely important
in tackling the theoretical problems of education, as is his associated criticism of
the methodological ideas of paedology.
As we know, paedology laid claim to being the fundamental Marxist science
of children, supposedly using the combined evidence of all the social and natural
sciences about the formation of the young person. The science of education, on
the other hand, was assigned the role of a purely applied, technical discipline,
which, on the basis of the theoretical material of paedology, was expected to
issue recommendations regarding actual teaching methods in school. In a number
of his books and lectures (including Report to the Ukrainian Educational
Research Institute, 1928; Expertence of Working Methods In a Children's
Labour Colony, 1931/32; Teachers Shrug Their Shoulders, 1932), Makarenko
criticized the sociology- and biology-based ideas of paedologists, with their
notions of the 'primacy' of environment and inheritance and their appeals for the
passive following of what they termed the 'nature of the child', associating them
with the theorists of 'free education'. He further criticized paedocentrism and
underestimation of the educational role of the teacher and the children's collec-
tive and of the young person's own activity.
While fighting for a purpose-oriented education which would shape man
and be answerable to society for the outcomes, Makarenko did not repeat the
limited views of French materialists who contended that 'education is all'. In
Makarenko's view, the power of education in a socialist society developed with
the application by teaching specialists of advances in psychology, biology, medi-
cine and all the human sciences, which were required to play an auxiliary role in
the practical organization of the educational process and in research.
The problem of educational logic was held by Makarenko to be closely
bound up with a grasp of the essence of education. Calling education 'the most
dialectical science', he worked on the assumption that:
80 C.N. Filonov
education is a process that is social in the broadest sense.... With all the highly complex
world of ambient activity, the child enters into an mfinite number of relationships, each of
which constantly develops, interweaves with other relationships and is compounded by
the child's own phySical and moral growth. All this 'chaos' is seemingly quite unquanti-
fiable but nevertheless gives nse at each particular instant to definite changes in the
personality of the child. To direct and control thiS development is the task of the teacher. 4
the dialectical character of educational action is so great that no single means can be pro-
jected as positive if its action is not controlled by all the other means simultaneously
applied.... An mdividual means may always be both positive and negative, the decIsive
point being not its direct logic but the logic and action of the entire system of harmont-
ously organized means. 5
these situations as well, however, reaction to the individual was humane and
based on the unity of showing respect and making demands. In normal circum-
stances in the usual educational process, relations between the collective and the
individual were built on the unity of their interests and defence by the collective
of the rights of each pupil. The older and stronger could not harm the younger
and weaker. Such was the firm tradition of the collective and anyone contraven-
ing it bore the weight of communal reprobation. Therefore, the collective
promoted the freedom of each individual.
Makarenko assigned a special place in the life of the educational collective
to work, combined with instruction in the fundamentals of science and a broad
socio-political and moral education. His basic ideas regarding work education
may be summarized as follows:
1. Work becomes an effective means of communist education only when it forms
an integral part of the general educational process; at the same time, it has no
meaning unless all children and adolescents are involved in types of socially
useful work suited to their age.
2. There must be a combination of such types of work as: compulsory participa-
tion in self-help; productive labour organized on the most modern technical
basis possible; selectively performed creative technical work; and unpaId work
for the common good. Only when all the above types of work are combined in
the educational process do children and adolescents acquire the range of atti-
tudes that permit a balanced development of their personality.
3. The pupils' labour collective and its constituent bodies and representatives
must assume their own work activity, and play a decisive role in matters of
profit distribution and wages through the use of a wide range of material and
moral incentives, and in the organization of consumption.
At the same time, a critical look needs to be taken at the assertion by some
specialists that Makarenko's experience provides a model for the organization of
the educational process in which the costs of education are met out of profits
from the pupils' productive work. Makarenko was never in favour of the school
'paying its way', and he took the view that the most important thing was that the
life of the collective should be organized in an educationally sound fashion so as
to allow the pupils' personalities to develop in a full and harmonious way. The
economic outcomes of the pupils' activity were subordinate to that requirement.
The fact that the pupils in the Gorky Colony and the Dzerzinskij Commune did
four hours of productive work per day was regarded by Makarenko as a measure
made necessary by the particular difficulties facing the USSR in the period
following the civil war. He considered that the amount of time allotted to work
should not be out of proportion to the amount of time spent on study, sport, art,
games and socially useful work, while the economic benefit of the pupils' labour
should lie in their familiarization with production processes, distribution and
consumption patterns, but by no means in 'paying their own way'.
Nowadays, the main problem is how to provide pupils in general schools
with work training and education for life, how to make an informed choice of a
84 C.N. Filonov
career that will suit their individual inclinations and abilities and also match the
needs of society. In such circumstances, this part of Makarenko's legacy has as-
sumed an extremely important role, both as regards the practical side of school-
children's labour associations and, in particular, we suggest, as regards the
organization of the corresponding educational research.
Makarenko was one of the first Soviet educators to urge that the activities of
various educational institutions - that is, the school, the family, clubs, public
organizations, production collectives and the community existing at the place of
residence - should be integrated. In this connection, he laid special emphasis on
the leading role of the school as an educational and methods centre provided
with the most highly qualified and proficient educational staff.
Some contemporary researchers are over-literal in repeating some of
Makarenko's thoughts about the school as a mono-collective, universalizing his
idea of associations of different age-groups of children and adolescents, and
trying to copy specific organizational forms peculiar to the experience of the
Gorky Colony and the Dzerzinskij Commune. It should be remembered that
Makarenko himself drew attention to the need to use educational methods that
related to the actual circumstances in which the educational process was being
organized. The working conditions of modern general schools and other educa-
tional institutions naturally call to a great extent for a method other than that
followed by Makarenko in the colony and the commune. As he noted, 'Other
experience is possible and, had I had it, I would perhaps think differently.'lo
This remark by Makarenko must be borne in mind today when we analyse
his particular educational works. The contemporary reader must be taught to
distinguish what in these works is of lasting significance, reflecting general prin-
ciples of educational theory and method, and what bears the hallmark of
Makarenko's period, being relevant only to the specific conditions which were
the background to his experience.
Makarenko's writings
Self-government
One important function of educational science is to direct practical work not
towards the slavish copying of specific forms of educational activity, but towards
the creative application of the main ideas of eminent educators of the past, both
in the circumstances actually encountered in the modern school and family and
in the activities of clubs and voluntary organizations, trade unions and other
educationally concerned social institutions. For instance, the experience and
ideas of Makarenko have become topical in connection with the development of
self-government, as has his understanding of the role of the most active members
in the collective of an educational establishment. Attention must obviously be
focused in this connection not on such specific forms of work as the system of
reports and rosters in the commune, the activity of the Council of Commanders,
and the various standing and temporary commissions, but on such fundamental
principles as the involvement of all pupils without exception, including juniors,
in various organizational functions in primary and general collectives, and the
conferment of real responsibility on the collective and its subsidiary bodies for
the decisions taken, for their implementation and for monitoring that implemen-
tation.
It may legitimately be maintained today that a more thorough and scientifi-
cally based approach is needed to Makarenko's ideas. This is because the fate
enjoyed by socialist education systems and educational theory since Makarenko's
day enables a more objective answer to be given to the question of the enduring
ideological substance of those ideas.
While not setting out to make a detailed critical analysis of modern works
on Makarenko, we should point out that the formation of Makarenko's ideas
was a lengthy and complex process of creative quests and fortunate discoveries.
At the same time, he had to overcome those mistakes and false starts that are
inevitable in the life of anyone who does not follow the beaten track but boldly
makes his own way towards the truth.
The emergence and development of Makarenko's educational system was
not until recently the subject of any special historical and educational research. It
would be wrong to suppose that back in the pre-revolutionary period or even in
the early years following the October Revolution Makarenko had fully come into
his own as an outstanding educator of our times. There had, for example, been
elements of pupil self-government in his teaching experience before the
86 C.N. Filonov
Revolution. However, in the difficult early years of work in the Gorky Colony,
Makarenko sought the participation of only a few of the most active colony
members, on whom he relied when organizing the collective. Such an approach
inevitably led to the formation in the collective of 'active' and 'passive' elements,
as is also frequently the case in modern educational practice. Only in the second
half of the 1920s did Makarenko begin to develop the activities of the general
assembly of colony members, which became the supreme collective organ of self-
government, giving practically every colony member a hand in organizing the
affairs of the collective.
Experience with the development of a real collective also led Makarenko to
hit on the form of organization consisting of composite ad hoc groups of pupils
set up to perform specific tasks of socially useful work. The leaders of such
groups (detachments) were, as a rule, chosen from those who were not normally
considered as 'active' pupils. This gradually made it possible to involve everyone
in running the collective and in leadership, and at the same time it by-passed the
privileges of the elective body and prevented its members from coming to think
of themselves as belonging to an dite. In this way, the organization of the life of
the pupil collective assumed a genuinely democratic and, at the same time,
human character.
Makarenko's heritage
The interest in Makarenko's ideas may be explained by the fact that his experi-
ence and theoretical views were highly relevant to the tasks that Soviet education
had set itself. This gave studies of Makarenko not just an academic but an
applied and operative character. In the ten to fifteen years after Makarenko's
death, many practising educators were attracted only by specific details of his
educational technique, and the application in schools of his ideas was mainly
confined to the imitation of individual aspects of his system. In subsequent
decades, however, there was a widespread endeavour on the part of practising
teachers to penetrate the substance of the theory and method of the educational
collective, and the methods and procedures that have emerged from its educa-
tional experience.
The creative application of Makarenko's ideas in individual schools had
taken place even earlier. For example, in School No. 12 of the city of Krasnodar,
whose director for over thirty years was Brjuhovecky, an eminent teacher and
educational researcher, the work of unifying, moulding and educating teachers
and pupils alike was marked by the conscious application of a number of prin-
ciples derived from Makarenko's system: the development of self-government;
the cultivation of traditions of collective life; unity of the learning, labour, social,
aesthetic and sporting activities of pupils in and out of school and in clubs near
the pupils' homes. There were a number of examples of such schools, each of
which found its own approach to applying Makarenko's ideas in the education
ANT 0 N M A K ARE N K 0 87
of children and adolescents. In the 1960s and 1970s, however, the use of these
ideas in modern educational practice adopted new features.
The most notable factor was the widespread character of this movement.
Many educational collectives in the Rostov, Voronezh and Lvov regions, the
Stavropol territory and such major cities as Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev, carried
out a select programme of varied work based on the study and practical applica-
tion of Makarenko's ideas. In this creative educational activity there was no set
pattern and no move towards unification. Many Moscow schools, for instance,
devoted special attention to development of collective learning by pupils; in
Stavropol schools, well-deserved recognition was bestowed on the activities of
pupils' work associations; and in schools in the Voronezh and Lvov regions,
hobby clubs for children and young people were extremely successful. At the
same time, this selective approach to the use of Makarenko's ideas in modern
education did not lead to anyone-sided copying of his system, or individual com-
ponents of it, and their exaggerated development. Modern education is marked
on the whole by a search for variety in the content and form of the educational
process, with abundant methods for controlling the process.
Another feature of Makarenko studies in the former Soviet Union was the
study and application of his ideas in close conjunction with the traditional and
modern heritage of domestic and world educational theory. The experience and
ideas of Makarenko can only be truly understood and assimilated if account is
taken of their historical roots, their origin and the fullness of their ties with
school and educational science in Makarenko's time, and their influence on the
subsequent development of educational theory and practice.
It is also important to note that Makarenko scholarship was, as we under-
stand it, not so much the activity of a comparatively restricted circle of profession-
ally concerned educators and researchers as the large-scale creative work of
teachers, students and broad social groups, which include: (a) Makarenko detach-
ments of young workers, employees, students and senior schoolchildren helping to
organize the leisure time of children and adolescents at home; (b) Makarenko
branches of the educational community familiarizing a mass audience of parents
with his ideas for socialist education; and (c) school clubs, museums and other
independent associations bearing Makarenko's name.
A prerequisite for the success of such a large-scale, creative and social edu-
cational movement was, of course, professional research work proper, involving
the search for new sources, textual analysis and a thorough study of all the facts
helping us to understand and explain the origin of Makarenko's education sys-
tem, together with its development in changing historical circumstances. It must
be remembered, however, that if it is confined to a narrow circle of specific scien-
tific interests and does not have many links with practical life, such research
work may turn into fruitless scholasticism. The unity of theory and practice was
the most important principle of Makarenko's entire system.
There is a need for further creative study of Makarenko's ideas and for the
preparation for publication of archive material which has not yet been fully cir-
88 C.N. Filonov
Notes
1. This profile was first published in Prospects, Vo!. 11, No. 3, 1981, under the title
'The Educator Makarenko'.
2. Profiles of Pestalozzi, Owen and Ushinsky appear in this series of '100 Thinkers on
Education'.
ANT 0 N M A K ARE N K 0 89
Prepared by Y. A. Alferov
COLLECTED WORKS
INDIVIDUAL WORKS
Pedagoglc"eskaJa poema [An Educational Poem]. Moscow, 1988. (Also published In:
Irkutsk, 1980; Kharkov, 1981; Kiev, 1988; Leningrad, 1981; Minsk, 1982; Moscow,
1987; Novosibirsk, 1988, etc.; Vejen til livet. Copenhagen, 1988; Pedagogiai
haskaltemeny. Budapest, 1988; Poema pedagogica. Moscow, Progress, 1985; Poeme
pedagoglque. Moscow, Raduga, 1989.)
Flagi na baSnjah [Flags on the Battlements]. Moscow, 1986.
Kniga dlJa roditelej [A Book for Parents]. Moscow, 1988. (Also published In: Kiev, 1987;
Leningrad, 1981; Novosibirsk, 1983; Rostov-on-Don, 1981; Flores de la vida: El
lzbro para los padres. Mexico City, Cartago, 1983; En bok for faralderar. G6teborg,
Fram, 1985.)
Conferenclas sobre educaclon infantil [Lectures on the Education of Children]. Bogota,
Anteo, 1980.
Problemas de educar:;ao escolar: Experiencia do trabalho pedagogica, 1920-1935
[Problems of Formal Education: Experience of Educational Work, 1920-35].
Moscow, Progress, 1986.
Makarensko y la educaclon calectil'ista [Makarenko and Collective Education].
(Anthology prepared by M. Hernandez and L. M. Valdivia.) MexIco City, El
Cabaletto, 1985.
MAO ZEDONG
(1893-1976)
Zhuo Qingjun
Besides being a key figure of Marxism, and a great protagonist, strategist and
theoretician of the proletarian revolution in China, Mao Zedong was also an
important educator of the proletariat. With his extensive writings on education
itself and his considerable practical experience of teaching, he paved the way for
a specifically Chinese form of socialist education. The Chinese sum up his contri-
bution to education in the phrase: 'The educational doctrine of Mao Zedong'.
Mao Zedong gradually developed and refined his educational doctrine on
the basIs of three main building blocks: (a) his personal experience of teaching;
(b) Marxism; and (c) the very rich cultural heritage of the Chinese nation.
Mao Zedong was born on 26 December 1893; he died on 9 September
1976. Between 1914 and 1918 he received, over a period of five years, systematic
teacher training at the First Provincial Normal School in Hunan province. While
studying, he divided his time between revolutionary and educational activities.
Throughout his life he would continue to accumulate valuable experience as an
educational practitioner and theorist.
During an early period, 1917-27, his educational activities were as follows:
in 1917, he founded a night school for workers, where he taught history. In
August 1918, he organized the departure of fellow Chinese students who were
going to France on a combined work-and-study scheme. In the autumn of that
year, he was appointed assistant librarian at the University of Beijing. In June
1919, the Hunan student association was set up under his dynamic guidance. In
June 1920, he was appointed administrator (head teacher) and Chinese-language
teacher of the primary school attached to the First Provincial Teacher-Training
School of Hunan. In August 1921, he founded the Open University of Hunan. In
December, he became secretary of the Chinese Communist Party Committee of
Hunan province and a member of the secretariat of the worker's movement in
the province. In addition, he established a night school for workers in Changsha.
94 Zhuo Qingjun
At the beginning of his active life, Mao Zedong was strongly opposed to the feu-
dal warlords and the imperialists, but his political ideas were still imbued with
liberalism, democratic reformism and Utopian socialism. Very soon, however, his
revolutionary activities, especially at the time of the May Fourth Movement and
the New Culture Movement, led him to discover new ideas. In particular, he fre-
quented the Marxist research circle founded by the precursor of Communism in
China, Li Dazhao, where his political thought gradually took shape. In 1920,
Mao Zedong read The Communist Manifesto of Marx and Engels, from which
he drew the initial premises of his stance and his method. These works, he said,
'built up in me a faith in Marxism from which, once I had accepted it as the cor-
rect interpretation of history, I did not afterwards waver'. 1 He also declared that
'by the summer of 1920 I had become, in theory and to some extent in action, a
Marxist'.2 From then on, his activities were inextricably linked to the growth of
the Chinese Communist Party and its subsequent development in the face of
many complications and obstacles.
Besides Marx, another person - Lenin - exerted a relatively strong influence
on the formation of the political thought of Mao Zedong. By 1926, he had read
some passages of The State and Reuolution for himself or had become acquain-
ted with it through quotations or digests by other writers. In addition to The
State and Reuolution, the works of Lenin which he was to read most assiduously
during his lifetime included: Two Tactics of Social Democracy; 'Left-Wing'
Communism: An Infantile Disorder; Imperialism, the Highest Stage of
Capitalism and, when they were published, the Philosophical Notebooks. He
was looking for theoretical guidance in Lenin's works on how to lead the demo-
cratic revolution in China, and then move on to the stage of socialist revolution.
He immersed himself in Marxist philosophy.]
It must be emphasized that it was Marxism, and more particularly Marxist
philosophy, that constituted the theoretical foundation of the educational doc-
trine of Mao Zedong.
Mao Zedong valued the outstanding cultural heritage of China. He believed that
over several millennia, from Confucius to Sun Yatsen, the Chinese people had
created a magnificent civilization which they should both appreciate and take
further, in a spirit of critical awareness, retaining its best features and rejecting
the worthless. 4 He was against 'wholesale Westernization'. These were the prin-
ciples that informed his educational activities from that early stage. For example,
when he founded the Open University of Hunan, he sought to emulate both tra-
ditional Chinese schools and modern institutions. Cai Yuanpei, a famous educa-
tionist of the time, praised the university which, he said, 'combined the traditions
of Chinese schools and Western research institutes', and should serve as a 'model
96 Zhuo Qingjun
for the new universities in every province'. 5 It was thus the spiritual wealth of the
extraordinary civilization of the Chinese nation which found expression in the
basic tenets of Mao Zedong's considerable contribution to education.
The period leading up to the Communist victory in 1949 can be divided into two
parts - before and after 1927.
Before Mao discovered Marxism, his main writings on education were: 'A
Study of Physical Education', an article published in April 1917 in Xin Qingnian
[New Youth], Vo!. 3, No. 2; 'Appeal to Register at the Night School for
Workers' in November 1917; the manifesto written to launch the journal
Xianjiang ping/un [The Hunan Review]; 'The Great Alliance of the Popular
Masses', an article published on 21 July 1919 in the second issue of the journal;
and 'Students' Work' of December 1919. These writings are wholly typical of the
broadsides delivered by Mao against the old teaching methods which destroyed
the personality, against their authoritarianism and the cultural aggression of
imperialism and feudal education. They expressed his belief that it was essen-
tially through education that society could be transformed. In 'A Study of
Physical Education', he commented: 'In the school system of our country, the
syllabuses are as thick as the hairs on a cow. Even an adult, with a strong body,
would be unable to bear them all - how much less an adolescent with a weak
constitution?' In the statement he wrote for the first issue of Xianjiang ping/un,
he showed how the authoritarian nature of education, the bastion of bureaucrats
who exercised a fierce monopoly over it, meant that ordinary people did not
have the opportunity to educate themselves, and he called for a campaign to
recognize the right of the masses to education. In 'Students' work', he stated that
in order to transform society, new communities should be built on a triple basis
- new family, new school, new society. In this UtopIan vision of a Mao who had
yet to embrace Marxist doctrine, the educational point of view tends to be the
only yardstick of his thought, so that education's function as a tool is over-
estimated.
After his espousal of Marxism in 1920, his writings on education consist of
a letter to Xiao Xudong, Xiao (Cai) Linbin and all his friends in France, the
'Manifesto on the Occasion of the Founding of the Open University of Hunan'
and the section of his 'Report of an Investigation into the Peasant Movement in
Hunan' relating to the movement's cultural achievements and experience. His
writings of this period prompt two observations. First, Mao Zedong's concept of
the social function of education had clearly evolved. In the above-mentioned let-
ter, he states clearly: 'We acknowledge honestly that education is the instrument
of the revolution, but do not draw any practical conclusion from that. We must
follow the path of the Russian revolution.'6 Second, in the 'Report of an
Investigation into the Peasant Movement in Hunan', he analyses relations
between culture and power, in the belief that there will be no genuine peasant
M A 0 ZEDONG 97
culture until those in power have been overthrown, and he criticized the
reformists who claimed to be able to save the country through education:
In China, culture has always been the exclusive possession of the landowners, and the
peasants had no access to it.... With the downfall of the power of the landowners in the
rural areas, the peasants' cultural movement has begun.... Before long there will be tens
of thousands of schools sprouting up in the rural areas throughout the whole province,
and that will be something quite different from the futile clamour of the intelligentsia and
so-called 'educators' for 'popular educatIOn', which for all their hullabaloo has remained
an idle phrase.
He praised the schools set up by the peasants which, he says, are the only ones
they regard 'as their own'.8
After 1927, the Chinese Communist Party created an independent revolu-
tionary base and a democratic workers' and peasants' regime; its practical work
for the revolution (in particular education) went considerably further than in the
preceding period. Mao Zedong therefore had an opportunity to put his educa-
tional ideas into practice on a larger scale, particularly following his appointment
to lead the Party and the Army at the Zunyi Conference (1935). His ideas were
gradually becoming more structured and mature.
Mao Zedong's writings of this period dealing with education include the
following: 'Resolution Drafted for the Ninth Conference of the Party
Organization for the Fourth Corps of the Red Army'; 'Report of the Central
Executive Committee and the Council of People's Commissars of the Chinese
Soviet Republic to the Second All-China Soviet Congress'; 'On New Democracy';
'The Orientation of the Youth Movement'; 'Directives of the Council of Military
Affairs of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party on the
98 Zhuo Qingjun
After the founding of the People's Republic of China, Mao Zedong, who was
now leading the socialist revolution and the building of socialism, took education
for the new democracy as his starting-point in order actively to explore ways of
establishing socialist education adapted to the distinctive characteristics of
China. His plan was composed of three stages: reform of the old education
system; establishment and development of a new socialist education system; and
'cultural revolution'. Among Mao's documents on education and the texts and
documents written by him or on his instructions, or endorsed by him, which
considerably influenced education during this period, the following deserve par-
ticular mention: the 'Common Programme Adopted by the People's Political
Consultative Conference'; 'Letter to Ma Xulun on the Need to Ensure the Good
Health of School Pupils and Students'; 'In Its Work, the Communist Youth
League Must Take into Consideration the Characteristics of Young People';
'Notes on the Growth of Socialism in the Chinese Countryside'; 'On the Ten
Major Relationships'; 'On the Correct Handling of Contradictions Among the
People'; 'Interviews with Chairman Mao and the Heads of Departments and
Bureaux of Seven Provinces and Towns'; 'Speech to the National Conference of
the Chinese Communist Party on Propaganda Work'; 'Directives on the
Educational Activities of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party
and the State Affairs Council'; 'Letter on the ]iangxi University of Communist
Workers'; 'Draft Provisional Working Regulations of the Ministry of Education
Concerning Higher Educational Institutions', approved by the Party's Central
Committee; 'Draft Provisional Working Regulations for Full-time Primary
M A 0 ZEDONG 101
own moral, intellectual and physical education.'19 Mao was also greatly
concerned by the health of school pupils. Immediately after the establishment
of the People's Republic of China, he wrote twice to the Minister of
Education, Ma Xulun, pressing for the schools to be given the following in-
structions: 'Health first, studies second.' He returned to that theme on many
occasions: 'We must ensure that young people are in good health, study well
and work hard.' A balance must be struck between studies on the one hand,
and, on the other hand, relaxation, rest and sleep.20
3. The new education system combined education and productive labour. After
the establishment of the People's Republic, education remained for a while
divorced from productive labour and practical work, and it also to some
extent neglected the study of politics. The 'Directive on Educational Activities'
issued in 1958 by the Central Committee of the Communist Party and the
State Affairs Council was expressly intended to remedy that situation. It stated
that as far as education was concerned, the Party should as a matter of prin-
ciple put education at the disposal of proletarian politics and combine it with
productive labour. In every school, productive labour must be regarded as a
discipline in its own right. The line to follow henceforth was that schools
should be run like factories and farms, and factories and agricultural co-opera-
tives should be run like schools. The same document authorized the establish-
ment of schools where studies alternated with work (work-study schools).
From then on, work and education went hand in hand, productive labour
developed vigorously within education and a wide variety of new types of
establishment were introduced, such as agricultural secondary schools.
4. 'You need both legs for walking', meaning that resources should be used to
their full potential, and forms of teaching diversified. The revised draft of the
'National Programme for the Development of Agriculture from 1956 to 1967',
prepared by Mao Zedong himself and adopted in 1957 by the Party's Central
Committee, stated that educational establishments must be diversified in the
countryside and that, in addition to national public education, every effort
must be made to provide the masses with education organized by local com-
munities and to authorize private schools. The above-mentioned 1958
'Directive on Educational Activities' contained more specific and detailed in-
structions. It stipulated that in order to develop education more rapidly, on a
larger scale, as well as better and more cheaply, unity and diversification must
be combined, as must generalization and improvement, overall planning and
the sharing of responsibilities at the local level. Within the limits of the
national objective of consistent teaching, the methods used to run schools
must be diversified by developing simultaneously the role of the State and the
role of factories, mines, companies and agricultural co-operatives, popular
education and technical and vocational education, adult education and chil-
dren's education, full-time schools and work-study and spare-time schools,
independent study (including correspondence courses and educational radio
M A 0 ZED 0 N G 103
Taking stock
Mao Zedong took part in educational work and indeed directed it himself. His
educational doctrine was forged in the heat of the Chinese revolution and the
construction of the nation, and accordingly bears their stamp. Equally, the doc-
trine embodies the wisdom of other leaders and the people at large. The revolu-
tion and socialist construction have great achievements to their credit, despite
difficulties, errors and complications. The same is true of education. For in-
stance, between 1957 and 1966, the first decade of building socialism in every
field, the country's leading authorities accumulated sound experience. This is one
of the main features of their activity.
However, serious mistakes were also made. The excesses of the 'leftist'
deviation were reflected for a while in education by too rapid a pace of develop-
ment. Intellectuals were criticized too harshly for holding certain scientific points
of view. The ten-year 'Cultural Revolution' caused China to suffer extremely
serious reverses and losses. Mao Zedong made erroneous judgements on class
contradictions and the class struggle in relation to education. Claiming that
bourgeois intellectuals dominated education, he called for no effort to be spared
in criticizing and unmasking the so-called 'capitalist-roaders' and other 'promi-
nent reactionaries', and for classes to be stopped in order to make 'revolution'.
The result was that education was severely disrupted.
Nevertheless, if we take stock of his life, it is clear that his contribution to
the Chinese revolution and the construction of the country far outweighs his mis-
takes. His merits should be pushed into the limelight and his faults kept in the
background. This also applies to education. Mao's educational doctrine is a rich
and valuable contribution to the history of education in China. It not only led
the Chinese people to set out on an original path of socialist education during the
stages of new neo-democratic revolution, socialist revolution and construction,
but even today it has far-reaching significance for fundamental principles and
general philosophy. It is important to study this doctrine, not merely in order to
make a scientific summary of what it can teach us about the experience of
modern China in the field of education and a realistic assessment of Mao
Zedong's position in history, but also to pursue and develop his thought in the
new historical phase of socialist modernization, while continuing to advance
steadfastly towards socialist education, Chinese-style.
Notes
1. Edgar Snow, Red Star over China, p. 155, New York, Grove Press, 1968.
2. Ibid.
3. Gong Yuzhi, Feng Xianzhi and Shl Zhongjia, Mao Zedong de dushu shenghuo [The
Studies of Mao Zedong], pp. 23-24, Beijing, San Lian Press.
4. Profiles of ConfucIUs and Sun Yatsen are lllcluded in thiS senes of '100 Thinkers on
Education'.
M A 0 ZED 0 N G 105
5. Cai Yuanpei Jiaoyu wenxuan [Selected Texts by Cai Yuanpel on Education], p. 162,
Renmin jlaoyu chubanshe, 1980. A profile of Cai Yuanpel is included in this series
of '100 Thinkers on Education'.
6. Zhongguo xtandai shi ztliao congkan 'xmnzin xuehui ziltao' [Documents of the New
People's Institute, Collection of Documents on the History of Modern China], pp.
147-50, Renm10 chubanshe, 1980.
7. 'Hunan zlxiu daxue chuangli xuanyan' [Mamfesto on the Occasion of the
Foundation of the Open University of Hunan], Xin shidai [New Era], Vo!. 1, No. 1.
8. Mao Zedong, 'Report of an Investigation 1Oto the Peasant Movement in Hunan',
Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung, Vo!. 1, p. 56-57, Beijing, People's Publishing
House, 1969. (London, Lawrence & Wishart, 1955. San FranCIsco, China Books,
1961.)
9. 'On New Democracy', Selected Works, op. Clt., Vo!. 3, pp. 143, 144-45.
10. Ibid., p. 107.
11. Suweiat Zhongguo [Soviet China], p. 285. Reprinted by the commission to compile
documents relat10g to the history of modern Ch1Oa.
12. Ibid., n. 8, pp. 152-53.
13. 'Spread in the Base Areas the Campaign for Rent Reduction, for ProductIOn, and for
the Army's Support of the Government and Protection of the People', Selected
Works of Mao Tse-tung, op. cit., Vo!. 4, p. 127.
14. 'Kangda san zhounian jiman' [Celebration of the Third Anniversary of the Antl-
Japanese College], Xm Zhonghua bao, 30 May 1935.
15. Foreword to Kangda wu zhounian jmian tekan (Special Edition to Celebrate the
Fifth Anniversary of the Anti-Japanese College), May 1941.
16. 'The Chinese Revolution and the Ch10ese Commumst Party', Selected Works, op.
cit., Vo!. 3, p. 91.
17. 'On Some Important Problems of the Party's Present Policy', ibid., Vo!. 5, p. 184.
18. 'The United Front m Cultural Work', ibid., op. cit., Vo!. 4, p. 227.
19. Zhonghua rennun gongheguo dashi ji 1949-1982 [Chronicle of the People's
Republic of China, 1949-82], Jiaoyu Kexue (Central Research Institute for
Educational Sciences), 1984.
20. Mao Zedong, 'The Action of the Youth Organizations Must Respond to the Specific
Concerns of Young People', in; Selected Works, op. cit., Vo!. 5,
21. Ibid., n. 18.
22. Mao Zedong, 'On the Ten Malor Relationships', m: Selected Works, op. cit., Vo!. 5.
23. Mao Zedong, 'Speech to the National Conference of the Ch10ese Communist Party
on Propaganda Work', ibid., Vo!. 5.
Guo Sheng (ed.). Xm Zhongghuo jiaoyu sish/ man [Ten Years of Education in the New
Ch1Oa]. Fujian jlaoyu chubanshe, 1989.
He Dongchang. Zai jiaoyu gangzuo zhong jlanchi he fazhan Mao Zedong sixiang. Jtaoyu
yanjiu [Studies in Education], 1984, No. 5.
Resolution of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party Concerning Some
Histonc Problems that Have Arisen for the Party since the Establishment of the
New China, adopted on 27 June 1981.
106 Zhuo Qingjun
Sun Xiting. Guanyu Mao Zedong tongzhi jiaoyu slxwng de yanjiu [Study of the
Educational Doctrine of Comrade Mao Zedong].
Zheng Derong et al. (eds.). Xin Zhongguo jishi 1949-1984 [Chronicle of the New China,
1949-84]. Dongbei shifan daxue chubanshe, 1986.
Zhuo Qingjun (ed.). Zhongguo gaige quanshu - }woyu gaige Juan [Survey of Reform in
China. Education]. Dalian chubanshe, 1992.
107
JOSE MARTi l
(1853-95)
Ricardo Nassi(
The life, work and thought of the Cuban educator Jose Marti may be viewed
from many different angles. Our intention here is to present a profile of him as
an educator and to outline his main educational ideas. The greatness of his style
is revealed in everything that he produced, from the versos sencillos [simple
verses] to the most impassioned of his revolutionary speeches, whereas his
thoughts on education are scattered throughout his writings and emerge in the
most unexpected places. However, their importance justifies examination, even
though they are very often hidden away in his literary works or among his politi-
cal ideas.
The teacher
Mart! was a professional teacher only by accident, but it should be noted that his
personality was so structured that what was incidental in him gave rise to the
expression of permanent truths.
Mart! was influenced by great figures such as Jose de la Luz y Caballero,
whom he did not know personally, and Rafael Marfa Mendive, who sowed
within him the seeds of a humanistic vocation which never ceased to grow and
develop.
Jose de la Luz had been the teacher of the generation that preceded Marti's
and, as Mart! himself admitted, taught him the fundamental lesson that 'sitting
down to produce books, which is not difficult, is impossible when one is con-
sumed by worry and anxiety and there is no time for the most difficult task of
all, which is to produce men' (I, 854).2 However, while de la Luz was a legendary
figure, Mendive was for Mart! a living example of a poet and teacher.
Martf received his early schooling in a small district school in Havana, but
made such rapid progress that when he reached the age of 10 his parents decided
to send him to a larger school where he could study English and accountancy.
However, his family's means were so straitened that his father very soon decided
108 Ricardo Nassif
that 'he already knew enough', and took him away to work in the fields. At this
point, one of his godparents insisted that he should be introduced to Mendive
who, in 1865, had recently become principal of the Havana High School for
Boys. In this school Mendive created such an atmosphere of poetry and learning
that Mart! felt that all his deepest longings in this respect were satisfied, while at
the same time there was revealed to him 'his own creative activity which became
conscious of itself as a result of such fruitful contacts'. In this atmosphere, he not
only responded with enthusiasm to the life of sentiment and spirit, but also acted
on occasion as teacher, taking on responsibility for the school during the
absences of the principal.
With the assistance he received from Mendive he was able to complete the
first two years of the secondary-school course, taking his leaving certificate at a
later date in Spain, together with his university course. In Madrid he began his
studies of law, philosophy and literature and, to eke out his financial resources,
gained his first experience as a private tutor to two children when he was barely
18 years old.
From Madrid he went to Saragossa, where he obtained degrees in civil and
canon law, philosophy and literature. From Saragossa he proceeded to Paris and
then to England, before leaving for Mexico. It was in Mexico that he came into
contact with the confrontation between romanticism and positivism; he attended
the discussions held in 1875 in the Liceo Hidalgo, which provided a forum in
which the ideas of the reformers Benito ]uarez and Lerdo were aired. Mart! took
part in these discussions to outline some of the ideas he was to develop more
fully at a later date.
Mart! was in Mexico until the end of 1876, when he moved to Guatemala
as a teacher of literature and composition at the Central Teacher Training
College, whose principal was his fellow-countryman Izaguirre. He also taught
German, French, English and Italian literature at the university. Notwithstanding
the success of this teaching experience, which was the most systematic he ever
acquired, in December 1878 he returned to Havana, where he was granted tem-
porary permission to teach at the Hernandez y Plasencia College of primary and
secondary education. At the same time he was working part-time in a lawyer's
office. A year later his teaching permit was withdrawn and he was forced to take
up a minor position in law. However, as an indefatigable conspirator on behalf of
Cuban independence, he was imprisoned for a second time (the first occasion
had been when he was barely more than 16 years old). Subsequently he sailed
again for Spain, and thereafter Paris and, in 1880, New York.
In 1881 he sought refuge in Venezuela where, soon after his arrival, the
Colegio de Santo Mar!a employed him as a teacher of French language and lite-
rature. Guillermo Tell Villegas allowed him the use of classrooms where he was
surrounded by students who, in the words of Lisazo,3 felt themselves captivated
by a kind of magic. However, this too was to come to an early end, since the
President, Guzman Blanco, disapproved of this passionate Cuban who preached
the doctrine of freedom so energetically.
J 0 S E M ART 109
Returning once more to New York, he began to work actively for his coun-
try's independence, displaying incredible energy and fighting spirit, which went
hand in hand with boundless compassion. The result was the publication of La
edad del oro [The Golden Age], 'a monthly publication for the entertainment and
instruction of the children of America', as it was described on the cover of the
first issue, which appeared in July 1889. Martf's language did not lose its beauty,
neither did it fall into puerility or sentimentality, when addressed to children.
This is shown by charming biographical studies such as Tres heroes [Three
Heroes] (San Martin, BoHvar and Hidalgo); poetical gems such as Dos milagros
[Two Miracles]; stories, such as the story of the man recounted by the houses he
has lived in; translations of stories, such as Menique [The Little Finger] or El
camar6n encantado [The Bewitched Shrimp]; adaptations from the Iliad, and
many other works.
What was Martf trying to achieve with La edad de oro? He stated his inten-
tion himself in indicating those for whom the publication was intended:
so that American children may know how people used to live, and how they live now-
adays, m Amenca and in other countries; how many things are made, such as glass and
iron, steam engines and suspension bndges and electric light; so that when a child sees a
coloured stone he will know why the stone is coloured. . . . We shall tell them about
everything which is done m factories, where thmgs happen which are stranger and more
interesting than the magic m fairy stories. These things are real magic, more marvellous
than any.... We write for children because it IS they who know how to love, because it IS
chIldren who are the hope for the world (II, pp. 1207-08).
La edad de oro ceased publication in October 1889. However, Martl's active feel-
ing of compassion continued to find expression, and whereas previously children
had been the object of his attention, it was now the turn of the poor. In New
York, he became the driving force behind La Liga de la Instrucci6n [The League
for Education] for Black workers, and he returned to teaching as a Spanish
teacher at the Central High School.
It was in this way, while continuing his struggle for Cuban freedom, that his
life was spent during the agitated period from 1890 to 1895. Finally, on
31 January 1895, he sailed from New York on a voyage from which he was never
to return. Fighting for his country at the battle of Boca de Dos Rfos, he was killed
on 19 May 1895. His death seems almost to have been a voluntary and creative
act, such as he had always wished: 'as a good man, with my face to the sun'.
We have not attempted here to provide a full biography of the 'Cuban
apostle', merely to indicate the periods during his life when he was able to work
systematically as a schoolmaster and teacher. To sum up, it is clear that he had
no time for the sort of teaching which was enclosed in the four walls of a class-
room. Latin America was his real classroom, in which he was the supreme
teacher as a liberator of peoples, though there always existed deep within him
the other teacher who emerged only from time to time.
110 Ricardo Nassif
Two factors help to explain the scant attention that has been paid to Marti's
ideas. 4 In this first place - a characteristic which he shares with almost all those
who helped to build Latin America - the thinker was overshadowed by the man
of action, and it is hard when attempting to penetrate into the difficult terrain of
purely intellectual matters not to be carried away by the charm of his humanity
and poetry. The second factor is to be found in the interpretation of the term
'pedagogy', based on the relationship now being established between education
and life. Seen from this approach, unknown to the educational theories of the
past, Martf's personality and achievements form a whole, and everything he
expressed in writing or in his political activity helps us to understand him as an
educator and as an educational theorist.
In fact, he wrote comparatively little on pedagogy, though too much for it
to be possible to give an exhaustive analysis in a brief profile such as this.
Among the many definitions that Mart! gave of education, we have chosen the
following:
Education ... is a way of equipping people to acqUire a comfortable and honest liveli-
hood in the world III which they live, without thereby thwarting the sensitive, lofty and
spiritual aspirations which represent the best part of the individual human being (H, 495);
Education has an inescapable duty towards man ... to adapt him to the age in which he
lives, wIthout turning hIm aside from the great and final objective of human life (H, 497);
To educate is to entrust man with the whole of human experience which has preceded
hIm; It IS to make each man a summary of the living world ... to place him at the level of
his times ... to prepare him for life (H, 507);
To educate is to give man the keys to the world, which are independence and love, and to
give him strength to journey on his own, light of step, a spontaneous and free being (I,
1965).
In the four concepts quoted above we find two ideas central to Marti's concept of
education: education is a preparation of man for life, not forgetting his spiritual
side; and education is the adaptation of man to his times. This may be inter-
preted to mean that education represents for each individual the mastery of his
autonomy and the development of his natural and spiritual self.
Martf clearly distinguishes education from instruction. The former is
concerned with the feelings, while the latter is related to thought. However, he
also recognizes that there can be no good education without instruction, since
'moral qualities increase in value when they are enhanced by intellectual qual-
J 0 S E M ART 111
ities' (I, 853). It is this distinction which helps us to understand the importance
of education as an attempt to 'entrust man with the whole of human achieve-
ment' and to 'make each man a summary of the living world up to his own time'.
Education, in the sense of a summing-up, is impossible unless it is accompanied
by instruction; but by adapting man to his times and providing him with the
capacity for freedom and culture, education fulfils no more than its basic task,
namely the cultivation of all the human faculties as a whole.
In Martf's educational theory, none of the concepts summarized above has
had greater impact than the idea that education should adapt man to his times.
His statement that 'the divorce which exists between the education given during
a particular period and the period itself is simply criminal' (11, 507) in fact
contains two meanings. One is direct and literal. Mart! sees the period as the
time in which it is given to us to live in common with all our contemporaries;
this reveals the keen historical awareness that permeates all his educational
thinking. Each period requires educational institutions and patterns that are
suited to it, and this needs to be clearly stated with respect to higher education:
'For the New World we need a New University' (11, 507).
The second meaning conveyed is more figurative and indirect, although as
real as the literal meaning; its purport is to project the temporal plane on to the
historical one in such a way that they merge into each other. The period is not
only a 'time' but also an 'environment'. In an article published in Patria (2 July
1883), Mart! says:
The danger of educatmg children away from their homeland looms almost as large as the
need for the children of Ill-fated countries which are still struggling into existence to be
educated abroad, where they may acquire the knowledge necessary for the full develop-
ment of their emerging countries.... The danger is great, because It is a mistake to grow
orange trees and then transplant them to Norway, or to plant apple trees which are ex-
pected to bear fruit m Ecuador; a transplanted tree must be able to conserve its native sap
so that when it returns to its native soil it may take root (I, 8631.
Referring to his reasons for publishing La edad de ora, he wrote to his Mexican
correspondent, Manuel Mercado:
The magazine IS concerned with serious ideas, and as I have taken thiS upon myself ... its
aim must be to promote what I seek to promote, which is that our countries should be
inhabited by people with onginal minds, brought up to be happy in the country m which
they live and to live in harmony with it, not divorced from it like citizens in name only, or
disdamful foreigners who regard their birth in this part of the world as a punishment
(II, 1,201).
This is not a xenophobic attitude, since few people have believed as firmly as
Mart! in solidarity between peoples. Nor is it arbitrary, because the natural
development of man is itself conditioned by the atmosphere existing in a particu-
lar society, for the reason that 'the purpose of education is not to form an indivi-
dual who is inexistent, either because he disdains or because he is unable to
112 Ricardo Nassif
adapt to the country in which he has to live; it is to prepare him to live a good
and useful life there' (I, 864). This means forming people in accordance with the
ideal which Marti proclaims for Latin America: 'people who are good, useful and
free' (I, 866).
For Marti this raises three questions. How can you form goodness, except
through love? How can people be made free, if they are not allowed to live in
freedom? How can they made useful without a scientific knowledge of the forces
of nature?
While this was how Marti saw the act of education from the teacher's viewpoint,
he also saw it as a relationship whose opposite pole is the pupil. The four pub-
lished issues of La edad de ora sufficiently indicate his thorough knowledge of
the child's mind, but in addition his writings contain a series of ideas on the deve-
lopment of the child and of education. He held that education should not disturb
the child's development, and schools should be 'places for the cultivation of rea-
son' where, through judicious guidance, children gradually learn to form their
own ideas.
The principle of individuality as a basic factor in education is precisely one
of the key ideas in Marti's educational thinking. In effect, he describes individu-
ality as what European educationists at the beginning of the twentieth century
were to call the 'regulating element' in education. He argued that 'education is
the road, but the child's character and individuality are the motive force'
(I, 1960). He thus came to formulate the general concept of self-education that
'education is the use of learning to guide one's own powers' (11, 737); and to view
J 0 S E M ART 113
Jose Martf also had a clear view of the social dimension of education as both a
phenomenon and a process. This he expressed in his ideas on the sociology of
education, which in themselves constitute principles for an educational policy.
Of all the problems which are nowadays considered to be of paramount importance, only
one is in fact so. It is of such tremendous Importance that all the time and energy in the
world would hardly be enough to solve it, namely the ignorance of the classes which have
justice on their side (I, 737).
These words provide us with the key to his socio-political thinking on education.
While he himself expressed his thoughts in terms of action, love and creativity,
nowadays we prefer to express it in more specifically sociological, political and
democratic terms.
With this in mind, Mart! highlighted one of the ideas which characterized
liberal democracy in Latin America during the second half of the nineteenth cen-
tury, that of 'popular education'. Almost all his socio-educational ideas take this
kind of education as their starting-point for the progress of people, though it is
defined in extremely wide terms: 'Popular education does not mean only the edu-
cation of the poorer classes; it means that all the classes of the nation, in other
words the people, should be well educated' (I, 853). In addition, such education
is the only way of achieving democracy, since, to quote his own words: 'An igno-
rant man is on the way to becoming an animal, whereas an educated and respon-
sible man is on the way to becoming God; and no one would hesitate between a
people of gods and a people of animals' (I, 854). Martf had boundless faith in
education as the remedy for the ills of society, especially if its objective was to
arouse people to an awareness of their solidarity (11, 510).
Martf's educational policy was never the vain dreams and ideals of a life-
long exile excluded from any role in the government of his country. In his
conception of educational policy, he attached overriding importance to the prin-
ciples of 'national education', 'freedom of education' and 'compulsory educa-
tion'; though he significantly reversed the order of the last two concepts, giving
priority to compulsory education over freedom of education on the grounds that
he considered 'the beneficial tyranny of the former to be worth more than the
freedom of the latter'.
Science education
In an educated society, which for Martf is the same as 'a free people', people are
educated for freedom, in the same way as the good man is formed by love.
However, in addition to goodness and freedom, he required people to be useful.
114 Ricardo Nassif
To train them to this end, he proposed science education as paving the way for
the development of the intelligence, as an instrument for individual autonomy
and the keystone of the progress of peoples.
Martf constantly emphasized the importance of science education, contrast-
ing it with, or distinguishing it from, education which he called 'classical', 'liter-
ary', 'formal' or 'ornamental'. In this approach he revealed the influence of
Herbert Spencer, though in Martes case it was broadened by a poetic love of
nature. His naturalism was spiritualized, not biological or materialist; it was
closer to Rousseau than to Spencer.
Be that as it may, in his view education was not merely formal or rhetorical
but based on the study of nature. This promoted socIal progress, because 'to
study the forces of nature and learn to control them is the most direct way of
solving social problems' (I, 1076). Science was the only path leading to nature,
and it was essential to introduce science education 'wherever new men are to
emerge' (I, 1829).
Martf contrasts 'scientific humanism' with 'classical humanism', arguing
that education based on the latter is out of date and only offers 'ornament and
elegance' (11, 495-96). Commenting on the meeting of the principals of the
Massachusetts schools in 1883, he noted that:
Traditional education, based on Greek poems and Latin books, or on the histories of Llvy
or Suetonius, is now taking its last stand agamst a rismg new type of education. ThiS IS
now establishing itself as the legitimate expression of the impatience of men at last set free
to learn and to act, who need to know about the creation and movement and progress of
the earth which is theirs to cultivate, making it yield by their labours the means of UnIver-
sal well-being and of their own sustenance (II, 496).
and vigorous currents of social thought which are carrymg all before them'
(U,593).
This profound belief in science education explains why Martf constantly
demanded a radical reform of contemporary education. It also explains his
enthusiasm when he visited an engineering school in St Louis (in the United
States), and when he wrote down the syllabus of the school of electrical engineer-
ing; and when he learnt that Nicaragua, in celebration of an anniversary, was
opening an Arts and Vocational Training School on the lines of those already
existing in Guatemala, Honduras and Uruguay, and about to be opened in Chile
and El Salvador (U, 507-10). It also explains the reforming zeal which he showed
in his unflagging support for the establishment of agricultural schools (U, 501)
actually located in the countryside; his insistence that each school should have a
workshop adjoining it; his belief in the educational value of manual work (I,
1969; U, 510); his reference to the importance of physical education (U, 537); his
aim of raising women to be a spiritualizing force in society by means of educa-
tion (U, 500-01); his keen interest in the methods used in a Mexican school for
the deaf and dumb (U, 814); his brief comparison of the old system of education
with the new system he dreamt of: 'At school we were beaten into learning by
heart; but where we learned most was on the journey there through the snow'
(U,97).
The question arises as to whether Marti's pedagogy was strictly science-
based. As regards the origin of his interest in science, we have already said that
the importance he attributed to science education arose solely from his desire to
make the peoples of Latin America useful and independent. However, the
influence of Spencer is undeniable: Martf knew his work, and even left us an out-
line of his thought (I, 952), ascribing to him a major role in the intellectualliber-
ation of Latin America (U, 101). Nevertheless, he did not accept his system as
dogma, and rejected positivism on the grounds that it was 'an immoral negation
of being as something improvable and permanent' (U, 1777). Martf's positivism
was in any case one which had been filtered through his own creative personality.
Mention has also been made of Marti's pragmatism based on John Dewey's
ideas. Saul Flores,s who is one of the proponents of this theory, claims that there
is no other way of explaining Martf's call for the replacement of 'rote learning in
school' by 'practical learning'. However, in Martf's work there is no mentlOn
either of Dewey or of his predecessors Pierce and William James. In addition,
although Dewey's ideas had already begun to circulate during the period when
Martf was in New York (with interruptions, from 1880 to 1895), Marti's first
important books (My Pedagogic Creed and The School and Society) appeared
only in 1897 and 1900.
More to the point is the opinion of Dfaz Ortega 6 who maintains that the
United States and Europe provided Martf with the foundations of an educational
culture which he was able to use to criticize and compare the educational policy
of Latin America, while it was Latin America that gave him the setting in which
he could see and experience the basic educational problems facing its peoples. In
116 Ricardo Nassif
addition, although there are similarities between Mart! and Dewey, it is not going
too far to assert that Martf's educational ideas are imbued with a guiding prin-
ciple reflecting what might be called 'spiritual activism'. 7 Santovenia said that
Mart! is, above all, 'the man who seeks harmony', and his ability to find har-
mony and take an overall view is also apparent in his educational approach:
starting with what is useful in Latin American terms, it continues via the ideas of
nature and freedom until it comes full circle to all that is spiritual in man.
Martf's educational thought encompassed the most advanced ideas of his
time. Yet in the context of Latin American history, his thought anticipates the
future, since it contains such modern principles as: (a) the use of national educa-
tion as an instrument for achieving the autonomy of peoples; (b) science educa-
tion and the critical outlook; (c) the relationship between education and work;
and (d) the principle of active pupil participation as the basis of learning. Like
other great Latin American educators of the period, with a host of great writers
and political leaders, Jose Mart! was a pioneer in education, blazing a trail along
which we still have a considerable distance to travel.
Notes
1. This profile was first published in Prospects, Vo!. 14, No. 2, 1984.
2. In order to avoid making the notes too long, I have added after each quotatIOn from
Marti's works, III parentheses, the volume and page number (e.g. I, 807) of his
Obras campletas [Complete Works], Havana, Edicion del Centenario, Editorial Lex,
1953,2 vols.
3. F. Lisazo, Marti, et mistica del deber [Mart!, Spintual Duty], Buenos Aires, Losada,
1940.
4. Saill Flores (in 'Martf educador' [The Educator Mart!], Archiuo Jose Marti (ed. by F.
Llsazo, Havana, Ministry of EducatIOn), Vo!. 6, Nos. 1-4, January-December 1952)
writes that it was Ernesto Morales, reviewlllg La edad de ora, who drew attention
to Martf's educational theory. Fernandez de la Vega ('Martf', Archil'o Jose Marti,
op. cit., Vo!. 4, No. 1, January-April 1943) shares ISldro Mendez's opinion that
Martf's ideas make up 'a complete programme of popular education'. However,
most of those who have dealt with this subject agree that we know little of Mart! as
a pedagogue apart from such studies as that by Diego Ortega ('Los valores educa-
cionales en Jose Martf' [EducatIOnal Values in Jose Mart!], Archiuo Jose Marti, op.
Clt., Vo!. 5, No. 1, January-June 1950) or the brief articles by Saill Flores or Cordero
Amador ('Jose Martf, educador' Uose Mart!, Educator]' Archil'o Jose Marti, op. cit.,
Vo!. 4, No. 1, January-Apnl 1943), Villalba and VIllalba Sotillo ('Mart! y la educa-
cion fundamental' [Martf and BasIC Education], Archiuo Jose Marti, op. cit., Vo!. 5,
No. 3, January-June 1951). There are only scattered references III the various pub-
lished biographies of Mart!, although it is pOSSible that more recent studies eXist
which we have not been able to consult. It should be clearly understood that we are
discussing Martf as a 'theoretician' of education, not Martf the 'educator', a subject
that has been more amply dealt With, possibly because more eaSily accessible.
5. Flores, op. Clt.
J 0 S E M ART 117
6. 'Humanismo y amor en Jose Mart!' [Humanism and Love by Jose Mart!], Archivo
Jose Marti, op. Clt., Vo!. 5, January-June 1951.
7. In the early 1980s, an interesting interpretation of Marti's spirituality was put for-
ward by Adalberto Ronda Varona in his article 'La unidad de la teoria y la practica:
rasgo caracteristico de la dlaleetIca en Jose Marti' [The Unity of Theory and
Practice: Typical Features of Jose Marti's Dialectic], Revlsta cubana de clencias
sociales (Centro de Estudios Filosoficos de la Academla de CienClas de
CubalUmversldad de la Habana), No. 1, 1983, pp. 50-64.
La cuestion agraria y la educaclon del campesmo [The Agricultural Question and Peasant
EducatIon]. Havana, EdItorial Lex, Blblioteca Popular Martiana, 1940.
Educaclon [Education]. Havana, OfIcma del Historiador de la Ciudad, 1961.
Escntos sobre educaclon [Writings on Education]. Havana, Editorial de Ciencias Sociales,
1976.
Ideario pedagogica [Educational Ideology]. Havana, Centra de Estudios Martianos,
EditOrIal Pueblo y EducaClon, 1990. (Selected and introduced by Hector
Almendros. )
Jose Marti: Precursor de la UNESCO Uose Mart!: Forerunner of UNESCO]. Havana,
Comision Nacional Cubana de la UNESCO, 1953. (Edited and introduced by Felix
Lizaso.)
On EducatIOn: ArtIcles on Educational Theory and Pedagogy and Writings for Chtldren
from 'The Age of Gold'. New York, Monthly Review Press, 1979. (Edited by
E. Randall; introduction and notes by P. Foner.)
JOURNAL ARTICLES
Abono: La sangre es buen abono [Fertilizer: Blood is a Good Fertilizer]. La America (New
York), 1883. (In Obras campletas, Vo!. 8, Havana, Editorial Nacional de Cuba,
1963-65.)
Aprender en las haciendas [Learnmg on the Estates]. La America (New York), 1883. (In
ibid.)
Cartas de Mart! [Marti's Letters]. La Naclon (Buenos Aires), 15 August 1883. (In ibid.)
Cartas de Mart! - Nueva York en otono [Marti's Letters - Autumn in New York].
14 November 1886 (In ibid., Vo!. 11.)
Cartas de verano [Summer Letters]. La Nacion (Buenos Aires), October 1890. (In IbId.,
Vo!. 1).
El colegio de Tomas Estrada Palma en el Central Valley [The School of Tomas Estrada
Palma m the Central Valley]. Patria (New York), 2 July 1892 (In ibid., vo!. 5).
Educacion cient!fica [Scientific education]. La AmerIca (New York), September 1883. (In
ibId., Vo!. 8.)
Escuela de Artes y Oficios [School of Arts and Crafts]. La America (New York),
November 1883. (In IbId., Vo!. 8.)
Escuela de electricidad [School of Electricity]. La America (New York), November 1883.
(In ibId.)
118 Ricardo Nassif
Escuela de mecanica [School of Mechanics]. La America (New York), September 1883. (In
ibid.)
Guatemala. Mexico City, Edicion El Slglo XIX, 1978. (In ibid., Vo!. 7.)
Peter Cooper. La Naci6n (Buenos Aires), 3 June 1883. (In Ibid., Vo!. 13.)
El proyecto de mstruccion publica [The Public Instruction Project]. Revlsta Universal
(Mexico City), 6 October 1875. (In ibid., Vo!. 6)
Reforma esencial en el programa de universidades americanas. Estudio de las lenguas
vivas. Gradual desentendimiento del estudio de las lenguas muertas [Essential
Reforms in the Programme of American Universities. Study of LIVIng Languages.
Gradual Phasing Out of the Study of Dead Languages]. La America (New York),
January 1884. (In ibid., Vo!. 8.)
Revolucion en la ensenanza [Revolution in Teaching]. Anuario del Centro de Estudios
martianos (Havana), No. 8,1985, pp. 14-19.
M E N c I us
(372-289 B.C.)
Ge Zhengming
the shuttle of her loom whenever Mencius neglected his lessons to make him
understand the need to persevere.
Mencius dedicated most of his life to teaching. On reaching adulthood, he
spent more than twenty years travelling around the various kingdoms with his
disciples to spread his political ideals. His reputation was such that 'dozens of
chariots and hundreds of people' are said to have followed him. On one
occasion, the chariots that escorted him and the dense crowd that thronged in his
wake as he travelled from one vassal principality to another were far more
magnificent than the processions that accompanied Confucius, and everywhere
he was greeted with respect. In the twilight of his life, he returned to his home-
land to divide his time between education and writing. 'Transmitting the gifts
received from Heaven' was a great joy to him. He is deservedly regarded as one
of the great figures of education of his time.
In the last few years of his life, Mencius gathered pupils around him, put
down his thoughts in writing and, with the help of Wan Zhang, Gong Sunchou
and other disciples, compiled the anthology which bears his name and which
relates his conversations with the feudal princes and his replies and arguments on
various points of doctrine. As well as setting out Mencius' educational work and
ideas, this work conveys a striking picture of the intellectual ferment of the time.
Historical background
Mencius held that the purpose of education was to cultivate good people who
knew their station in society. He took up the concept of ren (humanity or bene-
volence) so dear to Confucius, feeling that the unification of China called for vir-
tuous leaders like the sovereigns of former times. He recommended that they
govern with benevolence, punish as little as possible, refrain from levying excess-
ively high taxes, and ensure that people were assigned five mu of land to live on
and 100 mu to cultivate and that they 'eat their fill in fat years and do not starve
to death in lean years'. Thus would the 'sovereign' obtain the 'Mandate of
Heaven'. In order to reign, he must have the support of the people; in order to
have the support of the people, he must win their hearts and make them happy.
In Mencius' eyes, benevolent government (renzheng) and virtuous administration
(dezhi) went hand in hand, and sound administration itself came second to a
good education. He therefore emphasized the fact that, in order to govern with
benevolence, it was first necessary to provide a good education, the purpose of a
good education being to win hearts.
According to Mencius, the first essential was to make sure that old people
lacked neither silk to clothe themselves nor meat to feed themselves, and that the
people suffered neither hunger nor cold. Only then would schools be opened and
the population educated. Only an education provided in such conditions could
be considered sound. As to its purpose, it must be to 'teach sons their duties
towards their fathers and younger ones their duties to their elders'. That meant
continual reference to the great principles of respect for one's father and mother
and obedience to one's elder brothers and superiors, the explanation of these
principles being the fundamental aim of education. That was the cornerstone of
Mencius' moral philosophy.
During the Spring and Autumn period, 'the degeneration of rites and the
decadence of music' had induced Confucius to endeavour to regulate relation-
ships between human beings and to recommend that 'each thing be given its own
name and each person their own place', according to the precept: 'Let the prince
behave as a prince, the minister as a minister, the father as a father and the son as
a son'. Mencius also adopted this line of thinking and elaborated upon it.
Mencius' view of providing the people with enough to eat and to protect
them from the cold, and urging them to open schools inculcating unremitting
filial piety and love for one's elder brothers was that of a champion of the ethical
principles that must govern relationships between father and son, prince and
minister, husband and wife, older and younger persons and friends amongst
themselves. 'When the people in power understand human relationships and
have a sense of decorum, the common people will manifest their devotion', he
said. If the ruling class could abide by these principles, the internal contradictions
within that class would be attenuated and the patriarchal system would be
consolidated. If the common people did likewise, 'crime and disorder' would
disappear. In other words, once the upper echelons of society observed the rules
124 Ge Zhengming
of life in society and the common people lived together on good terms, harmony
would naturally reign on earth. The objectives that Mencius assigned to educa-
tion - inculcating filial piety and respect for one's elders, and teaching people to
conduct themselves decently towards others - thus served his political aims. This
Confucianist concept of education exerted a profound influence on Chinese feu-
dal society.
believed that virtue required fathers and elder sons to see to the education of
their sons or younger brothers. Those who behaved badly had to be guided along
the right path, and those lacking in talent had to be educated. That was a duty
which a good father could not shirk.
Preserving one's natural goodness and controlling one's desires. Mencius thought
that the best way of developing one's good tendenCles was to resist domination
by material desires. Those who have few desires will lose little, if any, of their
natural goodness. Conversely, those who are racked with desires may preserve
some good traits but only very few. Mencius thus argued against cherishing
excessive desires for material things.
Seeking within oneself. Mencius saw this as an important means of moral self-
improvement: if I treat someone with love and he remains aloof, I must ask
myself whether I am being generous enough; if someone is placed under my
authority but does not obey me, I must ask myself if I am acting as wisely as I
should; if I show consideration to someone but he does not reciprocate, I must
ask myself if I am being sufficiently respectful. In short, whenever my conduct
does not produce the expected results, I must seek the reasons for this within
myself.
Repenting and mendmg one's ways. Mencius thought that those who refuse to
recognize their material desires and lose the virtue of repentance are liable to
commit reprehensible acts. These who act wrongly but are ashamed of them-
selves can recover their propensity for goodness. One must endeavour to correct
any errors one has committed and always take the merits of others as a model,
trying to better oneself and join others in seeking goodness.
Seeking to recover lost qualities, preseruing the benefits of the 'ntght arr' (yegi).
Mencius saw regaining a pure heart as one of the keys to moral self-improve-
ment. It meant controlling one's desires, examining one's conscience, repenting
and correcting one's faults. This is what he had in mind when he spoke of
preserving the benefits of the 'night air': fortifying one's soul, cultivating one's
natural goodness.
MENCIUS 127
Developing the natural nobility of the soul (haoran zhi qi). Human beings must
show strength of character and not go about their business half-heartedly and
apathetically. They must display energy (qi) and not give way to despondency. In
moral terms, they must possess the noble-mindedness that makes it possible to
combat evil with justice.
Strengthening one's resolve. This concept was crucial to Mencius' idea of moral
education. The hardships and misfortunes by which all are confronted in the
course of a lifetime are conducive to meditation on the vicissitudes of fate, and
this is how one acquires the wisdom (dehui) and thirst for knowledge (giuzhi)
that will enable one to understand the world and improve one's ability to cope
with it. The human being must have passed a thousand tests before being truly
seasoned.
Teaching methods
Mencius gave a great deal of thought to teaching methods and learned from his
own great experience in this field. These are some of his precepts:
Know to whom you are talking and adapt your teaching to each individual's
aptitudes, adopting a ltvely and flexible approach that can be varied,
according to the pupil.
Lay down strict criteria and encourage personal initiative, setting the aims and
then leaving pupils to practise and learn their lessons by themselves.
Say profound things simply, speak knowledgeably and in great detail, teaching
pupils what they do not know on the basis of what they do know. Use
simple words to explain complex ideas and make sure that your own know-
ledge is extensive, so that you are able to give detailed explanations.
Base your arguments on analogy and use comparisons to explain things; illus-
trate the most complex concepts with common examples taken from every-
day life. Mencius himself often used analogy to support his arguments and
simple images to clarify obscure points. Likewise, he often used easily
understandable comparisons to reply to questions or to solve problems.
With regard to the learning process, Mencius made the following recommenda-
tions:
Consolidate the skills you have acquired by individual work, seek a deeper
understanding of what you have learned and let it become so deeply rooted
in your mind that you have a perfect command of it.
Progress step by step. Mencius regarded learning as a natural process. Progress
should be slow but sure, taking care not to advance too quickly only to fall
back subsequently.
Work unremittingly. Pupils must persevere and be determined; they must acquire
confidence, not losing heart at the first obstacle and above all not taking the
easy way out.
128 Ge Zhengming
Pupils must throw themselves whole-heartedly into their work, devoting to it all
their time and energy.
Mencius was 'the pupil of a disciple of Zi Si', whose real name was Kongzi; a
grandson of Confucius, he had himself studied under the master's star pupil,
Zengzi. Zengzi had passed Confucius' teachings on to Zi Si, whose disciple had
in turn passed them on to Mencius. Thus, some 150 years after the death of
Confucius, Mencius began to propagate his own ideas. Like him, he cited the
ancient sovereigns Yao and Shun as examples and developed the master's theories
about the need for virtuous administration (dezhl) and benevolent government
(renzheng), which were, he held, essential in securing the support of the people.
He considered that people endowed with wealth and a certain level of income
also had to display moral qualities and observe certain rules of conduct, failing
which anarchy and disorder would ensue. The idea that the country must be
administered honestly, that the population must be educated and, first and fore-
most, that the common people who were to be educated must not be exposed to
either hunger or cold is one of the keys to Mencius' concept of education.
Confucius said: 'He who possesses knowledge at birth is a superior being.'
Only the saint, he thought, possessed inborn knowledge, which was why he
urged the acquisition of knowledge through study. Mencius, for his part, believed
that everyone on earth was intuitively endowed with a sense of what is good and
he therefore saw all human beings as possessing inborn knowledge. That is why
he urged them rather to 'seek within themselves'.
From as early as the Spring and Autumn period of Chinese history,
Confucius set about regulating social relations by advocating that 'each thing
should be given its own name' and each person 'his own place'. In the Warring
States period, Mencius took up this idea and elaborated upon it, urging educa-
tors to understand and respect the moral principles that must govern feudal
society and relations between nobles and serfs, rich and poor, men and women,
young people and old, and friends among themselves. In other words, Mencius'
'accomplishing one's duty at the risk of one's life' (shesheng guyi) echoed
Confucius' 'sacrificing one's life through humanity' (shashen chengren).
When Mencius recommended that teaching methods should vary according
to the different categories of pupils, he was also drawing upon Confucius' pre-
cept that teaching should be tailored to the aptitudes of each pupil. Where
Mencius advised people to correct their mistakes and mend their ways,
Confucius had already said: 'Anyone who has committed a fault must not be
afraid to correct it.' It is thus clear that Confucius played an important part in
the formation of Mencius' views on education. These ideas all exerted a
considerable influence in the sphere of moral education.
MENCIUS 129
Mencius was a great educator of the Warring States period, and his influence was
extremely important. His thinking, like that of Confucius, had a fairly substan-
tial impact outside China, and his position in the history of education in ancient
China itself is outstanding. Some aspects of his work still influence the teaching
methods used in China today, and some of his educational principles continue to
inspire us. For two millennia, his appeal to 'cultivate the nobility of the soul' has
met with an extraordinary response, giving many people the courage to be true
to their convictions or even to sacrifice themselves for them. His advice that
people should strengthen themselves by putting themselves to the test and should
make good use of their talents is also extremely useful. Many people of goodwill,
ardent patriots with the interests of the people at heart, have been inspired by his
call to 'accomplish one's duty, at the risk of one's life'. He advocated a number of
extremely sound educational approaches, such as setting strict criteria and
encouraging personal initiative, which bore fruit in the rigorous standards of
Chinese education after him. He excelled at expressing abstract, complex ideas
clearly, in just a few words, using vivid, precise metaphors. His advice was to put
one's whole heart and determination into one's study and to devote all one's
attention to it. This scientific principle that Mencius drew from his practical
experience of teaching 2,000 years ago is still observed to this day. When he said
that teachers should love their work, take good care of their pupils, and set them
an example, possess a vast store of knowledge and add to it constantly, he was
stating precepts that have made a major contribution to the Chinese nation's
efforts in the field of education.
His recommendations to students - to consolidate what one has learned
through individual study, aim to make steady progress, work without respite and
put one's whole heart into one's study - together with his advice to teachers - to
adapt teaching to suit each person's aptitudes, set strict criteria, encourage per-
sonal initiative, express profound ideas in simple terms, and explain with the
help of comparisons - combine to form a coherent system. This approach to tea-
ching continues to exercise a profound influence in China and is still relevant
today.
Just as Confucius is being rediscovered and his work subjected to fresh criti-
cal appraisal, so Chinese educators are continuing to sound the depths of
Mencius' doctrine. Many positive elements of his educational theory have found
practical application in the classroom, even though historical circumstances have
changed beyond recognition. The educational tradition of which Confucius and
Mencius are the two great pillars is thus being perpetuated in China and in the
rest of eastern Asia, with discernment and along new lines, as part of the
modernization process now under way.
130 Ge Zhengming
Bibliography
Gudai jiaoyu sixiang luncong [Collection of Texts on Theories of Education in Antiquity].
Beijing shlfan daxue chubanshe, 1985.2 v.
Mao Lirui; Chen Guanqun, (eds.). Zhongguo jtaoyu tongshi [General History of
Education in China]. Shandong jiaoyu chubanshe, 1986. 2 v.
Yang Huanying. Confucius sixiang zai guowai de chuanbo yu yingxiang [Dissemination
and Influence Abroad of Confucius' Thinking]. Beijing, Jiaoyu kexue chubanshe,
1985.
Zhang Rui et aI., (eds.). Zhongguo gudai jiaoyu sht ziliao [Materials for a History of
Education in Ancient China]. Renmin jiaoyu chubanshe, 1980.
Zhongguo jiaoyu shi jianbian [Concise History of Education in Chma]. Beijing, Jiaoyu
kexue chubanshe, 1984.
Zhongguo gudai jiaoyuJIa yinyu [Factors for a Study of Educators in Ancient China].
Anhui ]iaoyu chubanshe, 1983.
Zhongguo gudai jiaoyu wenxuan [Selected Texts on Education in Ancient China]. Renmin
jiaoyu chubanshe, 1986.
Zhou Dechang. Zhongguo gudai jtaoyu sixtang de pipan jicheng [Drawing with
Discernment on the Educational Theories of Ancient China]. Beijing, Jiaoyu kexue
chubanshe, 1982.
131
MISKAWAYH
(A.D. 932-1030/A.H. 320-421)
The tenth century A.D. (fourth century A.H.) is regarded as one of the most
brilliant periods of Islamic civilization; during this time Muslims reached the
peak of their intellectual maturity and progress in ideas. Indeed, a number of his-
torians have seen it as the 'Golden Age' of this outstanding civilization.! It was in
this century that Abu 'Ali Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Ya'qub Miskawayh (also
known as Ibn Miskawayh) was born. It is now established that his name was
actually Miskawayh, yet we find a number of his works, especially those not
written by but in fact attributed to him, where the name on the cover is Ibn
Miskawayh. Those few works which are actually written by him bear the correct
name, Miskawayh; and that is how he is referred to by his contemporaries and
the intellectuals and writers who worked with him. 2
Miskawayh lived in the fourth century A.H., yet his very productive life
extended for around twenty years into the fifth century, as is indicated by the
date of his death. So he spent the whole of his life within the period of the
Abbasid Empire, the rule of which extended from A.D. 750 to 1258 (A.H. 132 to
656).
This period is well known as a time when Muslim intellectuals were
concentrating on translating the sciences from other languages, and it also stimu-
lated a flourish of writing in Arabic, once the translation process had yielded its
results. Many Muslims excelled in the branches of learning known at that time.
As a result of the many books translated into Arabic, the various enterprises in
different fields, and the spread of the use of paper, the caliphs turned their atten-
tion to the establishment of what were known as Dar al- 'ilm or Dar al-hikma
(Houses of Learning or of Wisdom) in Baghdad, Cairo, Cordoba and in other
places in the Islamic world. These operated somewhat like public libraries, since
they were well provided to satisfy the needs of general readers and specialists.
Stationers' shops also appeared selling books or renting them out to readers; and
there was increased competition among the caliphs, viziers, learned men and
others to acquire books and to establish their own private libraries in their resi-
132 Nadia Gamli/ a/-Din
dencies. They gathered people together for learned discussions on the content of
these books, in what today might resemble seminars or study circles.
Miskawayh himself worked as a librarian for the collections of a number of
viziers (ministers) of the Buwayhids during the Abbasid rule. This work must
have brought him into contact with the culture of his age, so varied in its sources
and types, such that he was able to learn for himself and to make a thorough
study of various branches of science and human knowledge.
Although Miskawayh was born to Muslim parents in Rayy, in Persia, he
travelled to Baghdad, where he studied and worked, and was well known there
for a time. Then he returned to live in Isfahan, in Persia, for a period of time and
it was here that he died and was buried - according to the most reliable account
- after a life of nearly 100 years.
Miskawayh is one of the outstanding personalities in the history of philo-
sophical thought among the Muslims. His fame did not come about as a result of
his involvement with teaching or with writing on education, but arose uniquely
from his work in philosophy.
Miskawayh was attracted to Greek philosophy, the books of which were
then available in a variety of Arabic translations. However, he did not stop at
logic and theology, as did preceding Muslim philosophers such as al-FarabI,
considered among Muslims as the 'Second Teacher' after Aristotle, the 'First
Teacher'. Rather, he concentrated on dealing with matters neglected by most of
his predecessors or contemporaries among the philosophers. He differed from
them in his concern for ethics more than most other studies of traditional philo-
sophy at that time. Hence he was named by some the 'Third Teacher', since he
was considered the first ethical thinker among the Muslims. 3
If Miskawayh was most famous in the field of ethics, like others among the
foremost Muslim intellectuals he was very much attracted to the philosophy of
the famous Greeks such as Plato and Aristotle, whose books, translated into
Arabic, exerted their special fascination on those who were devoted to philo-
sophy.4
Perhaps the influence of Plato and Aristotle on Miskawayh is shown most
clearly in his book Tahdhib al-akhlaq wa-tathir al-a'raq [Refinement of
Character and Purification of Dispositions]. He did not confine himself to the
works of the most well-known Greek philosophers, but studied others and re-
ferred to them also in his various works. These included Porphyrius, Pythagoras,
Galen, Alexander of Aphrodisias and particularly Bryson. From the latter,
Miskawayh took most of what he wrote in connection with the education of
young boys, although Bryson was not well known, as will be discussed later. s
Miskawayh is very clearly distinguished from others who worked in science
and philosophy within Islamic civilization by the fact that he indicated clearly
and distinctly the sources on which he drew; something which proves his scien-
tific reliability and also emphasizes his patent admiration for the branches of
learning which he studied, which were well known and widespread throughout
MISKAWAYH 133
the first maqala by a discussion of the soul and its virtues. These two sections
amount to a general introduction necessary because of the prevailing opinion in
Miskawayh's day when psychological studies took precedence over any other
philosophical subject. There was an obligatory introduction to every philosophi-
cal study.
'Moral happiness' was the state enabling the human being to live happily, in
accordance with the requirements of virtue. Thus it was personal happiness that
human beings could reach through intellectual effort, striving to acquire the
sciences which would make their thoughts inclusive of all areas and existing
beings, and make them free from material desires so as to reach the degree of
wisdom enabling them to grasp human perfection. The knowledgeable one who
reaches this degree of supreme happiness was, in Miskawayh's opinion, 'the com-
pletely happy one', and the pleasure attained was an intellectual pleasure. ll
Miskawayh mentioned supreme happiness in the third maqala of Tahdhib
al-akhlaq, and gave a detailed account of it in order to attract the attention of
those who were unaware of it so that they would be motivated by the desire to
reach it. 12
After this, Miskawayh set out to clarify the various kinds of happiness and
their virtues. He cited a number of conditions for their realization, some internal
and some external. Among the internal conditions influencing the rational state
of human beings and their moral direction towards good or bad are the state of
their own bodies, in other words the enjoyment of good health and a moderate
temperament. Other conditions are external to the human body and help people
to rise above shortcomings, and to appreciate good in others, including friends,
children and wealth. Love of others and affection towards them can play a part
in the progress and upward movement of all people. It is the sphere for fulfilling
the different virtues. In addition, there is the surrounding environment, inasmuch
as human society is one of the basic conditions for reaching supreme happiness.
Human beings can only achieve perfection if it is affirmed through social life.
As a result of living together and being in contact with each other, human
beings' experience is enriched and virtues are rooted in their soul simply by
putting these virtues into practice.
The importance of transactions with other people, as Miskawayh said,
relates to the fact that certain virtues are only evident in the company of and in
dealings and interaction with others, such as integrity, courage and generosity. If
a person did not live in this human milieu, these virtues would not be apparent,
and the individual would be like a frozen or dead person. Miskawayh repeats in
several places that this is the reason why wise men have stated that human beings
are social by nature, meaning that they need a community containing many
people to achieve complete happiness. This being so, it is easy to refer the idea
back to its original source, since Aristotle presented it in Nicomachean Ethics. 13
Beyond all this, the basic conditions for achieving happiness are psychologi-
cal; this is because training the soul, purifying it, teaching it, making it profit
from general and particular experiences, are all centred on people's will and their
MISKAWAYH 135
Our aim in this book is that we should acquire for our souls a character, whereby we shall
give nse to deeds which are all fine and good, yet will be easy for us, with no trouble or
hardship. This will be by craft and educational organization, and the way here is that we
should ftrstly know our own souls, what they are, and what kmd of thing they are, and
for what reason they were created within us - I mean, their perfection and their aim - and
what are their faculties and abilities, which, if we use them as IS needful, will bring us to
this high rank; and what are the things holdmg us back from it, and what will purify them
so they prosper, and what will come upon them so that they fail. 15
In his writings, Miskawayh did not use the word 'education' (tarbiya) since it
was not a word widely used in his day with the technical meaning it has today. It
should also be borne in mind that the word 'education' was only quite recently
acquired its modern meaning in European languages. The tendency here has been
to use the very same word which Miskawayh used in his writings, 'training'
(ta'dib) so as not to impose on it more significance than was actually intended,
and in order to present his thoughts in connection with this important human
process without encroaching on his meaning. 19 The opinion here is that reading
the text in accordance with the language of his age, and the meanings which the
writer himself intended to express, is more precise and respects scientific inte-
grity.
It is also useful to point out that the word 'teaching' (ta'Zim) was the word
in widest circulation and most used in Islamic civilization to express what we
mean today by many aspects of the word 'education'. So the words 'teaching'
and 'learning' (ta'altum) are also very close to words like 'training' and 'culture'
(adab), where they express the meaning intended. Their use was widespread also
in the third and fourth centuries of the Hegira, as was the word 'education'.
Some consider that the Koran's use of them restricts them to what today we
would call the period of early childhood. This can be attested by reference to the
Koranic words, for instance: 'Say, Lord, have mercy on them, as they nurtured
(rabba) me when young' (17:24). This being so, education indicates a task of an
obligatory nature, which is undertaken by adults, particularly parents, for the
benefit of the young. 20 If so, it can be said that the meaning of training primarily
indicates the effort expended and directed by adults to impart to the young desir-
able knowledge, morality, customs and behaviour, to prepare them in the manner
that makes them the acceptable human model within their society, namely, the
Muslim community of that time.
Miskawayh also intended to discuss 'refinement of character' and the way
of realizing this. His reflections were based on what was said by Aristotle in his
Ethics, as well as in his Discourses: evil may be transmitted through training,
even to the best people, but not in all circumstances. He saw that repeated warn-
ings, training and the adoption of good and virtuous policies must have some
MISKAWAYH 137
sort of influence among different kinds of people; there are some who accept
traming and rapidly acquire virtue, and others who approach it slowly.21
Miskawayh ended this discussion by explaining his view that every person
can be changed; he indicated this possiblity with young men and boys, and,
indeed, the necessity of training them. Miskawayh did not confine himself to
Aristotle's view, but deduces it also from the reliable laws which are the way God
deals with His creation. 22
So Miskawayh held that what boys have been accustomed to since child-
hood will influence them when they grow up; hence, he resorted to discussing the
training of young boys, to which subject he devoted some pages of his book. He
made use of one of the well-known books easily available in the academic en-
vironment of the day, and indicated it without ambiguity. Thus in the second
maqala of Tahdhib al-akhlaq there is very clearly the following heading: 'Section
on Training Young Men and Boys; Ideas Taken from the Book of Brusun' (i.e.
Bryson).
Certain orientalists came across some copies of this book, including a copy
in the Egyptian National Library bearing the title Kittib Brisis fl tadblr al-rajullz-
manzilihi [The Book of Brisis on Domestic Economy]. However, the name was
also written on an inside page of the book as 'Brusun': which the German
Orientalist Paul Kraus identified as Bryson. 23
Whatever the opinion, this book or manuscript turned Miskawayh's atten-
tion to dealing with methods of domestic economy through the discussion of
four points: money, servants, women and children.
Miskawayh borrowed from this Greek author only what he had to say
about children, in order to emphasize what he himself had already indicated, and
in many places it is almost a literal transmission. However, he sometimes added
certain personal experiences and observations from his own life. 24 It is useful to
extract from this discussion some detail on the aims of training.
Miskawayh trusted in the possibility of refining and purifying morals from the
evils and wickedness they had acquired. To this end we see him determining 'that
the art of character formation, which is concerned with the betterment of the
actions of the individual as human, is the most excellent of the arts'. 25
This trust was emphasized by the fact that in many places in his book he
considered that his remarks about young boys were equally applicable to
adults. 26 It is not easy for adults to change the character with which they have
grown up and been nurtured - except under special circumstances; unless,
indeed, they themselves grasp the extent to which their morals are corrupt, and
undertake to change them.
This sort of person it is hoped will abstain from (evil) morals gradually and
have recourse to the exemplary way by repentance and by following the example
of the good and the wise through the pursuit of philosophyP
138 Nadia Carnal al-DIn
The reason behind his emphasis on the possibility of refining character and
purifying souls, and freeing the self from evil habits and the like, stemmed from
his opinion that people are either good by nature or good by reason of law and
learning. 28 Despite this, people differ in receptivity to training and their degree of
virtuous morality and admirable behaviour. 29 They do not all belong to one
single rank and, if they differ, then this difference and disparity between them,
which is broad beyond reckoning, merits the greatest attention with regard to the
training and accustoming of young men to approved activities. Neglect of train-
ing will cause all human beings to remain the way they were during childhood.
Put another way, Miskawayh considered human beings to be in constant need of
adapting the way they were brought up and had become accustomed to during
childhood, and also what suits them naturally. If they do not do this, they will
become wretched, and their link with God is severed. This wretchedness will be
confirmed if they do not rid themselves of four characteristics: (a) laziness, idle-
ness and wasting their lives without work, with no human benefit; (b) stupidity
and ignorance, caused by failure to be curious and acquaint the soul with the
teachings spoken by wise men; (c) insolence, which results from neglect of the
soul when it unrestrainedly pursues desires and seeks to commit sins and evil
deeds; and (d) preoccupations which arise from persistence in ugly deeds. 3D
For each one of these kinds of wretchedness or delinquency there is a treat-
ment with which intelligent people can heal themselves, if they attempt to do so.
The manners mentioned by Miskawayh to train young men and boys can bring
about benefits which reflect on the person so trained.
From another angle, training (or education) can be regarded as realizing
specified aims, either from the viewpoint of the one who assumes responsibility
for it, or of the one subjected to it. To clarify this, we can present Miskawayh's
own explanations and extract from them the aims which can be directed to the
business of training. Miskawayh said:
These good manners, which are useful to boys, are likewise useful to older people; but
they are more useful to the young, because they accustom them to the love of virtues so
that they grow up accordingly. Then it is not hard for them to avoid evil, and later it is
easy for them to follow all the prescriptions of wisdom and the regulations of the law
[shari'a] and tradition [sunna]. They become accustomed to keeping themselves away
from the temptations of wicked pleasures; they refrain from indulgmg in any of those
pleasures or thmking too much about them. They make them desire the high rank of
philosophy and promote them to the high matters described at the begmning of this work,
such as seekmg proximity to God the Most High, and bemg near to the angels. They will
also be favoured in this world, With a pleasant life and a fine reputation. Their enemies
will be few, many will praise them and seek their fnendshlp, especially the virtuous,31
From this text, which is repeated in various forms in the Tahdhib, we can deduce
that Miskawayh had more than one aim for refining and training. Indeed, it can
be said that these aims include some which are temporal, for this earthly life, and
MISKAWAYH 139
some which are concerned with the hereafter, with the eternal. Each is intercon-
nected.
That which is connected with training, avoidance of evils and exercise of
the soul, and following what has been defined by law and tradition, and what
wisdom prescribes: all these together lead to a praiseworthy and pleasant life,
and a fine reputation; this is confirmed by what actually happens insamuch as
people will have few enemies and many who praise them and seek their friend-
ship and company. Thus, the practical aim attached to this earthly life, and resul-
ting from the refinement of character, enables human beings to adapt to those
around them: and this is exemplified by their conduct and relationships. They
must conform to this, continue in it, in true knowledge and action: 'sufficiency
lies not in the knowledge of virtues, but in acting with them', as Miskawayh
continually stated. 32 When human beings really act in accordance with their
knowledge, this is evidence that they have joined the ranks of the wise, or what
can be described as the highest point of perfection in humanity.33 Personal effort
in seeking knowledge, and in work and conduct, leads a person to be 'the happy
one, the perfect one, seeking to come close to God the Most High, the loving
one, the obedient one, and worthy of His friendship and love'.34
In Miskawayh's opinion, shared with Aristotle, God is 'the Wise, the
Happy, the Perfect in wisdom; He is loved only by the happy and the wise, for a
being is only happy with its like'. Hence, whosoever approaches God and ear-
nestly seeks His favour, 'God loves him and brings him close to Him, and he will
be worthy of His friendship'.35 Whosoever approaches God, and God brings him
close, becomes in this way supremely happy with a happiness that cannot be sur-
passed. 36
Such fulfilment and striving to purify one's character are the final aim of
people's journey through life, the conclusion of their work and their service here.
Miskawayh prescribed and presented this view to others who desired his know-
ledge, in the hope that it would help them to achieve it.
By this definition of the final aim, there must perforce be the means of
achieving it; consequently, leading questions can be put concerning the method of
bringing individuals up in a way that helps them to achieve this aim. Following
on what Miskawayh said, the reply requires concern for the training and refining
of souls; thence it is possible to begin by becoming acquainted with the souls of
young men and boys, and the factors influencing them, or what we could call in
today's language 'human nature and the factors influencing its formation'.
Humanity in general, Miskawayh considered, comprises the noblest of all
existing beings on the earth which we inhabitY The soul of the boy is ready to
receive virtue, because it is 'simple, not yet impressed with any form, nor has it
any opinion nor determination turning it from one thing to another'.38 Because
the soul of the boy is ready to accept training, there must be concern for him. He
must be cared for and not abandoned to someone who cannot carry out this
training well or who does not have an admirable character and excellent habits.
Miskawayh remarked that these opinions are taken from Aristotle, but he then
140 Nadia Carnal al-DIn
turned in another direction to present the boy's soul and its faculties in a way
that agrees with what Plato had earlier said in The Republic: the soul is divided
into three faculties - the appetitive, the irascible and the rational. These faculties
appear gradually, as the boy grows, until he reaches perfection and is then called
rational. Diffidence is the sign of this intelligence, the indication that the boy has
reached the stage of discernment and, consequently, training, since diffidence
means fear of doing anything unseemly.39
Miskawayh presented the means or the way by which it is possible to recog-
nize or deduce when the boy has reached this stage: by careful observation of the
boy, his intelligence can be deduced. Lowered eyes without staring, no insolent
expression on his face: these are among the signs of his nobility and his fear of
doing anything unseemly, and his preference for good and for attaining reason.
His soul is then ready for training, fit to be taken care of, and must not be
neglected. Miskawayh's experience in this field, together with Greek culture, is
his guide and the source of his ideas.
The social environment in which the boy grows up plays an obvious role in
the formation of the boy's soul, or what can be called the business of bringing
him up. That is because the boy's soul is simple, as yet without imprint, and is
ready and receptive to training, fit to be taken care of; if the boy finds himself in
a bad social milieu, he may be influenced by those around him and consequently
corrupted: the soul accepts what it grows up with and is accustomed to, and
from this results the concern to watch over young men, and particularly boys.40
The basic responsibility for this falls upon the parents. 41
In the boy's early life, Miskawayh remarked, there is a temptation to adopt
bad behaviour, such as telling tales about things that he has neither heard nor
seen and passing on falsehoods. He may even be tempted by other people's
possessions, transmit rumours that he hears and be over-inquisitive. Because of
these dangers, there must be a concern for training and refinement during child-
hood, for children are usually more open to learning and training. Their charac-
ter is evident in them from the very earliest stage, and they can neither hide nor
dissimulate it as can adults who have developed to the point where they know
their own defects and so conceal them by carrying out actions that are in fact
foreign to their nature. This being so, it is easy to recognize evil character among
young men and boys and to work to set them free from it, making them familiar
with virtuous morals, since they are capable of adapting to them rapidly.42
Starting from these viewpoints, Miskawayh presents the means and
methods that can be followed in training and refining the boy's soul. Some of
these means are abstract, seeking to influence the boy's soul, and some are
connected with his conduct and his external appearance.
MISKAWAYH 141
Training methods
The psychological aspect is the most important, so Miskawayh began wIth men-
tioning a number of abstract methods; to start with, he gives a number of posi-
tive aspects.
He considered praise as one of the most important of these means and
methods: that is, praising the boy for the good things he does which are accept-
able to adults; adults who do good deeds should also be praised in his presence.
All this emphasizes fine actIOns, whether performed by the child or by adults,
and by those who are considered as a good example.
It is important to rise above the desire for food and drink and fine clothing.
Encouragement means commending abstinence from these things and content-
ment with only the amount necessary.
The boy should be trained to admire generous characteristics in others, such
as offering food and drink to others before oneself, and restraining one's appetite
to what is moderate.
He should be warned of punishment, and made to fear being blamed for
any evil deed he may commit. If intimidation is employed, this must be by
degrees, for if the boy transgresses in any matter which has been mentioned to
him or forgets the correct behaviour, then it is best, in this case, to pretend not to
have noticed, especially if he himself realizes the error and tries to conceal it and
hide it from others.
If it is necessary to reproach the boy for what he has done, so as to avoid
his doing it again, this should be done discreetly; alternatively, if these matters
were disclosed in public it might lead the boy to be impudent, so that he would
think little of being reprimanded, and consequently might continue to indulge in
detestable pleasures to which his nature incites hIm. These pleasures are numer-
ous. 43
The educator can have recourse to physical punishment if the preceding
psychological methods are not successful, and if it is really justified. 44
These rules of conduct are connected either with sensory pleasures such as food
and drink, or with the external appearance such as clothes, or with relaxation
from the weariness of study. However, there are also rules such as play and
physical exercise, as well as those linked to the child's conduct and his relation-
ships with others.
as medicinal for the body, to remedy the pangs of hunger and to guard against
illness.
Since food is desired neither for its own sake, nor for sensory pleasure,
Miskawayh presents a series of recommendations which can be said to be more
appropriate for the life led by an ascetic Sufi novice than for a boy in his prime,
and at a fundamental stage in his growth. In Miskawayh's view, the educator is
meant to make the boy despise the idea of food, and should reduce its amount
and its variety; he should restrict himself to one kind when he is eating, and
should sometimes eat dry bread on its own. Miskawayh considered that if these
habits are commendable for the poor, it is even better that the rich should adopt
them. It should be rare to eat meat in the diet, and indeed it is better to go
without it most of the time, at the same time as abstaining from sweets and fruit.
The main meal is best taken at suppertime, so that it will not lead a person to
sleep during the day, for this is not approved.
Eating has its manners which must be watched over, and here Miskawayh
advises the boy not to hurry over his food, but rather to chew it well. He should
not let his glance dwell for long on the food and the people eating, nor watch
what they do with their hands, and he should not wipe his hands on his clothing.
The boy must not drink during the meal, and must beware of wine and any
kinds of intoxicating drinks, for these are harmful to both body and soul.
Furthermore, the boy must avoid attending any drinking sessions, so that he will
not hear the follies which go the rounds at such times, unless they are attended
by well-bred, virtuous people, from whose conversation and knowledge he can
profit. Here, it is noticeable that Miskawayh did not say that wine is forbidden,
as is clearly laid down in Islamic religion; in his view, the prohibition does not so
much stem from the rulings of Islamic religion as from an exemplary view of
how the virtuous person should behave, and the moral code to which the boy
must be trained and accustomed.
concerned with physical exercise. Despite the importance of this exercise for the
body, Miskawayh did not neglect the psychological effect of play, and hence he
includes some features of it which should be present.
Miskawayh advises giving the boy an opportunity to play at certain times,
although this play must be of a suitable kind, enabling him to relax from the
weariness of learning and observing etiquette; however, there should be nothing
in this play to cause the boy pain or distress. 46
Physical exercise is important to the body, since the boy must be accus-
tomed to walk, to move and to ride, so that he does not become lazy; various
kinds of exercise dispel dullness, stimulate energy and purify the soulY
In this connection, Miskawayh warned against sleeping for too long, for
this causes laziness, dulls the mind and deadens the thoughts. He stated that the
boy must be prevented from sleeping at all during the day.48
Here Miskawayh made religion a foundation for training and refinement. After
the supports of faith are established in the boy's soul, he can study books on
ethics, arithmetic and geometry, or whatever can be deduced by rational argu-
ments. While it can be said that this shows clear evidence that his intellectual
orientation was strongly marked by the Islamic environment and the culture in
MISKAWAYH 145
which he was brought up, as is made clear in the texts we have quoted, he does
not specify any particular law or definite religion. 55
Whatever the opinion, knowledge of the law is only an introduction or a
preparatory stage for souls that will later accept wisdom, for with continued
growth the soul can reach the stage of longing for the sciences and knowledge,
and seeking virtues, and reaching human happiness. 56 By becoming accustomed
to virtues and persevering in them, it becomes easy for the boy to reach 'the high
rank of philosophy'. 57
The preceding pages give a picture of the basic features of Miskawayh's educatio-
nal ideas which he put forward in one of the most important of his books; it also
contains a selection of his words from Kitab al-sa'ilda [The Book of Happiness].
His words of 'advice to the seeker of wisdom' or philosophy which were inclu-
ded in Yaql1t's biographical dictionary of literary men (Mu 'jam al-udabil') drew a
picture of the philosopher of ethics as he imagined him. This is explained and
repeated in his words in the Tahdhib. 58 It is also possible to glean from the books
referred to and the rapid overview of his opinions a clear picture of Greek
influence on the thinking of a Muslim philosopher who drew on the culture of
the age in which he lived and took from it what was best. He had the greatest
admiration for, and confidence in, the famous Greek philosophers, those who
still hold their place in human thought. This confirms the clarity of his vision and
his ability to choose among the different kinds of culture reaching Islamic com-
munity; indeed, it also confirms the ability of the Islamic civilization to enrich the
sciences coming from previous civilizations, to make use of them, to work with
them and add to them.
This is emphasized by Miskawayh's indication that he borrowed what he
found suitable to his aim in the works of the Greek 'Brusun', as he referred to
him. Of all the Muslim philosophers and thinkers whose intellectual works have
come down to us, he is the only one to acknowledge this.
There are some who think that, apart from Miskawayh, certain other well-
known Muslim philosophers - such as Avicenna and al-GhazalI - borrowed from
this book of Greek origin, though they did not acknowledge it as their source. 59
Further clarification can be found in the work of the orientalist,
M. Plessner, who in the 1920s published an 'Arabic' translation of a Greek text
entitled Kitab Bn/sun fT tadblr al-rajulli-manzilihi [Book by Bryson on Domestic
Economy] (Heidelberg, 1928). He observed that Kltilb al-Siyasa [The Book of
Policy] attributed to Avicenna is no more than a summary of Bryson's book. 60
When comparing 'The Book of Policy' published by Louis Cheikho, in a collec-
tion of ancient philosophical texts by famous Arabic philosophers (Maqalat fal-
safiyya qadima li-ba'd mashahir falasafat al- 'arab, Beirut, 1911), he found that
the content is concerned with the theme:
146 Nadia Camal ai-Din
that the human being IS a civil ammal needing to live In society for the sake of fulfilling hiS
basic needs. He divides up man's policy for his needs or the management of his affairs into
five sectIOns: a man's conduct of himself, directing his income and expenditure, ruling hiS
family (wife), guidance for hiS children, and governing his servants. What comes under
these headings in the Book of Policy is a precise summary of what is in Bryson's previously
mentioned book. 61
This is what has been said by some, to explain Avicenna's borrowing from
Bryson. AI-GhazalI may have done the same, although he does not indicate that
he borrowed from anyone. However, a reading of the section in Ihya' 'ulum al-
din [The Revival of the Religious Sciences] on the training of boys, entitled
'Explanation of the Way to Exercise Boys When They Are First Growing, and
How to Train Them and Improve Their Character',62 shows clearly many points
of resemblance to what was said by Miskawayh, which has led some to say that
al-GhazalI copied from Miskawayh without acknowledging the fact. 63 As it is
now known that Miskawayh borrowed from and clearly defined his Greek
source, it may be said that the source of both was the same - the Greek heritage
may have been translated into Arabic in a variety of versions. In this case per-
haps al-GhazalI copied directly from Bryson's text, which was well known before
his time and perhaps also during it, and not from Miskawayh; alternatively, he
may have read both the Greek original and Miskawayh, and borrowed from
both of them. In any case, not much real difference exists between the translation
and the writings.
Despite all this, the fact remains that both were influenced by an Arabic
translation known as The Book of Brzisun [or BrisisJ on Domestic Economy,
and that each of them still kept his distinctive viewpoint and his aim in training
young men, and particularly boys, and other aspects of his general philosophy.
Perhaps it can also be said that, although al-GhazalI was influenced by this text,
his expression of the final aim of training young boys remained closer to the
spirit of Islamic religion than Miskawayh's. For al-GhazalI the actual content of
education, or its material, was taken from the Koran and the Prophet's sunna. 64
It should also be pointed out that Miskawayh was content simply to talk
about the training of boys, without giving any details concerning the content of
this training or the educational material they should learn; likewise he did not
refer to the teachers, or to their manners and culture, as did others whose aims
were in fact to write about the educational process and things connected with
it. 6s
If Miskawayh wove together his thinking from both religious and philo-
sophICal sources, or did not hesitate to take over what the minds of wise men
had concluded in the moral realm and corresponded to the objectives of the
Islamic shari'a, this influence from foreign cultures was not entirely good. What
is particularly noticeable in everything Miskawayh wrote is that he spoke only
about the training of boys. He excluded girls and did not direct any obvious
attention towards them, or to women in general. In this he was influenced by the
MISKAWAYH 147
source from which he drew, or the portion of the book which he used, and did
not modify it. In this case, it would seem that Miskawayh was writing for an
imaginary, non-existent society, one in which women had no place; thus, he
restricted his discussion to boys, the men of tomorrow, and no more. It has been
said that he did acknowledge the existence of women in his society, yet the evil
opinions widespread about them influenced by the new cultures meant that he
did not pay any attention to them. The philosophers, or those who were influen-
ced by the new philosophies, opposed the spirit of Islam and what was decreed
by tradition (hadnh) and the sunna of the Prophet on this point in particular,
confining themselves to men when expressing their educational opinions, and
keeping women well outside their concerns in the sphere of teaching. 66
Miskawayh did distance himself from daily life on this point. The rules of
conduct he presented and the exercises desirable for training young boys did not
show any concern for their existence in everyday life. He did not prepare them
for practical human life; on the contrary, they were prepared for a life closer to
that of the military - harsh, tough and ascetic. In addition to this, what they
would acquire as a result of this endeavour would be much clearer when the soul
freed itself from the body; for the reward is in the hereafter, when this life is fin-
ished, when the spirit will obtain closeness to the Perfectly Happy.
Although Miskawayh wrote of life in a community, and its necessity for
human existence, he did not refer to the various occupations that are necessary
and important to maintain the existence of this community and the human
beings living in it. That is, he did not speak about preparing the boy for work,
and his various roles as producer and consumer, and a profession or craft to pro-
vide for his future. Referring to his words about the necessity of linking learning
with action, it would seem that the action meant here is human conduct in gen-
eral, and not productive work from the economic angle as we understand it
today. This also places him nearer the thought of the new culture, which elevated
intellectual activity and left 'work' to the lower orders in society - to servants
and slaves. Thus, he did not consider preparation for earthly life, from the angle
of work and acquiring a livelihood, to be among the aims of bringing up and
training young boys. This could be interpreted as saying that his book was
intended for the elite, not for the general public; he was presenting an education
suitable for a learned, thinking elite, with sufficient time on their hands and an
ample lifestyle permitting them to strive for purity of the soul. Then the aim of
training could be concentrated on benefit for the individual in the first place and
not for the whole community.
Although responsibility for refining and purifying the soul is an individual
one, with every person responsible for himself in the fIrst place, and only sub-
sequently being required to complement these virtues by helping others along the
way, Miskawayh did not speak of acts of worship obligatory for all Muslims, for
these are responsibilities which fall on the shoulders of the adult person. Nor did
Miskawayh mention any of the foundations of culture in the Islamic community,
except for religion, and the learning and sciences closely connected with it.
148 Nadia Carnal al-DIn
Perhaps he considered this among the matters that are completed at an early
stage of life, which the individual can reach and practise without much assist-
ance; or that they already have their foundations to which the boy can be
directed. Therefore, what he presents in his book is concerned with particular
matters known only to the privileged. This may be borne out by the fact that
Miskawayh's ideas about training young boys were only one part of his ethical
thinking, and not one of his primary aims. 67
To sum up the foregoing, the basic aim of training, exercise and the acquisi-
tion of knowledge, and its application, is the refinement and purification of the
soul: thus fulfilling its perfection in this world, and reaching its happiness which
is realized by proximity to the Perfectly Happy.
So the basic and final aim of training is an ethical aim, although it speaks of
closeness to God by way of seeking to resemble Him in the hope of proximity to
Him, and acquiring absolute happiness through this proximity. On the basis of
what Miskawayh said about happiness by closeness to the Perfectly Happy, this
idea is taken mainly from Aristotle. It is not the satisfaction of God and attaining
the reward in His paradise which God the Most High promised to His servants
who follow His commands and avoid what He prohibits. It is confirmed that
'Perfect Happiness' is not one of the attributes of God the Most High in the
Islamic view; thus, bringing the human soul to realize supreme happiness by
closeness to the Perfectly Happy after being set free from the body, in the picture
presented by Miskawayh, expresses only an ethical, philosophical aim, rather
than a religious aim. Hence, although Miskawayh lived in an Islamic cultural
environment, he directed his intellect to Greek thought. His aims for upbringing,
training and refinement, or education in today's language, were an expression of
a borrowed culture, not the culture in which he lived. Nevertheless, the basic
credit here goes to the spirit predominant in the Islamic community, which could
permit at least some of its thinkers to transmit, or be influenced by, past cultures
without impediment; and it also confirms the idea of the meeting of cultures and
the cross-fertilization of world civilizations and their mutual influence in an on-
going movement of human thought. The human being will always remain
capable of producing knowledge, seeking to increase it, transmitting it to others,
adding to it and renewing it; this means that, following Miskawayh's example,
continual care and attention should be paid to the refinement of character and
the purification of dispositions.
Notes
1. See, for instance: Adam Metz, al-hadarat al-islamiyya fI l-qarn al-rabic'al-hzjrI
[Islamic CiVIlization in the Fourth Century a.h.] (trans. by Muhammad 'Abd al-
Hadi Abu Rayda), Cairo, Lijnat al-ta'hf wa-l-tarjama wa-l-nashr, 1957.
2. See, for instance: Abu Hayyan al-Tawhidi, al-Imta' wa-l-mu'linasa [Delight and
Sociability], Beirut, Maktabat al-Hayat, n.d.; T. J. De Boer, Tli'rIkh al-falsafa fI 1-
Islam [History of Philosophy in Islam] (trans. by Muhammad 'Abd al-Hadi Abu
Rayda), Cairo, Lijnat ..., 1938.
MISKAWAYH 149
62. Imam al-GhazalI, Ihyli' 'ublm ai-din [Revival of the Religious Sciences], foreword by
BadawI Tabana, pp. ili. 69-72, Egypt, D~lr IhyJ.' al-kutub al-'arabiyya, n.d.
63. Zaki Mubarak, ai-Akhiaq 'inda ai-Ghazail [GhazaII's Ethics], pp. 224 et seq., Cairo,
Dar al-kItab al-'arabi li-I-tiba'a wa-I-nashr, 1968.
64. For more detail, see: Muhammad Nabil Nawfal, Abzl Hamid ai-Ghazail wa-ara'uhu
fli-tarbzya wa-i-ta'ilm [Abu Hamid al-GhazaII and HIS Views on Education], p. 339,
Cairo, Maktabat Kulliyat al-tarblya, 'Ayn Shams University, 1967. (UnpublIshed
M.A. theSIS.)
65. See, for instance: Ben Sahnun, 'Adab al-mu'allimIn' [Manners of Teachers], and al-
Qabisi (Abu I-Hasan 'AlI b. Khalaf), 'al-Rlsala al-mufassila li-ahwal al-muta'allimIn
wa-I-mu'allImIn' [Detailed Epistle on the Conditions of Learners and Teachers], both
publIshed in Ahmad Fu'ad al-Ahwani, ai-Tarbiya fl i-Islelm [Education In Islam],
Cairo, Dar al-ma'arif al-misriyya, 1961.
66. See, for instance, Nadia Gamal ai-DIn, Faisafat ai-tarblya 'inda Ikhwan ai-Safli'
[Philosophy of Education in (the Views of) the Brethren of Purity], Cairo, al-Markaz
al-'arabI II-l-sahafa, 1983.
67. For more details on the sources of this objective, see 'Izzat, op. cit., p. 368.
Works by Miskawayh
Miskawayh did not devote any particular book to education, but many of his writings
dealt with this subject. The most important of Miskawayh's wntings have been pnnted
several times:
Ahmad b. Muhammad Ya'qub (Miskawayh). Tahdhlb ai-akhlelq wa-tathlr ai-a'raq
[Treatise on Ethics and Purification of Dispositions]. Cairo, Maktabat Muhammad
'Ali Subayh, 1959. (There are numerous pnntings of this book, including the one
edited by Qustantin Zurayq, Beirut, Maktabat al-hayat, 1966.)
Mlskawayh (Abu 'Ali Ahmad b. Muhammad). Ta/lirtb ai-umam [Experiences of Nations].
(Ed. H. F. Amedroz.) Egypt, Matba'at sharikat al-tamaddun al-sIna'iyya, 1915.
(Ibn) Miskawayh. Ai-Fauz ai-asghar [The Smallest Achievement]. Egypt, Mustafa al-
kutubi, A.H. 1325 (1988).
Abu Hayyan al-Tawhldi; Mlskawayh. ai-HalOlimtl wa-i-shawlimtl [Carriers and Groups].
Cairo, Ahmad AmIn; Matba 'at Lajnat al-ta'\If wa-I-tarjama wa-I-nashr, 1951.
'Abd al-'Aziz 'Izzat. Ibn Miskawayh wa-faisafatuhu ai-akhiaqlyya wa-masadiruha [Ibn
Mlskawayh, His Ethical Philosophy and Its Sources], pp. 125-41, Cairo, Maktabat
wa-matba'at al-BabI al-HalabI, 1946. The pages referred to contaIn a bibliography
of Miskawayh's surviving works, pnnted and in manuscnpt, stIli preserved in li-
braries around the world. His manuscripts Include items written on the margins of
other manuscripts, which are not independent works. Miskawayh's adVice to the
seeker of Wisdom, for example, we find published in the book of Yaqut al-Hamawi,
Mu'/am ai-udaba' [The Dictionary of Learned Men] (more usually ma'rifat al-
udaba'), ed. Margoliouth, pp. ii. 49 et seq.
Kitab Taharat ai-nafs [PurificatIOn of the Soul]. Microfilm No. 417, Philosophy, in the
Egyptian NatiOnal Library.
]livldhan Khlrad [Eternal Wisdom]. MICrofilm in Library of Cairo University, on the mar-
gin of manuscript of Nuzhat ai-arwah lOa-raudat ai-afrah of Shahrazuri, No.
23005. (In Persian.)
152 Nadia Carnal ai-DIn
1
MONTAIGNE
(1533-92)
Gerard Wormser
[A] ... and just as women left alone may sometimes be seen to produce shapeless lumps
of flesh but need to be kept busy by a semen other than her own III order to produce good
natural offspring: so too with our minds. If we do not keep them busy with some particu-
lar subject which can serve as a bridle to reign them in, they charge ungovernably about,
rangmg to and fro over the wastelands of our thoughts. 2
[B] ... I love terms which soften and tone down the rashness of what we put forward,
terms such as 'perhaps', 'somewhat', 'some', 'they say', 'I think' and so on. And If I had
had sons to bring up I would have trained their lips to answer with [e] inquiring and
undecided [B] expressIOns such as, 'What does this mean?' 'I do not understand that', 'It
might be so', 'Is that true?' so that they would have been more likely to retain the manners
of an apprentice at sixty than, as boys do, to act like learned doctors at ten. Anyone who
wishes to be cured of Ignorance must flfSt admit to it: [e] Iris is the daughter of
Thaumantls: amazement IS the foundation of all philosophy; inquiry, its way of advanc-
ing; and Ignorance IS ItS end. [B] Yes Illdeed: there is a kind of ignorance, strong and
magnanimous, which III honour and courage IS in no wise inferior to knowledge; [e] you
need no less knowledge to beget such ignorance than to beget knowledge itself.3
What is more, Montaigne's scepticism is far removed from the Cartesian formu-
lation of the 'method of rightly conducting the reason and searching after truth
in the sciences' (1637), and is scarcely consistent with the standard-setting
dimension which seems inseparable from all education.
MONTAIGNE 155
the themes essential to any philosophy of education by dealing with the imagin-
ation and habit: How is the human mind affected by its inner urges and by
elements from the outside world? Our imagination produces many effects in
reality and provides the most telling evidence against the primacy of the will in
human behaviour. Our bodies are in many instances not subordinated to our
wills; by and large, the body is more accessible to the imagination than govern-
able by the will. One has only to reflect on the first love story that comes to
mind; Montaigne can argue even more conclusively from the various symptoms
that affect everyone and which psychoanalysis was later to describe - phobias,
lapses of memory, recurrence and fixations of all kinds. In animals, too, the
influence of ideation is evident - for example, domestic animals dying from grief
over the deaths of their owners and, more convincingly, animals immobilizing
their prey by holding their gaze.
Habit, even when based on a figment of the imagination 'gradually and
stealthily ... slides her authoritative foot into us; then, having by this gentle and
humble beginning planted it firmly within us, helped by time she later discloses
an angry tyrannous countenance, against which we are no longer allowed even to
lift up our eyes'.! Whereupon Montaigne concludes that 'our greatest vices do
acquire their bent during our most tender infancy, so that our formation is
chiefly in the hands of our wet-nurses'.8 The hold which imagination and habit
acquire over children's attitudes can therefore be judged from their earliest
expression. If children are not taught to detest their natural vices, 'whatever
mask they hide behind',9 'what is the use of educating them?' Whatever our
opinion on the matter, we must realize that all behaviour, all value judgements,
are based to some extent on habit, or custom, for the habits, or customs, of the
place where you were born, widely though these may differ from one place to
another, rule your conscience. This line of thought is continued in the brief essay
on credulity, 'That it is madness to judge the true and the false from our own
capacities': 'How many of the things which constantly come into our purview
must be deemed monstrous or miraculous if we apply such terms to anything
which outstrips our reason!'lO
The essence of any education is thus the way in which it inculcates moral
principles consistent with the goal of wisdom and calculated to develop a
conscience enabling us all to bring our behaviour in line with incontestable stan-
dards. For this reason, Montaigne mercilessly mocks teachers who, unable to get
the children to assimilate what they are taught, are content with puffing them up
with it, making them conceited and arrogant: '[A] Learned we may be with
another man's learning: we can only be wise with wisdom of our own'.]] Hence
'[A] since I would prefer that he turned out to be an able man not an erudite one,
I would wish you to be careful to select as guide for him a tutor with a well-
formed rather than a well-filled brain.']2
Only on this condition can we rediscover the Socratic method of teaching
by means of exercises in which the pupil shows his capacity for discernment.
However difficult this may be, it is possible '[C] to judge how far down the tutor
158 Gerard Wormser
of this illusion; what matters is to endure what does not depend on us and 'to
restrict our life's appurtenances to their right and naturallimits'Y This is what is
essential, convergent as it happens with the teachings of philosophy, which takes
first place in this education and which in turn recommends introduction to some
of the positive sciences, under the direction of specialists on whom the tutor can
call for assistance.
Inserted after the last edition to appear during the author's lifetime, this state-
ment is equivalent to a legacy: his affirmations are to be judged not so much on
their substance as on the thoughts that they arouse. The different nature of
human thoughts and things established by God's ordinance is assumed: the
former do not coincide with the latter except by chance. To deny this, in the
absence of tangible proof to the contrary, would be presumption, 'the natural,
original distemper of man'.J9 Thus we see in what way Montaigne's scepticism is
something quite different from relativism: it rests on a study of man in which
capricious and unruly thinking is found to be the natural disposition of the mind.
This is particularly evident in the 'Apology for Raymond Sebond', which
contrasts the habitual behaviour of the various alllmate creatures with the arcana
of science. Any opinion will be more soundly based on actions rather than
principles contrived for the occasion. The same is true in respect of theological
morality: '[C] The distinctive mark of the Truth we hold ought to be Virtue,
which is the most exacting mark of Truth, the closest one to heaven and the most
worthy thing that Truth produces.'2o
Since we embrace perforce the faith of our birthplace, it behoves us to act in
such a way that those who do not share it gain respect for it by observing the
virtue of those who profess it. So Montaigne's relativism is above all a realism
that avoids fictions that conflict with experience. Turning anthropocentrism
round, he seeks the signs of God's greatness in the world: 'So let us consider for a
while man in isolation - man with no outside help, armed with no arms but his
own and stripped of that grace and knowledge of God in which consist his
dignity, his power and the very ground of his being.'21 Pascal will have only to
copy such statements to fit them into his reasoning. Montaigne bases his remarks
on a reductive operation: the qualities peculiar to man are discerned outside any
pre-established framework, their description being limited to that of deeds and
their relationship with motivations. Any certainty is referred back to this
metaphysical reductionism intended to preserve the human mind from the pre-
160 Gerard Wormser
sumptuous illusion that the world should be under the domination of man: 'The
vanity of this same thought makes him equal himself to God; attribute to himself
God's mode of being; pick himself out and set himself apart from the mass of
other creatures.'22 What comes naturally to animals (things for which we have to
be educated) shows that they attest to the greatness of God in Nature.
Montaigne's comparative approach is not limited to human behaviour; it is
extended to all forms of life. It is the organization of our actions which matters,
not the way we explain them to ourselves.
The exercise of doubt will shed more light than any dogmatic knowledge:
'[A] There is a plague on man: his opinion that he knows something.'23 It is wiser
to remain in a state of uncertainty than to adhere to a poorly established dogma.
It is because language reveals this presumption - 'I doubt' is still an affirmation -
that Montaigne adopts as his motto, 'Que scay-je?' (What do I know?), a ques-
tion which reminds us of our ignorance of the reasons behind all things, however
enlightened we may be regarding this or that particular point. Since we are apt to
give credence to the theories that we are continually thinking up, we must refrain
from putting forward any that have not been weighed up with convincing argu-
ments. The most diverse philosophical principles being open to question and
Montaigne's own principles being formulated in fragments here and there, he
says of himself: 'A new character: a chance philosopher, not a premeditated
one!'24
This subverting of philosophical values is not without its parallel in
Nietzsche. The most traditional philosophical theories, those relating to the soul
in particular, reflect our fears and hopes rather than our reason, which can be
bent to any end, as Pascal was to reaffirm. Chance alone leads us to some truth:
through this powerlessness which we confess we render thanks to God without
attributing to ourselves a greatness that is not ours.
[A] Our minds are dangerous tools, rash and prone to go astray: it is hard to reconcile
them With order and moderation.... We rein It m, neck and throat [the human mind],
with religions, laws, customs, precepts, rewards and punishments (both mortal and
immortal), and we still fmd It escapmg from all these bonds, With its garrulousness and
laxity.25
The variations to which our sense organs are subject, sense organs that condition
our relationship with the world and our humour in general, afford countless
examples of the difficulty of perceiving people's qualities objectively. A striking
argument can be drawn from premonitory dreams, which occur when our minds
are at the farthest remove from the lucidity with which the philosophers credit
them.
Human customs are so heteroclite that any attempt to find a common
denominator is defeated:
[B] It is quite believable that natural laws exist: we can see that in other creatures. But we
have lost them; that fine human reason of ours is always interfering, seeking dominance
MONTAIGNE 161
and mastery, distorting and confoundmg the face of everything according to its own
vanity and inconsistency.26
And again:
[C] Where my borrowings are concerned, see whether I have been able to select something
which improves my theme: I get others to say what I cannot put so well myself, sometimes
because of the weakness of my language and sometimes because of the weakness of my
intellect.... I will love the man who can pluck out my feathers - I mean by the perspi-
cacity of his judgement and by his sheer ability to distinguish the force and beauty of the
topics. 28
This type of reading, which he seeks to the extent of deliberately omitting the
sources of certain references so that the reader will not be biased for or against,
is in keeping with the emphasis on the educational value of poetry and the
theatre, which illustrate the transition from one situation to another,29 and show
the psychological and educational need for experimenting with all kinds of atti-
tudes, for putting ourselves in someone else's place to feel what it is like (De ['ins-
titution des enfans), and for preparing ourselves by asceticism for the changes
which will affect us (I, 39), 'De la solitude' [On Solitude]). Contrary to all forms
of behaviourism, Montaigne's conception of doubt holds variety in the subjects
reviewed imperative: in every case there is an opportunity of rounding out
descriptions aimed at going closer to the heart of things.
More basically, eidetic variation complements in the field of psychology the
method of reduction developed by Montaigne in respect of knowledge:
[C] In the study I am making of our manners and motives, fabulous testimonies - pro-
vided they remain possible - can do service as well as true ones.... I can see this and
profit by it equally in semblance as in reality. There are often different versions of a story:
I make use of the one which IS rarest and most memorable. There are some authors whose
aim is to relate what happened: mine (if I could manage it) would be to relate what can
happen. 3o
Montaigne dwells on his pleasant sensations at the time - the pain came after he
recovered consciousness, and that was another face of death. The memory of the
accident itself came back to him later - it was absent from his first recollections.
The last edition brings enlightening comments that give the account general
significance:
[C] No description is more dIfficult than the describing of oneself; and none, certainly, IS
more useful. ... I am chiefly portraYIng my ways of thinkIng, a shapeless subject which
SImply does not become manifest in deeds. I have to struggle to couch it in the flimsy
medium of words.... I am all on display, lIke a mummy on whICh at a glance you can see
the veins, the muscles and the tendons, each piece in its place.... It is not what I do that I
write of, but of me, of what I am. J J
Between the first edition and the subsequent additions, Montaigne's intention
became more radical: what was at first the formulation of an experience border-
ing on death developed into an eidetic of personal existence continued from one
text to another. The essay 'Nous ne goustons rien de pur' [We Can Savour
Nothing Pure] thus takes things to extremes in a speculative experience:
[C] When I picture a man besieged by all the enjoyments which he could desire - say that
all his members were forever seized of a pleasure equal to that of sexual intercourse at its
clImax - I see him collapSIng under the weight of his joy; and I can perceive him quite
incapable of beanng pleasure so pure, so constant and so total: truly, once there, he runs
away and naturally hastens to escape from it as from some narrow passage where he can-
not fInd solid ground and fears to be engulfed. 34
If too much joy is unbearable it is because admixtures are our lot. While in the
first edition Montaigne was content with a literary and moral approach to this
subject, this kinaesthetic fiction added in the last version shows the turn taken by
his project.
Book Ill, written for the second edition, is particularly significative of this
line of inquiry, which is clearly stated in the first essay 'De l'utile et de l'honneste'
[On the Useful and the Honourable]:
[B] Our being is cemented together by qualities which are diseased. Ambition, jealousy,
envy, vengeance, superstition and despair lodge in us with such a natural right of pos-
session that we recognize the lIkeness of them even in the animals too - not excluding so
unnatural a vice as cruelty; for in the mIdst of compassion we feel deep down some bitter-
sweet prickIng of malicious pleasure at seeIng others suffer. Even children feel it.... If
anyone were to remove the seeds of such qualities in man he would destroy the basic
properties of our lives. 35
The trend of the Essays has become more radical: exploration of the mind backs
up the considerations on violence. After these remarks, Montaigne adds: '[B] The
public interest requires men to betray, to tell lies [C] and to massacre.' His object
therefore is not so much directly moral as phenomenological - to describe the
behaviour of minds in situations in which they can act on one another. Violence
164 Gerard Wormser
In his essay, 'De trois commerces' [On Three Kinds of Social Intercourse],
Montaigne explains that his mind requires no bookish subject to occupy it. Once
again it is a matter of judgement rather than memory, of meditation rather than
book learning. Those who have it exhibit such bad faith in discussion that this
method of learning is again criticized in the essay, 'De l'art de conferer' [On the
Art of Conversation]: Valuable though it may be,
[B] in the kmd of men (and their number IS infinite) who make it the base and foundation
of their worth and achievement, who quit their understanding for their memory ... and
can do nothing except by book, I loathe [it] (dare I say it?) a little more than I loathe
stupidity. In my part of the country and during my own lifetime, school-learnmg has
brought amendment of purse but rarely amendment of soul,3?
for the use made of any learning depends on the motivations of the user: '[B]
they clobber you with the authority of their experience: they have heard this;
they have seen that; they have done this: you are overwhelmed with cases'.38 This
distrust is extended to any academic institution setting its own standards but
unconcerned about those who personify its missions and should be judged not so
much on their technical competence as on the resulting quality of judgement: '[B]
The fruit of a surgeon's experience lies not in a recital of his operations ... unless
he knows how to extract from them material for forming his judgement.'39 As
for those who rule over us, of those who hold the world in their hands, '[B] they
are far beneath us if they are not way above us. Since they promise more, they
owe much more toO.'40 We must particularly distrust words whose allegedly
general significance obscures the feeble hypotheses on which they are based.
MONTAIGNE 165
trine, provided that it is referred to the underlying thought, which becomes more
and more radical as the writing of the Essays progresses. According to this
conception of anthropology, disregard for the natural limits of our faculties is the
mainspring of violence. Montaigne's quasi-phenomenological method of describ-
ing states of mind shows education as learning to know oneself, one's strengths
and weaknesses, and becoming tough enough to accept our mortal condition.
Curiosity concerning the world is evidence of the vacuity of a conscience not
endowed with the treasures of the whole of humanity, which means that it is for
education to build a genuine conscience.
Notes
1
M A R I A MONTESSORI
(1870-1952)
Hermann Rohrs
The figure of Maria Montessori stands out above most of those who were invol-
ved in the New Education. Rarely have attempts been made to establish a set of
educational precepts which would have such universal validity as hers, and very
few others had such a powerful influence on developments in the world as a
whole. The all-embracing nature of her ideas is perhaps all the more astonishing
in view of the fact that in the initial stages of her research she concentrated on
work with very young children, and only later extended it to include older chil-
dren and the family. She regarded infancy as the critical phase in the evolution of
the individual, during which the groundwork for all subsequent development is
laid, and hence ascribed universal validity to statements about this period of life.
Montessori was also an exemplary figure in that she sought to establish a meet-
ing-ground of theory and practice in the form of the Children's Houses and her
didactic materials. No other representative of the New Education put their
theories into practice on the same scale; she initiated a varied programme on an
international scale that remained without equal.
The truly remarkable thing is that the discussion surrounding her ideas is
just as lively and full of controversy today as it was when they were first
published. After 1909, when she first appeared in print (at the suggestion of her
closest friends, Anna Maccheroni and Alice Franchetti), her works began to be
translated into all of the major world languages. The spread of her ideas was
aided by a series of stimulating and elegantly articulated lectures held in all parts
of the world.
Today the struggle to understand this phenomenon - the relationship bet-
ween theory and practice, individual and work, what was borrowed and what
was original - is as intense as ever, as can be seen by the number of publications
in Germany that have dealt with these questions in recent years (Bohm, 1991). A
170 Hermann Rijhrs
truly comprehensive assessment was made possible only by the re-issue of her
complete works.
This continuing discussion is not motivated at all by a reverent desire to
protect and preserve the past, but by a genuine spirit of inquiry. This is so for
two reasons. First, the attraction of Montessori's personality, which has survived
in her work and gives her ideas a special fascination; second, the intentions
behind her work, which were to provide the education of children with a scienti-
fically valid basis and to re-evaluate it constantly by means of practical experi-
ments.
Maria Montessori was born in 1870 at Chiaravalle near Ancona, Italy, and died
in 1952 at Nordwijk in the Netherlands. In 1896 she became the first woman in
Italy to finish medical school with a study on neuropathology. For the following
two years she worked as an assistant at the Psychiatric Clinic of the University of
Rome; among other things she was responsible for the care of mentally handi-
capped children. The time spent with these children and the experience of their
still intact need and desire to play led her to investigate possibilities for educating
them. She discovered the works of the French doctors Bourneville, Itard and
Seguin, and of Pereira, a Spaniard who had lived in Paris and known Rousseau
and Diderot. She was especially impressed by Itard, who had sought to civilize
the wild boy found in the forests of Aveyron by stimulating and developing his
senses, and by Itard's pupil, Edouard Seguin. On the whole she revealed little
about her sources of inspiration, but in her writings she discussed in depth her
efforts to come to terms with Seguin's works, especially with the book Idiocy:
and its Treatment by the Physiological Method, 2 which appeared after Seguin
had emigrated to the United States and in which he described his method for the
second time (Montessori, 1969, p. 29).
Inspired by her experiences with the children at the clinic, who had played
with pieces of bread on the floor for lack of other toys, and by the exercises for
sharpening the sensory functions developed by Seguin, Maria Montessori decided
to devote herself to educational problems. In 1900/01 she had a position at the
Scuola Magistrale Ortofrenica, an institute responsible for the training of
teachers for special schools (for example, for handicapped and mentally retarded
children). After a study of education she became involved in the modernization
of a Roman slum quarter, San Lorenzo, by assuming responsibility for the educa-
tion of the children. Her answer to this situation of need was the establishment
of a Children's House (Casa dei Bambini), in which the children were to learn
about the world and develop the ability to plan their own lives.
San Lorenzo was the beginning of a kind of renaissance movement which
served to renew belief in the betterment of mankind by means of the education of
children. Although Maria Montessori based her work on scientific principles, she
nevertheless considered childhood to be a continuation of the act of creation.
M A R I A MONTESSORI 171
helmets and baskets that were employed to teach children to walk too early were
inspired by Rousseau, as was her resultant conclusion: 'It is essential to let nature
have its on way as far as possible; the more freedom children are allowed to
develop, the quicker and more perfectly they will attain higher forms and func-
tions.'
She definitely had not carried out a systematic study of Rousseau's works -
but just as she adopted a great deal of the critical discussion of culture and
society of her own day, she must have read at least some parts of Emile, above all
the first book. Her attitude towards other educators involved in the New
Education movement, such as Dewey, Kilpatrick, Decroly and Ferriere, is simi-
larly difficult to ascertain. Although she met many of them in connection with
her work in the New Education Fellowship, no real collaboration with them
came about. The only ones she even mentioned in her own works were
Washburne and Percy Nunn - the latter above all in connection with her concept
of 'absorbent mind'.
Percy Nunn, at that time president of the British section of the New
Education Fellowship, met her when she gave a series of lectures in London. His
ideas of mneme and hormic theory, presented in his book Education: Its Data
and First Prmciples (Nunn, 1920), helped her arrive at her view of the construc-
tive function of the developing human mind, which determines the course of life
in constant interaction with the environment and in so doing takes on a definite
shape itself.
She was also inspired by Ovide Decroly. Their lives and work had much in
common: they were almost the same age (Montessori was born in 1870, Decroly
in 1871), both studied medicine and both established educational institutions in
1907, the Casa dei Bambini in Rome and Ecole pour la Vie par la Vie in Brussels.
Since both of them were active members of the New Education Fellowship they
met and had discussions many times. 3 However, at the time of their meeting they
had both already developed their concepts for the most part, so that the great
similarity of their approaches was primarily due to their having both studied the
works of Itard and Seguin.
The basic concept behind Montessori's educational work was that of provi-
ding children with a suitable environment in which to live and learn. The signifi-
cant thing about her educational programme is that it gave equal emphasis to
internal and external development, arranged so that they complemented one
another. But the fact that external education was even given consideration,
having been considered merely a consequence of the success of internal education
by the idealistic schools of philosophy and education, bears witness to the
scientific orientation of the programme. Here Seguin's influence must have been
decisive, as well as that of Pereira, who had established the role of the senses in
the development of the personality. The idea that it is possible to form and alter
human beings exclusively by means of manipulating their sensory input, which
Diderot discussed in his Lettres sur les aveugles and Lettres sur les muets, and
M A R I A MONTESSORI 173
which inspired Rousseau's programme for training the senses, also played an
important part in Montessori's theories.
The truly original nature of Montessori's ideas can only be grasped if they
are compared with the method developed by the Agazzi sisters. The work of
Rosa and Carolina Agazzi was one of the most remarkable attempts to make
progress in the education of young children. It is important to us today because it
occurred within the same environment in which Montessori developed her ideas.
As early as 1882 Rosa Agazzi and her sister took over a home (Il Nuovo Asilo)
in Monpiano, Brescia, which is considered to be the first Children's House in
Italy (Pasquali, 1903). Just as Montessori did later, Rosa Agazzi also sought to
intensify and control the education of young children by means of altering their
living environment (Agazzi, 1932).
Montessori introduced the education process by means of a set of standard-
ized learning materials; Rosa Agazzi, on the other hand, insisted that objects
collected by the children themselves carry out this function. In this way the
objects were to be experienced more thoroughly and the process of abstraction
only introduced after this first stage had been absolved. However, it would be
incorrect to state that the difference between the two approaches was that the
Agazzi sisters encouraged direct experience and Montessori abstraction;
Montessori was also very much concerned with the experiential stage. She never-
theless placed greater emphasis on introducing the process of comparison and
abstraction, which is of paramount importance for intellectual development, in a
controlled and intelligently planned manner, so that it would not be left to
chance.
Like other New Educators, Montessori was aware of the fact that it is
necessary to take the inclinations and interests of the children themselves as the
starting-point if the educational process is to remain relatively free of conflicts.
But she also recognized that these inclinations and interests must be encouraged
and deepened by means of exercises, and further that the success of this is depen-
dent on awakening a feeling of responsibility in the children. This was her truly
original contribution: she not only gave consideration to the inclinations and
interests of the children, as was done by many New Educators who based their
work solely on this principle, but also sought to encourage responsibility and
self-discipline on the part of the children.
keeping order so that they could ascend a kind of 'ladder' towards self-realiza-
tion.
Freedom and discipline interacted, and the basic tenet was that neither one
could be achieved without the other. Seen in this way, discipline was not some-
thing imposed from the outside but rather a challenge to become worthy of free-
dom. In this connection Montessori wrote: 'We call someone disciplined if he is
his own master and can therefore command himself to behave properly if a rule
of life must be observed' (Montessori, 1969, p. 57).
The idea central to self-determination, namely that freedom is possible only
if one submits to laws that one has discovered and decided upon oneself, which
Rousseau formulated in terms of his valante generale, was not expressly stated in
her works. Around the turn of the century Italian philosophy was dominated by
positivistic thought, to be sure, but idealistic and neo-Kantian tendencies were
also represented by Alessandro Chiapelli, Bernardino Varisco and Benedetto
Croce. It is not very likely that Montessori studied these philosophers to any
great extent; nevertheless, she had her children participate actively in the shaping
of their living environment, as well as its rules and principles of order, and in this
way justice was thoroughly done to the idea of moral autonomy.
But Montessori went even further: she systematically developed the logical
sequel of these ideas, namely, their application and practice in real-life situations,
an aspect that has often been passed over too lightly by educators. The pro-
gramme she developed to do this involved 'exercises in daily living', or 'exercices
de la vie pratique', as she called them in the first of her lectures held in France
(Montessori, 1976, p. 105). These included exercises in patience, exactness and
repetition, all of which were intended to strengthen the powers of concentration.
It was important that these exercises be done each day within the context of
some real 'task' and not as mere games or busy work. They were rounded out by
practice in being still and meditating, which formed the point of transition from
'external' to 'internal' education.
In her writings Montessori repeatedly stressed the importance of developing
attitudes instead of just practical abilities; she wrote that practical work should
result in an attitude by means of contemplation: 'disciplined behaviour becomes
a basic attitude'.
For her this was the real task of the Children's Houses:
The central feature of this development of the personality was free work which satisfies
the natural needs of inner life. Therefore free mtellectual work shows itself to be the basis
of inner discipline. The principal achievement of the Children's Houses has been to instil
discipline in the children [Montessori, 1976, p. 107].
This statement was then given force by a comparison with religious education:
This remmds one of the advice given by the Catholic Church for maintaining intellectual
and spiritual strength, I.e. after a period of 'mward concentration' one can attain to
'moral strength'. The moral personality must take Its stabilizing strength from methodical
'meditation'; without this strength the 'inner being' remains scattered and unbalanced, IS
M A R I A MONTESSORI 175
not its own master and cannot utilize Its own powers for noble ends [Montessori, 1976,
p. 104].
In common with Rousseau, Montessori considered 'help for the weak, the aged
and the infirm' to be an important task to be carried out during the stage of per-
sonal development in which 'moral relationships' (Montessori, 1966, p. 33)
define and mark the beginning of a new life as a moral individual. She thought
that the proper time for this step was during adolescence, but in the Children's
Houses it was prepared for in a number of different ways. The earliest activities
engaged in by the children were thus of decisive importance morally and physi-
cally for their entire subsequent development.
The sensitive phase contained in early childhood is a unique opportunity to
encourage positive development, which must be taken advantage of. Montessori
considered social training to be an important part of this early phase since self-
determination must take its orientation from others if the individual is to attain
perfection as a social being. In the final chapter of her book The Discovery of the
Child she described this process:
No child is disturbed by what another may have attained; on the contrary, the triumph of
one causes admiration and JOY in the others, and they often imitate him full of goodWill.
All of the children seem to be happy and contented doing 'what they can'; what the others
do does not result in envy, embarrassing competition or vamty. A three-year-old can work
peacefully next to a seven-year-old, and the younger child is content to be smaller than the
older child, not envying him because of his greater size. They all grow in the midst of the
most perfect peace [Montessori, 1969, p. 33].
The didactic materials were also intended to aid this growing in the most perfect
peace in order to attain a highly developed sense of responsibility. Constituting a
part of the 'prepared environment' in the Children's Houses, they were methodi-
cally planned and standardized so that a child who freely chose to occupy him-
self with one of them would enter into a predetermined situation and be forced
unwittingly to deal with its intellectual purpose. The best example of this is the
cylinders of different lengths and sizes which were to be inserted into appropriate
holes; only one solution was possible for each cylinder and the child could grasp
the fact of an incorrect solution when the cylinder slipped off and could not be
inserted.
A basic principle of the didactic materials was that the activities should be
methodically co-ordinated so that the children could easily judge the degree of
their success while engaging in them. For instance, in one activity the children
practised walking along large circles laid on the ground in a variety of interesting
patterns. While doing so they were given a bowl to hold filled to the brim with
blue or red ink; if it ran over then they could recognize in this way that their
176 Hermann Rohrs
movements were not co-ordinated and graceful enough. In a similar way all the
bodily functions were consciously trained.
For each of the senses there was an exercise that could be made even more
effective by eliminating other senses. For example, an exercise involving the iden-
tification of different kinds of wood by feeling their grain could be intensified by
covering the eyes.
By being done and discussed together within the context of the group, the
relevance of these exercises for the social aspects of the children's education was
increased. Thus, the various activities were intended to interact, or, as
Montessori expressed it, 'practical and social life must be profoundly combined
in education' (Montessori, 1972, p. 38).
If it was true of Helen Parkhurst, then it was doubly so of Maria
Montessori, her teacher: she sought to develop the social aspects of education,
although she gave her work a different emphasis than was to be found in certain
sociologically based educational concepts which dealt with a different set of
problems. 4 This fact is mentioned in reply to those who one-sidedly dismiss the
educational ideas of Helen Parkhurst and Maria Montessori as being hopelessly
individualistic.
The didactic materials were to function 'like a ladder', as Montessori
expressed it many times, which would allow the children to take the initiative
themselves and progress towards self-realization. At the same time the materials
were permeated with a particular spirit and intellectual attitude, which would be
communicated to the children and mould them accordingly.
Thus, the sensory materials should definitely be regarded as 'materialized abstraction'....
When the child is directly confronted with the matenals he applies himself to them with
that kind of earnest, concentrated attention which seems to draw the best out of his
consciousness. It really seems as if the little ones were involved In doing the best work
their minds are capable of: the materials open new doors to their understanding which
otherwise would remain locked [Montessori, 1969, p. 197-98].
Using this approach, the teacher can withdraw from the centre of the educational
process and operate from its periphery. His most important task is to observe in
a scientific manner and employ his intuition in discovering new possibilities and
needs. The development of the children should be directed in a responsible way
in keeping with the spirit of science.
the role of the microscope: 'While engaged in observations with the aid of the
microscope they felt that fascination towards the wonder of life growing within
them which causes the mind to awaken and devote itself to the mysteries of life
with passionate enthusiasm' (Montessori, 1976, p. 133).
It is important to consider Montessori's sensitive openness to the 'mysteries
of life' alongside her basically scientific approach. Failing to take both aspects
into account, one is bound to become entangled in contradictions and to conti-
nue the stIll-flourishing controversy as to the value and meaning of her work,
although, even if everything were taken into consideration, all of the differences
of opinion would hardly be resolved.
Some of Maria Montessori's statements and conclusions sound more like
Pestalozzi in one of his philosophical moments than the objective analysis of a
doctor of medicine. But it has been precisely her broad approach that has lent
much of her writing prophetic force, although it also tends towards ambiguity at
times, and this accounts for her great popularity around the world, in India as
much as in Europe. Her influence was greatest wherever she personally appeared
and gave lectures and courses and gained a dedicated group of followers willing
to experiment and continue the spirit of her work (Schultz-Benisch, 1962; Bohm,
1991, p. 15).
Perception
Maria Montessori not only worked out a systematic method for developing the
perceptive faculties, but also evolved a theory of perception that has much in
common with Pestalozzi's approach. Thus, in reference to the didactic materials,
she warns that 'the attention of the children should not be chained to the objects
in question after the delicate process of abstraction has begun' (Montessori,
1976, p. 80). She intended her dIdactic materials to be so constructed that they
would point the way beyond the immediate situation at hand and promote
abstraction. If these materials do not encourage generalization they could tie the
children down to the earth with 'snares'. If this occurs then the child remains
'trapped within the realm of useless objects'.
In the world as a whole, more or less the same basic Ideas repeat themselves again and
agam. For example, If the life of plants or insects IS studied in nature, then an approxi-
mate idea of the life of plants and insects in the whole world is obtained. Nobody IS fami-
liar with all plants. It is enough to see one pine tree in order to imagine how all pine trees
are [Montesson, 1976, p. 80].
Pursuing the same idea she wrote elsewhere: 'Is it necessary, when one is confron-
ted with a river or a lake, to have seen all of the rivers and lakes in the world to
know what it is?' The idea expressed here, as well as the way in which it is for-
mulated, are in surprisingly close agreement with Pestalozzi. And just as he had,
she warned against neglecting the forms of direct perception. 'No description, no
M A R I A MONTESSORI 179
picture, no book can replace the real life of trees in the context of all the life
which surrounds them in the forest' (Montessori, 1966, p. 40).
She considered it of fundamental importance that 'the co-operation of inner
attention' be gained. For this reason she sought to structure the motivational
basis of the didactic materials in such a way that they would make contact with
the sphere of consciousness of the child. It is notable that Montessori explained
this process in terms of an act of faith, a related process which, however, takes
place on another level: 'It is not enough ... to see in order to believe; one must
believe in order to see.' And elsewhere she wrote: 'It is in vain that one explains
or demonstrates a fact, even if it is an extraordinary one, if there is no faith: the
realization of truth is not made possible by evidence but by an act of faith'
(Montessori, 1966, p. 216). There can be no doubt that she succeeded in linking
this form of faith as inner knowledge and improved vision with her concept of
sCience.
In most of the examples Montessori added in this context she spoke of the high
degree of satisfaction shown by the children as a result of their independently
achieved self-realization. She came to the conclusion that 'this growing self-
awareness promotes maturity. Give a child a feeling of its own worth and it will
feel free and no longer burdened by its work' (Montessori, 1966, p. 40).
Seen in this way, freedom must be first renounced and then won back
gradually by means of self-realization. All individuals are dependent on one
another and can therefore progress to self-realization only within the context of
this interdependence. This process is accompanied by full awareness and requires
that all one's faculties be engaged, strengthening them at the same time. This self-
realization ultimately leads to self-education (autoeducatione) which is the real
goal. Therefore reflection, meditative concentration yet, at the same time, intense
180 Hermann Rohrs
effort are indispensable when attempting to solve the problems posed by the
didactic materials.
At this point we have already arrived at what Montessori meant by the
'absorbent mind', one of the key concepts of her education system, alongside that
of 'normalization'. In keeping with her medically oriented terminology she refer-
red to children as 'intellectual embryos'. In this way she emphasized the fact that
children are involved in a process of development, as well as the parallel nature
of intellectual and physical development. From the beginning children are beings
equipped with minds. Nevertheless, during the first stage of development follow-
ing birth the physical aspect predominates, although these basic needs can only
be properly satisfied if the intellectual being at their root is recognized and accep-
ted. 'In other words, children must be cared for right from birth, giving attention
above all to the fact that they are beings with a mental life of their own'
(Montessori, 1972, p. 61).
The education of children must be conducted in a balanced manner right
from the start; otherwise the first impressions will produce distorted or biased
forms of understanding, expectations and behaviour which then perpetuate them-
selves. The first impressions are not only permanently engraved in the children's
minds; developmental structures also develop as a result of them, patterns accord-
ing to which all subsequent experiences are dealt with and assimilated.
Right from birth children are naturally open to the world. For this very
reason they are also in constant danger of losing their way, unlike animals, which
have such a store of instinctual responses that a proper course of development is
ensured; on the other hand animals are not free, since freedom is not a natural
state but a condition that must be attained. 'Unlike animals, human beings are
not naturally programmed with any co-ordinated sets of movements. They must
learn everything themselves: they have no goals given them, but must search for
them' (Montessori, 1972, p. 67). In this respect there is some similarity between
Montessori's ideas and modern anthropology. Her book Anthropologia pedago-
gica (1910) was the first of her works to be devoted to questions of this sort.
When she speaks of 'psycho-embryonic life' she is utilizing an analogy with
the 'physical embryo' in order to emphasize that one's intellectual world must
also be built up gradually by means of impressions and experiences. One's en-
vironment and its organization as regards its educational function is therefore
just as important as bodily nourishment is during the pre-natal phase.
The first task of education is to provide the chtld with an environment In which It is able
to develop its natural functions. This does not mean that one should merely satisfy the
child's needs and allow it to do what it hkes; we must also be prepared to co-operate with
a command of nature, with one of its laws, according to which development and growth
proceed by means of interaction with the envIronment [Montessori, 1972, p. 82].
The 'absorbent mind' is at the same time ability and willingness to learn. It
means that the mind is directed towards the events in the surrounding world and
in phase with them, so that out of the existing great variety those aspects which
M A R I A MONTESSORI 181
prove to have educational value are different in each individual case: 'in all ways
mental development is the first step in the adventure of life' (Montessori, 1972,
p. 69). The important thing is that the impressions received and mental openness
match one another, so that the demands placed by the learning process corres-
pond to the natural sensitivities and tendencies of each phase of development.
Closely related to these anthropological concepts is the idea of 'sensitive
phases'. The sensitive phases are periods of heightened receptivity in connection
with learning by means of interaction with the environment. According to this
theory there exist specific phases during which the child is naturally receptive to
certain environmental influences; these he must make use of in order to master
certain innate functions and achieve greater maturity. Thus there are sensitive
phases for learning to speak, mastering social interactions, etc. If these phases are
given proper consideration they can be exploited to promote periods of intense
and efficient learning. If they are not taken advantage of then the opportunities
are irretrievably lost.
The harmonious progress of inner and outer development can also result in
increasing independence: 'If no regressive syndromes manifest themselves the
child will show tendencies which are clearly and energetically directed towards
functional independence.... Within each individual a vital force is active which
directs him towards realization of self. Percy Nunn called this force Horme'
(Montessori, 1952, p. 77).
This is also the reason why Montessori expected so much from an educa-
tional reform in accordance with her ideas. For her the child was a promise and a
starting-point for the education of the 'new man'. Her expectations were so high
that she genuinely expected salvation to come in that way. She also believed in
renewal and the attainment of perfection:
If salvation arrives then it will begin WIth the children, since the children are the creators
of mankind. The children have been vested with unknown powers which could lead the
way to a better future. If a genuine renewal is to be sought after at all, then the develop-
ment of man's potential must be the task of education [Montessori, 1952, p. 52].
The great productivity of her work was in the last analysis due to the effects of
the hormic principle in her life and thought. She sought to influence the world in
a controlled way through the harmonious combination of theory and practice;
she looked for the confirmation of her theories in practice and shaped her prac-
tice according to scientific principles, thus achieving perfection: that is why
Maria Montessori's educational concept has been so successful.
Notes
1. This article is a translation of a chapter from my books Die Reformpiidagoglk:
Ursprullg lmd Verlauf lmter illternatiollalem Aspekt [Pedagogical Reform: Origins
and Evolution from an International Viewpoint], 3rd ed., p. 225-41, Weinheim,
1991; and Die Reformpiidagoglk ulld ihre Perpektlllell filT eille Bildullgsreform
[Pedagogical Reform and its Prospects for an Educational Reform], pp. 61-80,
Donauwi:irth, 1991.
2. Her relationship to her teacher Segmn is dealt with in depth in Rlta Kramer, Maria
Montessori: A Biography. New York, 1976; as well as in T. Hellbriigge, Ullser
MOlltessorz-Modell, Munich, 1977, pp. 68 et seq.; and W. Bbhm, Marza MOlltessori:
H1I1tergruIld 1ll1d Prillziplell lhres pddagoglschen Dellkells [Background and
Principles of her Educational Thinking], Bad Heilbrunn/Obb. 1991.
3. This supposition would probably be supported by an investigation and publication
of her correspondence, something that has not yet been done.
4. I have dealt with this matter III my article, 'Maria Montesson und die Progressive
Education in den USA' [Maria Montessori and Progressive EducatIOn III th USA], in
A. Pehnke (ed.), Eill Pliidoyer filT ullser reformpiidagoglsches Erbe [A Plea for the
Heritage of Our EducatIOnal Reform], pp. 65-78, Neuwied, 1992. It has also been
dealt With in Bohm, op. cit., p. 86.
References
Agazzi, R. 1932. GUlda per le educatrice dell'illfallzia [Guide for the Educator of
Children]. BreSCla.
Bbhm, W. 1991. Maria MOlltessort. Hintergrulld ulld Prillzipiell ihres piidagoglschell
Dellkells [Maria Montesson: Background and Principles of her EducatIOnal
Thinking]. 2nd. ed. Bad Hellbrunn.
Kramer, R. 1976. Marza MOlltessorz: A Biography. New York.
Montessori, M. 1952. Killder sind anders [Children Are Different]. Stuttgart.
- - . 1966. VOIl der Kindhelt zur jugelld [From Childhood to Adolescence]. (Edited by
P. Oswald.) Freiburg.
- - . 1969. DIe Entdecklll1g des K1I1des [The Discovery of the Child]. (Edited by
P. Oswald and G. Schulz-Benesch.) Freiburg.
- - . 1972. Das kreative Killd [The Creative Child]. Freiburg.
- - . 1976. Schule des K1I1des [The School for Children]. Fte1burg.
Montessori, M. M. 1977. Erziehullg zum Menschen [The Education of Man]. Munich.
Nunn, P. 1920. EducatlOll: Its Data alld First Prillciples. London.
Pasquali, P. 1903. Illluevo astlo [The New Kindergarten]. BresCla.
Schulz-Benesch, G. 1962. Der Strelt um MOlltessori: Kritische Nachforschullgell zum
Werk eiller katholtschell Pddagogill VOIl Weltruf mit eiller 1I1ternatiollalell
M A R I A MONTESSORI 183
Keith Watson
Sir Thomas More, or more accurately St Thomas More, since he was beatified by
the Roman Catholic Church in 1886 and canonized as a saint in 1935, has been
variously descnbed as 'the most attractive figure of the early sixteenth century', 1
'the voice of conscience' of the early English Reformation 2 and 'one of the three
greatest figures of the English Renaissance'.3 He was a scholar, lawyer, theolo-
gian, statesman and eventual martyr, whose influence was less on the develop-
ment of the Reformation in England as upon creating a particular genre of futur-
istic and idealistic writing about society. His most famous book, Utopia, has
come to be accepted as an everyday term in the English language and 'utopian' is
often used to refer to an idea or concept that is idealistic and highly desirable,
but which at the same time is completely impracticable and unrealistic. In terms
of political science, both liberals and socialists lay claim to Thomas More as a
founder of some of their ideas. There has even been a room in the Kremlin devo-
ted to Thomas More because of his apparent espousal of communism as a politi-
cal idea1. 4
He was born into a period of intense political and social turmoil in English
history as the House of York was overthrown by Henry Tudor in 1485 and as a
new, ruthless dynasty was established, a dynasty that was to have a profound
influence not only on the future shape of Church/state relations, and conse-
quently on the development of parliamentary democracy in England and Wales,
but above all on the future development of the Reformation in England. It is
generally as a political theorist and opponent of King Henry VIII in his attempt
to supersede the Pope as head of the Church in England that Thomas More is
best remembered. As a result, his contribution to educational thought in six-
teenth-century England and Europe is often overlooked. This profile seeks to
redress that balance and to show that More was as much a farsighted visionary
as he was a critic of contemporary society.
186 Keith Watson
To understand the importance and stature of Thomas More and why he is still
venerated as a man of outstanding courage and integrity, it is necessary to appre-
ciate something of the political and historical context of his life. For much of the
fifteenth century England was in a state of political turmoil as the Houses of
York and Lancaster fought, with different nobles lined up on both sides for poli-
tical supremacy. Henry IV (1399-1413) deposed Richard 11 and became the first
of the Lancastrian rulers. His son Henry V (1413-22), immortalized by
Shakespeare in his play of that name, defeated the French at the battle of
Agincourt (1415), became regent of France and heir to the French throne.
Unfortunately, his son Henry VI (1422-61) was more interested in religion and
asceticism than in political and military warfare. While Henry VI's legacy is Eton
College and King's College, Cambridge, his political legacy was less prestigious.
He lost the French possessions and eventually the Wars of the Roses, 5 leaving the
Yorkist Edward IV (1461-83) on the throne. Although his son, Edward V, was
named king, his position was usurped by his uncle, the Duke of York, who
became King Richard III (1483-85). Even so his position was far from secure,
partly because of uncertainty about what happened to the young princes,
Edward V and his brother Richard. 6 When Richard III was defeated at the battle
of Bosworth in 1485 by Henry Tudor (Henry VII, 1485-1509), whose claims to
the English throne were also pretty tenuous, a new era broke out in English his-
tory. Henry VII secured his position by ruthless suppression of potential rivals,
by shrewd treaties with neighbouring European countries and by fiscal austerity.
His son, Henry VIII (1509-45), not only consolidated the Tudor dynasty by
dynastic and other treaties, by ruthless suppression of critics, but he also embar-
ked on a number of foreign wars which severely strained the English Exchequer.
The result was not only rampant inflation and considerable social unrest, but
periodic requests for additional taxation to be levied by Parliament. In 1509
Henry had married Catherine of Aragon, widow of his elder brother, Arthur.
Unfortunately, she was unable to provide Henry with the son he so desperately
needed to secure the dynasty through the male line. 7 Unable to get a divorce from
the Pope on the grounds that he should never have married his brother's wife, the
argument being that this was adulterous (Leviticus 20:10), Henry came into
conflict with the Roman Catholic Church. A solution to the impasse was sugges-
ted by his then secretary, Thomas Cromwell (1485-1540): if he could only make
himself, instead of the Pope, Head of the Church in England, Henry could easily
grant himself the divorce he required. The Act of Supremacy of 1531 did preci-
sely that. Subsequent legislation was to launch the Reformation of the Church in
England which was finally consolidated in the reign of one of Henry VIII's
daughters, Elizabeth I (1558-1603). It was over the issue of the King's divorce
and Henry's claim to be Supreme Head of the Church that the conflict arose bet-
ween Henry and Thomas More, leading ultimately to the latter's execution in
1535. However, More was not beheaded because of the stand he took on reli-
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 187
gious issues directly, but because of treason. Refusal to accept the Act of
Supremacy was a treasonable offence, as Henry was at pains to point out subse-
quently to the Pope and to the Habsburg Emperor, Charles V, who, according to
William Roper, More's son-in-law, said to the English Ambassador, Sir Thomas
Eliot:
'My Lord Ambassador, we understand that the King your Master, hath put his faithful ser-
vant and grave wise counCillor Sir Thomas More to death.' Whereunto Sir Thomas Ehot
answered, that he understood nothing thereof. 'Well', said the Emperor, 'it is very true,
and this will we say, that If we had been master of such a servant, of whose domgs our-
selves have had these many years no small expenence, we would rather have lost the best
city of our dommlOns, than have lost such a worthy councIllor.'8
Thomas More was born on 6 February 1478, in London, the son of John More
(died 1530), a member of the legal profession. It has sometimes been suggested
that his father was a judge, but it is more likely that he was a legal attorney.
Certainly he influenced Thomas's thinking about the law. Thomas was educated
at St Antony's School, then the best in London, before being sent at the age of
about 12 to live in the household of John, Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of
Canterbury and Lord Chancellor of England. More was obviously profoundly
influenced by Morton, whom he praises in his History of King Richard III and
indirectly praises in his Utopia. For his part, Morton sent the young More to
Canterbury College (later Christ Church College), Oxford, in 1492 to study law.
While at Oxford More studied under Linacre (1460-1524), one of the leading
Renaissance humanists of the time. He was both a classical scholar, tutor to
Henry VII's eldest son, Prince Arthur, as well as a physician who later founded
188 Keith Watson
and became the first President of the Royal College of Physicians (1518).
Linacre, after whom an Oxford College was later named, taught More and a
fellow student, Erasmus, Latin and Greek, and an enthusiasm for what was then
known as the New Learning, subsequently referred to as the Renaissance, a
broad intellectual interest in the classics, the humanities, literature, poetry and
music. John Colet (1467-1519) was also lecturing at Oxford at the time. He
shared many of the new Renaissance ideas, though his influence on More was
through his theological writings and preaching. He attacked many of the current
ecclesiastical abuses and scholastic views about the teachings of St Paul, seeking
to open up a new form of biblical scholarship based on the original Greek texts.
On leaving Oxford More completed his legal studies at the Inns of Court in
London, first at New Inn, then at Lincoln's Inn, before becoming a reader at
Furnival's Inn. He obviously had a sharp legal mind for he was much sought
after and was clearly destined for higher things.
For a brief period he contemplated becoming a priest. From 1501 to 1504
he stayed with the Carthusian monks in the Charterhouse in London in 'devotion
and prayer'. It was here that he began to wear a horsehair shirt as a form of
penance. He only removed it on the day before his execution over thirty years
later! Erasmus said of More that he left the Charterhouse and abandoned his
religious vocation because he would rather be 'a chaste husband than an impure
priest' - and because he was in love. According to Cotterill,IO it was also because
of what he regarded as the gross caricature of Christianity as presented by the
Church and because Pico di Mirandola, whom More greatly admired, had also
refused to become a monk.
Whatever the real reason - and there may have been several - More wooed
and married Jane Colt of Netherhall, Sussex, in 1504,11 During the next five
years she bore him four children, three daughters and a son. The eldest daughter,
Margaret, was also his favourite and it is through her husband William Roper's
work The Life of Sir Thomas More, which first appeared in 1553, that we have
such a detailed portrait of the man and his career. His first wife died in 1511
and, realizing that his children needed a mother figure, he quickly remarried a
widow, Alice Middleton, seven years his senior. Despite being short tempered and
sharp tongued, she proved an excellent mother for the children and a bulwark
for the family, an institution greatly favoured by More. Indeed, from the picture
Erasmus painted through his letters, More had an exceedingly happy family life
in which he not only enjoyed his children's company, but sought to develop their
thinking and intellectual skills. 12 In one letter to his daughter Margaret, who kis-
sed him just prior to his death and who kept his head until her own death, More
wrote, 'I assure you that rather than allow my children to grow up ignorant and
idle I would sacrifice all, and bid farewell to business in order to attend them -
among whom none is more dear to me than you, my beloved daughter.'13
More was a remarkable man in many ways, not only because he lived a ful-
filling public and professional life, not only because interspersed with his public
duties he was a prodigious writer in both Latin and English, but because he was
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 189
able to maintain a family life in which he put into practice many of the educa-
tional ideas in his 'Academy' (i.e. his household). It is because of this interweav-
ing of both public and private aspects of life that it is not always easy to unravel
the man and his ideas from the official positions he held. Nor is it always easy to
unravel Thomas More from Erasmus, Europe's most famous man of letters of the
early sixteenth century. From 1499, or thereabouts, they became firm friends and
Erasmus was to become a frequent visitor at More's home during the next twenty
years. In 1506, for example, they translated Lucian's works, one of which,
Mennipus Goes to Hell, must have given More some inspiration for his own
UtoPia. In 1509, while staying with More, Erasmus wrote his famous Ecomium
moriae [In Praise of Folly], while in 1518 he printed More's Latin poems because
he believed that 'England's only genius' had not enough time to do so himself, let
alone write all the creative works that he wished. This was partly because More's
legal and political career were encroaching upon his thinking time. In the last
year of Henry VII's reign, 1509, More became a Member of Parliament and
under-sheriff of London. He was soon introduced by Cardinal Wolsey to the new
king, Henry VIII. Thereafter, More had a rapid elevation to senior political posi-
tions. In 1514 he was made Master of the Requests. The following year, he was
sent on the first of several foreign missions. This one was a commercial embassy
to Flanders, during which time he wrote the second book of Utopia, completing
the first book on his return to England later in the year. Other foreign missions
using More's diplomatic skills included attendance in Calais (1520) following the
meeting of Henry VIII with Charles V and Francis I at the Field of the Cloth of
Gold,14 embassies to Bruges and Calais (1521), an embassy to Paris (1527) with
Cardinal Wolsey, and a representative of the King at the Treaty of Cambrai
(1529), which kept England out of a continental war for the next thirteen years.
Political honours were also showered upon him. Having successfully defen-
ded a group of London apprentices who had rioted in 1517 he was, the follow-
ing year, on Wolsey's recommendation, made a Privy Councillor. In 1521, he was
knighted and became Treasurer of the Exchequer. In 1523 he was elected Speaker
of the House of Commons. It is said that on appointment he told Wolsey that he
could not and would not do anything simply to please himself for he had 'neither
eyes to see nor ears to hear but as this House [of Commons] shall direct me
whose servant I am'. 1 \ He was subsequently elected High Steward of Oxford
University (1524), High Steward of Cambridge University (1525), made
Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster (1525) and in 1529, on the downfall of
Wolsey, he reluctantly became the King's most senior and respected adviser when
he was appointed Lord High Chancellor, the first layman to hold this great office
of state. In human terms this was the pinnacle of his career.
Up to this point More's fame rested as much upon his prolific writmgs and
his theological discourses as upon his virtues as a man of integrity, honesty and
simplicity. Apart from his joint work with Erasmus, previously mentioned,
numerous Latin poems, and Utopia, he wrote several letters of scholarly contro-
versy, for example, to Marin Dorp (1515); to the university authorities in Oxford
190 Keith Watson
(1518) in which he brilliantly argued for the place of humanistic learning in the
university, especially Greek and what would now be called 'liberal arts' subjects;
and 'to a monk' (1520), in which he criticized the corruption of the clergy. In
1520 he helped Henry VIII to compose Assertio septem sacramentorum, an
attack on Luther and all he stood for, which earned for Henry the title Defender
of the Faith from Pope Leo X. 16 When Luther responded, Henry delegated More
to reply, which he did with his ResponslO ad Lutherum (1523). In 1522 he began
a devotional treatise, The Four Last Things, a meditation on death, doom, pain
and joy. It was never finished, but it reflected More's despondency at the cruel
and vindictive political and economic conditions of early Tudor society. It also
perhaps reflected the personal anguish he felt that the more he became involved
in Henry VIII's service the less time he had to devote to his family and his
'Academy'.
The measure of the esteem in which he was held by Henry VIII can be seen
from the following comment by William Roper:
and so from time to time he [More] was by the Prince [Henry VIII] advanced, continUing
III his slllgular favour and trusty service twenty years and above, when he had done hiS
devotions to send for him into hiS private room and there some time in matters of
Astronomy, Geometry, Divinity and such other Faculties, and some time in hiS worldly
affairs, to sit and confer With him, and other whiles would he III the night have him up
Illto the leads, i- there to consider with him the diversities, causes, motIOns, and operations
of the stars and the planets.
Perhaps it was that More was able to live in the world and yet appear to be
detached from it in his observances that appealed to so many people. He was
clearly able to see both sides of an argument and, as Lord Chancellor, he was
regarded as impartial, quick and fair in his judgements, though it is suggested
that he was unnecessarily harsh in sentencing those with different religious
opinions. Herein lies the clue to his conflict with Henry VIII, and the reason for
his downfall and death on the scaffold for treason.
By the time More was appointed Lord Chancellor, he had a reputation through-
out Europe as a man of wit, charm, intelligence and honesty. Henry regarded him
as a friend and counsellor. He believed that he had made the perfect appointment
to ensure that he could secure his personal desire - divorce from Catherine of
Aragon - while at the same time reforming the Church but not destroying it.
More shared Henry's fears about the Lutheran Reformation, that it could
overthrow the old established faith and order. Theologically, he was conservative.
Like Colet and Erasmus, More believed that there was a need for greater
religious tolerance, for a more rational theology and for reform in the manners
and behaviour of the clergy, but he was opposed to any need for a break with the
historic Church. It is not without significance, therefore, that Henry used More
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 191
to dispute with Luther, and that the Bishop of London, Cuthbert Tunstall, used
him to write pamphlets and critical commentaries on Protestant books and argu-
ments. In 1529, for example, More wrote a Dialogue Concerning HeresIes as a
rebuttal of the doctrines of William Tyndale, and Supplication of Souls agamst
Simon Fish's attack on the clergy. In 1532 and 1533 he wrote a ConfutatlOn of
Tyndale's Answer and an Apology for the Catholic position. In 1533 he wrote his
Debellatlon of Sa/em and Bizance, against two works by the lawyer, Christopher
Saint-Germain, and an Answer to a Poisoned Book, against an anonymous work
entitled The Supper of the Lord, which was for many years attributed to
Tyndale, but more recently is believed to have been written by one George Joye.
It is perhaps ironical that in the last few years of his life More's writings on
the theological stance of the Church should have been so prolific while the Kmg,
whom he loyally served to the end, was busy passing legislation that would
change for ever, though not destroy, the position of the Church in England. It is
also ironic that Henry, who had used and befriended More, should have turned
so forcefully against him. This was as much because he misunderstood More's
personality as because he feared his influence. As Lord Chancellor, More was the
leading figure in the land after the King. People took note of his views as much
for what he was, as for who he was. As Henry's determination to secure a
divorce increased, so did More's reluctance to go along with him, not so much
because of the divorce per se, but because he saw this as a direct challenge to the
papacy. This situation became more acute as Henry moved to be proclaimed
Supreme Head of the Church in England (1531). More's position was that Christ
was Head of the Church and that Henry was usurping the place of Christ's vicar
on earth, the Pope. Accordingly he resigned his seal of office on 16 May 1532
hoping for a quiet life with his family and his books. This was not to be, at least
not for very long, since Henry was determined to win his support, knowing that
More's approval would secure his own actions. On 12 April 1534, More was
summoned to Lambeth to swear an Oath of Allegiance to the Act of Supremacy,
which impinged the Pope's authority and upheld Henry VIII's divorce. More
twice refused on legal grounds. He was committed to the Tower of London on
17 April and was attainted for 'misprision of Treason' on 1 July 1535 on perju-
red evidence from Sir Richard Rich, the Solicitor-General, who had previously
been helped by More but who now owed allegiance to Thomas Cromwell.
According to Roper,I8 the dialogue between More and Rich, which finally crys-
tallized the issue, went as follows:
MORE: I will put you thiS case. Suppose the Parliament would make a law that God
should not be God, would you, Mr Rich, say God were not God?
RICH: No, Sir, that would I not since no Parliament can make any such law.
MORE: No more could the Parliament make the Kmg Supreme Head of the Church.
More was, of course, wrong. He died on the scaffold on 6 July 1535, professing
loyalty to the King, but acknowledging a greater loyalty to the King of Heaven. 19
As Bindoff has written:
192 Keith Watson
More was the vICtIm, as he had been an exponent, of the stubborn illusion that any
human institution possesses a monopoly of truth or the power to impose its dogmas upon
all who are subject to Its man-made authority. In More's case the offending instItution was
a Parliament. 2o
To many people More was, and remains, an enigmatic figure. As Speaker of the
House of Commons, for example, he used his position, and his own anti-clerical
views, to persuade Parliament to pass several laws limiting the powers of the
clergy. For example, clerical fees charged for funerals and wills were to be fixed
by Parliament. Clerics were not allowed to take on more than one clerical role. 21
In his Utopia, More accused the great abbeys and monasteries of 'turning tillage
into pasture', that is of enclosing land for sheep pasture, thus displacing agricul-
tural workers from arable land. However, as Robert Bolt brilliantly shows in his
play A Man for All Seasons,22 More was, above all, a man of integrity who was
not prepared to put the wishes and whims of an absolute monarch above his
own conscience. He was not a social or political climber. Many posts he was
offered he did not want but was forced to accept. He opposed hypocrisy and
corruption wherever he found them, especially in high places. To More, Cardinal
Wolsey epitomized all that was corrupt about the contemporary Church. For this
reason, he has often been described as 'the voice of conscience' of the time
because, as Speaker of the House of Commons, he championed the cause of
freedom of speech. Roper says that when he became Speaker he wished that
every man could 'discharge his conscience, and boldly in everything incident
among us to declare his advice' without fear of penalty.21 Hoffmann has also said
that More put conscience above all else,24 while Erasmus, on learning of his
execution, commented on the man 'whose soul was more pure than snow, whose
genius was such that England never had and never will again have its like'.
This nobility of character is perhaps nowhere better revealed than when he
was sentenced to death by the judges in the Tower of London. His final words to
them were measured, restrained and honourable:
In thIS world there WIll ever be discord and variety of opimon. But I trust that as Paul
persecuted Stephen even to death yet both are now united In heaven, we too who are now
at varIance in this world and differ in our opinions may be one In heart and mind for ever
in the world to come. In this hope I pray to God to preserve you all, and espeCIally my
Lord the KIng and to deign always to send hIm faithful counsellors.2 s
Winston Churchill, writing about More's place in the History of the English-
Speaking Peoples, observed that:
The resistance of More and Fisher to the royal supremacy in Church government was a
noble and heroic stand. They realised the defects of the existIng Catholic system, but they
hated and feared the aggressive natIOnalism whIch was destroying the unity of
Christendom.... More stood as the defender of all that was finest in the medieval out-
look. He represents to history its umversality, its belief in spIritual values and ItS Instinc-
tive sense of other-worldliness. Henry VIII WIth cruel axe decapitated not only a wise and
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 193
gifted counsellor, but a system, whICh, though it had faded to live up to Its ideals In
practice, had for long furnished mankind with its brightest dreams. 26
Given the conditions that More faced in the Tower of London during his last
year It is all the more remarkable that he continued his writings. Towards the
end, when paper and pen had been taken from him, he still managed to write
letters in charcoal to the family. His Treatise on the Passion and the Latin
version, Exposito passionis, give a vivid account of Christ's last hours before his
death on the Cross, and his Dialogue of Comfort against TribulatlOn is some-
times regarded as his finest work in English. On his death all his works and
papers passed to his daughter Margaret (died 1544) and then to a nephew,
Wilham Rastell, who compiled the complete English Works in 1557. More's
Latin works were collected and printed partly in Basle under the title
Luwbri.1tiones in 1563 and more fully in Louvain in 1565/66 under the title
Opera omnia. Such was the revulsion at the manner of his dying and the recogni-
tion that he had been a man of genius that many biographies appeared in the late
sixteenth century, led by the example of son-in-law William Roper's The Life of
Sir Thomas More (1553).
in the fifteenth century when Greek and Latin manuscripts were discovered and
reproduced on the newly invented printing presses, set off a wave of admiration
for classical ideas and writers. It was recognized that both the world and man-
kind had aspects of beauty and that there was enormous scope for creativity. It
was into this pattern of thinking and perceiving the world that More and his
friends fitted. Strictly speaking, humanists were university experts in Greek and
Latin, men like More, Colet, Linacre, Erasmus and Roger Ascham, but the
Renaissance humanists believed that they also had a breadth of interest in other
fields - religion and moral philosophy, the humanities and the liberal arts, science
and natural philosophy, and a sympathy for all subjects of human interest. Many,
like More, would not only read and converse in Greek and Latin and the mother
tongue, in this case English, but they would also know other languages - French,
Italian or Spanish. More's sympathy for this view shows through in the following
extract from Utopia:
You may see our friend Raphael - for that's hIs name, Raphael Hythlodaeus - is quite a
scholar. He knows a fair amount of Latin and a tremendous lot of Greek. He's concentra-
ted on Greek because he's Interested In philosophy and he found that there's nothing
Important on that subject wntten in Latin, apart from bits of Seneca and Cicero. 29
More set out some of his views on education in a letter to Peter Gilles, who was
Chief Secretary of Antwerp at the time. 3D 'As you know', he wrote, 'my young
assistant John Clement'l was with us at the time. I never let him miss any conver-
sation that might have some educational value, for he has already begun to show
such promise in Latin and Greek that I expect great things of him one day.' Later
he says: 'I am extremely anxious to get my facts right ... for I'd much rather be
thought honest than clever.' He is equally scornful of some of his fellowmen.
Most readers know nothing about literature - many regard it With contempt. Lowbrows
find everything heavygoing that Isn't completely lowbrow. Highbrows reJect everything as
vulgar that isn't a mass of archalsms. Some only like classICS, others only their own works.
Some are so firmly serious that they disapprove of all humour, others so half-witted that
they can't stand wit. 32
In letters to a tutor of his children (Peter Gunnell), More gives very careful direc-
tions about their education. He strongly advocates the higher education of
women especially in the classics and philosophy, an antidote to boring lessons in
musIC, needlework and cookery. Indeed, More's daughters wrote and frequently
discussed issues at home in Latin. The trouble was that the form in which educa-
tion existed at the beginning of the sixteenth century was sterile and dull, Church
dominated, and consisted of rote learning of the catechism and Latin conjuga-
tions, some number work and some translation from Latin to English and vice
versa. The growing awareness of a whole new way of perceiving the world as a
place of beauty, and of people as persons of beauty and personality which came
from Greek literature, transformed attitudes towards educatlOn and More sought
to put these into practice in his 'Academy'.
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 195
More's 'Academy'
More moved house several times during his career, but he had a house built at
Chelsea to which he moved in 1517, though all the buildings were not finished
until 1523. When completed the household consisted of an extended family of
twenty-one, plus numerous other inmates. More had built for himself a separate
building with a chapel, a library and a gallery. On Fridays he spent his time there
in study and prayer. However, the whole of his home was an educational experi-
ment. He taught his wife and family how to sing and play different musical
instruments, how to read and discuss philosophical and theological issues in both
Latin and English, and occasionally m Greek. There was no distinction between
men and women, and it has been suggested that More's household was 'a model
to all ages of domestic felicity.'''
The clearest picture we have of More's domestic life is from Erasmus, a
great friend and long-term visitor, who wrote:
You might say of him that he presides over a Second Academy lIke that of Plato, only that
Instead of geometry and figures you meet there the domestic virtues. All the members of
his household find occupation. No harsh word is uttered but disciplIne is maIntaIned by
courtesy and kIndness.... in More's household you would realise that Plato's academy
was revived, except that in the Academy the discussIOns concerned geometry and the
power of numbers, whereas the house at Chelsea is a veritable school of Christian
relIgIOn.... In It IS none, man or women, but readeth or studieth the liberal arts. Yet it IS
their chief care of piety. There is never any seen Idle. The head of the house governs It, not
by lofty carriage and frequent rebukes, but by gentleness and amiahle manners. J4
This was 111 stark contrast to the frequent floggings that boys used to receive in
public schools for forgetting their lessons.
More believed strongly that children are gifts from God, to the parents, to
God and to the nation. It is important, therefore, that they receive not only a
good training and upbringmg from their parents but also from the state and from
the Church which should provide an adequate supply of well-qualified teachers
of the young. These views are developed 111 Utopia. One of the problems of
schooling in the early sixteenth century was that teachers lacked adequate train-
ing. More felt that the state had a clear moral responsibility not only to provide
adequate teacher training but, by implication, that It should also provide the
school system itself. 15
More not only acted as a focal point for many of the Renaissance humanist
scholars of the time but his 'Academy' was where he loved to hold court, because
there he could put into practice many of his personal beliefs - easy discourse
with his wife, children and friends without reference to class or gender distinc-
tion; discussion of the arts and literature, as well as religion and external values.
He was as much concerned for discipline in the context of a civilized and
polite atmosphere as he was for open discussion between the sexes. Apart from
Erasmus, his friends and followers included John Colet (founder of St Paul's
196 Keith Watson
School, London); Hans Holbein the Younger, who painted a portrait of More in
1527 which still hangs in London's National Portrait Gallery; Fisher, the founder
of several Cambridge colleges; Linacre, the Greek scholar, founder of the Oxford
college that bears his name, and founder and President of the Royal College of
Physicians. Two friends who were particularly impressed by what they heard and
saw were Sir Thomas Elyot (1490-1546), author of The Boke Named 'the
Governour' (1531), the first educational book written in English rather than
Latin, and Roger Ascham, tutor to Queen Elizabeth I and author of The
Scholemaster (1570). These books were to have a profound influence on the
shape of schools and the curriculum well into the seventeenth century.
From some of Erasmus' observations of More the man, it is easy to see why
he attracted such a following. In one letter he says that 'from earliest childhood
[More] had such a passion for jokes, that one might almost suppose he had been
born for them'.36 In another letter to Ulrich von Hutton, a German Knight, dated
Antwerp, 23 July 1519,r Erasmus says of Thomas More:
His expressIOn corresponds to his character, always showing a pleasant and fnendly
gaiety, and rather set in a smiling look; and to speak honestly, better sUited to mernment
than to senousness and solemnity, though far removed from silliness and buffoonery....
In socialmtercourse he is of so rare a courtesy and charm of manners that there is no man
so melancholy that he does not gladden, no subject so forbiddmg that he does not dispel
the tedium of It. . . . In human relations he looks for pleasure in everything he comes
across, even in the gravest matters. If he has to do with intelligent and educated men, he
takes pleasure in their brilliance; if with the ignorant and foolish, he enJoys their folly.
Utopia
More's educational philosophy was strongly influenced both by his friends and
colleagues and by their open discussions, but also by his own readings, observa-
tion and political convictions. He had a strong belief in man's ability to achieve
and to rise above adversity; to become involved in the arts, literature, music and
philosophy, as well as to be aware of scientific developments. While most of his
views were orally expressed and influenced future writers, and while we know
what he felt and thought from some of his letters and from Erasmus' observa-
tions, no profile of Sir Thomas More would be complete without reference to
two of his published works for which he became most famous, UtoPia (1516)
and his History of Richard III (1543).
Utopia first appeared in its Latin version in 1516. The English translation
did not appear until 1556, but by then its main arguments were widely known
and had been widely debated. Utopia must mark out More as one of the most
eminent humanist thinkers and visionaries of the Renaissance period. It is still
hotly debated. According to Turner,38 there are two schools of thought concer-
ning its content and purpose. One view is that Utopia is predominantly a
Catholic tract, in which the author sets out his own views and anything resem-
bling communist propaganda is mere allegory. The other view is that it is a politi-
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 197
cal manifesto in which all references to religion should be ignored. Both views
are only partly true.
Although Utopia is a political satire it is also an allegorical, romantic piece
of writing. 'It professes like Horace's Satires to "tell the truth with a laugh", or
like Lucian's True History, "not merely to be witty and entertaining, but also to
say something interesting" .' 39
The story is set on an imaginary island where there are no wars, poverty,
crime, injustice or any other ills that so beset contemporary Europe. Everyone
has an equal stake in wealth, food and poverty. No one has more than any
others. The state oversees and ensures a fair distribution of resources, including
health care. The working day is limited to six hours, while the remaining leisure
time is devoted to the study of the arts, literature and science. Crafts and voca-
tional courses are available to all, so that everyone has at least mastered one
practical skill. Fighting is permitted only in self-defence and law-breakers are
condemned to slavery. Religion is an undenominational theism and priests are
chosen for their holiness. Every child, boy or girl, is entitled to a comprehensive
education. This would include a study of literature, the classics, the arts, science
and mathematics - what today would be called 'a balanced curriculum'. Children
should also be made politically aware in civics classes. The state should be res-
ponsible both for providing education and for ensuring a supply of trained tea-
chers. Girls should be treated no differently from boys.
More's purpose in writing Utopia was quite clearly to open people's eyes to
the social and political evils of the world around them, for example inflation,
corruption, maltreatment of the poor, wars for little or no purpose, courtly
ostentation, the misuse of power by absolute monarchs, and so on. More used
works of Greek derivation to make his point. 'Thus, Hythlodaeus means "dis-
penser of nonsense"; Utopia means "not place"; Anydrus, the name of a river,
means "not water"; and Ademus, the title of the Chief Magistrate means" not
people" .'40 It is clear from a letter to Peter Gilles that More expected his educa-
ted readers to understand the significance of these names because he deliberately
used Greek names for places and official titles and also because he wished his
readers to realize that they were imaginary. Difficulties have arisen for many
readers because More, a devout Roman Catholic, advocated euthanasia,
marriage of priests, divorce by mutual consent on grounds of incompatibility,
allowing future husbands and wives to see each other naked before agreeing to
marriage. Many readers also believe that the basic ideas expressed in Utopia are
communistic. Even in the 1990s, Utopia remains a highly readable book, but it
must be noted that it does not represent a positive ideal, but a negative attack on
European wickedness as perceived by More. Its object was to shame Christians
into behaving not worse, as they did then, but far better then the poor Utopian
heathen. 'It is expressed in a timeless medium, which cuts it loose from its own
particular age and saves it from ever seeming linguistically old fashioned or diffi-
cult.'41
198 Keith Watson
Although there are references to Plato and some of More's ideas are clearly
drawn from The Republic and The Laws, his basic approach is quite different.
Both agreed that the role of the state in educational provision should be para-
mount, but whereas Plato only hinted at communism, More saw it as a basis for
society. Whereas Plato was largely concerned with the education of the ruling
classes, More regarded the producers, especially agricultural labourers, as of high
value.
Admittedly only a few brIght children academically should be allowed to be students. But
every child receives a prImary education and most men and women go on educating them-
selves all their lives during those free perIods that I told you about. Everything's taught in
their own language for It has quite a rich vocabulary.42
This is a quite clear attack on the use of Latin rather than English for schooling.
While Plato encouraged warfare and regarded the virtues of martial arts highly,
More sought to uphold peaceful values. Rather than wasting time,
most people spend those free periods on further education for there are publIc lectures
first thing every mornmg. Attendance IS quite voluntary, except for those picked out for
academiC training, but men and women of all classes go crowding in to hear them - I
mean different people to different lectures, just as the spirit moves them. 41
Plato largely ignores family life, but for More the family is the basis of society;
women are accorded a high place in the family and are encouraged intellectually,
although More never recognizes equality in all things. Where Plato is serious,
More is satirical, and whereas Plato banished art, poetry and music, More positi-
vely supports the arts.
Three other educational ideas emerge from Utopia. The first is:
In Utopia, where everythmg is under state control ... they never force people to work
unnecessarily, for the main purpose of their whole economy is to give each person as
much free time from phYSICal drudgery as the needs of the community will allow; so that
he can cultivate hiS mind, which they regard as the secret of a happy life. 44
The second is that children and adults should freely intermix and learn from one
another, an idea only really developed in the late twentieth century. The thIrd
idea is that all education should have a strong moral element imparted by priests
who are 'responsible for the education of children and adolescents'. If moral
ideas 'are thoroughly absorbed in childhood, these ideas will persist throughout
adult life and so will contribute greatly to the safety of the state, whICh is never
seriously threatened except by moral defects arising from wrong ideas'.45
Although Utopia was to become a best-seller and ensured More a reputa-
tion throughout Europe, it was not until after his death that it was realized that
More also had another gift, that of historian. His complete History of Richard
III first appeared in 1543 as a continuation of Hardyng's Chronicle and Polydore
Vergil's Anglicae historica. It portrayed Richard as an arch villain and was to
influence the perception of Richard held by subsequent generations, while
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 199
Shakespeare's play, Richard Ill, drew heavily on More's interpretation and provi-
ded a vivid, if inaccurate, picture of the king. There are two remarkable aspects
of the History which tell us much about More.
More's Richard III IS the first great work of prose In the English language; it inItiates
modern hlstoncal wnting - for all the glones of the Elizabethan Age, there is nothing that
comes close to matching It until Bacon's Henry VII (1622) and as a bilingual narrative It is
unique. 46
That it was the first historical work of any literary value which we possess in the
English language is one thing; that it was written in both Enghsh and Latin at the
same time is a touch of genius.
More was able 'to shape recent events into the sort of history his humanist
traimng and his humanist friends approved, that is, a dramatic, boldly patterned
narrative, soaring beyond actualities into art and seeking psychological verisimi-
litude rather than factual accuracy',4' In writing in this way, he inspired subse-
quent generations of historians to write in a similar vein and he influenced per-
ceptions about Richard III until a reassessment began in the eighteenth century
with Horace Walpole's Historic Doubt Oil the Life and Reign of King Richard III
in which he challenged More's views. Since then numerous 'Friends of Richard
Ill' societies have sprung up on both sides of the Atlantic. To be fair, More was
strongly influenced by Archbishop Morton and other contemporary views, and
while part of the purpose of writing the history was to criticize the brutality of
contemporary kmgship, he stopped writing for fear of impugning both Henry VII
and Henry VIII as tyrants. Instead he used the satirical UtoPia to get across his
message.
More's place in English and European history is secure, not only because of his
UtoPia but because of his principled stand against tyranny and his clear example
that conscience and morality can triumph over evil. That he could only slow
down, but not prevent, the course of the English Reformation was, in hindsight,
inevitable. That he influenced future perceptions about Richard Ill, that he inspi-
red parliamentarians in the seventeenth and subsequent centuries to strive for
freedom of speech and the preservation of English Common Law, and that he
gave a name to an idealized world of the future, UtopIa, are no mean achieve-
ments.
His two greatest legacies, however, must be in his manner of writing and in
his educational views. More inspired a whole genre of literature, of idealistic and
futuristic writing and of fantastic traveller's tales, Well over 100 titles have been
published adopting this style. If we were to name but a few, the list would
include: ]oseph Hale's Another World and Yet the Same (1600); Andrae's
Christianopolis (1619); Bacon's New Atlantis (1626); Harrington's Oceania
(1656); Swift's Gulliuer's Trauels (1726); Voltaire's Candide (1759); William
200 Keith Watson
Morris' News from Nowhere (1890); H. G. Wells's The Time Machine (1895);
Huxley's Brave New World (1932); James Hilltop's Lost Horizon (1933); George
Orwell's 1984 (1949); and the list could go on.
Regarding his educational ideas, many of these now seem commonplace to
us - state provision; the education of both boys and girls, as well as of adults; a
balanced curriculum; moral as well as academic schooling; the use of the verna-
cular for instruction - but their roots, especially in English educational tradition
can easily be traced back to More's Utopia, and Erasmus' descriptions of More's
'Academy'. That socialists can lay claim to More's ideals of state control and
provision of education, and that liberals can claim that the idea of a broad and
balanced curriculum was originally More's, is no small feat. Sir Thomas More
was truly 'a man for all seasons'.
Notes
1. G. R. Elton, England under the Tudors, p. 139, London, Methuen, 1957.
2. Reader's Digest Association, Mtlestones of HIstory: Vo!. 5, Reform and Rellolt,
p. 55, London, Reader's Digest, 1974.
3. The other two were Colet and Erasmus.
4. There is some confusIOn about whether or not he really did sympathize with com-
munism. See Appendix to Paul Turner (trans.), Utopza, Harmondsworth, Penguin
Books, 1965.
5. Two of the best books on this period are Paul Kendall's RIchard III (London, Book
Club Associates, 1955) and Charles Ross's Edward IV (London, Book Club
Associates, 1975). The Wars of the Roses were so called because the emblem of the
House of Lancaster was a red rose and that of the House of York a white rose.
6. It is suggested that the princes were murdered in the Tower of London on the orders
of Richard Ill. For a discussion of this see Paul Kendall, 'Introduction', Richard Ill:
the Great Debate, London, Folio Society, 1965.
7. Until the reign of Mary Tudor (Mary I, 1553-58) the law of primogeniture prevailed
whereby only a male heir could accede to the throne.
8. See Wdliam Roper, The LIfe of Sir Thomas More, p. 70, London, Dent, 1932.
9. A profile of Erasmus appears III this series of '100 Thinkers on Education'.
10. H. B. Cottenll, 'IntroductIOn' to R. Robynson, The 'Utopza' of SIr Thomas More,
London, Macmillan, 1908.
11. According to Erasmus, More preferred the second daughter but, feeling that the first
would have lost face, he decided to marry her Illstead!
12. Evidence comes from Erasmus' letters, see: P. S. AlIen, H. M. AlIen & H. W. Garrod,
Opus epistolarum Desidem Erasmi, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1906-58, 12
vols.
13. W. Rastell, The Complete Englzsh Works of SIr Thomas More, 1553; reprinted by
Oxford University Press, 1931.
14. So called because of the pomp and glitter resulting from so many European
monarchs being present together.
15. Roper, op. cit., p. 35.
16. 'FID:DEF' (Defender of the Faith) has appeared on all subsequent English coinage.
SIR THOMAS M 0 R E 201
17. On the roof. Most Tudor houses had sheets of lead below the roof tiles to act as
ram-water guttering. Roper, op. cit., p. 7.
18. Ibid., p. 103.
19. At hiS execution More said: 'I die loyal to God and the Kmg, but to God first of all.'
20. S. T. Bindoff, Tudor England, p. 103, London, Penguin Books, 1952.
21. Clerics in Tudor England were not necessanly clergymen. They would have been
'hangers on' in abbeys and monasteries servmg as vergers, clerks, fmance offICers,
ete.
22. Robert Bolt, A Man for All Seasons, London, Hememann, 1955.
23. Roper, op. cit., p. 64.
24. Ann Hoffmann, Lll'eS of the Tudor Age, 1485-1603, London, Osprey Publishers,
1977.
25. Roper, op. cit., pp. 102-03.
26. W. S. Churchill, A History of the English-Speaking Peoples, Vol. 2, London, Cassell,
1956.
27. Cited in Colher's Encyclopedia, Vol. 16, p. 542, New York, Macmillan & Collier,
1976.
28. Elton, op. elt, p. 139.
29. Turner, op. cit., p. 38.
30. Peter Gilles was Town Clerk of Antwerp, 1515-20.
31. John Clement (died 1572) was taken into More's household as a tutor to hiS chil-
dren, one of whom, his adopted daughter Margaret Gigs, he marned m 1526. He
later became Mary Tudor's physician.
32. Letter to Peter Gilles in Elizabeth F. Rogers (ed.), The Correspondence of Sir
Thomas More, p. 91, 1947. (Reprinted: Salem, N.H., Ayer Company.)
33. Bindoff, op. cit., p. 103.
34. Allen, op. cit., p. xxv.
35. William Boyd, The History of Western Education, pp. 237-38, London, Adam &
Charles Black, 1947.
36. Allen, op. Clt., Vol. IV, p. 17.
37. Quoted in C. R. N. Routh, They Saw it Happen, 1485-1588, p. 26, Oxford,
Blackwell, 1956.
38. 'Introduction', Turner, op. Clt., p. 7.
39. Ibid., p. 7.
40. Ibid., p. 8.
41. Ibid., p. 22.
42. Ibid., p. 89.
43. Ibid., p. 76.
44. Ibid., p. 78-79.
45. Ibid, p. 123.
46. Kendall, op. Clt., p. 24.
47. Ibid., p. 25.
202 Keith Watsoll
J• P.
(1907-81)
A.R. Kamat
J. P. Naik, who was well known to educationists all over the world, died in
August 1981. India lost the doyen of its educational thinkers and organizers.
Indian social scientists lost their greatest friend and benefactor since the estab-
lishment of the Indian Council of Social Science Research, and world education
was depnved of the ablest exponent of the Indian educational situation and of
educational problems in the developing countries in general.
Naik was involved in the field of Indian education for more than four
decades, and played a central role for the last twenty years. His was the largest
single influence in originating and promoting Indian educational research, in ins-
titutionalizing educational innovations and reforms, and also in educatIOnal
planning and policy-making.
Early activities
A brief account of Naik's early life should help us better to understand the man,
his thoughts and his work. He came from a poor rural family and would have
been unable to escape the rural agricultural trap had not his intelligence and love
of learning come to the notice of one of his benevolent relatives, who saw to it
that he received a secondary and college education. He had a brilliant academic
career and his versatile mind was equally interested in literature, history and
mathematics. Perhaps his mathematical skill explains his quantitative approach
and mastery over figures in his educational writings, his liberal use of educa-
tional statistics and also his simple, precise and direct approach to the complex
problems of education.
By the time Naik had taken his first degree, the national movement for
liberatIOn in India had entered the phase of civil disobedience under Gandhi's
leadership. He threw himself into the movement, served a prison sentence and,
thereafter, like a good Gandhian, started constructive work in the rural areas,
including rural educatIOn. Naik is one of the few educationists, perhaps the only
204 A.K. Kamat
one, in India to have worked in diverse roles, from village primary-school teacher
to being educational adviser to the Central Ministry of Education in New Delhi.
Naik's varied interests ranged from a major concern with education to rural
development, health and medical care, to promotion of social science research.
His educational activities started during the early 1930s with the establishment
and running of primary schools in rural areas in the south of the then Bombay
Presidency; and mass education, including literacy, adult education and basic
education, in the Bombay Province before and after the popular ministries assu-
med office in 1937. He wrote about the history of Indian education since the
beginning of British imperial rule and prepared edited volumes of educational
archives. He was involved in the establishment of the Indian Institute of
Education for post-graduate training and research in Bombay between 1948 and
1959. He was also concerned with founding and running a rural educational-
cum-development institute near Kolhapur. He was drafted as Educational
Adviser to the Central Ministry of Education, where he worked without a salary
and helped in that capacity to establish several new educational institutions, such
as the National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT),
Jawaharlal Nehru University and the National Institute of Educational Planning
and Administration (NIEPA). He was member-secretary of the Education
Commission, the first such commission in independent India (1964-66). He made
valiant efforts to get some of the commission's more important recommendations
accepted and enforced by the government. He worked closely with UNESCO and
other international organizations responsible for education. His last institutional
endeavour was the revival of the Indian Institute of Education (lIE) in Pune from
1977 onwards, a project that he cherished.
Naik was also drawn as an active participant into many committees and
commissions on education at state and central levels. And, of course, he wrote
extensively on several educational themes. He was the ablest and the most know-
ledgeable person in the field of Indian education. As one of his friends and admi-
rers once remarked, Naik knew almost everything about Indian education and
what he did not know was not worth knowing!
Before we attempt an account and critical analysis of Naik's educational
contribution, it is necessary to mention two more factors: the initial influences on
his thought and his connection in later years with the Indian Council of Social
Science Research (ICSSR). Both contributed greatly to the evolution of his educa-
tional ideas.
The initial influences on Naik's educational (and other) thought were those
of the on-going national movement under Gandhi's leadership, on the one hand,
and of his own socio-economic and educational work among the rural poor, on
the other. Naturally enough, national education, basic education (expounded by
Gandhi and Gandhian educationists) and Gandhian thought in general made a
deep impression on his work. But he was also well versed in Western liberal edu-
cational thought.
J . P . N A I K 205
To describe and analyse the educational ideas of Naik is not an easy task, for he
had a prolific output. Even if his non-educational writings are excluded, his
books alone run into more than thirty-five titles. In addition, there are numerous
reports of the commissions and committees in which he participated. It is no
exaggeration to say that whenever Naik was a member of a committee or com-
mission he was invanably also the author of its report, which incorporated a
number of his own ideas on that theme. Inevitably these books, booklets and
reports taken together cover almost every aspect of Indian education.
It is Impossible to deal with all these writings in a piecemeal manner. They
are therefore divided for convenience into: (a) historical writings, mcluding his
histories of Indian education, and the editing of educational archives and year-
books of education; (b) basic education, the educational model of Gandhi and its
modifications by his followers, education and work experience, and its latest
variant of socially useful productive work; (c) mass education including universa-
lization of elementary or primary education, adult education, non-formal educa-
tion, continuing education, etc.; (d) educational planning and administration,
that is, state-level, district-level and local-level planning and improvement of edu-
cational management and administration; (e) exercises outlining grand national
designs for educational transformation, which started with the monumental
report of the Education Commission, entitled Education and National
Development (1966a),2 and was continued during later years under the general
title of Alternatives in Development, including his last work, Education
Commission and After (1982a); and (f) the relationship between education and
society, between educational transformation and social transformation.
system operating in many parts of the country before and at the time of the
British conquest. The authors have described its strong and weak points and
have rightly emphasized that the modern Western educatIon system introduced
by Macaulay and Wood, instead of utilizing the traditional system, simply
ignored it, much to the detriment of mass education. It could have been conti-
nued and strengthened by modernizing its content and organization. Some of the
British rulers also belatedly realized the value of indigenous education at the time
of the Education Commission of 1882. By that time, however, irreparable
damage had been done and the old system was dying out.
The two books on history, first written some fifty years ago, do have a
general nationalist viewpoint but are not much more than conventional chrono-
logical histories of education. Their main weakness is that they make no attempt
at a socio-political and socio-economic analysis of educational development.
Subsequently, Naik himself became keenly aware of this serious lacuna. Hence
the author created questionable historical categories, calling the British period
after 1921 a period of Indianization. In reality, although Indian ministers held
the education portfolio, they could hardly claim to have pursued an independent
educational policy under British rule.
Mass education
Let me now take up Naik's intellectual contributIOn to mass education, that is,
universalization of elementary education (at least primary education for the 6-to-
11 age-group), adult education, non-formal education, ete. Naik's earlier writings
and activities go back to the 1930s and 1940s, and the later revival follows the
recommendations of the Education Commission's Report (ECR) (1966a) and
writings during the last ten to fifteen years. He then described the neglect of mass
education by the British rulers, and the efforts of G. K. Gokhale to R. V.
Parulekar (1957) are cogently described, with the apparently 'non-formal' solu-
tions of Ra]agopalachari and Vinoba Bhave, in addition to the normal formal
schooling system, which insists on single-entry, sequential and full-time educa-
tion. He then points out that for school education to be universal it will have to
be supplemented by a multiple-entry, part-time, non-formal education which
does not insist on sequentlality. His sponsorship of the 'neighbourhood' or com-
mon school is also essentially sound.
But Naik sees to his chagrin that all these 'reasonable' Ideas are only accep-
ted in theory, without a serious effort of implementation in practice, that the
National Adult Education Programme inaugurated with such fanfare in 1978
only limps along. He blames it all on the Indian education system, which is
'class' education and not 'mass' education, and calls out for a 'mass movement'
for the universalization of elementary education, including adult education. Naik
does not see that, in all societies based on class, education IS always 'class' educa-
tion, so that labellmg it as such does not take us much further. His call for a mass
movement for this purpose, as though such a movement can just be ordered,
betrays an inherent weakness in his thinking. In an extremely poor, deprived and
unequal society, ltke that of India, education has no high priority in the minds of
the vast majority of people. A 'mass movement' is bound to arise in due course
to confront the present social predicament, but it will be for far more basic needs
like food, shelter and jobs and the other bare neceSSities for life. Education will
at best be an additional demand. Thus the efforts to spread non-formal educa-
tion and efficient implementation of the formal system cannot be realized in the
present socio-economic and political framework and power structure, except in a
limIted fashion. Their ultimate realization will occur in the coming struggle for a
radical socio-econ<;mic transformation of society. It should, however, be stated to
Naik's credit that, after the revival of the lIE, he started an experimental project
m non-formal education in rural areas, a project whose progress will be eagerly
followed by concerned educationists.
After joining the Central Ministry of Education in New Delhi in the early
1960s, Naik immediately felt the necessity of emphasizing educational planning
at all levels, for both the extension and qualitative improvement of education at
all stages. For the latter purpose, it was also necessary to improve educational
management and administration at all levels. He pursued both these ideas, and
the establishment of NIEPA gave a tangible base for their successful dissemina-
208 A.R. Kamat
tion. But if we survey the educational scene over recent decades, we can only
conclude that the education system, except in the elitist segments, has deteriora-
ted further at all levels due to both unplanned expansion and widespread mis-
management.
Finally, we shall consider Naik's grand schemes for the reconstruction of Indian
education and his ideas about the relationship between education and society,
between educational change and social change. The last fifteen years of his life
were devoted to thought in these areas. He wrote several books, continually
reformulating his thought. It should, however, be stated that although he chan-
ged his stance on the relationship between education and society considerably, he
never gave up putting forward newer models for educational reconstruction,
returning to the ECR for their origins. This work went on in continued succes-
sion until his very last publication, The Education Commission and After
(1982a), and its abbreviated version, An Assessment of Educational Reform in
India and Lessons for the Future (1980), published by UNESCO in its series of
'Reflections on the Future Development of Education'.
It is necessary first to state the important facets of Naik's educational ideas
as reflected in the ECR. First, the ECR explicitly stated that the present educa-
tion system is a dual system, in other words it is just a continuation of the system
operating under the former British imperial administration. It ought therefore to
be replaced by a proper national education system geared to the social transfor-
mation of Indian society. The proposed education system has therefore to be rela-
ted to: (a) enhanced productivity; (b) social and national integration; (c) consoli-
dation of democracy and promoting the process of modernization; (d) cultivation
of science and scientific temper; and (e) the fostering of appropriate social, moral
and spiritual values. With these objectives the ECR drew up a grand design of the
proposed national system, making detailed and exhaustive recommendations on
all aspects of education. Second, ECR thinking was firmly rooted in the belief
that education was the one and only instrument of social 'change on a grand
scale' in India, that is, for radical social transformation.
Before commenting on these ideas, it is perhaps in order to say a few words
about the actual implementation of the ECR. As Naik himself stated clearly in
his last publication, The Education Commission and After (1982a), what the
government did was to adopt a very mild policy resolution, the National
Educational Policy Resolution of 1968. The resolutlOn ignored almost all the
important ideas and recommendations of the ECR, incorporating only some
minor recommendations. Moreover, even the latter were never seriously imple-
mented.
It is clear that Naik's thinking in the ECR on education and society largely
follows the tradition/modernity paradigm for social change in developing coun-
tries, a paradigm so insistently propagated by Western social scientists in the
J . P . N A I K 209
and he would have preferred to have been Secretary of the ICSSR before
becoming Secretary of the Education Commission! He also confesses the
incorrectness of according primacy to education in social transformation and
that such a view may divert the attention of concerned people from attending to
first things first, from having recourse to direct action. Thus, this paradigm may
do a disservice to the cause of social transformation itself.
Naik also realizes that his exposition of the idea of combining science with
the spiritual legacy of India was also weak and tries to make amends for it,
dealing with it at length, though in our opinion even the new exposition suffers
from vagueness and remains unconvincing. Moreover, he does not now bring in
Gandhian thought to any appreciable extent.
Thus, during the decade and a half from the drafting of the ECR to his final
formulations in the ECA, Naik has almost completely given up his idealist posi-
tion on the relationship between education and society. He no longer insists that
education has primary importance in social transformation. But he still clings to
his old formulation of combining science and the spiritual values or age-old wis-
dom of India. And like a wise pragmatist, anxious to remain in the main current
of the Indian educational world, he continues to subscribe to his simultaneous
approach and to repeat and reform his grand designs for educational reconstruc-
tion in India.
Naik as reformer
national activities that have been in a large measure responsible for putting India
on the world educational map.
In India itself, ever since he went to the Central Ministry and particularly
after the establishment of the Education Commission in 1964, his constant
refrain was the fundamental reconstruction of Indian education. The massive
ECR and his efforts thereafter to popularize its formulations, modifying them
where necessary, were all directed towards this single objective. Except for some
minor issues, he failed in this grand objective, but it was none the less a magnifi-
cent failure. The present analysis has pointed out the inherent weaknesses in his
conceptual edifice but, irrespective of them, the failure was embedded in the very
socio-structural forces of the Indian situation. Had he adopted in the very begin-
ning the approach to which he arrived towards the end of his life, his thinking
would no doubt have become more precise, more consistent. That would have
hardly been acceptable, however, to the Education Commission and the powers
that be, or for that matter to the wide audience he usually attracted!
Naik's efforts have achieved one purpose. Like the post-independence slo-
gans about 'socialism' and 'socialistic pattern', his writings have induced in many
Indian educationists, politicians and educational planners and administrators the
use of radical phraseology in education.
Whatever his achievements and failures, Naik's departure from the Indian
educational scene has a large void which cannot easily be filled. In a sense, it was
the end of an epoch. It is for the on-going generations of Indian educationists to
work for his idea of radical reconstruction of Indian education with a clearer
perspective.
Notes
1. This article was first published in Prospects, Vol. 13, No. 2, 1983, pp. 259-64.
2. Dates for references are those given in the select bibliography below.
The entries are arranged in chronological order; under each year first books and then
articles are presented, each in alphabetical order.
1941. Report on Wastage and Stagnation in Primary Schools. Bombay, ProvinCial Board
of Primary EducatIOn.
1942a. History of the Local Fund Cess (Devoted to Education) in the Province of
Bombay 1839-1937. Bombay, Local Self-Government Institute.
1942b. Studies in Primary Education. Bombay, Local Self-Government Institute.
1945. History of Education in India during the British Period (1800-1947). Bombay,
Macmillan. (Jomtly With Syed Nurullah.) (Revised edition, 1951.)
1948. Educational Research in the Province of Bombay. Progress of Education, Vol. 23,
Nos. 9-12, pp. 283-85.
212 A.R. Kamat
1949. The Language Problem in Filipmo Education. Journal of EducatIOn and Psychology
(Gujarat), Vo!. 6, No. 4, pp. 163-71.
1952a. Compulsory Education in India. Paris, UNESCO. (Jointly with K. G. Salyidam
and S. Hussam Abid).
1952b. Trammg of Educational Administrators. New Delhi, Ministry of Education,
Government of India, 1952. (Studies in Education and Psychology)
1952c. The Janata College: A New Concept. Education Quarterly (New Delhi), Vo!. 4,
No. 4, pp. 91-98.
1952d. Some Problems of Single Teacher Schools. Education Quarterly (New Delhi),
Vo!. 4, pp. 21-27.
1953a. Research and Experiments in Rural Education. New Delhi, Ministry of Education,
Government of India. (Studies in Education and Psychology.)
1953b. The Smgle Teacher School. New Delhi, Mimstry of Education, Government of
India. (Studies in Education and Psychology.) (3rd editIOn, 1963.)
1955. Education m Bombay Agamst an All-India Background. Progress of Education, Vo!.
30, No. 3, pp. 74-77.
1957. (ed.) Educational Writings of R. V. Parulekar. Bombay, Asia Publishing House.
1958. Review of Education in Bombay State 1855-1955. Bombay, Education Department,
Government of Maharashtra.
1960a. Provision of School Places in Classes I to V. Educatton Quarterly (New Delhi),
Vo!. 12, pp. 18-20.
1960b. The Village Panchayats and Primary EducatIOn. Indian Journal of Adult
EducatIOn (New Delhi), Vo!. 21, No. 6, pp. 9-11.
1961a. Agra University Extension Lectures. Agra, Agra University.
1961b. (ed.) The Indian Yearbook of EducatIOn 1961: First Yearbook of Education. New
Delhi, National Council of Educational Research and Training. (Revised edition,
1965.)
1961c. The Role of the Government of India m Education. New Delhi, Ministry of
Education, Government of India. (Repnnted 1963.)
1961d. Review of EducatIOn in India, 1947-61. The Indian Yearbook of Education 1961:
First Yearbook of Education, pp. 220-77. New Delhi, National Council of
Educational Research and Training. (Revised editIOn, 1965.)
1962. Educational Planning in ASia. Indian Journal of Adult Education (New Delhi), Vo!.
23, No. 3, pp. 7-10.
1963. (ed.) Development of University Education 1860-87: Selections from the
Educational Records of the Government of India. Delhi, Manager of PublicatIOns,
Mimstry of Education.
1964a. Long-term Educational Reconstruction in India. Calcutta, Indian Committee for
Cultural Freedom.
1964b. A Perspective Plan for the Development of Elementary Education in India. The
Indian Yearbook of Education: The Second Yearbook, pp. 565-618. New Delhi,
National Council of Educational Research and Trammg.
1964c. Ancillary Services. The Indian Yearbook of Education: The Second Yearbook, pp.
376-89. New Delhi, National Council of Educational Research and Training.
1964d. Elementary Teachers in India - A Histoncal Review, 1800-1961. The Indian
Yearbook of Education: The Second Yearbook, pp. 219-37. New Delhi, National
Council of Educational Research and Training.
1964e. Fmancmg of Education in India. New Delhi, Education Commission, 1964.
1964f. Objectives, Curricula and Methods of Teachmg, 1800-1937. The Indian Yearbook
of Education: The Second Yearbook, pp. 41-57. New Delhi, National Council of
Educational Research and Traming.
J • P . N A I K 213
1969a. EducatIOnal Planning in a District. New Delhi, ASian Institute for Educational
Plannmg and Admmlstration (now known as the National Institute of Educational
Planning and Admilllstration).
1969b. Institutional Planning. New Delhi, Asian Institute for Educational Plannmg and
Administration (now known as the National Institute of Educational Plannmg and
Administration).
1969c. Educational Plannmg in a Poor Country. Quest (Bombay), Vo!. 60, January-
March, pp. 42-57.
1970. Union-State Relations in EducatIOn: Their Implication for Educational
Admllllstration. Indian Journal of Public Administration (New Delhi), Vo!. 16, No.
3, pp. 378-84.
1971a. Education of the Scheduled Castes 1965-66. New Delhi, Indian CounCil of Social
Science Research. (Occasional Monograph, No. 6.)
1971b. Education of the Scheduled Tribes 1965-66. New Delhi, Indian Council of Social
Science Research. (Occasional Monograph, No. 5.)
1971c. Role, Responsibilities, Function, Programmes and Orgamsation of the ICSSR: A
Poltcy Statement and a Special Report. New Delhi, Indian Council of Social Science
Research. (Occasional Monograph, No. 7.)
1972a. Access, Structure, and Quality In Higher Education: Some Suggestions for
Reorganization. Prasarnagar, Mysore, University of Mysore. (Princess Lilavathi
Memorial Lectures.)
1972b. Crash Programme for the Education of Out-of-School Youth in the Age-Group
14-21. Convergence (Toronto), Vo!. 5, No. 1, pp. 27-36.
1972c. Education in Free India. Progress of Education (Pune), Vo!. 47, No. 2, pp. 42-44.
1972d. Higher Education in India: Some SuggestIOns for ReorganizatIOn. New Frontiers
in Education (New Delhi), Vo!. 2, No. 1, pp. 6-21.
1972e. Vocationalisation of Secondary Education: Bnef Historical Survey. Rajasthan
Board Journal of EducatIOn (Ajmer), Vo!. 8, No. 4, pp. 1-6.
1973a. The Idea of an Autonomous College. New Frontiers in Education (New Delhi),
Vo!. 3, No. 1, pp. 37-38.
1973b. The New Indian Programme: Science and Technology for Development. Minerl'a
(London), Vo!. 11, pp. 537-70.
1974a. The Search for a National System of Education: The Indian Experience. New
Delhi, Indian CouncIl of SOCIal Science Research.
1974b. A Students History of Education in India 1800-1973. Bombay, Macmillan.
(Jomtly with Syed Nurullah.) (Sixth Revised Edition.)
1974c. Some Aspects of Post-Independence Development in India. Sambalpur, Sambalpur
UniverSity. (Lal Bahadur Shastri Memorial Lectures.)
1975a. Elementary EducatIOn in India: A Promise to Keep. Bombay, Allied Publishers
Private Ltd.
1975b. Equality, Qualtty and Quantity: The ElUSIVe Triangle in Indian Education.
Bombay, AllIed Publishers Private Ltd. (Tagore Memorial Lectures.)
1975c. Poltcy Performance In Indian Education 1947-1974. New Delhi, Orient Longman,
1975. (Dr K. G. Salyidam Memorial Lectures.)
1975d. Educational Planning in India. Bulletin of the UNESCO Regional Office for
Education In ASia (Bangkok), Vo!. 16, pp. 1-19.
1975e. Functional Primary Schoo!. Literary DISCUSSion (Tehran), Vo!. 6, No. 2, pp. 79-96.
1976a. Political Content of Education. In: Polttlcal Content of Education, pp. 1-16.
(Edited by A. R. Kamat.) Calcutta, Socio-Research Publications Centre.
1976b. The Search for a National System of Education: The Indian Experience. Prospects
(Paris, UNESCO), Vo!. 6, No. 2, pp. 196-208.
J . P . N A I K 215
Jean-Franr;ois Saffange
When he was discovered in the 1960s, Neill was very soon classed as a disciple
of Reich. The two men were indeed very close, but it should not be forgotten
that the work of Neill must first be seen in terms of exceptional educational
longevity. When he died at the age of 90, Neill had spent most of his life in the
classroom: as pupil, as pupil-teacher with his father, as teacher and then as head-
master. Any influences that exist thus go back much earlier in the century. Neill
was hardly recognized for what he was, that is, above all the last survivor of the
New Education movement which flourished at the turn of the century. Time in
any case had already taken its toll of these adventurous years of education,
leaving a trace only of the leading figures and passing over the extraordinary
proliferation of research discoveries and idealistic theories (Medici, 1962, p. 8).
218 Jean-Franfois Saffange
From this point of view, the English-speaking branch, where Neill had found his
own special place, was by no means the least flourishing.
It is not generally known that in 1920 he ran the review New Era with the
theosophist Beatrice Ensor, thus becoming a close observer of a wide variety of
experiments and achievements and promoting the spread of new ideas, not hesi-
tating to act as an ardent and more than partial propagandist. In those years,
Neill was already, in the words of Adolphe Ferriere, the 'enfant terrible of extre-
mist educational ideas in England' (Ferriere, 1922, p. 384). A reader of Freud,
whose ideas he used skilfully to deride his colleagues, a fierce adversary of Maria
Montessori, already an eminent educational theorist, whom he accused of having
an over-scientific and moralistic approach, Neill sowed the seeds of controversy
and provoked 'much indignation and courage' (Hemmings, 1972, p. 35), until
his ultimate exclusion from the review. Nor is it widely known that he attended
the Calais Congress, where he met Decroly, Ferriere and all the leading pioneers,
leaving his mark as the author of avant-garde works.
He became better known after the First World War through the success of
his first book A Dominie's Log (1915); but above all he liked to think of himself
as the spiritual son of Homer Lane, another figure of the English movement, the
founder of the Little Commonwealth, an establishment of young delinquents run
on the principle of self-government. Homer Lane, of American origin, had
learned to be an educator in the United States at the George Junior Republic.
Attacked for his practices, Lane put up a clumsy defence and was forced to leave
England. Neill saw in him his first martyr. Reich was to be the second.
Summerhill
Neill opened his first school in 1922 during a journey through Europe, but he
founded Summerhill, near Leiston, in England, in 1924. The little school existed
for decades without a change. Through some twenty books and countless
articles, he related the daily life of the school, never missing an opportunity to
provoke argument, repeatedly describing a place in which the adult had not
imposed his will, a place for play where total disorder reigned.
A great deal of the damage done to the school was done by the children:
'The wear and tear of materials in Summerhill is a natural process ... and if a
boy needs a piece of metal for a boat keel, he will use my expensive tools if one
of them happens to be about the right size' (1962, pp. 33, 131). Journalists called
Summerhill the 'do-as-you-please-school' (Hemmings, 1972, p. 140). Many of
the visitors indeed saw the school as 'a Kafkaesque universe with dilapidated and
sometimes vandalized buildings' (Vallotton, 1976, p. 9). Yet the school, with its
wooden buildings, its large park and trees, seemed, especially in summer, one of
the most pleasant of places, a real country school such as Ferriere dreamed of at
the beginning of the century.
In this school, however, lessons were optional. The children could play all
day if they so wished, or do handicrafts in the workshop. The evenings were set
ALEXANDER SUTHERLAND N ElL L 219
aside for dancing, theatre and entertainment. If it had not been for the threat of
the school being closed by the authorities, Neill would have placed no ban on
sexual relations.
Friday evening was set aside for the general assembly. During that meeting,
which was chaired by an elected pupil, the children explained their problems and
discussed them, working out their own rules. In this assembly, Neill's vote, like
that of the other adults, had no greater weight than that of a pupil. This, says
Neill, was the secret of the success of an educational technique learnt through
contact with Homer Lane.
The originality, the provocation and success of the founder's books were
not always sufficient to protect the school from the risk of closure. After the
Second World War, there was a dangerous decrease in the number of pupils and
the Summerhill Society had to be founded in order to save the school. The educa-
tion authorities never really accepted it. When they went back on their decision
to close the school, some, as Hemmings (1972, p. 140) noted, interpreted this
not so much as a mark of recognition as a kind of tolerance of 'a mere relic'. Yet
it was this same relic which, several years later, was to prove too small to take in
all the pupils and visitors.
Neill was neither a scientist nor a researcher, perhaps a philosopher, but above all
a dreamer and idealist. He did not belong to one specific educational or psycho-
logical school of thought and he never developed a methodical, well-thought-out
approach. His whole work was merely an extension of his own personality.
Although a prolific writer, what he wrote was often no more than outbursts of
enthusiasm, vehement assertions, anecdotes and indignant reactions, but also, it
must be admitted, over-simplified arguments. He never troubled to present his
ideas in a logical sequence nor to ascertain whether they corresponded to reality.
As Bates-Ames (1978) put it, 'Neill constructs a theory of how a child thinks,
and what he thinks the child needs, and even when that theory is refuted by all
the objective evidence, he still insists on treating children as if they were as he
imagined them to be.' In fact Neill, unlike his contemporaries, never approached
educational problems in terms of needs but in terms of rights. Even when he bor-
rowed the term of 'self-regulation' from Reich, it was to say that it meant 'the
right of a baby to live freely without outside authority in things psychic and
somatic' (1953, p. 42). This explains why the theories of the time were often dis-
torted and were only used as a vehicle for his own ideas. Later in life, he was still
surprised to have written for years without having succeeded in clarifying his
beliefs and actions.
'Freedom in a school is simply doing what you like so long as you do not
spoil the peace of others' - that sums up the principle of freedom that prevailed
at Summerhill. Its application in educational terms is simple: 'in psychic health
we should impose nothing and in learning we should demand nothing' (1945,
220 jean-Fran(ois Saffange
p. 103). In fact, Neill's educational project was complete by 1914 before he had
ever read a single educational treatise: 'These bairns ... have done what they
liked. . . . I know that I have brought out all their innate goodness' (1915,
pp. 217-18). All his books and articles are simply variations on this theme and
his contacts were all used first and foremost to confirm that theme rather than
enrich it. This principle is the reflection of a true libertarian impulse which came
straight from childhood.
Neill did not emerge from childhood - one spent in the shadow of Calvin - un-
scathed. He was long to remember the moments of happiness spoilt by the endless
threat of divine retribution, the fear of sin, the fear of dying unshriven. This fear
was inculcated less by the Church than by family life: 'We were not specifically
taught religion; it was in the air ... an atmosphere of negation of life' (1972a,
p. 44). In this large family, between a distant mother and a father who had little
esteem for him, the young Alexander did not seem to have found the love he
needed, the love he so successfully gave his own pupils.
This childhood turned him into a resolute individualist. 'He was the kind of
fellow who would paint his bicycle blue when everyone else's was black'
(Hemmings, 1972, p. 3). At school he was indeed a solitary child, a misfit, fin-
ding in this his stability, his strength and his weakness. He sought to make his
pupils into people who did not passively follow the crowd but were self-reliant,
holding their own opinions, capable of self-assertion. His need for independence
was not without a certain taste for excess and provocation, laying the stakes on
man: 'The one thing that will save the people is individualism ... your country
needs you . . . to set it right', he said to each of his pupils in 1915 (1915,
pp. 146, 175). For the freedom which he offered his pupils aimed at nothing less
than making them into people who would live to serve others: 'We want to turn
out men and women who will rapidly join the conventional crowd and help it to
reach better ideals' (1920, p. 70). This is where education comes into the pic-
ture: 'it must help a child to live its cosmic life fully, to live for others, for every
human is egocentric, selfish' (1920, p. 128).
Neill emerged from this childhood with an unquenchable hatred of all reli-
gious teaching and any imposition of values, whatever their form. His view of
the traditional school with its system of corporal punishment, or the New School
based on the Coue method, for example, added fuel to the flames, and if psy-
choanalysis was ever useful to him it was because it provided him with the means
of dissecting it. Neill sought only to appeal to the child's intelligence and spirit of
decision. Because he was not a subtle man, his observation of social reality
confirmed his view that any attempt at moralism is motivated by a desire for
domination. This aroused his interest in Reich's studies on the psychic structure
of the masses shaped by sexual repression. It led to his refusal ever to transmit
any value: 'I never attempt to get children to share my beliefs or my prejudices'
ALEXANDER SUTHERLAND N ElL L 221
(1960, p. 224). 'I do not see what right teachers have to force children to adopt
what they consider to be in good taste', he would often say. It was a strangely
contradictory approach by which Neill glorified education while demonstrating
its impossibility.
For Neill, the world was black yet at the heart of this blackness lay the
inherent goodness of man. 'The general idea ... is the conception that man is a
sinner by birth and that he must be trained to be good' (1926, p. 13). For Neill'
on the contrary, 'there is not, and never was, "original sin'" (1953, p. 42).
Despite some cruel doubts, this faith in man was never to leave him. It balked his
attempt to return to the ideas of Freud. That belief brought him near to Reich,
for whom man was an 'honest creature, hard-working, co-operative, affec-
tionate'.
Christian feelings
'I am a very religious person; what man brought up in Calvinist Scotland could
fail to be?' Neill was often to say. In fact his upbringing instilled in him an excep-
tionally strong Christian sensitivity. On two occasions Neill wished to become a
parson. These feelings were to colour his whole vision of the world and his edu-
cational project. They were already present in his first book when, commenting
on Nietzsche's ideas, he notes: 'If pity and kindness are wrong, then wrong is
right' (1915, p. 108). Neill dreamt of a world governed by love, a love that
would establish universal harmony, a world reflecting the message of Christ, the
'original' message, that which was perverted by the evangelists (1916, p. 75).
This world would come when man took time to reflect on his own act: 'I think
that the foundation of true justice is self-analysis; ... in my Utopia, self-exami-
nation will be the only examination that will matter' (1915, pp. 145-46). This
was the message that Neill found again in Homer Lane, who said that each of us
is the lover of all mankind and the entire world. Man is constrained to love. If he
hates he is expressing love in a negative way. Neill found in this the gospel which
he had sought (1972a, p. 137) and the experience of the Little Commonwealth
was a 'Christ-like experiment to encourage me' (1916, p. 53). It was this same
message that Reich sought to transmit and it is well known to what extent he
identified with Christ.
To quote Hameline (1985, p. 72), Neill throughout his life 'far from being
an immoralist, conducted a constantly pastoral enterprise'. Beyond its disorder,
Summerhill was an eminently moral place. Neill had several reasons for writing
that his pupils lived 'as honestly and as humanely as any gospel band of
Christians' (1939, p. 73).
We can thus see how greatly this man who was accused of corrupting chil-
dren was misunderstood. Here, however, perhaps lies the reason for his difficulty
in explaining his thoughts and acts, bearing as he did a message to which his
contemporaries seemed barely sensitive; obliged to seek ways of realizing it out-
side conventional moral principles; tempted, in order to formulate his message,
222 Jean-Franfois Saffange
to use concepts which, taken out of context, only gave it an illusion of scientific
precision. Yet Neill had his place among educators like Montessori, Ferriere and
Claparede. They all placed their hopes in man and education. All were in their
own way libertarians. All, according to Avanzini (1975, pp. 131-2), 'nurtured
the same hope ... that a just and generous world might be attained'.
'no happy man ever disturbed a meeting or preached a war or lynched a negro'
(1960, p. 15).
Neill very soon ceased to read Freud. He found the concept of man as pre-
sented through psychoanalysis difficult to accept. He never refused to speak of
libido, but that libido was too much threatened by what Ferriere (1922, p. 220)
had called the 'dark cave' for him not to yield, like many others, to the attrac-
tions of the Jungian 'life impulse' through which the basic goodness of human
nature could unfurl, with all its promise for the future. 'Freud believes in original
sin' (1920, p. 24). For Neill' the life impulse very soon assumed the innocence of
a 'desexualized libido' (Bigeault, 1978, p. 53) and his 'theory of sexuality ...
although unbridled, has nothing erotic or roguish about it ... it has the crystal
clarity of pure pleasure' (Mazure, 1980, p. 53). Neill simultaneously rejected the
whole Freudian theory on the structure of the personality and was never to admit
the existence of the Oedipus complex. Reich did not contradict him.
Neill also based his arguments on the doctrine of interest, a key concept in the
educational theories of the time. Interest was the psychological basis of the New
Education movement. According to Ferriere (1922, p. 229), 'it is the lever which
moves mountains ... the keystone of the Active School'. Neill proclaimed its vir-
tues: 'interest is the only criterion' (1922, p. 229). The similarity stops here,
because although for Ferriere (1922, p. 230) 'only interest which is capable of
stimulating and sustaining effort deserves the name of interest', for Neill the
concept was simple and devoid of ambiguity: 'When a boy makes a snowball, he
is interested.... I don't care what a child is doing in the way of creation, whe-
ther he is making tables, porridge or sketches ... or snowballs ... there is more
true education in making a snowball than in listening to an hour's lecture on
grammar' (1920, pp. 13-14).
There is no doubt that it was his forays into Freudian ideas that made him
so sure of himself. Claparede had proposed merging interest and libido in a
single concept. Neill for his part merged the two approaches with easy assurance
- the approach of the psychoanalyst on the one hand and that of the educator on
the other. 'The child's interest ... is simply what he can do with all his infinite
life energy' (1922, p. 229); 'interest is the life force of the whole personality'
(1926, p. 152).
From the educational to the psychological, the circle gradually closes. 'The aim
of education is to allow emotional release so that there will be no bottling up and
no future neurosis, and this release comes through interest' (1920, pp. 114-15).
224 Jean-Franfois Saffange
Henceforth the teacher's work is simple: 'to find out where a child's interest lies
and to help him to live it out'; 'my pupils never go to a lesson, it takes such faith
and patience to realize that they are doing the right thing' (1945, p. 145).
It is not surprising in this context that Neill demanded the withdrawal of
the educator, through whom traumatism could occur. He took up here a theme in
fashion at the time, that of the comrade-teacher. Ferriere himself did not fail to
praise 'the faculty of spontaneously formed social bodies ... to bring children
after a period of anarchy . . . to establish order and discipline. . . . No adult
seeking to Impose his authority could ever obtain what the spirit of the beehive
achieves spontaneously' (Ferriere, 1950, p. 32). What in Ferriere was primarily
an appeal to a silent presence soon became in Neill something like an appeal to
regression. He had, as Lane had moreover taught him, to be 'one of the boys'. It
should be noted that Lane, on at least one occasion, joined in quite cheerfully
with the children in damaging his own school.
Thus ends this amazing balancing act between two theories which, once
more after Rousseau, hold that nature is the best educator and reduce the educa-
tor to the role of preserving nature's slow but sure work. For Neill had no doubt
that, through successive interests, the child was moving towards good. Without
being asked to, he would learn, since it was in his nature to do so. This was to
become the principle of free study. This natural harmonious development took in
all aspects of the child's personality.
A different reality
familiar to each pupil. The great freedom he granted his pupils and the trust he
placed in them gained him even more respect in their eyes. Each pupil knew that,
if necessary, Neill readily took firm action and imposed prohibitions in order to
protect the child and the group. Every pupil knew that he was the headmaster
and could resort to expulsion.
Bruno Bettelheim (1978, pp. 103-04) was right when he said:
Neill remains unaware of why the things he does work ... he does not face the fact that
all is due to how the pupils identify With him. He does not realize that Summerhill works
not because it IS Just the right setting in which to raise children, but because it IS nothing
but an extension of his personality. Everything about it expresses Neill what he stands
for and lives for. Everywhere there is the powerful impact of his person and sooner or
later most children come to identify with him, however reluctantly. He is Simply one of
the grandest men around.
As Mauco (1971, p. 154) points out, on account of the large number of pupils, a
'group idea may emerge and stimulate a tendency to identification'.
It is certainly this ability to be present which explains Neill's educational
genius, and in this his experiment deserves consideration, even if there is a singu-
lar lack of instruments by which to examine it. Without reservations, Neill
certainly loved his pupils and stood by them. This was a hazardous undertaking
which often made trainee teachers an easy prey for groups of pupils. On this
point Neill learnt from his experience. At the heyday of the appeal to regression
and the theory that pupils should be allowed to live out their interests, he faced
the phenomenon of aggressivity and learned to hear the child's demands in all
their ambiguity. He learned how to respond. For at Summerhill relations moved
rapidly towards therapeutic activity and the pupils could have psychological
discussions if they so wished. Open-minded, observant, intuitive, playing on
humour and the impact of the unexpected, Neill 'draws the pupil out of a lie in
which he has got lost' (Mannoni, 1970, pp. 11-12). Better still, it was in every-
day things, through a chance meeting, that a word or a sentence could help the
child.
Because he had this ability to be present, Neill could recommend that the
educational setting should be reduced to a minimum. Prohibitions did of course
exist and the child was faced with a set of rules, many of which were the result of
group decisions. Their existence did not fail to strike visitors. In that respect,
however, Neill pushed the limits back as far as possible. That did not mean, inci-
dentally, that life at Summerhill was easy. Bettelheim (1970, pp. 95) noted:
While such an educational setting imposes few specific demands, though never tnvlal
ones, it is really among the most demanding of educational institutions. Because such a
setting demands of the child that he develop a very high degree of self-respect; and With It
true respect for others. ThiS is much harder to learn than how to automatically get to class
at 9 o'clock.
226 Jeall-Frant;ois Saffange
From this point of view, the self-government which prevailed throughout the life
of the school proved to be a strong factor in personal development and socializa-
tion. It was, in fact, one of the most valuable yet most neglected contributions of
the New Education movement that Summerhill passed on to us.
Neill never ceased to marvel at it. Throughout his life he saw his pupils
daring to speak out, to express opinions, to defend an idea, moving gradually
from selfishness to co-operation, showing loyalty towards the group, developing
a high sense of justice. As for the role of adults and of Neill himself, no one was
ever taken 10 by thIs. A few mischievous remarks, a few humourous comments,
were often enough to guide the debate and Neill never hesitated to intervene
more firmly 10 order to protect the group from regression. After all, before
becoming a harmonious unit, a group often experiences phenomena which chil-
dren or adolescents could hardly be expected to control. There is no doubt that,
thanks to Neill, this group life led to conclusions 10 which each could acquire a
knowledge of himself/herself and of others.
Perhaps Neill thus succeeded 10 bringing about inner peace. Vallotton
(1976, p. 11) was indeed 'astonished at the truth and clarity in the pupil's looks
and conversation'.
That was his success. Free study was his failure. In fact, he was never really
interested in teaching as such. The methods were left to the discretion of the
teachers and were chiefly acknowledged to be traditional.
Here, then, is Summerhill reduced to its human dimensIOn, with all its richness
on the one hand and ItS vulnerability and shortcomings on the other, for there is
no lack of reservatIOns on the subject. In the 1960s, there was much questioning
of the consistency of Neill's thinking but also, and above all, of the revolutionary
signifICance of the project. On this last point, Snyders (1973), for example, never
doubted that a purely psychological approach to social problems, such silence
from the teacher, such a breach between the school and the outside world, could
only lead to the narrowest conservatism. These reservations turned into rejection
when it was seen that the school existed primarily by taking in children whose
social background meant that schooling was not a great concern, and above all
because of the charisma of its founder. This was a reality which Neill, too invol-
ved in explaining his educational views, endeavouring to reconcile his beliefs and
his actions, would not have wished to admit, leaving the critics to sweep away
everything of value that the venture had produced.
This was the creation of a place where the child felt loved, respected and
understood. In his own way and to some extent despite himself, Neill rehabilita-
ted the educator, that controversial character on the educational scene, which the
fierce individualism of our times has struck out of the educational treatises, as if
it still needed to be proved that educational success depends largely on the
personality of the teachers, their enthusiasm and commitment. There again, Neill
ALE X AND E R S U THE R L AND N ElL L 227
References
Works by A. S. Neill
EDUCATIONAL WORKS
PERIODICAL ARTICLES
Neill wrote a considerable number of articles, particularly when he worked with the
Umversity of Edinburgh Journal, The Student, and the review New Era and when he
contributed to the magazine Id. Hemmings has established the largest list.
1929. Summerhill. The Nel/) Era. Vol. 10, No. 39, July.
1932. Inspection of Schools. The New Era. Vol. 13, No. 9, October.
1935. Authority and Freedom III Schools. The New Era. Vol. 16, No. 1, January.
1947. Domillle Looks at the Secondary School. Secondary Education. September.
1948. Love-Discipline Yes. Hate-DlsClplllle No. New York Times Magazme. 7 November.
1957. Freedom and Licence. The Times Educational Supplement. 26 July.
1959. Why Have Exams? Culture and FUtlltty. The Tmles Educational Supplement.
8 May.
1960. Realities of Life. The Times Educational Supplement. 6 May.
1960161. My Scholastic Life. Id. Nos. 2 & 7. September 1960; August 1961.
1960161. Summerhill Mistakes. Id. No. 10. n.d.
1960161. A Dirty Work. Id. No. 11. n.d.
1963. Contribution to a SymposIUm on Contemporary Morality. Twentieth Century.
1964. Tony and the Gang (conversation with H. Parkhurst). The Tmles Educational
Supplement. 8 May.
1964. Using the Extra Year. The Times Educational Supplement. 14 February.
1966. RadICal Pnvate Schools (conversation with M. Montesson). ThiS Magazine Is
about Schools. Vol. 1, No. 1, April.
1966. Corporal Punishment (conversatIOn between A. S. Neill, M. Duane and 1. Cook).
The Tunes Educational Supplement. 31 May.
1966. Learning or Living. The Times Educational Supplement. 2 September.
1966. A Domillle Grows. The Times Educational Supplement. 2 September.
1966. Drama in Summerhill. The Times Educational Supplement. 30 December.
1967. What Shortage? (on teacher-trainlllg). The Times Educational Supplement.
6 January.
1967. You've Got to Be Free to Be Happy. Evening News. 9 August.
1968. Can I Come to Summerhtll? I Hate my School. Psychology Today. May.
1968. All of Us Are a Part of This Sick Censorsip. The Times Educational Supplement.
29 March.
1968. Life Without Father. The Times EducatIOnal Supplement. 11 April.
1
PETER NOIKOV
(1868-1921)
Zhecho Atanassov
Bulgaria spent almost 500 years under Turkish domination - from 1393 to 1878
- before being liberated by Russia. Bulgarian medieval culture had reached
remarkable peaks in its development but the Ottoman invasion stamped out
most material and cultural values with a corresponding effect on the progress of
education. ThiS helps explain the rather late foundation of a university in
Bulgaria in 1888.
Lectures in pedagogy were provided from the very beginning. Pedagogy,
however, was at that time geared solely to teacher training and to offering stu-
dents knowledge in the theory of education, didactics and the instructIOnal
methods they would need to join the teaching profession. Teaching work in gene-
ral and the qualificatIOns of the first lecturers were not conducive to encouraging
research and developing different branches of education. Peter Noikov's founding
appointment in 1900 as associate professor in the Education Department at the
University of Sofia was a real breakthrough, a starting point for Bulgarian peda-
gogy.
Born on 27 April 1868 in the town of Yambol, Peter Noikov was only 10 years
old when Bulgaria was liberated from Turkish domination. But his memories of
life under foreign oppression were to leave a lasting imprint.
Although only a child, he nevertheless worked at the Russian headquarters
in his native town which facilitated his learning of the Russian language and his
reading Russian literature. Once kindled, Noikov's interest in Russian writers
remained strong throughout his life.
After the stabilization of the country following the war of liberation,
Noikov continued his education at the secondary school at Sliven. His stay at a
French boarding house in the town roused his interest in French culture. Noikov
began learning French and at the age of 16 he started translating works by Emile
232 Zhecho Atanassov
Zola. After studying for some time at Plovdiv, he graduated from secondary
school in Sofia. Due to lack of money, Noikov had to interrupt his studies twice
and work as a teacher in his home town and in Sofia. This, however, brought
him into contact with teaching practices and considerably influenced his choice
of profession and field of research.
Noikov's talents soon caught the attentIOn of officials at the Ministry of
Education. In 1893 he was sent to Switzerland to attend a summer course for
teachers. It was there that he first touched upon the major concerns of the educa-
tional sciences and decided to devote his life to them. In the autumn of 1893 he
enrolled as a student of philosophy and education at Leipzig University.
At that time Leipzig University enjoyed worldwide prestige, with famous
scholars like Wundt, Paulsen, Volkelt and Stumpf among its academic staff.
Noikov attended lectures by all of them.
He won a state scholarship to Berlin University, but stayed there only one
semester before giving up the scholarship and returning to Leipzig to attend the
lectures of his preferred professors. His ambitions prompted him to write a Ph.D.
thesis which he defended successfully in 1898. In it he analysed the active prin-
ciple in Jean-Jacques Rousseau's pedagogy; Volkelt was his tutor.
After his return to Bulgaria, Noikov worked for some time as a teacher in
philosophic propaedeutics and German, translated Descartes' Discourse on
Method from French and studied English on his own.
Teaching activities
The general theory of education, with specialized courses on moral education for
secondary-school students.
Didactics: the general theory of education, didactics of primary and secondary
education.
PET E R NOIKOV 233
The Idea of the national character of education and education systems underlay
all Noikov's research. His first lecture as associate professor at the University of
Sofia indicated that all his future research would be aimed at determining the
general features and specific national traits of every education oriented activity.3
Noikov proceeded from the assumption that the notion of education essentially
consists of two component parts - the universal and the national, the latter being
determined by every nation's real historical development:
If the educator has in mind the Image of humankmd, of the human bemg m general and
endeavours to mould his diSCiple m this image, then we have a case of universal education.
If the educator has in mind the image of the people to whom the child belongs, he strives
to mould his students m that Image. ThiS IS what we call natIOnal education. 4
Along with that, however, every nation has its own particularities and its
unique approach to current and future tasks. Nations cannot be educated in one
and the same way or have one common, immutable idea. National peculiarities
acquire paramount importance in the wake of bourgeois revolutions and the
growing self-awareness of nations. It is here that the idea of 'national education'
emerges. 'The progress of that movement', Noikov wrote, 'is best evidenced by
the epithets the school began to adorn itself with. Every natIOn has its own
ministries of agriculture, trade, finance, defence and justICe but the epithet
"national" is used for schools only'. 6
Developing this idea further, NOlkov listed the reasons that necessitated the
linking of universal ideals with national specificities. These included the need to
cultivate in the young a feeling of belonging to the nation, of contributing to
national prosperity and happiness; of adjust1l1g educational influences to the
national mentality; of utilizing national experience, which in most cases remains
unidentified, to the full. Most Important, children should not become 'aliens in
their own homeland'.-
Noikov maintained that it was extremely important to learn from foreign
achievements in education. The results of his practical research were reflected in
his publications. H Mastering foreign experience should not, however, lead to
underrating or ignoring local experience, Noikov claimed, because an imitation
could never be as good as the original. 'We shall never make our schools like
other nations' schools by imitation and plagiarism; blindly following foreign
models can only lead to estranging our schools from national ideals.'9 He conclu-
ded that 'the roots of national education are in the people themselves'.1O The task
was thus to develop further these ideas in the national system of education.
Noikov advanced the idea of the harmonious combination of universal edu-
catIOnal values which had come down through the history and experience of all
countries with the individual historical experience of every single nation.
On active education
learning can be called active only when there are many motives and students
have an opportunity to choose and learn the ones they prefer, accepting them as
their own basis for judgement, as a consciously accepted behavioural regulator.
There are, of course, cases when a person, faced with the need to select
among many motives, remains passive. This depends on the degree and intensity
of the psychological state and the confrontation between the motives. Sometimes,
despite the existence of personal motivation, attitudes and emotions, a person
agrees to obey an instruction or order against their wishes. Then the emerging
unpleasant feeling of 'being wronged' is accompanied by passivity, that is, by the
need to obey the order or being forced to accept ready-made solutions or conclu-
sIOns.
Noikov's desire to substantiate the need of a freer expression of the child's
personality is obvious. Being mindful the early-twentieth-century tradition of
control over children's thinking and behaviour, this desire to defend children's
active attitudes is fully understandable and justified. Nevertheless, some critical
observations are also necessary. There is an inclination to exaggerate the theoreti-
cal role of 'internal factors and stimuli' which are presented in conflict or even in
contradiction with the 'external', active, responsible and guiding role of the
teacher - indeed, of every educator. Educational work is naturally adjusted to the
needs of the trainee, but it also contains an important element which is beyond
personal needs and interests: the needs and moral requirements of society, of the
organized social environment. Freedom in choosing motives is not an abstraction
but is determined by socially expedient requirements whose fulfilment is impera-
tive. It does not rule out freely made decisions, but it does contain requirements
to obey orders and instructions. As a principle of education and upbringing, acti-
vity cannot but conform to the intellectual and moral requirements valid in every
society. If it does not observe them, education may lose its role as a pedagogical
process.
Nevertheless, Noikov's defence of active education deserves a fair assess-
ment. It should be kept in mind that Herbart's educational theories were reigning
supreme in European schools at that time. There was a need to defend theoreti-
cally children's rights to a more active involvement in the study process, and thus
also to make some changes in practical work. Noikov was guided in his work by
evidently noble and humane motives.
On teachers
The theory of active education by necessity leads to the image of the teacher, to
teacher training, to personal qualities and attitudes.
The outcomes of educational work depend to the greatest possible extent
on the training of teachers, which guarantees the success of the educational pro-
cess. A major requirement is to master educational theory thoroughly and to link
it with existing school practices. Removing theory from practice can have a nega-
tive effect on theory itself:
PET E R NOIKOV 237
A professor who has not included school practice in his course on educational theory IS
prone to abstract speculation.... And the students attending such a course will benefIt
too little from it: fIrst, because the things they will hear wIll not be apphcable and, second,
even if applicable, the theories will be easily forgotten unless illustrated in practice in
schools, and will be of little importance for their future work. IS
To carry out his intentions, Noikov drafted a detailed plan guaranteeing a close
link between theoretical training and school practices. According to this plan,16
two secondary schools were to open at the university, a boys' and a girls' school,
where student-teachers could carry out their practicals. The headmaster and the
teachers would all be assistant professors at the university, and members of the
educational faculty would be involved in research work. Educational research
laboratories would be set up at the secondary schools.
Formulated in the early twentieth century, this idea was only partially mat-
erialized only after Noikov's death, with the setting up in 1923 of a Training
Institute at the Third Model Boys' Secondary School.
Teacher training, in Noikov's opinion, does not end upon graduation.
Teachers should be concerned with the continuous improvement of their qualifi-
cations because their authority depends upon their scientific and educational
training. Even if highly talented, a teacher must continually enrich his or her
knowledge, examine his or her achievements and assess them in a critical vein.
Of particular importance is the educational postulate of 'love' or involve-
ment. It calls first of all for the teachers' interest for their own profession. It is
this concern that makes them go on searching for new methods and to strive to
improve their qualifications. Involvement has another aspect too; this is the
teacher's concern for the students. This encourages teachers to be considerate,
tactful and fair in their relationships with students, and to be concerned about
their progress and the formation of moral attitudes. Teachers, however, should
strive to merit their students' respect too, for it is of paramount importance not
only in creating a quiet and pleasant emotional atmosphere, but for inciting the
students' interest and commitment to the subject taught by the teacher. This, in
turn, is a prerequisite for better intellectual achievements.
Noikov tested his theoretical requirements in his own teaching practice.
Meticulous in preparing his lessons, he showed exceptional consideration and
concern for his students, setting an example of what an educator should be.
About children
To focus the students' attention on the object of education - children - Noikov
formed a working group of young enthusiastic researchers at the Laboratory of
Didactics and Child Psychology, with whose help he conducted a wide-ranging
survey on Bulgarian schoolchildren's sexual maturation. Assistant Professor
Dimitar Katsarov was also involved in the work. Following continuous research
over a decade, the study appeared in 1919Y The book presents the survey
238 Zhecho Atanassov
results and reveals the orientation of scientific research, aimed at collecting more
objective information about Bulgarian children in order to ensure better and
more effective educational actions.
The preface defines the survey's goals: to study comparatively the physiolo-
gical and psychological peculiarities of boys and girls at the age of puberty.
Compansons are made with data and results provided by French, German,
British and other authors to define the general characteristics and specific fea-
tures of Bulgarian children.
Reviewing in detail the methods used hitherto, Noikov discovered that most
of the authors relied on students who had been asked to remember the symptoms
of the onset of puberty. However, he found that this method of collecting infor-
mation lacked credibility and used only his 'method of the established case', in
his own definition. This method calls for establishing the percentage of students
with such symptoms without asking them any questions. Instances of false infor-
mation are thus eliminated because memories cannot be trusted to be fully
reliable.
Noikov's method is characterized by several elements: an equal number of
boys and girls polled (forty of each sex), all Bulgarian and from the same social
background. 'We wanted them to be all city-dwellers, i.e. theIr parents lived in a
town, they all came from the middle classes, i.e. they were neither very poor nor
very rich, nor were they suffering from any disease.'18 Other aspects of the selec-
tion policy included the requirement for the children's birth date to fall in the
first half of the year and the poll to take place in September and October. These
strict requirements ruled out the possibility for any great deviation. But they also
created certain difficulties: at a high school with 1,000 pupils only a dozen chil-
dren met the requirements. Still, in the interest of authenticity, the method was
strictly observed, which guaranteed high-quality results.
In this study, as in all his work, Noikov proved to be an extremely exacting
scholar, meticulous about the trustworthiness of results, clear in formulatmg the
hypothesis and critical of his own achievements. The study is accompanied by a
great number of tables and diagrams, meticulously calculated percentages and
conscientious references to foreign literature. This study is an authentic docu-
ment about the physiological development and psychological features of
Bulgarian children during the second decade of the twentieth century.
Noikov had strong and lasting interests in the educational classics. His Ph.D.
thesis already indicated his admiration for the prestige and views of one of the
most remarkable educationists of all time, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Noikov re-
turned to Rousseau over and over again, to draw on his works for wisdom and
inspiration. Whenever he faced a difficult problem, Noikov turned to the classi-
cal educational heritage. His historical research, however, always reflected a
PET E R NOIKOV 239
strong feeling for current values. He sought and discovered past ideas formulated
by people from previous epochs which could serve human progress.
This makes his approach to historical research extremely interesting. As a
rule, he endeavoured to analyse above all the circumstances in which a certain
educator had worked and the tasks he had set himself in clarifying the major
educational problems of his time.
On different occasions he analysed the development of educational theory
in different societies. Ancient societies were dominated by political and relIgious
despotism. Human activity was concentrated on the struggle against oppression.
This was reflected in education too: 'There is no such freedom in the Eastern
societies. Science is a mystery there, accessible only to a chosen few.'19 That is
why educationists who cared about human nghts strove for the unfolding of the
active pnnciple in education, unleashing the energy of every child. Educators in
the ancient East knew and recommended no other method of instruction but the
one based on pUnIshment and fear. The great philosopher Socrates advanced the
maieutic method which is incompatible with 'fear and violence, and requires
active thinking and behaviour'.2o
Noikov analysed in detail ideological movements and the views of humanis-
tic educationists in partlcular against the backdrop of the struggle between des-
potism and life's call for boosting human activity and overall historical and cultu-
ral development. 'The Ideal of humanistic pedagogy is no longer the single
individual confined to cultural or religious activities but an individual who can
display his talents in all fields.'21 Noikov appraised highly Mafeo Vegio's human-
istic views, which, proceeding from a democratic position, sought ways and
means of fully integrating children into an environment in which all people
should live, cherishing optimistic ideas about life and human existence. Students'
activity should be encouraged in order to ensure chIldren's all-round physical and
intellectual development. Noikov admired Montaigne who had managed to
deliver 'a block on dogmatIc pedagogy' and advocated insistently in favour of the
new theory of active education, whose meaning lay in conscious learning, based
on reason rather than authority.
Giving full credit to the work of philosophers like Erasmus, Luther,
Melanchton and Vives, and to classical educationists like Frobel, Herbart and
Spencer, Noikov dwelt exclusively on those ideas in their theories which had a
bearing on modern times and could be used as a source of inspiration and wis-
dom. 22
Noikov devoted particular attention to the educational heritage of
Comenius. He was well aware of the contradictions in the views of thIs great
educationist, provoked by the vestiges of medieval thought, on the one hand, and
the powerful Renaissance ideas, on the other. That contradictIon he formulated
in the following way: 'With one foot still in the religious battles of hIS time, he
made a firm step forward with the other in the direction of pedagogical natura-
lism.'21
240 Zhecho Atanassov
One of Noikov's greatest scientific merits is his profound research of the history
of Bulgarian education. The results of his work were summarized in a two-part
monograph published posthumously.v
Noikov's monograph was preceded by publications by other authors which,
however, were of a more general, informative nature or referred to concrete
events. The founder of the first new 'mutual approach' school in Bulgaria, Vassil
Aprilov, published a book in 1841 intended to inform Russian readers of the his-
torical development and current state of Bulgarian education. 28 Petko Slaveikov's
book on the same school at Gabrovo contains more detailed historical informa-
tion. 29 On the initiative of Ivan Shishmanov, then Chief Secretary at the Ministry
of Public Education, a detailed plan for collecting material on teaching history in
Bulgaria was developed in 1890. The first to summarize this material was Nikola
Vankov, but his work simply conformed to the requirements of a school text-
book. 30
Noikov's monograph is a serious scientific study based on considerable fac-
tual material. He worked on it for over two decades, probing into one aspect of
the problem or another. He harboured a genuine admiration for the role of edu-
cation in the history of Bulgaria. Despite the extremely difficult social and politi-
cal conditions Bulgarians lived under during the period of Turkish domination,
they took exceptional care to keep and develop their schools. This fact filled
Noikov with justifiable pride. The Bulgarians' confidence in the power of educa-
tion strengthened their spirit and preserved them as a nation.
In the very first pages of the book Noikov strove to formulate the factors
which had determined the relatively high level of Bulgarian education throughout
the ages.
242 Zhecho Atanassov
Bulgarian education did not have the pillars that education in other countries IS based on:
no nation-state or national local administration, national church, favourable political and
economic conditions, civil, church and school freedom. On the contrary, there were only
persecutions of which European history seems to know nothing. These were the condi-
tions in which Bulganan education developed. 31
Noikov began his work as a lecturer and researcher at a time when there were no
firmly established teaching traditions in Bulgaria, neither in schools nor at the
university. So, in the circumstances he had to resort to the old academic rule: in
order to guarantee the success of lecturing work, it should be based on previous
or parallel research work. And since there were no such traditions, Noikov had
to create them.
One of the advantages of being the first is that one can advance new ideas
and pave new ways for research, making a contribution in every area. But there
is the problem of no previous experience, of taking inevitable risks, of the impos-
sibility of making comparisons with other research results in the same area.
There is also the danger of self-complacency, of considering one's own theories
and views as unshakable, not requiring revision or change. Fortunately Noikov
was demanding and critical of his own work. His research in the main branches
of education was serious and profound. On matters of key importance he organi-
zed special seminars with his students and then analysed and summarized the
works of Comenius, Rousseau and Herbart, as well as matters relating to child
psychology and the anthropometric and psychological characteristics of
Bulgarian children. Seminars were also organized on teaching methods in the
physical and mathematical sciences and the humanities.
There were mistakes, too, but they were unavoidable where there was insuf-
ficient experience from the past and personal experience was rather limited. The
true value of a scholar and lecturer lies not in avoiding mistakes but in over-
coming them, in keeping up the standards of scientific exactitude and proceeding
onwards, setting new and more complicated tasks for oneself. Noikov was such a
man. He was not one of those academics who could afford to read the same
course of lectures over and over again. He could not limit his speciality to only
one field. His versatile interests prompted him to engage in various activities and
created favourable prerequisites for him to cover all basic branches of pedagogy
in his research.
It is difficult but also ennobling to be the first. Most important, however, is
to be worthy of one's duty and mission in life. Noikov proved himself worthy of
his noble mission, leaving an outstanding example for future generations.
Notes
1. This text was onginally published in Prospects, Vol. 20, No. 3, 1990.
2. Profiles of Comenius, Pestalozzi, Rousseau and Tolstoy appear in this senes of '100
Thinkers on EducatlOn'-Ed.
3. P. Noikov, 'Universal and National Education', Bulgarian ReView, Vol. 6, No. 6,
1900.
4. Ibid., p. 26.
5. Ibid., p. 23.
6. Ibid., p. 33.
244 Zhecho Atanassov
7. Ibid., p. 40.
8. 'The Public Schools in Britain', School Review, 1903; 'Trade Education in Britain',
NatIonal Economy; 1909; 'Personal Observations in French Schools', School
RevIew, 1902, and others.
9. Noikov, op. cit., p. 34.
10. Ibid., p. 34. .
11. P. Noikov, 'Active Education', Yearbook of Sofia Uniuerslty, 1904.
12. P. Noikov, The Theory of Actiue Education, Kyustendil, 1906.
13. NOlkov, '~ctive Education', op. Clt., p. 2.
14. NOlkov, The Theory of Actllle Edllcation, op. cit., p. 4.
15. P. Noikov, 'The Berlm State Seminar in Pedagogy for Secondary School Teachers',
School Reuiew, 1898, p. 1284.
16. It has unfortunately not been published. The manuscript IS in the Central State
History Archives (f. 1106, a.u.1.) .
17. P. NOlkov anfl D. Katsarov. PhysIological Manifestations of the Sexual MaturatIon
of Bulgarian School Students, Sofia, 1919.
18. Ibid.
19. P. Noikov, 'Rousseau's Theories of Civil Education', Duadeseti uek [Twentieth
Century], 1901, p. 29.
20. Ibid., p. 74.
21. Ibid.
22. Profiles of Erasmus, Frobel, Herbart, Spencer and Vives appear in this series of '100
Thinkers on Education'-Ed.
23. Noikov, 'Rousseau's Theones .. .', op. cit., p. 24.
24. Noikov, The Theory of Actlue Education, op. cit., p. 150.
25. P. Noikov, 'L. Tolstoy's Pedagogy', Yearbook of Sofia Unwerslty, 1908/09.
26. Noikov, The Theory of Actiue Edllcat/~n, op. cit., p. 8.
27. P. Noikov, 'A Glimpse at the Development of Teaching in Bulgana until the Time of
Paissy', Yearbook of Sofra Uniuersity. 1925 (Department of History and Philology,
Book 21); 'A Glimpse at the Development of Teaching in Bulgaria from the Time of
Paissy to the End of the Nineteenth Century', Yearbook of Sofia Uniuersity. (Book
22.)
28. V. E. Apnlov, Denneetsa Nouobolgarskovo Obrazouanya [The Dawn of New
Bulganan Education], Odessa, 1841. (In Russian.)
29. P. R. Slaveikov, The Gabrouo School and ItS FIrst Trustees. 1866.
30. N. I. Vankov. HIstory of Educat~on III BlIlgaY/a. 1903.
31. Noikov, 'A Glimpse at the Development of Teachmg in Bulgaria ...', op. Clt., pp. 1, 3.
32. Ibid., p. 3.
The Pedagogy of Lev Tolstoy. Yearbook of SofIa Umverslty, 1908-09. (In Bulgarian.)
PhysIOlogical Effects of the Sexual Maturity of Bulganan Pupils (Boys and GIrls). Sofia,
1919. (In Bulgarian.)
A Glimpse at the Development of Teachlllg in Bulgaria. Yearbook of Sofia University,
1925-26.2 vols. (In Bulgarian.)
Yussuf Kassam
Julius Nyerere, the former and founding President of the United Republic of
Tanzania, is known not only as one of the world's most respected statesmen and
an articulate spokesman of African liberation and African dignity but also as an
educator and an original and creative educational thinker. Before launching his
political career he was a teacher and, as a result of his writings on educational
philosophy and the intimate interaction between his political leadership and edu-
cational leadership for the country, he is fondly and respectfully referred to by
the title of 'Mwalimu' [teacher] by Tanzanians and others. This is Gillette's
(1977) view of him:
Indeed, part of Nyerere's' charisma lies in the fact that, before launching his political
career With the founding of the TanganYika African National Union (TANU) in 1954, he
was a teacher and that his concept of his role as national leader includes constant reassess-
ment, learning and explanatIOn, i.e. education in the broadest sense. Since Independence,
and particularly since the threshold ye\lr of 1967, Tanzania has been something of a giant
in-service seminar, with Nyerere in the professor's chair.
Many features of his educational philosophy have a universal relevance and have
inspired many educators and educational and development organizations around
the world. In particular, his educational philosophy has often been regarded as
an appropriate and rational educational alterative for many Third World coun-
tries. This has to be understood in the light of the realities of underdevelopment,
perpetuated by colonialism and nascent capitalism in many Third World coun-
tries, including the United Republic of Tanzania. More specifically, it has to be
understood in relation to changing the inherited Western model of education in a
poor and developing country aspiring to a self-reliant and socialist development,
for, in the final analysis, it is the' goals of egalitarianism and human-centred
development that characterize Nyerere's political ideology.
Nyerere's philosophy of adult education and adult learning is considered
very progressive among the international adult education community and non-
248 Yusuf Kassam
If the people are not involved III public ownership, and cannot control the pohCles
followed, the public ownership can lead to fascism not socialism ... socialism IS only pos-
Sible if the people as a whole are involved in the government of their political and econo-
mic affairs [Nyerere, 1968c, pp. 309-10].
must also prepare young people for the work they will be called upon to do m the society
which exists in Tanzallla - a rural society where Improvement will depend largely upon
the efforts of the people in agriculture and in village development. This does not mean
that education in Tanzania should be designed just to produce passive agricultural wor-
kers of different levels of skill who Simply carry out plans or directions received from
above. It must produce good farmers; it has also to prepare people for their responSibili-
ties as free workers and Citizens m a free and democratic society, albeit a largely rural
society. They have to be able to think for themselves, to make judgements on all issues
affecting them; they have to be able to interpret the decisions made through the democra-
tiC lllstitutions of our society, and to Implement them in the light of the local Circum-
stances peculiar to where they happ~n to live.
It would thus be gross misinterpretation of our needs to suggest that the educational
system should be deSigned to produce robots, who work hard but never question what the
leaders m government or TANU are doing and saying.... The education provided must
therefore encourage the development in each citizen of three things: an enqUiring mind; an
252 Yusuf Kassam
ability to learn from what others do, rejecting or adaptmg it to his own needs; and a basic
confidence m his own position as a free and equal member of the society, who values
others and is valued by them for what he does and not for what he obtams [Nyerere,
1968b, p. 274].
We should not determme the type of thmgs children are taught in primary schools by the
things a doctor, engineer, teacher, economist, or administrator needs to know. Most of our
pupils Will never be any of these thmgs. We should determine the type of things taught m
the pnmary schools by the things which the boy or girl ought to know - that IS, the skills
he ought to acquire and the values he ought to cherish if he, or she, is to lIve happily and
welI in a socialist and predommantly rural society, and contribute to the improvement of
life there. Our sights must be on the majority - it is they we must be aiming at in determi-
nmg the curriculum and syllabus. Those most suitable for further education Will still
become obVIOUS and they will not suffer. For the purpose is not to provide an inferior edu-
cation to that given at present. The purpose IS to provide a different education - one rea-
listically deSigned to fulfil the common purpose of education in the particular society of
Tanzania. The same must be true at post-pnmary schools [Nyerere, 1968b, p. 282].
Each school should have, as an integral part of It, a farm or workshop which proVides the
food eaten by the community, and makes some contribution to the national mcome....
ThiS is not a suggestion that a school farm or workshop should be attached to every
school for traming purposes. It is a suggestion that every school should also be a farm
[Nyerere, 1968b, p. 283].
JULIUS K A M BAR AGE N Y ERE R E 253
Nyerere's philosophy on adult education, lifelong learning and education for libe-
ration is in many ways a natural development of his ideas embodied in
Education for Self-Reliance, particularly those relating to some of the inherent
limitations and inadequacies of formal schooling. While in Education for Self-
Reliance Nyerere addressed himself primarily to the needs and conditions of the
United Republic of Tanzania, his writings on adult education, lifelong learning
and education for liberation deal with educational issues on a more general and
universal level, as well as with those pertaining specifically to the United
Republic of Tanzania. His concepts of lifelong learning and education for libera-
tion can be subsumed under his philosophy of adult education, which, for pur-
poses of analySIS, can be placed under four main headings, albeit with some over-
lap.
254 Yusuf Kassam
is the liberation of Man from the restraints and limitatIOns of ignorance and dependency.
Education has to Illcrease men's phYSical and mental freedom - to increase their control
over themselves, their own lives, and the environment in which they live. The Ideas impar-
ted by education, or released in the mind through education, should therefore be libera-
tlllg ideas; the skills acquired by education should be liberating skills [Nyerere, 1978,
pp. 27-28].
help men deCide for themselves - in co-operation - what development is. It must help men
to think clearly; it must enable them to examine the possible alterative courses of action;
to make a choice between those alternatives in keeping with their own purposes; and It
must equip them with the ability to translate their decisions into reality [Nyerere, 1978,
p.28].
In the process of doing things and acting on reality, the individual has no choice
but to co-operate with others, and therefore education for liberation is also edu-
cation in co-operating with others. However, learning will not have the desired
liberating impact on the people if their learning is oriented to obtaining a certifi-
cate,
for such a desire is merely another aspect of the disease of the acqUisitive society - the
accumulatIOn of goods for the sake of accumulating them. The accumulation of know-
ledge or, worse still, the accumulation of pieces of paper which represent a kind of legal
tender for such knowledge, has nothing to do with development [Nyerere, 1978, p. 29].
According to Nyerere, one of the primary and most significant functions of adult
education is to arouse consciousness and critical awareness among the people
about the need for and possibility of change:
The first function of adult education is to inspire both a deSlfe for change, and an under-
standing that change is possible. For a belief that poverty or suffenng is 'the will of God'
and that man's only task is to endure, IS the most fundamental of all the enemies of
freedom [Nyerere, 1978, p. 29].
JULIUS K A M BAR AGE N Y ERE R E 255
The broad scope and role of adult education requires two types of adult educa-
tors, according to Nyerere. The first group consists of what he calls 'generalists'
- political activists, educators, community development workers and religious
teachers. Such people, he argues, cannot be politically neutral by the very nature
of their work, for their important role is to activate the people and arouse their
consciousness: 'Adult education is a ... highly political activity. Politicians are
sometimes more aware of this fact than educators and therefore they do not
always welcome real adult education' (Nyerere, 1978, p. 31).
The second group of educators needed for adult education are what he calls
'specialists' with a wide range of professional expertise in health, nutrition, child
care, agriculture, management, literacy and so on.
Nyerere's definition of adult education also incorporates the concept of life-
long learning and learning that is associated with work, normally referred to as
workers' education. Two quotations serve to illustrate his viewpoint: 'Education
is something that all of us should continue to acquire from the time we are born
until the time we die' (Nyerere, 1973a). 'To live is to learn; and to learn is to try
to live better' (Nyerere, 1973a, p. 138).
On the question of making learning an integrated part of working life,
Nyerere argued:
If we are to make real progress in adult education, it is essential that we should stop trying
to divide up hfe into sections, one of which is for education and another, longer one of
256 Yusuf Kassam
which is for work - with occasional time off for 'courses'. In a country dedicated to
change we must accept that education and working are both parts of living and should
continue from birth until we die [Nyerere, 1973b, pp. 300-01].
Nyerere defines an educator's approach to adult education on the basis that adult
learning is voluntary; adult learners have to participate in identifying their own
learning needs and interests, and their learning needs should be centred on their
own problems and experience:
The teacher of adults IS a leader, a gUide along a path which all will travel together. The
teacher of adults is not giving to another something whICh he possesses. He is helping the
learner to develop his own potential and his own capacity [Nyerere, 1978, pp. 33-34].
lies m the complex intersection of external and internal dynamics, and especially in
Tanzania's unique mix of SOCialist vision and peripheral capitalist practICe. . . . The
Tanzanian experience suggests both the potential and the limits for nonrevolutlOnary non-
capitalist development and its accompanying educational reform.
Tanzania's transition is stymied. Its socialist vision is regularly obscured and often over-
whelmed by its capitalist practice, both within and outSide education. Frequently denoun-
ced, the modernization orientation IS equally frequently reasserted, with both local and
foreign support.... The Tanzanian experience points to the powerful obstacles, and per-
haps the limits, of a nonrevolutionary transition.
Tanzania seems to offer a success story of educatIOnal reform. In a brief penod, a very
poor country has introduced institutional changes that reach nearly all its citizens.
Pnmary education IS essentially universal. Initial instruction uses a language and draws on
experiences and matenals that are familiar to everyone. Tanzania and Africa feature
prominently in the curriculum at all levels. A national board sets and marks exammatlons.
Tanzania's adult literacy IS now among the highest in Africa [about 85 per cent]. Although
affluence clearly enhances the likelihood of academic success, poverty does not preclude it.
These accomplishments in turn provide the foundations for other programs.
Nutritional and prenatal information can be disseminated much more widely. Agricultural
Improvement programs can reach remote farmers. Members of cooperatives and unions
can mOnitor their leaders more effectively. Tanzanian citizens evince a pnde in their lan-
guage and their country that derives neither from chauvinistic propaganda nor from xeno-
phobia, but rather -notwithstandmg their relative poverty - from a sense of accomplish-
ment and self-conftdence. In the two decades since the end of European rule, these are
major achievements [Samoff, 1990, p. 209].
258 Yusuf Kassam
Notes
References
Cliffe, L. 1973. Socialist Education III Tanzania. In: L. Cliffe and J. Saul (eds.). SOCIalism
In Tanzania. Dar es Salaam, East African Publishing House.
Frelre, P. 1970. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York, Herder & Herder.
Gillette, A. 1977. Beyond the Non-formal FashIOn: Towards Educational Revolution in
Tanzania. Amherst, Center for International Education, University of
Massachusetts.
Hlllzen, H.; Hundsdorfer, V. (eds.). 1979. Education for LiberatIOn and Development -
The Tanzanzan Experience. Hamburg, UNESCO Institute for EducatIOn.
Kassam, Y. 1978. The Adult Education Rel'olution in Tanzanza. Nairobi, Shungwaya Pub-
lishers Ltd.
- - . 1979. Illtterate No More: The Voices of New Literates from Tanzania. Dar es
Salaam, Tanzania Publishing House.
Kumar, K. 1989. Profiles of Educators: Mohandas Karamchand GandhI. In: Prospects
(Pans, UNESCO), Vo!. 19, No. 2. (Also appears in this senes of '100 Thinkers on
Education' - Ed.)
Mbllinyl, M.; Mwobahe, B.L. 1975. Challenge of Education for Self-Reliance. Dar es
Salaam, Institute of Education.
Nyerere, J. K. 1968a. The Arusha Declaration. Freedom and Socialism. Dar es Salaam,
Oxford University Press.
- - . 1968b. Education for Self-Reliance. Freedom and Socialism. Dar es Salaam, Oxford
Ulllversity Press.
- - . 1968c. The Vaned Paths to Socialism. Freedom and Socialism. Dar es Salaam,
Oxford University Press.
- - . 1968d. The Purpose is Man. Freedom and Socialism. Dar es Salaam, Oxford
University Press.
- - . 1968e. Socialism and Rural Development. Freedom and Socialism. Dar es Salaam,
Oxford Ulllverslty Press.
JULIUS K A M BAR AGE N Y ERE R E 259
- - . 1973a. Adult EducatIOn Year. Freedom and Soczalism. Dar es Salaam, Oxford
Umverslty Press.
- - . 1973b. Ten Years After Independence. Freedom and Socialzsm. Dar es Salaam,
Oxford Umverslty Press.
- - . 1973c. Freedom and Development. Freedom and Soczalzsm. Dar es Salaam, Oxford
Umverslty Press.
1974. Education for Liberation. Del'elopment DIalogue (Uppsala, Dag
HammarskJold Foundation), No. 2.
- - . 1978. Adult Education and Development. In: B. Hall and]. R. Kidd (eds.), Adult
Learl1lng: A Design for Action. London, Pergamon Press.
Samoff,]. 1990. 'Modernizing' a SOCialist VIsion: Education In Tanzania. In: M. Carnoy
and]. Samoff (eds.). Education and SOCIal Transition m the Third World. Princeton,
N.]., Pnnceton University Press.
TANU (TanganYika African National Union). 1971. TANU Guidelmes. Dar es Salaam,
Government Printer.
J 0 S E ORTEGA y GASSET
(1883-1955)
If there is one special characteristic which draws the attention of the reader to
Ortega y Gasset it is his remarkable curiosity: no subject or event was too lllsig-
nificant to avoid his interest or be given his attention, as can be seen from his
volummous writings. I He enjoyed a number of characteristics that distinguish
him from the stereotype of the philosopher: his thinking does not seem to be
structured into a system; it most frequently finds expression in newspaper
articles, while his most important works were published in the form of essays;
lastly, the elegance of his style sweeps the reader along, making rigorous analysIs
of the ideas presented rather difficult.
The question of Ortega's 'system' of philosophy, its thematic dispersion and
his hterary qualities have already been dealt with by specialists in the relevant
areas. In this article we shall confine ourselves to those questions which lead to
an understanding of the educational dimension of Ortega's work, which I feel to
be important and to which little attention has been paid so far. He considered his
vocation to be the cultivation of thought, which for him could only be philoso-
phical thought. 2
Ortega's great passion was the education of the Spanish people. As has
been shown by Cerezo,3 the driving force behind Ortega's thought was his conti-
nuous and intensive meditation on the problem of Spain, and his own intellectual
evolution is indissolubly linked with this concern. This is the key to any interpre-
tation of his political, cultural and philosophical activities; they were all geared
to the socio-political reform of his country, although focused on different levels
and spheres of the life of society. Ortega was, first and foremost, an educator on
a national scale whose aim was the reform and transformation of Spain. To
attain his goal he felt that all means could and should be used: newspapers,
magazines, books, his influence as a university professor, politics, ete.
262 Juan Esca111e::: Sanchez
The transformation of Spain was seen by the young Ortega as its incorpora-
tion into European culture. This was, in essence, what he felt to be his public cal-
ling as an intellectual, and his destiny as an educator, almost as a social reformer:
to strive to place Spain on an equal cultural footing with other European coun-
tries. The diversity of Ortega's approaches to culture and the problem of Spain
will help us to follow the evolution of his thought, in both its philosophical and
its educational aspects. How did Ortega develop his function as an educator? As
he himself constantly repeated, 'in the light of circumstances'.
always found an immediate response. His family environment was decisive for
his concern with the social and cultural problems of Spanish society, sometimes
leading him into active political life and always making him regard his work as a
service to Spain. I believe that his love of journalism and his preference for news-
papers as a means of expressing his thought - as well as the fact that he did so
with literary elegance - are the direct result of his family environment.
In 1891, at the age of 8, he was sent as a boarder to the school which the
Jesuits ran in Miraflores del Palo, Malaga, and he remained there until 1897. He
began his university studies - in law and philosophy - at the University of Deusto
(1897-98), also run by the Jesuits, and went on to the Universidad Central de
Madnd, from which he graduated with a bachelor's degree in philosophy (1902),
and a doctorate (1904), with a thesis entitled Los terrores del ano mil: critica de
IfIW leyellda [The Terrors of the Year 1000: Assessment of a Legend]. He critici-
zed his Jesuit educators for the style and negatlvism of their teachings, their intol-
erance and, above all, their limited knowledge and intellectual incompetence.'
Ortega's experience at university in Madrid was also disappointing, and he des-
cribed the teaching there as being of the utmost mediocrity.8 Justified or not,
Ortega's overall view of the education he received is a negative one.
However, a full understanding of Ortega's educational activity requires
consideration not only of his family background and schooling, but also of the
special psychological state of Spanish society during those years, since he felt
himself to be part of a generation, 'which came of age intellectually in the terrible
year of 1898, and which since that time has not only failed to see the dawn of a
single day of glory or abundance, but never known an hour of sufficiency'.9 The
year 1898 was a turning-point. With the Treaty of Paris, Spain gave up its rights
of sovereignty over Cuba, which became a free nation, at the same time ceding
Puerto Rico, the Philippines and Guam to the United States of America. The loss
of their colonies filled the Spanish people with bitterness, anguish and pessimism.
Spanish llltellectual activity began to focus on what was described as the 'pro-
blem of Spain' which, in fact, covered a host of problems. These were analysed,
and Spain's historical values mercilessly criticized; each author, whatever his area
of activity, sought, each in his own way, an explanation for the 'problem of
Spain' and the causes of the country's decline.
This critical period laid the foundations for a scientific, artistic and philoso-
phical movement which was to earn Spain the kind of reputation it had not
enjoyed since the sixteenth century. 10 It would be impossible to list the many emi-
nent figures concerned, but we can say that modern Spain began with the 'gener-
ation of '98', which was innovative in so many ways, but above all had a new
way of looking at Spanish society and intellectual topics. Ortega shared his gener-
ation's pain and bitterness at what was felt to be Spain's humiliation; he tried,
with that generation, to understand the reasons for the current state of Spanish
culture, education, politics and science. But while the others expressed their
unhappiness with great lyricism, evoking past glories, Ortega called for hope,
action and dedication to change the present painful situation of his country,
264 Juan Escamez Sanchez
looking not to the past but to the future, and taking note of how it was perceived
by the rest of Europe. This seems to be at the root of his love/hate relationship
with the most typical representative of the generation of '98, Miguel de Unamuno.
He also differed from the rest of his generation in that his approach was theoreti-
cal rather than literary. In what crucible, then, did Ortega forge his theoretical
framework? This question leads us to the fourth and last environmental influence.
'Fleeing my country's mediocrity', 11 in his own words, Ortega decided in
1905 to study in Germany, beginning with the University of Leipzig, where he
studied Kant: 'there I had my first desperate hand-to-hand struggle with the
Critique of Pure Reason, so tremendously difficult for a Latin mind to assimi-
late';12 the following year he visited Nuremberg and studied for a semester in
Berlin, under Professor Simmel, who influenced his thinking to some extent. It
was his stay in Marburg, however, his third stop, that was crucial. There, for the
first time, he studied under two well-known teachers, Hermann Cohen and Paul
Natorp, who were leading proponents of Neo-Kantianism. Marburg was to have
a profound influence on Ortega, not only intellectually, on his philosophical and
educational training, but also on his personality. Natorp's influence was particu-
larly important for the subject which concerns us here - Ortega as an educator.
During his stays in various European countries, Ortega was given an excellent
training in philosophy and conceived an admiration for the scientific and techni-
cal development that was taking place, as well as for tenacity and discipline,
especially those of the German people. His Europeanism sprang from an attitude
of not uncritical interest, a willingness to Illcorporate what could be incorpora-
ted, without giving up Spanish identity. On his return from Marburg in 1908, he
was appointed Professor of Logic, Psychology and Ethics at the Escuela Superior
de Magisterio, and in 1910 he won the competition for the post of Professor of
MetaphySICS at the Universidad Central de Madrid.
These, then, were the main circumstances of the times which Ortega had to
confront and out of which he shaped his own life, and specifically the beliefs
which he had adopted by 1910, the time when he wrote his first educational
work. However, Ortega's thought continued to evolve III response to changing
circumstances, as he himself declared in 1932, referring back to his words in
Meditations on Quixote (1914):
I am I, and my circumstance. This expreSSIOn, which appears in my first book and which,
In the final volume, condenses my philosophical thought, does not only mean the doctrine
whIch my work expounds and proposes, but also that my work is an effective instance of
that same doctrine. My work IS, in essence and presence, circumstantlal. 13
The interpretation which Ortega gives us of his own philosophy makes it impos-
sible to treat it as a system, and much less as a closed system. The driving force
behind Ortega's thinking, focused on the problem of Spain, is the constant search
for solutions, including both theoretical approaches and strategies for action - as
a result of which the specialists have had some trouble in identifying the various
stages of its development. 14 This development can be observed in his educational
J 0 S E o R T E G A y GAS SET 265
wntmgs; furthermore, it is my belief that three of these works are the genuine
representation of each of the stages of his thought - on which we will now focus
our attention.
Ortega's stay in Marburg, Germany, brought him into contact with Neo-
Kantianism, which was a philosophy of culture, of objective order and spheres of
value - a critical-transcendental rationalism which analyses the products of
modern culture, SCience, art, law, ethics and politics, in order to identify their
underlying principles and criteria of validity.
Neo-Kannanism was also an energetic teaching philosophy capable of
orientating mankind, of transforming it according to an ideal, which is none
other than the Kantian ideal of a cosmopolitan humanity. The Neo-Kantian
concept of man as a cultural phenomenon implies that real personal development
lies in the shaping of the individual to ideals, in the adjustment of behaviour to
standards, to what should be done. These standards have universal validity.
Biological and instinctive impulses must submit to a superior force, to the ideal.
Freedom does not mean spontaneity; it is not appetite, nor caprice, but thought
and education, in other words, the active shaping of the individual by universal
values.
This philosophy of culture and education which promotes the search for
objective, universal, generic truth, seemed to the young Ortega to be a system of
thought which could help in solving the problem of Spain. In Spain - in contrast
with German culture - the dominant forces were spontaneity, subjectivity, parti-
cularism and sectarianism. This resulted in energy being wasted in internal
confrontations, isolated gestures and in some people carefully undoing what
others had equally carefully put together, in short it explained the lamentable
situation in which Spain found itself. His contact with Europe, especially with
German Neo-Kantiamsm, convinced Ortega that the key to the salvation of
Spain, to its historical recovery, lay in cultural reform.
His first statements on education belong to this stage of his thinking. This
lecture, given in Bilbao on 12 March 1910, was entitled La pedagogia SOCial
como programa politico [Social Education as a Political Programme]Y
He began by describing the serious shortcomings which had held Spain
back for the past three centuries and prevented it from becoming a real nation.
HIS Neo-Kant13n position at that time made him feel that Spain was not a nation
because it did not exist as a community, regulated by objective laws with a
rational basis - laws which were accepted by everyone and which were the
expression of collective duties. Spam was not a nation because its citizens were
not dedicated to attaining the objective ideals of science, art and ethics, through
which human communities achieve full development.
Spain, rather, was the country of individualism and subjectivism, of people
who made it their aim to do exactly as they wished, without subjecting them-
266 Juan Escamez Sanchez
selves to any rule other than that of their own free will. The first step towards
solving the problem of Spain would be to recognize the absence of culture -
meaning the collective realization of ideals - in Spanish life. To recognize this
would not be a reason for despondency but rather a diagnosis which made clear
the difference between what was and what ought to be. Although it would be
painful to become aware of the true reality of the Spanish situation, it would
make Spaniards consider what their country ought to be like and how it could be
changed. Ortega's reasoning, although impassioned, was rigorous. Spain had a
problem, and that problem was its lack of what was understood in the rest of
Europe as culture. The task that lay ahead of it was to acquire that culture m the
European way, as defined by Neo-Kantianism. As awareness of this problem
developed, as the diagnosis became more detailed, it would become possible to
perceive the goal that had to be attained and the means of achieving it. This goal
was to transform Spain and give it access to the cultural patterns prevailing in
the rest of Europe.
Ortega saw education as part of the process of attaining this cultural trans-
formation. He pointed out that the Latin word eductio or educatio meant draw-
ing one thing out of another, or converting one thing into something better.
Although he did not go into terminological details, he provided us with a concept
of education which is generally accepted now and which is rooted in educatio.
He saw it as all the actions undertaken to bring reality closer to an ideal.
After establishing the meaning of the word education, Ortega set out to
determine the functions of pedagogy as the science of education. He saw it as
having two functions. The first was the objective identification of the Ideal to be
attained, of the purpose of education and the second, essential, function was the
identification of the intellectual, moral and aesthetic means of making this ideal
attractive to the student.
Given that education is the process of transforming the individual, there is
an important question that needs to be answered concerning the nature of the
ideal human being whose attainment is the purpose of education, and callmg for
the application of certain methods. This was the question to which he addressed
himself in his lectures.
Firstly he stated that human beings are not merely biological organisms.
The biologICal aspect is simply the pretext for human existence. The distinguish-
ing feature of human beings is their ability to work towards an ideal and in so
doing to create mathematics, art, ethics and law. The distinguishing feature of
human beings is culture.
Ortega specifies further that the real human being does not live in isolation
from the rest. In each individual he distinguishes between the empirical '1' with
its own caprices, loves, hatreds and appetites, aEd the '1' which can perceive uni-
versal truth, universal goodness and universal beauty. In other words, he distin-
guishes an empIrical '1' from a generic '1', the one which is capable of creating
culture. Science, ethics, art, etc., are specifically human phenomena, and what
makes a person truly human is partICipation in the scientific, moral and artistic
J 0 S E o R T E G A y GAS SET 267
life of the community. The ideal human that is the goal of education is a bemg
who can create culture together with others.
If this is the ideal to be pursued, education must address itself not to the
empmcal '1', which IS the root of individualism, but to the generic 'I' whICh feels,
thmks and desires m terms of ideals. All this means that education must be the
process by which biological or natural impulses are directed towards ideals, and
thus begin to function in accordance with the system of standards derived from
these ideals.
In this first stage, Ortega's views on the binary of nature/nurture or
culture/life with regard to education were influenced by his Neo-Kantian teachers
and clearly biased towards nurture. However, he already had a strong intellectual
personality and a range of socio-political interests which were not easily recon-
ciled with the formalism of his teachers in Marburg, and so his views present cer-
tain distinctive features which it would be useful to examine.
The first is the historical dimension with which he endows human beings
and his understanding of what it means to be a social being. When descnbing the
social nature of human beings, and in order to make It clear that teachers are
dealing with a social fabric rather than individuals, Ortega tells us 'the whole of
the past IS crystallized in the present; nothing that ever existed has been lost; the
veins of those who have died are only empty because their blood is now flowmg
through our young veins'.16 In this literary image we can see a vision of man in
which distinctive features that have developed over time can be present in speci-
fic individuals as opposed to 'generic' humanity. This concept of the gradual sha-
ping of the individual by the concrete events during the course of life was to
increase in intensity and become one of the leitmotifs of Ortega's later anthropo-
logical thought.
The second distinctive feature of Ortega's views on this subject is the impor-
tance he attaches to the productIOn of cultural objects. I think it is true to say
that an obseSSIOn with praxis permeates the whole of his work. He is especially
interested in the process of cultural construction - the actual, concrete produc-
tion of objects. For him, culture is labour, the production of things for human
beings, activity. 'By greater or lesser culture we mean greater or lesser capacity to
produce things, to work. Things, products, are the measure and trade-mark of
culture'. 1-
This was the basis for his proposal that the purpose of education should be
for work and by work, work which would not be individual but shared. He felt
that this would make it possible to overcome the selfishness, the fratnCldal
struggles and lack of co-operation among Spaniards. For one author 1x hiS advo-
cacy of education for work and by work makes Ortega a supporter of active edu-
cation. In the perspective from which we are analysing him, keeping the problem
of Spain as the basis of his thought, I think we can see Ortega's fundamental aim
as the cultural transformation of his society, and pedagogy as the means to
achieve this social and cultural reconstruction. And if this was considered to be
268 Juan Escamez Sanc!Jez
'political', he tells us that 'politics for us has become the education of socIety and
Spam's problem an educational one'Y
The views which we have analysed go to make up a philosophy of educa-
tion focused on the cultural achievement of the individual as a member of the
social whole. Political action is reduced - in the final analysis - to cultural action,
to the education of society, because human beings, as cultural entities, find their
fulfilment in social life, in co-operation and communication. Ortega, in this first
period, considered that the solution to the Spanish problem was cultural reform
through education.
From this position, and on the basis of his intellectual commitment to the
transformation of Spanish society, Ortega's thought was to evolve until he
reached the conclusion that Spain's salvation could only be achieved by
employing its own inner energies and possibilities, its idiosyncrasies and histori-
cal reality. The Neo-Kantian Ortega advocated man as a producer of culture, a
creator of Ideal forms, a human individual working towards the construction of
a culture which would be valid for all mankind. Ortega gradually discovered that
an individual of this kind is an abstraction, and that rationalism - which is a
form of idealism - had forgotten the real and concrete man who lives in a real
and concrete situation. It was necessary to look round at this person for himJher
to be revealed in radical reality, and this meant overcoming the narrow-sighted-
ness of rationalism. A new approach had to be adopted to the understanding of
man, and Ortega's encounter with phenomenology was to help him on this new
intellectual path. His dissatisfaction with the concept of man as a cultural being
began to grow in 1911 and this estrangement can be seen clearly in his
Meditations on QUlxote, written in 1914.
A vitalistic pedagogy
When he turned his attention to the individual, to a person's concrete reality,
Ortega saw that man's being is the act of living; life is the radical and indispen-
sable reality which must be taken as the basis for action, which must be made
use of. This conviction, which prevented him from considering culture as an
autonomous and independent sphere, was gradually to become one of the keys of
his philosophy, as he was to remind us in his later years: 'the first thing, then,
which philosophy must do is to define this fact, to define what my life, our life,
the path of each one of us is. Living is the radical way of being: all other things
and ways of being are to be found in my life, within it, as a detail of it or refe-
rence to it'. 20 In the tug-of-war between nature and nurture, life and culture, the
latter lost the dominance it had gained during Ortega's idealistIc stage and came
to be thought of as a manifestation of hfe. Cultue was henceforth felt to consist
of living life to the full.
If culture means living life to the full, then life - conceived as elemental life
- should be considered to be the basis of culture. As he delved deeper in this
direction, Ortega was led to an interpretation of life as creativity. This fundamen-
J 0 S E o R T E G A y GASSET 269
adult'.25 The objects whICh exist vitally for children, which occupy and pre-
occupy them, which hold their attention and awaken their desires, their passions
and their Impulses, are not just material objects but objects of desire, whether
material or not. They only interest children in so far as they are desirable; that is
why they are drawn to stories and legends in which they can convert reality into
an environment moulded to their desires.
Ortega's definitive and mature position was not the one we have just descri-
bed, but rather the one he began to settle into in 1930, in his search for a balance
between life and culture. Outside the framework of institutions, vital spontaneity
degenerates into irresponsible primitivism and, conversely, institutions without
vitality degenerate into routine and inertia.
In his article, 'Un rasgo de la vida alemana' [An Aspect of German Life] ,26 Ortega
tells us that the individual has the potential to be an unlimited number of person-
alities but that when we look at actual individuals we see that their real possibili-
ties are limited by the environment in which they live, a concrete cultural and
social one, and as such it is the accumulation of what others before them have
done. Culture and cultural objects are always borne out of the action of indivi-
duals, but once converted into objects they became de-individualized and assume
a life of their own. This is why the possibilities really available to an individual
are those which are provided by the de-individualized institution, which is both
alien to and imposed upon the individual. This imposition has two sides: it is a
constriction, a limitation; and it is what makes possible the creation of new indi-
viduals.
Life, like freedom, is always threatened precisely by that which makes it
possible: culture. That is why life must rebel against culture, mistrust it - even if
it does so preCisely because culture is the basis for its security. It must criticize it
and transcend it agam and again, not make it more like nature, but to create new
cultural configurations.
Consequently Ortega, in the opening lectures of his university courses, insis-
ted that students had to begin with the culture in which they found themselves;
however, in the same way as the creators of culture, they should analyse it criti-
cally, and see if the culture that had been produced up to that point satisfied
them or if, on the contrary, they felt a vital need to change it. This, he said, is
what true living consists of, living in the culture of one's timeY We can only say
that we have found a truth when we have found a thought which satisfies a need
felt by us. However, if students only feel the need to learn what others have dis-
covered, they will at most only feel enthusiasm or pleasure, since their study will
have been imposed on them - something artificial. This need is different from the
need felt by those who created the new knowledge, who did so because they needed
it to go on living, because it was a vital need. That is why Ortega proposes this
interesting concept of teaching: 'Teaching is primarily and fundamentally nothing
272 Juan Escamez Sanchez
but enabling students to feel the need of a science, and not teaching them a
science for which they cannot be made to feel any need'.28
The kind of educational institutions which we must promote, therefore, are
those driven by the constant need to find answers to the vital problems felt by
the students, and in which freedom, democracy and modernity are the keywords.
These are the educational instItutions which Ortega proposes in one of his best
known writings, Mislon de la Universidad [The Mission of the University).29
He begins this work by delivering a diagnosis of the Spanish university as
he sees it. What is the university today? His answer is: a centre of higher lear-
ning, where the children of the well-off - not the children of the working classes
- are trained to take up intellectual professions, and where the teachers are
obsessed with scientific research and with the training of future researchers.
Ortega finds much to criticize in this university: its elitism, since all those
who could and should benefit from higher education do not do so; the lack of
discernment of its research work, since it confuses the teaching and the learning
of science with the discovery of truth and the demonstration of error; and, above
all, its dereliction of duty in failing to teach culture, that is to say to transmit
clear, firm ideas about the universe, to make positive statements about the nature
of things and the world; in other words, it fails as an institution which teaches its
students to live by the most advanced ideas of their time.
What is the university's mission in our time? Ortega answers: to transmit
culture; to train for a profession; scientific research; and the education of new
researchers. In this formulation of the university's mission Ortega does not seem
to be adding much that is new. However, when we ask: What is the order of prio-
rities for these functions? the relevance and stringency of his answers strikes us,
even today, as remarkable. He defines the purpose of the university and, on that
basis, he establishes his basic criterion: 'Instead of teaching what some Utopian
longing would have us teach, we should teach only that which can be taught, in
other words, that which can be learned'.30 The educational approaches of
Rousseau, Pestalozzi and Frobel were novel in that they said priority should be
given not to knowledge or to the teacher, but rather to the student, and specifi-
cally to the 'average student'.
The principle which must regulate university education, he tells us, is the
'principle of economy'. Teaching and the study of education would never have
become such important occupations, or professions, if it had not been for the
eighteenth century's great strides forward in science, technology and culture. In
our times, in order to live with confidence and ease, we need to know an enor-
mous number of things, even though our individual capacity for learning is extre-
mely limited. Teachers and educational theorists select the essentials for the
learning process, and make them easier to assimilate.
Everything must be based on the student, on his or her capacity to learn
and on what he or she needs in order to live. In fact it is the average student who
must be taken as the basis, and taught only that which can strictly and absolutely
be required of him or her; in other words, what is required in order to live in and
J 0 S E o R T E G A y GASSET 273
keep abreast of one's times, material which he or she can learn thoroughly and
with ease. On this basis, Ortega sets forth the following lemmas:
The university consists, first and foremost, of the education which the average person
should receive; above all, the average individual must be made into a cultured person, able
to meet the challenges of the times ...; the average student should be made into a good
profeSSIOnal ...; there is no valid reason why the average person should need to be, or
should be, a scientist. 3l
The lemma on which Ortega centres his argument is that the university should
teach culture. He defines culture as the system of living ideas belonging to each
period: 'What I call living ideas, or the ideas on which we live, are those that
contain our basic convictions regarding the nature of the world and our fellow
human beings, the hierarchy of values for things and actions: which ones are
worthy of esteem, which ones are less SO.'32 No one can live without reacting to
their own environment or world, or drawing some conclusion regarding them-
selves and the ways in which they could conduct themselves in that world. It is
this set of ideas, or conclusions, about the universe and human beings that the
university must teach.
It is true that, in our times, the content of culture comes - for the greater
part - from science; culture skims from science that which is vitally necessary to
make sense of our existence, but there are whole areas of science which are not
culture, but pure scientific technique. Man needs to live and culture is the inter-
pretation of this life; life, which means human beings, cannot expect the sciences
to explain the Universe scientifically; in order to live, we urgently need culture to
give us a coherent, all-embracing, clearly-structured system of the Universe; and
this culture has to be the culture of our time. Teaching this culture in the univer-
sity calls for teachers who have the ability to grasp and communicate essentials
in a systematic manner.
In Ortega's own words, the primary mission of the university is as follows.
First, the ulllversity stricto sensu should be understood to mean an mstltution m which the
average student IS taught to be a cultured person and a competent professional; second,
the university will not tolerate any kind of farce, m other words, it will not expect of stu-
dents anything they are practically incapable of achieving; third, this will prevent students
from wastmg time pretending that they are going to be scientists. Scientific research as
such will therefore be eliminated from core university courses; fourth, the disciplines of
culture and professional studies will be offered in the way best suited to educational
purposes (synthetic, systematic and complete), rather than in the form which science, left
to its own devices, preferred in the past: special problems, 'chunks' of science, research
efforts; fifth, the deCisive factor in the choice of teachers shall not be their ability as
researchers but, rather, their ability to grasp and communicate essentials and their gifts as
teachers; sixth, after cutting this type of learning down to the mmimum in quantity and
quality, the university will be inexorable in its demands on the student. 31
Ortega was aware (and explicitly made it known) that his opinions about scienti-
fic research and the training of researchers would not be well received. What he
274 Juan Escamez Sanchez
could not accept was the farce of including scientific research and its supposed
teaching in basic university courses. In order to make his position quite clear, he
said: 'The university is distinct, but inseparable from science. I would say: the
university is science toO.'14 Science is the basis for the existence of the university,
without which it cannot live, since science is the soul of the university. But as
well as being linked with science, the university needs to be in contact with
public life, with historical reality, with the present. The university has to be inter-
ested in what is going on and take part in current events as a university, giving its
own cultural, professional or scientific view on the major subjects of the day.
Only then - concludes Ortega - will it once more become the university it was
in its finest hour: a driving force of European history.
In 1936, the problem of Spain which so greatly concerned Ortega blossom-
ed tragically into the Civil War and Ortega set out on his voluntary exile to
South America and Europe. The following nineteen years, until his death, have
been seen by some as a separate biographICal period. Whether this is true or not,
there can be no denying that his radical political commitment seems to have been
shaken by this new set of 'circumstances'. However, his philosophical talent pro-
duced such outstanding works as: Ideas)' creencias [Ideas and Beliefs] (1940); La
razon hist6rica [Historical Reason], 1st part (1940) and 2nd part (1944); La idea
de principio en Lelbnitz [The Idea of Principle in Leibnitz] (1947); El hombre y
la gente [The Individual and the People] (1949), etc. During these years he only
left us one piece on education, Apuntes sobre una educacI6n para el futuro
[Notes on an Education for the Future] (1953), which he wrote as a paper to be
read at a meeting held in London organized by the Fund for the Progress of
Education. It does not, in my opinion, make a very significant contribution to his
thinking on education.
Although Ortega's writings on education are one aspect - and I believe a
significant one - of his philosophical thought, they do not present a systematic
whole, since thIS was not in our author's character. Although we have not men-
tioned all of Ortega's works on education, I believe that we have analysed the
three most important ones.
Madrid went into exile there during the Spanish Civil War. However, his
influence was greatest in Puerto Rico, where the university applied several of the
theories developed in the work, 'The University's Mission', and where many of
Ortega's writings were used as textbooks.
Notes
IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
1906. 'La Pedagogia del palsaje' [Teachmg VIa the Landscape]. In: El Imparcial (Madnd),
17 September. (Ohras campletas, Vo!. 1, pp. 53-57, Madnd, Ahanza Ednonal -
Revista de Occidente, 1983.)
1910. La pedagogfa social camo programa politico [SoCIal Education as a Political
Programme]. Lecture gIven to the 'El Sitio' SocIety in Bilbao on 12 March. (Ohras
completas, op. cit., Vo!. 1, pp. 503-21.)
1913. La hora del maestro [The Teacher's Hour].
1914. 'Preface.' In: ].E Herbart, Pedagogfa General [General Education]. (Trans!' by
Lorenzo Luzunaga.) (Obras campletas, op. Clt., Vo!. 6, pp. 265-91.)
1917. La pedagogi,1 de la cantamlllacuJn [Education by ContaminatIOn].
1923. 'Biologia y pedagogia' [Biology and education]. In: El Sol (Madnd), begmnmg on
16 March. (Obras completas, op. clt., Vo!. 3, pp. 13133.)
1923. 'Pedagogfa y anacronismo' [Teaching and Anachrolllsm]. In: Revlsta de Ped'1gogia
(Madrid), January.
[925. EloglO de las vlrtlldes de la mocedad [In Praise of the Virtues of Youth].
1928. Para los ninos espanoles [For Spalllsh Children].
278 Juan Esccimez Scinchez
1930. M/sioll de /a Universidad [The Mission of the University]. Text of a lecture given at
the Universidad Central de Madnd. Madrid, Revista de OCCldente. (Obras comp/e-
tas, op. Clt., Vo!. 4, pp. 313-53]
1931. Ell e/ centellarJo de ulla ul1Il'ersidad [On the Centenary of the Umverslty]. Lecture
given at the UniverSity of Granada. (Obras camp/etas, op. Clt., Vo!. 5, pp. 463-73]
1933. 'Sobre el estudlar y el estudiante' [On Studylllg and the Student]. La Nacioll
(Buenos Aires), 23 April. (Obras comp/etas, op. cit., Vol. 4, pp. 545-54.)
1934. 'Sobre las carreras' [On Careers]. In: La Nacioll (Buenos Aires), Sept.-Oct., 1934.
(Obras camp/etas, op. cit., Vo!. 5, pp. 167-83.)
1952. Apulltes par'l una educaC/on de/ futuro [Annotations for Future Education].
Contributions to the debates of the Fund for the Progress of Education, London,
May. (Obras camp/etas, op. cit., Vol. 9, pp. 665-75.)
ROBERT OW EN
(1771-1858)
Peter Cordon
labour by the cotton mills was insatiable. The north of England, with its scat-
tered population, could not supply a sufficient work-force. The Overseers of the
Poor, especially in London and the south, in order to be relieved of the growing
burden of supporting the poor from local taxes, offered batches of children from
the workhouses to factories in the north. These apprentice children were con-
signed to their employers from the age of 7, living next door to the mill in 'pren-
tice-houses'. Besides the often miserable living conditions they had to endure,
they laboured from 5 a.m. to 8 p.m. with half-hour breaks for breakfast and
dinner (Hammond and Hammond, 1949).
In 1802 the Health and Moral of Apprentices Act became law in an attempt
to protect the young. It provided, among other things, that children's work
should be limited to twelve hours a day and that they should receive some form
of elementary education. Sir Robert Peel, himself a factory owner and the
promoter of the Act, subsequently admitted in the House of Commons that
employers and magistrates were rendering the Act inoperative: children were
working thirteen or fourteen hours a day at the age of 7 years, and in some cases
even younger.
Intellectual influences
David Hume, Adam Smith and Patrick Colquhoun. The blending of the views of
the French and Scottish Enlightenment, as well as his own experiences m
Manchester, were to form the basis for Owen's own theories of education.
After eight years in Manchester, where Owen had accumulated much wealth and
experience, he acquired in 1799 the management of the 'very wretched society'
of New Lanark on the River Clyde, which had the largest spinning mills in
Scotland. The mills were owned by David Dale, a strong Presbyterian and a Tory.
With his business partners, Owen, at the age of 27, acquired the mills; he also
married one of Dale's daughters. He was determined to introduce a more
humane regime which would bring about a change in the character and dIgnity
of individual members of the work-force. Treated at first with natural suspIcion,
both as an employer and a non-Scot, Owen soon overcame these difficulties. As
he later claimed from his Manchester experience:
My treatment of all with whom I came mto commulllcation was so natural that It
generally gained theIr confidence, and drew forth only their good qualItIes to me; and I
was often much surpnsed to discover how much more easily I accomplIshed my objects
than others whose educated acquirements were much superior to mme. . . . In conse-
quence of this to me unconsCIous power over others, I had produced such effects over the
workpeople in the factory in the fIrst SIX months of my management that I had the most
complete mfluence over them, and their order and disCIpline exceeded that of any other m
or near !vlanchester; and for regulanty and sobriety they were an example whIch none
could then imitate [R. Owen, 1858J.
How to achieve this end occupied Owen during the first decade at New Lanark.
He outlined his proposals for reform in a book A New View of Society, or Essays
all the Principle of the Formation of the Human Character, and the Application
of the PrinCiple to Practice in 1813 and 1814. The first two Essays dealt with the
need to consider rationally forming the character 'of that immense mass of popu-
lation which is now allowed to be so formed as to fill the world with crimes'.
The third Essay was an account of the progress made at New Lanark for the fur-
ther improvement of its inhabitants. It is here that Owen expounds his view of
the importance of education.
Much good or evil is acquired or taught to children at an early age. Many
'durable impressions' are made even in the first year of a child's life. Therefore
children uninstructed or badly instructed suffer injury in their character during
their childhood and youth. It was in order to prevent this that the workers'
young children were to receive Owen's closest attention. In the playground which
was built for them at New Lanark the child would he told upon entrance in lan-
guage he could understand that 'he was never to injure his play-fellows: but that,
on the contrary, he is to contribute all in his power to make him happy'. If this
simple precept was followed - and the employment of superintendents was to
ensure that there would be no deviation from it - then this behaviour would in
time be transmitted to the population as a whole.
Owen had earlier, as has been seen, been an admirer of the Lancasterian
monitorial system of education, and the first two Essays, written in 1812 and
1813, reflect these principles of obedience, order, regularity, industry and
constant attention rather than the need to read, write and calculate. Now in the
third and fourth Essays, written in 1814, hIS views had changed considerably:
EIther give the poor a rational and useful learnlOg or mock not theIr ignorance, theIr
poverty, and their mIsery, by merely IOstructing them to become conscious of the extent of
their degradation under which they exist. And therefore, in pity to suffering humanity,
eIther keep the poor, if you now can, in the state of the most abject ignorance, as near as
pOSSIble to animal life, or at once determlOe to form them IOta ratIOnal beings, IOta useful
and effective members of the state.
To thIS end, Owen prescribed that the curriculum should be the best possible,
eschewing traditional attitudes towards the education of the poor. Recognizing
that each child had different aptitudes and qualities, he later pointed out that the
intention of his system was not to attempt to make all human beings alike.
Education was to make everybody 'good, wise and happy'. Owen did not simply
equate education with schoohng. The role of parents in the process was stressed:
the mother from the birth of a child onwards, and certainly in the early years,
was a key figure and both parents were urged to display great kindness in man-
ners and feeling.
However, it was not enough to leave to employers and parents the task of
raising children in the ways set out by Owen in his fourth Essay. It was the most
important duty of the well-governed state that it should establish a national
ROB E R T OWE N 283
system of education for the poor, uniform over the United Kingdom. Whilst
praising both Bell and Lancaster's pioneering efforts m this field, Owen criticized
their pedagogical approaches. Reading and writing are merely instruments by
which knowledge may be imparted: they are of little value unless children are
taught to make proper use of them. 'The manner of giving instruction is one
thing, the instructIOn itself another; and no two objects can be more distinct.' It
is therefore, important to adopt the best manner of Illstructlon whereby a child
can understand the objects and characters around him.
Owen's dissatisfaction with the existing provision of education was voiced
in unambiguous terms:
enter anyone of the schools denominated national, and request the master to show the
acqUlrements of the children. These are called out, and he asks them theologICal questIOns
to which men of the most profound eruditIOn cannot make a ratIonal reply; the children,
however, readily answer as they had been previously Illstructed; for memory, III thiS
mockery of learnmg, is all that is reqUired. Thus the child whose natural faculty of
companng ideds, or whose ratIonal powers, shall be the soonest destroyed, if at the same
tIme, he possess a memory to retain incongruities without connectIon, will become what is
termed the first scholar III the class; and three-fourths of the time which ought to be
devoted to the acqUirement of useful instruction will be really occupIed III destroylllg the
mental power of the children [R. Owen, 1814].
HIS Vision of a system of education for the poor and labouring classes was based
on the doctrine that 'the state that possesses the best national system of educa-
tion will be the best governed'. To achieve this end, Owen set out the contents of
an Act which Parliament should agree to. It consisted of several far-sighted and
comprehensive proposals. These included the establishment of a Ministry for
Education staffed by able people; teacher-training colleges - 'at present there are
not any individuals in the kingdom who have been trained to instruct the rising
generation'; an overall plan for the manner of instruction, based on a compari-
son of the vanous practices of the time; and the appointment to schools of
suitable masters by the state. Owen believed that It was also necessary to give
accurate informatIOn about the actual number of workers in each district, their
occupations and the extent of unemployment.
Although some of Owen's ideas on education are at times idiosyncratic and
exaggerated, they are basically sound and far-sighted. For example in hiS second
Essay, he explains that 'children are, without exception, passive and wonderfully
contrived compounds, which by due preparation and accurate attention, founded
on a correct knowledge of the subject, may be formed collectively into any
human character'.
ThIS passage clearly shows that Owen was not simply a believer in environ-
ment as the main determinant of character, but that training, III the form of edu-
catIOn, was equally important. On the other hand, as character is formed in
infancy, before the child's second year, no general reformation of character is
possible unless the foundations of a system of moral education had already been
284 Peter Cordon
laid. For the development of a well-balanced child, schooling should not begin
too early, and when it does begin there should be a large element of recreation
and amusement. It was for this reason that children at New Lanark did not start
school below the age of 5.
As we shall later see, Owen's views on community coloured his social and
economic philosophy and activity. In A New View of Society, he advanced the
view that each individual is not simply a product of his training and environ-
ment, but that societies collectively are the product of the forms of training and
of social environment in which their members are brought up to adulthood.
Society as a whole can inspire in its members a common basis for moral belief
(G. D. H. Cole, 1965).
Another aspect of Owen's novel approach to education was that it should
be a common right of all children, though his advocacy was in favour of the
poorest people in the community. It was for this reason that he refused to employ
children in his mills under the age of 10 and reduced the hours of older children
in order that they could benefit from the evening classes which he also provided.
Owen did not take a wholly detached view of the benefits that could accrue
from his enlightened approach. One result of his beneficence at New Lanark, he
wrote in this third Essay, was that 'the time and money so spent, even while such
improvements are in progress only, and but half their beneficial results attained,
are now producing a return exceeding 50 per cent, and will shortly create profits
equal to 100 per cent on the original capital expended in these mental improve-
ments.' He overstated the case when he declared that 'man's character is made
for, and not by him' and perhaps understated the importance of nurture in the
educational process.
Nevertheless, A New View of Society represents a manifesto for a
reappraisal of the function and consequences of child education. The emphasis
on the moral basis of education is one widely accepted by current educational
thought. His explanation of the formation of character is of interest and the need
for healthy recreation and happiness for young children, with the provision of
playgrounds for this purpose, has long been accepted during the early years of
primary education.
A New View of Society quickly went through five editions and was also transla-
ted into French and German. Now a figure of national significance, Owen deter-
mined to put some of his own theories into practice.
He had a good basis on which to build his own vision of education. David
Dale, the previous owner of New Lanark and Owen's father-m-Iaw, had in 1785
established the mills on enlightened lines. Dale believed in the necessity of
protecting the health and morals of the 500 young children who worked in his
factory, aged between 6 and 16; they were housed in six dormitories (albeit sleep-
ing three to a bed), and were well clothed and fed. They worked from 6 a.m. to 7
ROB E R T OWE N 285
p.m. and after supper attended classes. There were sixteen teachers, including a
writing master, a music master and a sewing mistress, though standards were not
high. Owen criticized Dale's efforts on two grounds: that pupils working daily in
the mills for eleven-and-a-half hours were not able to take full advantage of the
provision, and that the starting age was too early. Dale also provided two
schools, similar to infant and nursery care, for those too young to work: they
were the first of their kind in the British Isles (Stewart and McCann, 1967).
Owen spent the first twelve years at New Lanark remodelling the factory
and improving the life of the villagers. However, by 1809, his partners in the
enterprise had revolted against Owen's apparent extravagance and had resigned.
His new partners from the end of 1813 were William AlIen and other Quakers,
and Jeremy Bentham. One of the provisions among the articles of partnership
was for establishing schools 'on the best models of the British system, or other
approved system to which the partners may agree'. He was now ready to realize
his ambition. A two-storey school was built, the upper floor divided into two
rooms for the 6- to 14-year-olds; the first was fitted with forms and desks, as
with the Lancasterian system, the other with natural objects, pictures and maps,
and could also be used for singing and dancing. The ground floor was devoted to
infant teaching, there being three rooms. Maximum use was made of the build-
ing: it was used by children during the day and by adults in the evening. Some
300 children were educated at the school, with boys and girls in the same classes.
The infant school, part of the Institution for the Formation of Character,
was opened on 2 January 1816, claiming to be the first of its kind in Great
Britain. Owen appointed as a teacher James Buchanan, a former weaver, and an
assistant, Molly Young, then aged 17, both of them from New Lanark. The
qualities which Owen looked for were a love of children and willingness to
follow his own instructions. No corporal punishment was to be administered, no
harsh words were to be uttered by the teachers and the children were not to be
'annoyed with books'. The young were encouraged to ask questions when their
curiosity was aroused and, above all, they were to be happy. There were no
prizes or punishments. Robert Dale Owen, Owen's son, has left an account of life
in the infant school:
They were trained to habits of order and cleanliness; they were taught to abstain from
quarrels, to be kmd to each other. They were amused With children's games, and With
stories suited to their capacity. Two large, airy rooms were set apart, one for those under
four years, and one for those from four to six. This last room was furnished With pain-
tings, chiefly of ammals, and a few maps. It was also supplied With natural objects from
the gardens, fields and woods. These suggested themes for conversation, and bnef familiar
lectures; but there was nothing formal, no tasks to be learned, no readings from books
(R. D. Owen, 1874).
James Buchanan, a gifted teacher, worked out his own programme for amusing
his charges. He played the flute and the children would march behind him down
to the bank of the River Clyde, where they were allowed to play, and then
286 Peter Gordon
all would have a turn. Owen later stated that 'one of our Admirals, who had
sailed round the world, said he could not answer many of the questions which
some of these children not SIX years old readily replied to'. Lessons lasted no
more than forty-five minutes each, the children attending for five-and-a-half
hours per day. As for clothing, Owen stipulated that it was important that the
children should be able to move freely. To this end, they were to wear either
Roman-like white togas or Highland dress, including kilts.
A continuation of this education for those who left school at the age of 10
was available in evening classes, with an average of 400 attending. The curricu-
lum was similar to that of the day school. Adults too were able to attend these
classes. There were also weekly lectures on chemistry and mechanics and, for
recreation, music and dancing (Silver, 1965).
The Institution attracted a range of visitors of distinction in many different
walks of life. Between 1815 and 1825, there were 20,000 names inscribed In the
visitors' book. Owen, at the height of his popularity, could boast that he had
shown the New Lanark schools to, among others, Prince Esterhazy, the Czar of
Russia, the Grand Duke Nicholas, Brougham, Canning, Cobbett, Malthus, lames
Mill, Francis Place and Ricardo (Jeffreys, 1952).
Owen's views on education were derIved from a number of different
sources. His idea of 'natural' rewards and punishments was clearly derIved from
Rousseau. Bentham had earlier postulated the notion of infant schools and he
may have known of Fellenberg's work from an account published in William
Allen's periodical The Philanthropist in 1813. Godwin's views on the idea of
progress, derived from Helvetius, was another source with its belief that man's
character is the result of his intellectual and moral environment and that it could
be improved by training. David Williams, a political radical who was influenced
by Rousseau and had established a school in Chelsea in 1774, was another
obvious influence. Two years after opening the Institution for the Formation of
Character at New Lanark, Owen visited the continent of Europe, meeting several
leading educationists. Owen, no modest man, wrote: 'My public proceedings at
this period [1817] were considered to be several hundreds, some said thousands
of years, In advance of that period.'
After visiting notable people in France, Owen travelled to Switzerland,
where he spent some time observing three well-known schools for the poor.
Oberlin, who had set up a school at Fribourg, lacked an infant department. At
Yverdon, he visited Pestalozzi, 'another good and benevolent man'. Owen believ-
ed that 'his theory was good, but his means and experiences were very limited,
and his principles were those of the old system', though he admitted that the
school was more advanced than others. As was previously mentioned, however,
Owen subsequently adopted the Pestalozzian method of arithmetic for his own
schools. The last visit, of three days' duratIOn, was to meet Fellenberg at Hofwyl.
Owen was greatly Impressed by him, calling him 'a man of no ordinary mould'
"yha ran his establishment on democratic lines. In exchange, Fellenberg stated hIS
admIration for the New Lanark system, though there were no boys under 10 in
288 Peter Cordon
his school. Owen was so impressed with Fellenberg that he sent his two eldest
sons, Robert Dale and William, aged 16 and 14 years respectively, to finish their
education with him.
Probably the answer to the origins of Owen's educational thought is that
given by G. D. H. Cole in his The Life of Robert Owen, that he owed very little
to others, arriving at largely similar conclusions with other pioneers by a differ-
ent road based on his own experience and peculiar philosophy of character
(G. D. H. Cole, 1965).
After the initial success of the schools, difficulties arose. In 1819 two of his
Quaker partners, William Allen and Joseph Foster, visited New Lanark to investi-
gate the claim that dancing and music were taking precedence over religion. One
of the methods used to discredit Owen was instituted by a committee of factory
owners set up when Owen was fighting to improve a Factory Bill which was then
before Parliament. The New Lanark clergyman, Mr Menzies, was ordered to
keep a watch over Owen and reported to the factory owners in London: subse-
quently rumours about his irreligiousness began to be circulated.
Although Owen brushed these charges aside, he was eventually, in January
1824, forced to sign an agreement that ended his connection with the school.
Weekly readings of the scriptures were instituted and dancing became a paying
subject only. The wearing of kilts for boys over 6 was banned, as was singing.
Many of the teachers were dismissed and one of the new appointments was a
master trained in the Lancasterian system. One redeeming feature was that Allen
introduced lectures on chemistry, mechanics and other scientific subjects into the
curriculum. Owen now resigned from the management of the institution and
thus this valuable expenment came to an end.
Despite these setbacks, Owen had provided inspiration for others who
followed. In December 1818, Lord Brougham, impressed with Owen's endea-
vours, discussed with the latter the possibility of setting up an infant school at
Westminster in London. A committee, consisting of Brougham, James Mill and
Zachary Macaulay, the famous historian's father, was formed and £1,000 collec-
ted. Accordingly, a school was opened at Westminster with James Buchanan,
Owen's former New Lanark teacher, in charge. Buchanan carried on from where
he had left off at New Lanark. He remained there until 1822, when he moved to
new premises.
During his time at Westminster, Buchanan was introduced to Samuel
Wilderspin, who was offered the superintendence of a second infant school, at
Spitalfields in eastern London. This school, opened in 1820, was conducted on
similar lines to that of Owen's, with the young child at the centre of the educatio-
nal process. Wilderspin, who created a national network of infant schools, ack-
nowledged Owen's contribution to the development of the system as well as
giving him personal help, but as a covert Swedenborgian, Wilderspin disagreed
with Owen's philosophy. There was, however, a large measure of agreement as to
how an infant school should be organized (McCann and Young, 1982). In
Scotland, David Stow, a young Glaswegian merchant, was inspired by Owen to
ROB E R T OWE N 289
open a school in that city in 1816 for poor children, employing the 'picturing
out' method in his lessons to capture the interest and imagination of his pupils
(Smith, 1931). He also pointed out, for the first time, the difference between
instruction and training. Ten years later, Stow founded the Glasgow Infant
Society and began to train infant school-teachers.
While it is true that Owen's influence at New Lanark, and that of his dis-
ciples Buchanan, Stow and Wilderspin, generated a climate suitable for the
encouragement of infant education, there was no great enthusiasm to introduce it
at the national level. The real impetus for this came from a different source - the
acceptance of Continental reformers, particularly Pestalozzi and Frobel, through
the advocacy of Dr Charles Mayo from the 1820s onwards.
The economic and social distress that immediately followed the Napoleonic Wars
was a spur to action for Owen. At the end of his Continental visits to schools, he
attended the conference of Great Powers at Aix-Ia-Chapelle and presented to it
his Two Memorials on Behalf of the Workmg Classes. In them he pleaded for
international action to restore the purchasing power of the workers and to estab-
lish schemes of education for the development of character. Two years later, in
his Address to the Working Classes (1819), he reiterated his plan to set up an
agricultural village, which he himself would superintend, and which would be
self-supporting and based on communitarian principles. This plan was further
elaborated two years' later in his Report to the County of Lanark. One of the
principal features was the education of the children who 'shall be trained as
though they were literally all of one family'. There would be two schools, one for
2- to 6-year-olds and one for those aged 6 to 12. The children were to be trained
to acquire useful knowledge which would 'supersede the present defective and
tiresome system of book learning'. Training and education, Owen insisted, must
be viewed as intimately connected with the employment available in the village.
G. D. H. Cole has called the Report to the County of Lanark the real begin-
ning of Owenism as a social, or socialist, system (G. D. H. Cole, 1965). 'The
natural standard of value', Owen stated, 'is in principle human labour, on the
combined manual and mental power of men called into action.' Under Owen's
system, there would be a new standard of value based on productive power in
which the producer should have a fair proportion of the wealth he creates.
Owen's Villages of Co-operation, as he called them, would be based on the prin-
ciple of united labour, expenditure and property, and equal privileges.
Agriculture would take priority over manufacture - it was to be essentially a
'spade culture' - and the evils of the division of labour eliminated.
Owen had attempted to gain a wider platform for his views by standing for
Parliament when a vacancy occurred for Lanark Burghs in 1819 and at the
General Election in 1820, but on both occasions he was unsuccessful.
Nevertheless, an opportunity later presented itself for Owen to carry out his
290 Peter Cordon
lessons in various branches. At dinner we generally had soup, at supper mush and milk
agam. We went to bed at sundown in little bunks suspended in rows by cords from the
ceiling.... At regular intervals we used to be marched to the Community apothecary's
shop, where a dose that tasted lIke sulphur was impartially dealt out to each pupil.
Children regularly in the boarding school were not allowed to see their parents, except at
rare intervals. I saw my father and mother twice in two years.
Under the articles of The New Harmony Community of Equality, the community
was to be divided into six departments: (a) agriculture; (b) manufacturers;
(c) literature; (d) science and education; (e) domestic economy; and (f) general
economy and commerce. Each department was sub-divided into occupations.
Each occupation chose an 'intendent', who in turn chose four 'superintendents'.
These members, together with a secretary, formed the executive council with the
real estate vested in the community as a whole. As Frank Podmore, Owen's bio-
grapher, wrote: 'Thus the Society at one step emerged from the chrysalis stage of
modified individualism into the winged glory of pure communism' (Podmore,
1906).
The new constitution gave rise to dissension. A Captain Macdonald objec-
ted to the system of representative government. Indeed, the existence of inten-
dents and superintendents in a 'community of equality' was in itself an outstand-
ing inequality. In addition, the community was too large and there were too
many differences of religion and national characteristics to achieve homogeneity.
As a result, two groups of settlers formed their own groups on the outer
parts of the estate. In both cases, they were to invest their executive powers in a
council of fathers, consisting of people aged at least 65 in one case and 55 in
another. By March 1827, the parent community was dissolved. It was reorgani-
zed into four communities based on occupations, one of which was the
Education Society, still under the direction of William Maclure. Owen warned
members that, unless they joined one of the daughter communities, they must
either support themselves or leave New Harmony. Many took the latter course.
The ten communities which Owen left in July 1827 did not flourish. Owen
admitted on his return to the United States in April 1828 that the experiment
was a failure. Addressing the New Harmony inhabitants, he said:
I tried here a new course for whICh I was induced to hope that fIfty years of political
lIberty had prepared the American population - that is, to govern themselves advanta-
geously. I supplied land, houses and the use of much capital ... but experience proved
that the attempt was premature to unite a number of strangers not previously educated for
the purpose, who should carry on extensive operatIOns for their common interest, and live
together as a common family.
Owen left the community for the last time in June 1828. He had lost a large
amount of money through unscrupulous speculators, and the daughter communi-
ties within a few years had ceased to exist. His four sons remained at New
Harmony and became American citizens, as did William Maclure until his health
292 Peter Gordon
gave way. Maclure left money to establish a Working Men's Institute and a
public library there.
Although as an example of practical socialism the experiment was a failure,
for more than a generation New Harmony was the centre of intense social and
educational interest; other communities based on similar lines were started.
Owen himself had not lost faith in his venture; immediately on his return to
England he proposed a similar venture in the Mexican Republic. Owen arrived in
Mexico in the middle of a revolution where he obtained from the government the
promise of a large extent of land for his experiment. Owen imposed the condi-
tion that an Act should first be passed granting freedom of worship, but the
Mexican Congress threw this out and the proposal came to nothing.
There were also attempts to found socialist schools outside those of the co-opera-
tive societies. In London, at least three were founded by the mid-1830s. Owenite
schools were also to be found in the industrial centres, for example in
Lancashire, Cheshire, Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire (Simon, 1960).
Although Owenism, or 'Co-operation', gained ground rapidly in the 1820s,
the majority of workers were unaware of these movements until the next decade.
ROB E R T OWE N 293
Whilst Owen was in the United States of America, Owenite socialists such as
William Thompson and William King advanced Owenism beyond the argument
that co-operative communities would in themselves lead to a just society. The
notion of 'co-operators' looked to a new social order based on production for
use instead of profit and closely linked with trade unions. Owenism was the basis
for this movement, though Owen himself was at first lukewarm. But, as union-
ism began to spread throughout the country in response to economic grievances,
Owen's millennial ideas were embraced by co-operators and unionists. By 1833,
Owen was seen as the recognized leader of the trade-union movement: in the
same year, he was involved in the founding of the National Equitable Labour
Exchange.
At a congress in London in October of that year, all such associations inten-
ded for the improvement of the working classes were urged to form themselves
into lodges and to make their own laws and regulations in order to emancipate
themselves. In the spring of the following year, the Grand National Consolidated
Trades Union was formed. The union adopted Owen's views on co-operation, the
formation of character, the influence of environment, the emancipation of
women and, above all, the importance of education for its members, particularly
children. But, by the end of the year, the Consolidated Union was no longer in
existence. In March, the 'Tolpuddle Martyrs' were sentenced to seven years'
transportation (banishment to Australia) for administering unlawful oaths in
forming a lodge under the Consolidated Union; and the leaders of the movem,ent
were also divided on aspects of policy. The government, alarmed at the potential
power of the union, imposed repression and lock-outs. Although trade unionism
was not eliminated, the working-class movement turned from co-operation to
Chartism, an overtly political movement, and Owen's brief leadership came to an
end.
Though this was his high point of influence, Owen thereafter continued to
develop his ideas but to a diminishing audience. By May 1835 he had addressed
the inaugural meeting of the Association of All Classes of All Nations and
followed this with The Book of the New Moral World, which appeared in parts
between 1836 and 1844. Owen believed that a great moral revolution was at
hand and that all classes should unite in order to make it successful. The book
was a complete statement of his educational, moral and religious theories.
Among the eighteen causes that Owen blamed for the evils of society, unequal
educational opportunities was one of them. In the eight ages of man in the new
Moral World, the first age, birth to 5, would give the child the type of training
and education which the New Lanark Infant School had pioneered. From 5 to 10
the child would 'discard the useless toys of the old world' and instead receive
his/her education by actually handling objects, by conversation with older
persons and by helping with domestic duties. In the third class, from 10 to 15,
adolescents would learn and practise the more advanced of the useful arts and
handicrafts, and in these five years advance rapidly in knowledge of all the
sciences. By the age of the sixth class, 25 to 30, all the wealth required by the
294 Peter Cordon
community would be being produced: as a result, work would occupy but two
hours a day, the remainder of the time would be devoted to study and social
intercourse.
Some of the ideas expressed in the book, such as the condemnation of mar-
riage on the ground that it perverts and degrades a natural and lawful instinct,
and equality between the sexes (Taylor, 1983) were coolly received. Even his
Association of All Classes and All Nations had a patriarchal rather than a demo-
cratic structure. It was to consist of a president called the Father (Owen himself)
and a series of councils based on age 'consisting of such friends as the Social
Father may have been advised as the most harmonious in action and with the
other' (Yeo, 1971). Owen further alienated the clerical establishment in his pam-
phlet The Catechism of the Moral World, first published in 1838, where he
stated that, in the millennium, there would be no temples and no forms of cere-
monies: the religion of the future was 'The Religion of Truth' (Podmore, 1906).
Between 1835 and 1845, no fewer than five Owenite communities were
established in the United Kingdom. Owen's last attempt at community-making
was at Queenswood, or Harmony Hall, a model village based mainly on agricul-
tural production. Built on a grand scale with splendid buildings and equipment,
it included a school for residents and for Owenites nationwide. Every member of
the community also attended classes in the morning and evening. There was a
range of activities including mathematics, dancing, elocution, instrumental and
vocal music, grammar, geography, agriculture and botany. Owen was governor of
Queenswood for three years but was turned out of office in 1844. The commu-
nity closed the following year but the school continued for several years, conduc-
ted on Owenite lines.
Now aged 74, and no longer listened to by many of his disciples, Owen
continued to make speeches which emphasized his belief in the supreme impor-
tance of education from birth to old age. In September 1858, Owen, already a
sick man, determined to attend the meeting of the National Association for the
Promotion of Social Science at Liverpool to deliver in person his last message to
mankind. 'This', he wrote to a friend, 'I believe will be my last effort for the
public, and I intend it to be a crowning one.' During the course of his address
Owen faltered and was taken to his bed where he became unconscious. Owen
died on 17 November 1858 aged 84.
Owen's beliefs in education stemmed from his lifelong protest against
poverty and unhappiness. His rejection of religion as a panacea was based on his
belief that man, as a rational being, was self-perfectible. The role that character
formation can play in forming the good society underlay his pioneering work in
establishing the New Lanark schools. He began to lose his influence over the
middle classes after 1816, and this was even more obvious by the end of the New
Harmony experiments. His creed was often obscure and his arguments inconsis-
tent. As E. P. Thompson has pointed out, Owen evaded the realities of political
power, believing that co-operative socialism would simply displace capitalism by
example and by education (Thompson, 1968).
ROB E R T OWE N 295
References
Brownmg, M. 1971. Owen as Educator. In: S. Pollard and J. Salt (eds.), Robert Owen:
Prophet of the Poor. London, Macmlllan.
Cole, G. D. H. 1965. The Life of Robert Owen. 3rd ed. London, Frank Cass.
Cole, M. 1971. Owen's Mind and Methods. In: S. Pollard and J. Salt (eds.), Robert Owen:
Prophet of the Poor. London, Macmillan.
Garnett, R. G. 1972. Co-operation and the Owentte Socialist Communities in Brztain,
1825-45. Manchester, Manchester UniverSity Press.
Hammond, J. L.; Hammond, B. 1949. The Town Labourer (1760-1832). Vo!. 1. London,
Longmans, Green.
Harnson, J. F. C. 1969. Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America: The
Quest for the New Moral World. London, Routledge & Kegan Pau!.
Jeffreys, M. V. C. 1952. Robert Owen. In: A. V. Judges (ed.), Pioneers of Engltsh
Education. London, Faber.
McCann, P.; Young, F. A. 1982. Samuel Wilderspin and the Infant School Movement.
London, Croom Helm.
Owen, R. 1813/14. A New View of SOCiety, or Essays on the PrinCiple of the Formation of
the Human Character and the Application of the Principle to Practice. London,
Cadell & Davies.
- - . 1858. The Life of Robert Owen: Written by Himself. Vo!. 1. London, Effmgham
Wilson.
Owen, R. D. 1874. Threading My Way: Twenty-seven Years of AutobIOgraphy. London,
Trubner.
Podmore, F. 1906. Robert Owen: A Biography. Vo!. 1. London, George Alien & Unwin.
Stlver, H. 1965. The Concept of Popular Education. London, McGibbon & Kee.
- - (ed.). 1969. Robert Owen on Education. Cambridge, Cambridge UniverSity Press.
296 Peter Cordon
Simon, B. 1960. Studies in the History of Education, 1780-1870. London, Lawrence &
Wishart.
Smith, F. 1931. A History of English Elementary EducatIon, 1760-1902. London,
University of London Press.
Stewart, W. A. c.; McCann, W. P. 1967. The Educational Innovators. Vo!. 1. 1750-1880.
London, Macmlllan.
Taylor, B. 1983. Eve and the New Jerusalem: Socialism and FeminIsm in the Nineteenth
Century. London, Virago Press.
Thompson, E. P. 1968. The Making of the English Working Class. Harmondsworth,
Penguin Books.
Yeo, E. 1971. Robert Owen and Radical Culture. In: S. Pollard and J. Salt (eds.), Robert
Owen: Prophet of the Poor. London, Macmillan.
297
Michel Soiitard
Pestalozzi is very often mentioned, but very rarely read and both his work and
his thought are still very little known: people usually content themselves with
such bland imagery as the 'the milk of human kindness' or the 'father of the
poor', whereas Pestalozzi was a thinker and above all a fervent advocate of
action. The father of modern educational science, he directly inspired Frobel and
Herbart and his name was associated with all the movements for educational
reform that roused the passions of the nineteenth century. 1 Admittedly, however,
his written work is not easy to read. Wordy, rough-hewn and written in a medley
of styles and tones, it presents a permanent challenge to the Cartesian mind. 2
To my mind, Pestalozzi's relevance today can only be determined by seeking
to interpret the salient events in his life as a man and educationist in the light of
today's concerns. This will help the reader rediscover the dreams and illusions
that accompanied the emergence of educational thought and which still haunt it
today. But, above all, it will show a man who, after the failure of a first attempt
to give substance to his philanthropic dream, still found the strength for an effort
to gauge the whole historic importance of the concept of education and embody
it in an attitude towards teaching that was to become the be-all and end-all of his
entire existence. 3
The whole undertaking was based on social work, seen as the decisive
means of preventing alienation in the educational process: by financing their
training with their own earnings, the children would be under no obligation to
anyone. In practice, however, Pestalozzi soon realized that this philanthropic
view of work had also to take into account a socio-economic environment which
places such an onus of profitability on a small enterprise that its educational
objectives are ultimately submerged. As for the idea that work comes naturally to
man, Pestalozzi began to have second thoughts about this also when he over-
heard the children regretting the days when they were free to roam around the
countryside.
He was banking on his boarders' interest in an experiment based on the
welfare of the individual and of the group, but he rapidly had to concede that
interest is always relative and firmly rooted in selfish desires. For instance, he
was unable to prevent parents from turning up at any moment to take away their
child, now reinvigorated, well-clad and, above all, capable of providing the
family with an income that was in no danger of being diverted into another's
pocket.
Pestalozzi thus found himself with his institution in an untenable position:
although genuinely concerned to provide each child with the means of attaining
independence, he was constantly compelled to subject these same children to the
dictates of profitability, and his philanthropic homilies, touching on every chord
of morality and religion, were ultimately perceived as intolerable blackmail to
increase productivity. As a result, this the most generous of men, who had com-
mitted his whole fortune to the experiment, found himself accused, by those
whom it was supposed to benefit, of seeking above all to serve his own self-
interest.
Pestalozzi's basic objective was, as he wrote in his 1774 diary on the educa-
tion of his son Jacob, 'to join together again what Rousseau had rent asunder':
freedom and constraint, natural desire and the rule of law wanted by all and for
all. But this same Rousseau had said that this ideal union was bound to break
down at the first attempt to put it into practice.
Pestalozzi's failure bore out the paradox described in Book One of Emile,
namely that the education of the individual (who must be free) and that of the
citizen (who must be of use) can no longer be merged in a single project. Of all
Rousseau's more or less devoted disciples, he at least had the merit of trying to
put Emile into practice in all its paradoxical vigour, putting himself in a position
when the time came to move beyond the fruitful contradictions of Rousseau's
work.
Pestalozzi was thus obliged to look on helplessly as his experiment foun-
dered in a sea of selfishness. However, far from giving up his basic project and
docilely submitting to conventional wisdom, he made a remarkable effort, in the
teeth of all opposition, to anchor this resolute desire for independence in that
very social reality that had at first rejected him, a procedure that was to prompt
him to take stock still more lucidly of the scope of the act of educating, of the
300 Michel Soetard
value of education as an activity within a society which did not know where it
wanted to go.
of the novel, becomes more and more concerned with getting to know men as
they are and, as a practical layman, leaves it to the clergyman to bask in dreams
of humanity.
These two views of man are associated with two educational projects which
Pestalozzi had vainly attempted to combine in the Neuhof: achievement of the
purest possible inner dignity of man and effective training for the basic needs of
this life on earth.
The new departure in Pestalozzi's thought in the 1790s is his realization
that these two objectives are rooted in the same illusion - claiming to be able to
determine a priori, as though it were possible to see things through God's eyes,
man's 'basic needs' in this world and the criteria defining his 'inner dignity' in the
other. At a deeper level, this means claiming to delimit human freedom both in
its internal dimension and in its external expression, while the autonomous deve-
lopment of this freedom constitutes the best prospect for education.
If there exists a type of man to be fashioned, even under the banner of free-
dom, education can only serve an ancillary purpose. Pestalozzi thus refuses edu-
cation for reproduction of an ideal or real world: he perceives it as a form of
action which allows each person to recognize his own individuality and to make
a 'creative work of himself'.
Education thus finds its meaning in the project to achieve individual auto-
nomy. But Pestalozzi makes a point of stressing that in substance this term, dear
to the hearts of German idealists, amounts to something more than a new
humanist concept under the cover of which human dignity would continue to be
flouted. As far as the author of the Inquiries is concerned, autonomy is real only
to the extent that it never stops being brought into being by those concerned.
A number of basic implications for Pestalozzi's thought and activities
emerge from the 'master-truth' formulated in the Inquiries.
Politics and religion, in the throes of an endless conflict between protecting
the dignity of the individual and society's inevitable encroachments on it, can
only resolve that conflict through educational work. Only to the extent that
legislation is practised as a form of education will statesmen succeed both in pre-
venting social upheavals, which become ever more threatening as selfish appetites
are whetted, and in giving expression to the indispensable general will that is as
close as possible to the will of every individual. Religion, for its part, abandoning
once and for all its claim to dominate both flesh and spirit, will revert to its role
as the 'salt of the earth', an earth in which, however, to quote from the letter to
Nicolovius, 'gold and stones and sand and pearls have their own value, indepen-
dently of the salt'. The educationist's approach thus lessens the conflict between
politics and religion, relating each to its own sphere.
At the same time, Pestalozzi was now in a position to understand the mis-
take he had made at the Neuhof. In trying to play two games at once, combining
economic rationalism with full human development, he had placed himself, all
unawares, in the centre of the storm that was raging in the society of his day.
Neither a tough businessman nor a benevolent father of the people, he was from
302 Michel Soetard
now on to play the role of educator, aloof at once from the claims of society and
from the desires of those concerned, seeking to bring the two extremes closer
together by implanting in each individual a spirit of freedom in autonomy, a free-
dom of being involved in society through the learning of a trade and at the same
time striving to achieve self-fulfilment in the process. Education thus offered a
solution to Rousseau's paradox, which held that it was impossible to educate
natural man and the citizen simultaneously.
In this way Pestalozzi laid the foundations for a place which was to be set
apart from both the family, always preoccupied to some extent with its private
interests, and civil society, invariably more concerned with the inhuman demands
of economic rationalism, a place that would not only make it easier for the child
to pass from one domain to another but also help to forge the freedom based on
autonomy that neither nature nor law alone could guarantee. That special place
was the school. The ideal, of course, would be for parents to become educators,
on the same basis as the architects of the common weal; but the evolution of the
family being what it is, the school, as an educational centre, must play an
increasingly important role at the heart of civilized society. 8
The school can never really accomplish this task unless it consents to edu-
cate in the full meaning of the term. According to Pestalozzi's definition, this
involves applying a particular system that does not merely transmit to the young
the knowledge that civilization has already accumulated, but is conceived in such
a way as to make them able to build up their own freedom as autonomous
beings. Neither a mere extension of the family system nor a centre for reproduc-
ing the social order, the school will create its own order through educational acti-
vity - which is the whole point of the Method.
However, the most important consequence of the process of reflection that
culminated in the Inquiries of 1797 - a result which Pestalozzi does not specifi-
cally formulate but which underlies all his subsequent work - was that he had
now taken up a position in which he could understand the way the child really
develops. The Neuhof had used the child to fulfil the last adult dream - that of
combining a perfect integration in society while maintaining a natural innocence.
By making these ideals relative instead of absolute, Pestalozzi was able to appre-
hend the essential nature of the child, at the point where instinctual desire comes
up against society's demand for rationality, in the very process whereby the child
fashions itself through that conflict continuously experienced and continuously
resolved. More than that, it is the supposedly established human social order that
is destined to be regenerated through the child and through the way in which, by
promoting the development of the child as a free and autonomous being, it finds
itself with infinite vistas of freedom before it. 'Nature has done its work: you
must now begin to do yourS!'9
JOHANN HEINRICH PES TAL 0 Z Z I 303
The Inquiries of 1797 were a call to action and the political upheavals in
Switzerland in 1798 meant that the 'people's educator' once again had the benefit
of a fair wind. First came the Stans experiment, launched in 1799 and swept
away by the war after only a few months. It was followed by the establishment
of a new institute at Burgdorf, which did not survive the fall of the Helvetian
Republic in 1803. Pestalozzi was finally called to Yverdon where, on 1 January
1805, he opened an educational establishment in the chateau, which rapidly
expanded and became famous throughout Europe. People came from all sides to
observe this new educational wonder and trainee teachers arrived in waves
(Prussian, French, English) to be instructed in the 'Pestalozzi Method'.
The Method is certainly the educational project that takes in all Pestalozzi's
work in these three institutes. Started in practice at Stans, its basic principles
were to be set out in the work How Gertrude Teaches her Children, published in
1801, and its various elements were constantly being further developed during
the experiments at Burgdorf and Yverdon. lO
The question of the originality of the Pestalozzi Method (Herbart's expres-
sion) is often posed. If the term is taken to refer to teaching materials and
methods, a disappointment is in store: visitors to the Yverdon Institute looked in
vain for the kind of 'teacher's gimmicks' that might be adopted in their own
teaching practice. As far as teaching techniques are concerned, it might well be
said that Pestalozzi invented nothing, not even the slate, and that he borrowed
what was useful from all and sundry. It should be noted that far from being
developed in an educational desert his experiment formed part of a widespread
movement to fashion a new education that involved even the humblest village
clergyman. Moreover, Pestalozzi himself admitted that he had been completely
mistaken in some of his techniques, especially for learning languages, and he had
no hesitation in introducing radical changes in a teaching method at any moment.
In short, it was not in its material aspect that the originality of the Method lay.
And yet originality there was, as demonstrated by the way in which almost
all practical educationists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were to hark
back to it as to a source, and refer to it constantly in spite of all their difficulties
and failures.
The originality of the Pestalozzi Method may be said to lie basically in its
spirit. Its merit consists in the fact that, whereas virtually all his avowed or una-
vowed disciples have regularly allowed their intentions to be submerged in a
body of knowledge, a technique or an a priOri conception of man, and have just
as regularly protested that what they had wanted to achieve should not be confu-
sed with what they actually had achieved, Pestalozzi himself knew that the
Method and its components should never be more than mere instruments in the
hands of the educator, helping him to produce something that was not present in
the Method but proved quite different in nature from the Method's nuts and
bolts. That 'something' was freedom with autonomy.
304 Michel Soetard
immersed in a world that, through the experience they undergo, makes constant
demands on their sensitivity and brings them closer to their fellows in the
struggle to control nature through work: this is the domain of the heart. Acted
upon, therefore, by what exists and challenged by what ought to be, people have
no alternative but to use this continuous conflict which they face fair and square
in order to fashion their own being: that is the work of the hand.
These three elements thus act together to bring out the drive for autono-
mous existence in each of the persons concerned: the part played by reason
stands security for the universality of human nature; the part played by sensiti-
vity bears witness to everyone's deep-seated individuality; while the conflict bet-
ween the two releases a specifically human capacity for developing a line of
conduct that will produce an autonomous personality. It should be noted, in
addition, that the whole of this process evolves within the framework of society,
in so far as it is society that shapes human reasoning and is also the source of the
basic dissatisfaction of the individuals concerned.
The schoolteacher and, beforehand, the father and mother, provided they
play the role of educators, occupy a special position with respect to the encoun-
ter between children's instinctive desires and the demands society makes on them.
They have the power, during this decisive period, either to further develop the
power of autonomy or to cripple it, perhaps for a lifetime. Such is the awesome
moral responsibility of the educator.
A decisive factor in the exercise of this responsibility is the extent to which
the educator, regardless of place and time or of the subject being taught, is able
to keep these three components of the Method in equilibrium. In other words, it
is not sufficient in an educational establishment to divide the subjects up harmo-
niously between intellectual, artistic and technical activities. Each teacher should
also strive to bring into play in every educational activity all three elements invol-
ved in developing the child's capacity to act for itself: the physical education ins-
tructor will pay attention to children's intellectual grasp of the exercises they per-
form and to the impact on their senses; the mathematics teacher will take care
not to lose sight of his subject's relevance to the children's everyday experience
but to provide an opportunity for them to apply mathematics on their own
account at some stage in the educational process, and so on. Pestalozzi never
tires of stressing that this balance is never definitively established and may be dis-
turbed at any moment to give undue advantage to one of the three 'animalities':
head, heart or hand.
This analysis applies not only to what is required from education, such as
knowledge, skills and receptivity, but also and above all to the functioning of the
institutions, lying between the warmth of the family circle and the impersonal
state, which is responsible for establishing self-determining freedom in a living,
carefully considered and practical way. Instead of cradling children in the illusion
of immediate democracy, as he had done at the Neuhof, from Stans onwards
Pestalozzi set about establishing a human social order which came as close as
possible to fulfilling the desires of the individual and catering to the interests of
306 Michel Soetard
the group, while ceaselessly striving to surpass itself in action: the children at
Stans, although extremely poor themselves, took pains to make room for those
even poorer. 14
The various structures of the education system must therefore be organized
in such a way as to enable the educator, in view of the task which he is called
upon to fulfil, to work responsibly and autonomously in an atmosphere of free-
dom. Each part of the institutional machinery should serve the project that sets
educational action apart from other human activities, a project intended basically
for a human society coming into being against a background of autonomy within
the teacher/student relationship.
and playing Plato to the Socrates of education, set out to convert into theory the
experiment taking place under his eyes. Pestalozzi, aware of the need for some
such elucidation, went along with his collaborator for a time, but soon began to
feel that what was emerging was more and more alien to his deepest aspirations.
In the end he violently rejected Niederer's theory and his dogmatic hold on the
institute.
Pestalozzi's basic objection to this theory was that by converting the
Method's underlying objective of freedom into a system actually made it imprac-
ticable. In taking over the management of the institute, Niederer had indeed InS-
pired a practical approach, but one that soon evolved at all levels in a way that
threatened to defeat its own end: the attainment of freedom in one and all. In
concrete terms, the teachers were more than ready to spend their time in semi-
nars on 'liberty', 'the powers of the autonomous strength of the child' or 'the
Christian approach to education', but spent less and less time on the only indivi-
duals who could give practical meaning to those fine ideas: the children present,
the day-to-day realities of the institute, the small details that built up the strength
in everyone to lead an autonomous life. Pestalozzi was thus faced with a general
exodus of the teaching staff, and hence of the children, when it came to shoulder-
ing practical responsibilities: it is not surprising that a man who had linked edu-
cation to man's moral designs, as reflected in his ability to engage in autonomous
action, should have considered unbearable this distortion of his original aim and
preferred to close down his institute than give in on its essential principles. Back
in the peace of the Neuhof, his reflections led him to perceive a basic educational
truth that became the leitmotif of his educational testament, Swan Song. 16
This truth (and there should be no hesitation in calling it the 'Pestalozzi
principle') may be stated as follows: the act of teaching only takes on and keeps
its meaning in so far as a distinction is drawn and maintained between the
general laws of development of human nature, in its three dimensions of head,
heart and hand, and the way in which they are applied, especially in practical
situations and the vicissitudes of daily life.
At first glance, this principle may seem disconcertingly trite: anyone who
thinks at all is aware of the gap between ideas and practical realities. But to see
educators straining to reconcile in their teaching activities the theory they have in
their head with the sentient being in their care, to witness their crushing failures
and the invariable compulsion in the end to live out their utopias on the fringes
of society, is to be ultimately convinced that the author of the Swan Song
succeeded in solving one of the basic problems of teaching: the teacher cannot
hope to accomplish his task unless he can keep a distance between the two
extremes of intelligence, with its tendency to generalize, and sensitivity, with its
tendency to particularize, and between them both and himself. Freedom in auto-
nomy can only really be built up in children if the teacher avoids losing himself
in the airy realms of ineffectual theory or entangling himself in an intricate web
of conflicting interests. This urge to draw the distinction is so strong that the
Swan Song, which claims to bring to light the essence of elementary training, is
308 Michel Soetard
Notes
1. The Centre de Documentation et de Recherche Pestalozzl, c.P. 138, 1400 Yverdon,
SWitzerland; the journal PestaloZZlanum (Beckenhofstrasse 31-33, 8006 Zurich,
Switzerland) regularly provides mformatJon on publications concerning Pestalozzi.
2. The only reference works available at present are the cntical edition of the works
and letters: Pestalozzi, Samtliche Werke [Pestalozzi: Collected Works] (hereafter
referred to as SW); and Pestalozzi, Samtliche Briefe [Pestalozzl: Collected Letters]
(hereafter referred to as SB). See 'Works by Johann Pestalozzi'. F. BUlsson's
Dictionnaire contained important articles on Pestalozzi, his experiments and his
principal assistants; in 1890, J. Guillaume published his Etude biographique de
Pestalozzi [Biographic Study of Pestalozzi] which was remarkable for its time, and
Darin's translation of Wle Gertrud ihre Kinder lehrt [How Gertrude Teaches Her
Children] was a success at the beginning of this century. The best biography of
Pestalozzi m English is still K. Silber, Pestalozzl: The Man and HIS Work, New York,
J 0 H ANN HEINRICH PES TAL 0 Z Z I 309
Schocken, 1973. Two other useful works may be mentioned: J. Cornaz-Besson, Qui
etes-vous, Monsieur Pestalozzi? [Who Are You, Mr Pestalozzi?], Yverdon, 1977;
and G. Piaton, Pestalozzi, Toulouse, Pnvat, 1982.
3. The following description is based essentially on the fmdings of the author's study:
Pestalozzi ou la naissance de /'educateur: Etude sur /'evolutlon de la pensee et de
l'actlon du pedagogue suisse (1746-1827) [Pestalozzi or the BIrth of the Educator:
Study of the EvolutIOn in the Thmking and Activities of the SWISS Educationist
(1746-1827)], Bern, P. Lang, 1981,671 pp.
4. 'Methode theorique et pratique' [Theoretical and Practical Methods], SW, XXVIII,
1826, p. 319. (A text published in French by Pestalozzi.)
5. See M. M. Plstrak and P. A. Ray-Herne, Les probl(?nles fondamentaux de l'ecole du
travail [BaSIC Problems of the Work School], Paris, Desclee de Brouwer, 1973.
6. A French translation of the first version is available from Editions de la Baconmere,
Boudry (Switzerland).
7. SB, III, pp. 292-302.
8. The associatIOn of Pestalozzl's name with the prinCiple of family education, m parti-
cular with education by the mother, is due to an inadequate analysis of Pestalozzi's
writings and the development of his thought. It is indeed equally true to say that he
was fighting against the reality of the family in a state of crisis and that education
and educational establishments are gradually assigned the role in his work of offset-
ting the inevitable break-up of the primary natural grouping: the mother IS called
upon, partly against her Will, to become an educator.
9. SW, XII, p. 125.
10. The author IS prepanng a new French translation, with an introduction and notes,
of Pestalozzi's fundamental educational work: Comment Gertrude instrult ses
enfants [How Gertrude Teaches Her Children] and the Lettre de Stans [Letter from
Stans]. For an overall introduction to the Method, reference may be made to the
text which Pestalozzl himself published in French in 1826: 'Mhhode theorique et
pratique de Pestalozzl pour l'education et l'instruction elementaire', SW, XXVIII,
pp. 287-319.
11. Profiles of Fremet, Makarenko, Montessori and Piaget can be found in this senes of
'100 Thmkers on Education'.
12. SW, XXVIII, p. 57 (La Baconmere translation).
13. 'Geist und Herz in der Methode' [Spirit and Heart m the Method], SW, XVIII,
p.35.
14. SW, XIII, pp. 1-32.
15. Profiles of Durkheim and Illich appear m this senes of' 100 Thinkers on Education'.
16. SW, XXVIII, pp. 53-286 (La Baconniere translation).
17. Ibid., p. 57.
JEAN PIAGET
(1896-1980)
Alberta Munari
Natural History Museum in Neuchatel, his native town (Piaget, 1976, pp. 2-3).
While still a schoolboy, he entered the arena of international scientific contro-
versy by publishing as early as 1911, at the age of 15, the first of his articles in
high-circulation journals. Piaget was very quickly attracted by the charm and
rigour of scientific research. In his own words:
Precocious as they were, these studies were nevertheless very useful in my scientific train-
ing. Moreover, they acted, if I may say so, like protective weapons against the demon of
philosophy. Thanks to them, I had the rare privilege of catching a glimpse of science and
what it represented before I went through the philosophical crises of adolescence. The
early experience of these two sets of problems constituted, I am sure, the hidden lllspira-
tion for my subsequent activity in psychology (Piaget, 1976, p. 3).
Thus, in spite of two major 'adolescent crises', one religious and the other philo-
sophical (Piaget, 1976, p. 4), Piaget was gradually brought to the firm convic-
tion that the scientific approach was the only valid way of gaining access to
knowledge, and that the introspective approaches of the philosophical tradition
could, at best, help to develop a certain wisdom (Piaget, 1965a).
This increasingly strong conviction determined the fundamental choices that
Piaget made in the 1920s or thereabouts, and which, from then on, did not
waver, whether they involved the psychology he decided to study, the academic
policies he chose to defend or the commitment he undertook with regard to edu-
cational issues. On the subject of psychology, he declared: 'This made me decide
to devote my life to the biological explanation of knowledge' (Piaget, 1965a,
p. 5), thereby abandoning, after an initial interest linked to his own family expe-
riences (Piaget, 1965a, p. 2), psychoanalysis and pathological psychology. With
regard to his work as a researcher and university teacher, the constant concern
influencing and guiding his work and, indeed, his entire life was that of winning
recognition, especially by his colleagues in physics and the natural sciences, for
the equally scientific nature of the human sciences and, more specifically, of psy-
chology and epistemology. His attitude and his involvement in the field of educa-
tion led him quite naturally to champion the pupil's active participation as the
royal road to the scientific approach in school.
It was, then, this plan that motivated Jean Piaget to move away from philosophi-
cal introspection and to go to work in Paris with Janet, Pieron and Simon in the
laboratories founded by Binet. It was there that he discovered for the first time
the rich world of children's thinking. It was also on this occasion that he pre-
pared the first rough draft of his critical method - which he sometimes also refer-
red to as his clinical method - of questioning very young children, on the basis of
a wholly novel and remarkable distillation of what he had just learned from
Dumas and Simon in clinical psychology and from Brunschvicg and Lalande in
epistemology, logic and history of the sciences.
J E A N PIAGET 313
only in itself but especially in view of Piaget's own personality, since he was noto-
riously reluctant to commit himself to non-scientific tasks.
Was it his desire to improve teaching methods by 'the official adoption of
techniques better adapted to the mind of the child' and therefore, once again,
more scientific? Or should the project be viewed as a way of becoming more
effectively involved in official school institutions through the action of a supra-
governmental organization? Or, again, did it hold out the hope of combating
misunderstanding among peoples, and hence the evils of war, through an educa-
tional effort directed towards international values?
Every year, from 1929 to 1967, Piaget diligently drafted his 'Director's
Speeches' for the IBE Council and subsequently for the International Conference
on Public Education. It is in this collection of some forty documents - forgotten
by most reviewers of his works - that we find features of Jean Piaget's educa-
tional credo expressed much more explicitly than in his other writings. Hence, it
is those documents, rather than the few general works that Piaget agreed to
publish on education (Piaget, 1969, 1972a), which provide illustrations of the
underlying principles guiding his educational plan. We shall see that this plan is
far less 'implicit' and less 'unconscious' than has often been claimed.
Above all, Piaget - contrary to what is usually thought - attached very great
importance to education, for he unhesitatingly declared that 'only education is
capable of saving our societies from possible collapse, whether violent, or
gradual' (Piaget, 1934d, p. 31). In his view, the educational endeavour is there-
fore worth fighting for, since the outcome is sure: 'We need only remember that a
great idea has its own intrinsic strength,4 and that what exists is largely what we
want, 5 in order to feel confident and to be sure that, starting from nothing, we
shall succeed in giving education its rightful place internationally' (Piaget, 1934d,
p. 31). Some years later, on the eve of the Second World War, Piaget again decla-
red: 'After the upheavals of these last few months, education will once more
constitute a decisive factor not only in rebuilding but also, and especially, in
construction proper' (Piaget, 1940, p. 12). Hence, in his view, education was the
prime challenge facing all peoples, transcending ideological and political diver-
gences: 'The common wealth of all civilizations is the education of the child'
(Piaget, 1940, p. 12).
But what kind of education? Here, too - and contrary to what he would
later say to Bringuier (1977, p. 194) - Piaget was not afraid to enlarge on his
opinions in his 'Speeches'. First, he stated a basic precept: 'Coercion is the worst
of teaching methods' (Piaget, 1949d, p. 28). Accordingly, 'in the field of educa-
tion, example must play a more important role than coercion' (Piaget, 1948,
p. 22). Another precept, just as fundamental, which he put forward on several
occasions, is the importance of the pupils' active participation: 'A truth learnt is
only a half-truth; the whole truth is reconquered, reconstructed and rediscovered
by the pupil himself/herself' (Piaget, 1950, p. 35). In Piaget's view, this educa-
tional principle rested on an indisputable psychological fact: 'All modern psycho-
logy teaches us that intelligence proceeds from action' (Piaget, 1950, p. 35),
J E A N PIAGET 315
hence the fundamental role that the exercise of research must play in all educa-
tional strategies. That research, however, must not be an abstraction, for 'action
presupposes prior research, and research has value only with a view to action'
(Piaget, 1951, p. 28).
A school without coercion, then, where pupils actively experiment with a
view to reconstructing for themselves what is to be learnt. Here, in outline, we
already have Piaget's blueprint for education. However: 'Children do not learn to
experiment simply by watching the teacher performing experiments', he warns,
'or by doing exercises organized in advance; they learn by a process of trial and
error, working actively and independently, that is, without restriction and with
ample time at their disposal' (Piaget, 1959, p. 39). On this principle, which he
considered paramount, Piaget did not fear controversy: 'In most countries, how-
ever, the school turns out linguists, grammarians, historians and mathematicians
but fails to educate the inquiring mind. It is important to remember that it is
much more difficult to train an experimental mind than a mathematical mind at
primary and secondary school. ... It is much easier to reason than to experi-
ment' (Piaget, 1959, p. 39).
What, then, would be the role of books and textbooks in such a school?
'The ideal school would not have compulsory textbooks for pupils but only ref-
erence works used freely. . . . The only essential manuals are those for the
teacher's use' (Piaget, 1959, p. 39).
Are these principles applicable only to children's education?
On the contrary, active methods requiring a type of work that is both spontaneous and
guided by the questIOns posed, and work III which the pupIl rediscovers and reconstructs
truths Illstead of receiving them ready-made, are as necessary for the adult as for the child.
. . . For It should be remembered that euery time an adult tackles new problems. his or her
sequence of reactions resembles the way In which reactIons occur in the course of mental
deuelopment [Piaget, 1965b, p. 43].6
So these are the basic principles of Piagetian education. Nor, in his 'Speeches',
did Piaget hesitate to give plenty of sound advice concerning specific disciplines,
especially the teaching of mathematics:
As small chIldren are more developed on the sensorimotor plane than on the plane of
verbal logic, It is advisable to provide them with patterns of action on which subsequent
learning can be based.... An introductIOn to mathematics is [therefore] faCilitated by a
sensorimotor education, such as that practised, for instance, at the Maison des Petits in
Geneva [Piaget, 1939a, p. 37].
tation is not enough. The child Itself must act, since the manual operation is necessarily a
preparation for the mental one.... In all mathematical fields, the qualitative must precede
the numerical [Piaget, 1950, pp. 79-80].
Those who by profeSSIOn study the psychology of mtellectual operations in children and
adolescents are always struck by the resources at the disposal of every normal pupil, pro-
vided that he/she IS given the means to work actively without the obligation of too much
passive repetltlon.... From such a standpoint, science teachmg is the active inculcation of
objectivity and the habit of verification [Plaget, 1952, p. 33].
But the principle of active education may also be applied to less technical areas,
such as the process of learning a modern language: 'learning a language as
directly as possible in order to master it; then thinking about it so as to clarify
the grammar' (Piaget, 1965b, p. 44); or it may even be applied to the develop-
ment of an international outlook: 'as a means of dealing with scepticism and
relational difficulties between peoples, only remedies of a receptive order have
been considered, in the form of lessons, appeals to the sensitivity and imagina-
tion of the pupils.... We need to create social links between children, especially
adolescents, and to encourage them to act and assume responsibility' (Piaget,
1948, p. 36).
With respect to the links between education and psychology, Piaget, in his
'Speeches', is much more explicit than in his other writings. Firstly, the link bet-
ween education and psychology is, in his opinion, a necessary link: 'Indeed, I do
not believe that there is a universal method of teaching, but what is common to
all education systems is the child itself, or at least a number of general features of
the child's psychology' (Piaget, 1934b, p. 94). And these are precisely the general
features that psychology should accordingly highlight, so that educational
methods can take them into account: 'It is undeniable that psychologists'
research has been the starting-point of almost all methodological or didactic
innovations in recent decades. It is unnecessary to reiterate that all methods
appealing to a pupil's interests and actual activity have been inspired by genetic
psychology' (Piaget, 1936a, p. 14). Nevertheless, 'the links between teaching and
psychology are complex: teaching is an art, whereas psychology is a science, but
while the art of educating presupposes unique innate abilities, it needs to be
developed by the requisite knowledge of the human being who is to be educated'
(Piaget, 1948, p. 22). Furthermore, 'it is often asserted that education is an art
and not a science and therefore does not require scientific training. Although it is
true that education is an art, it has the same claim to be an art as medicine
which, while it requires abilities and innate gifts, also calls for knowledge of ana-
tomy, pathology, etc. Similarly, if teaching is to train the pupil's mind, it must
emanate from knowledge of the child, hence from psychology' (Piaget, 1953,
p. 20). In still more specific terms, when writing about scientific research, Piaget
J E A N PIAGET 317
If experimental teaching seeks to remain a purely positivist science, i.e. confining itself to
recognizing facts but not seeking to explain them, confining itself to recognIzing achieve-
ments but not ascertaining the reasons for them, it goes without saYing that psychology IS
unnecessary. . . . But if experimental teaching seeks to understand what It discovers,
explain the achievements it acknowledges, and grasp the reason for the greater effective-
ness of certain methods compared with others, then, of course, it is essential to combine
educational research with psychological research - in other words, to make use of educa-
tional psychology constantly and not merely to measure achievements In experimental
teaching [Piaget, 1966, p. 39].
But, if the links between teaching and psychology are complex, the dialogue bet-
ween educators and psychologists is equally so. Piaget went so far as to offer
strategic advice which, surprising as it may seem, nevertheless reflects the wis-
dom and experience of a skilful negotiator. He reminded us that it should always
be borne in mind that 'the most elementary of psychological rules is that no
human being likes being told what to do, and educators even less than all others.
For a long time psychologists have been well aware that, in order to be heeded
by teachers and administrators, one must be wary of appearing to have recourse
to psychological doctrines and must, instead, pretend to appeal only to common
sense' (Piaget, 1954b, p. 28).
Is this opportunism? It may seem so at first glance, but on further reflection
we again find Piaget's underlying fundamental educational credo:
We have trusted in the educational and creative value of objective exchange. We have
belteved that mutual information and reciprocal understanding of different angles are
ways of attaining the truth. We have shunned the mirage of general truths and instead
have belteved in that concrete and living truth which stems from free diSCUSSIOn and from
the labonous and tentative co-ordination of different, and sometimes opposing, pOints of
view [Piaget, 1954b, p. 28].
But the facts and theories of Piagetian genetic constructivism, and more espe-
cially its description of the developmental stages of intelligence and scientific
knowledge, were the subject of very different readings depending on the type of
conception, avowed or not, that each reader had of culture, which is undeniably
the ultimate goal of any educational endeavour.
Among these various conceptions, two marked tendencies may be distin-
guished: one which sees culture as a sort of structure to be built gradually
J E A N PIAGET 319
the epistemologist now influences the educational task in fields he never dreamed
of. Here we have an undeniable indication of the wealth of theoretical implica-
tions and concrete suggestions that his work still offers to educators.
Notes
1. Piaget, 1925, 1928, 1930, 1931, 1932, 1933a, 1933b, 1934a, 1934d, 1935, 1936b,
1939b, 1939c, 1942, 1943, 1944, 1949a, 1949b, 1949c, 1954a, 1957, 1964,
1965b, 1966a, 1966b, 1969, 1972a, 1972b, 1973; Piaget and Duckworth, 1973.
Piaget also drafted, as Director of the International Bureau of Education (IBE), some
forty speeches and reports, all published courtesy of the IBE between 1930 and
1967.
2. In other words, slightly less than 1,000 pages (including speeches and reports writ-
ten for the IBE) out of a total estimated at approximately 35,000 pages, not coun-
ting translations!
3. In this connection, world literature is extremely nch and it is difficult to draw up a
complete ltst. 'Classic' reference works Include Campbell and Fuller, 1977;
Copeland, 1970; Duckworth, 1964; Elkind, 1976; Forman and Kuschner, 1977;
Furth, 1970; Furth and Wachs, 1974; Gorman, 1972; Kamii, 1972; Kamii and De
Vries, 1977; Labinowicz, 1980; Lowery, 1974; Papert, 1980; Rosskopf, Steffe and
Taback, 1971; Schwebel and Raph, 1973; Sigel, 1969; Sinclalr and Kamu, 1970;
Sprinthall and Sprinthall, 1974; Sund, 1976; Vergnaud, 1981. We ourselves, with
the help of a number of colleagues who collaborate With our group and in particular
with Donata Fabbri, have on several occasions analysed the educational implica-
tions of Piaget's psycho-epistemology: Bocchi et al., 1983; Ceruti et al., 1985;
Fabbn, 1984, 1985, 1987a, 1987b, 1988a, 1988b, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1992; Fabbri
and Formenti, 1989, 1991; Fabbn, Mari and Valentini, 1992; Fabbri and Munari,
1983, 1984a, 1984b, 1985a, 1985b, 1988, 1989, 1991; Fabbri and Pamer-Bagat,
1988; Munari, 1980, 1985a, 1985b, 1985c, 1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 1988, 1990a,
1990b, 1990(, 1992; Munan, Bulllnger and Fluckiger, 1980.
4. This was one of Jean Piaget's fundamental convictions, already to be found in his
very earliest writings: La missIOn de l'idee (Piaget, 1915).
5. A worthy constructivist act of faith!
6. We have deltberately italicized this excerpt - too often unfamiliar to those who see
the Plagetian approach as relevant only to the child - for it seems to us of para-
mount importance from the educational standpOint. For the same reason, we have
also developed, with Donata Fabbri, a strategy for an educatIOnal approach appli-
cable to adults, which we have called 'laboratory of operative epistemology' (Fabbri,
1988a, 1990; Fabbri and Munari, 1984a, 1985b, 1988, 1990, 1991; Munari, 1982,
1989, 1990a, 1992, 1993).
7. See Copeland, 1970; Elkind, 1976; Furth, 1970; Gorman, 1972; Schwebel and
Raph,1973.
8. In this connection, and although they do not seem to have had direct links With
Piagetian psychology - except of course In Geneva - the various tendencies that
incline increasingly towards the use of 'educational biographies' or 'life stones' as
teaching tools could be regarded as a specific development of this principle (see, for
example, Dunn, 1982; Ferrarotti, 1983; Josso, 1991; Pineau and Jobert, 1989;
J E A N PIAGET 321
Sarbm, 1986). Similarly, even if its origins are elsewhere (Flavell, 1976), the nsmg
tide of educational research and initiatives relating to metacogllltion can also be
hailed as part of the same trend (see Noel, 1990; Weinert and Kluwe, 1987; and
also Piaget, 1974a, 1974b).
9. See, for example, Fabbri, 1990; Fabbri and Munari, 1988; Landler, 1987; Munari,
1987b.
IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
1914. Bergson et Sabatier. Revue chretienne (Paris), Vo!. 61, No. 4, pp. 192-200.
1915. La mission de l'ldee [The Purpose of the Idea]. Lausanne, La Concorde.
1918. Recherche [Research]. Lausanne, La Concorde.
1925. Un grand educateur [A Famous Educator]. Le nouvel essor (Paris), Vo!. 20,
No. 25, pp. 1-2.
1928. Psychopedagogie et mentalite enfantine [EducatIOnal Psychology and the Child's
Mentality]. Journal de psychologle normale et pathologique (Paris), Vo!. 25, pp. 31-
60.
1930. Les procedes de l'education morale [Methods of Moral EducatIOn]. In: Cinquleme
congres international d'educatlon morale, Pans, 1930 : compte rendu et rapport
general, pp. 182-219. Pans, Alcan.
1931. Introduction psychologique it l'education mternationale [A Psychological
Introduction to International Education]. Comment faire connaitre la SOCiete des
Nations et developper l'esprzt de cooperation internationale: IVeme cours pour le
personnel enselgnant: compte rendu des conferences donnees du 3 au 8 aoiit 1931.
Geneva, International Bureau of Education, pp. 56-68.
1932. Les difficultes psychologiques de l'education mternationale [Psychological
Difficulties of InternatIOnal Education]. Comment fa/re connaitre la Societe des
Nations et developper ['esprit de cooperation mternationale: Veme cours pour le
personnel enseignant: compte rendu des conferences donnees du 25 all 30 jUlllet
1932. Geneva, International Bureau of Education, pp. 57-76.
1933a. L'evolution sociale et la pedagogle nouvelle [Social Change and New Education].
VIeme congres mondial de la Ligue Internatlonale pour ['educatIOn nOllvelle.
London, New Education Fellowship, pp. 474-84.
1933b. Psychologie de I'enfant et enselgnement de l'histOlre [Child Psychology and
History Teaching]. Bulletm trimestriel de la Conference internationale pour l'ensel-
gnement de l'histoire (The Hague), No. 2, pp. 8-13.
1934a. Discours du directeur [Speech by the Director]. In: Troisieme Conference interna-
tionale de l'instructlon publique: proces-verbaux et resolutions, pp. 27-30. Geneva,
International Bureau of Education.
1934b. Une education pour la paix est-elle possible? [Is Education for Peace Possible?]
Bulletin de l'enselgnement de la Societe des Nations (Geneva), No. 1, pp. 17-23.
1934c. Rapport du directeur: cinquieme reunion du Conseil [Report of the Director: Fifth
Meetmg of the Council]. Geneva, International Bureau of EducatIOn.
1934d. Remarques psychologiques sur le self-government [Psychological Remarks on Self-
government]. Le self-government a ['ecole, pp. 89-108. Geneva, International
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326 Alberto Munari
l
PLATO
(428-348 B.C.)
Charles Hummel
Plato was born in 428 B.C., towards the end of that extraordinary period in
human history when the foundations of spiritual life were being formulated by
Lao-Tse (at the turn of the sixth century), Confucius 2 (551-479), Buddha (c. 550-
480) and Socrates (469-399) and the Upanishads were being written (at the turn
of the fifth century).
He was born to a family that belonged to the top ranks of the Athenian
aristocracy. His father was a descendant of Codrus, last king of Athens. The
brother of one of his mother's ancestors was Solon, the great Athenian statesman
and law-maker, and one of Plato's uncles, Critias, was to become a member of
the Council of Thirty. Plato was thus predestined to play an active role in
Athenian politics. In his seventh Letter he explains why he chose not to take that
path. Instead, he formulated the most significant political theory of ancient times
and with it founded the science of politics.
Plato was born soon after the death of Pericles, who had been a friend of
the family and who had carried Athens to the heights of its power, prosperity and
culture. Sophocles and Euripides were among the great playwrights of the time
who delighted the public, and the young Plato must certainly have met them.
But Plato was also destined to witness the decline of that Athens to which
he was so dearly attached. As a young man he endured, probably as a soldier, the
defeat of his city in the Peloponnesian War and experienced the ensuing decline
of the Athenian democracy. The twilight of the Classical Age of Greece was
approaching and with it the demise of the independent Greek city-states, which
were supplanted by the Alexandrian empire. Plato lived in the period of transi-
tion between classical Greece and the Hellenistic era that opened a new chapter
in the history of the West.
Plato's life
As a child, Plato undoubtedly received the education that was commonly given
330 Charles Hummel
the lessons of his demanding tutor. Furthermore, he was jealous of Dion, whom
he sent into exile. Plato returned to Athens and founded the Academy. In 361
B.C. he succumbed for the third time to the temptation to go to Syracuse, but
with no happier results: once again he encountered humiliation. It was only with
the help of Archytas that he managed to get back to Athens, where in 348 B.C. he
died at the age of 80.
Plato's works
The works of Plato have reached us virtually intact. They consist of twenty-eight
Dialogues and thirteen others of variously uncertain authorship. There are also
thirteen Letters, three of which (VI, VII and VIII) are generally recognized as
having been written by Plato. Plato's Dialogues cover a wide range of subjects:
duty, courage, virtue, justice, love, beauty, science, nature, rhetoric and the har-
mony of words with Being and with Ideas; the nature of humankind, wisdom,
kingship, legislation, etc. With the single important exception of Laws - Plato's
last work and the one in which he set out in detail his ideas on educational policy
- Socrates is, directly or indirectly, cast as one of the protagonists of the
Dialogues. It is the only time a disciple has ever identified himself so closely with
his master as to put his own words into his master's mouth. It is extremely diffi-
cult to draw the demarcation line between the ideas of Socrates and those of
Plato. Philologists have attempted to do so by sorting Plato's Dialogues into several
groups, ranging from the more Socratic to those that clearly depart from the
thought of the real Socrates and are considered to be distinctly Platonic. We cannot
enter into the philological subtleties in this article and shall treat the Socrates who
appears so true to life in Plato's Dialogues as part of the latter's 'profile'.
In fact, it is as teacher that Plato most resembles his master. Socrates
appears in the works of Plato as the archetypal teacher, even though he insists
that he is not one. Accordingly, the object of most, if not all, of Plato's Dialogues
is essentially educational: his whole work was written in the service of paideia.
Plato was an extremely serious, moralizing and austere thinker who disap-
proved of the most innocent pleasures, even the reflex of laughter (Republic,
388e, and Laws, 732c). He was also a writer of exceptional literary skill, who
drew his characters with a fine economy of detail in the manner of the great
Chinese painters, creating in a few sentences a true-to-life atmosphere, and his
works contain countless examples of superb subtlety and a flair for irony. On the
other hand, his Dialogues contain long passages of laborious and sometimes for-
malistic, punctilious and, it must be admitted, frankly tiresome dialectics. Plato's
writings have had a determining influence on all aspects of Western philosophy
(and even perhaps on all aspects of its culture). In fact the European philosophi-
cal tradition can be characterized as a long series of dialogues with Plato or, as
the great British philosopher A. N. Whitehead put it, as 'a series of footnotes to
Plato'.
332 Charles Hummel
Plato's philosophy
In order to understand Plato and to plumb the depths of his thought we must
keep closely in mind the fact that his philosophy is not in any sense a doctrine.
Plato did not set up a philosophical system in the manner of Hegel, for example.
The distinguishing feature of Plato's philosophy is the progression or process by
which his ideas are formed - his so-called dialectical method, which does not
involve solitary, hence unilateral, reflection, but is rather a collective exercise by
which friends, as in the Symposium, or adversaries, as in Gorgias, move forward
in argument. Moreover, Plato's Dialogues, which often deal with the clarification
of a concept - such as beauty, duty, love, justice or pleasure - do not usually
come to a final conclusion on the subject or end on universal agreement. The
initial question is left open. Thus Protagoras concludes with the following state-
ment, 'Well, we will talk of these matters [which we have just been discussing] at
some future meeting' (Protagoras, 361e).
Plato sums up his approach in his seventh Letter:
One statement at any rate I can make III regard to all who have written or who may write
with a claim to knowledge of the subject to which I devote myself [philosophy] ... Such
writers can III my opinion have no real acquaintance with the subject. I certalllly have
composed no work in regard to it, nor shall I ever do so in future, for there is no way of
putting it in words like other studies. Acquaintance with it must come rather after a long
period of attendance on instruction in the subject itself and of close companionship, when,
suddenly, like a blaze kindled by a leaping spark, it is generated in the soul and at once
becomes self-sustaining (341b-d).
Attentive readers of Plato's Dialogues will find that they are participants on this
sudden, vision-like dawning of knowledge. However, we must qualify this pas-
sage (which is rather discouraging for commentators on Plato!) with the observa-
tion that towards the end of the philosopher's life a touch of dogmatism crept
into his work, which gives the sudden impression that one is attending an ex
cathedra lecture by the Academy professor.
Plato was relentless in his analysis of the conditions and limitations to the
acquisition of knowledge imposed by a world that was elusive because it was in
constant movement. He believed that all human beings, with the exception of
true philosophers, lived in a world of appearances. This is why the Socrates of
his Dialogues incessantly demonstrates to his interlocutors how much their
claims to knowledge are illusory because based on unfounded opinions or on
prejudices. In Laches, to cite but one example, two prominent generals are obli-
ged to admit that they do not know the meaning of courage.
On the one hand, led by his certainty of the absolute, he explored the
human condition as it related to the supreme values of beauty, truth and good-
ness. On the other hand, haunted by his experience of the decline of Athens and
convinced that all change carried within itself the seeds of corruption, he looked
to permanence as the sole guarantor of absolute values. He considered that he
PL A T 0 333
Lastly, with his theses concerning the immortality of the soul, Plato also broach-
ed the area of religion.
Plato's anti-Sophism
The ideal Platonic educator or teacher is the antithesis of the Sophist. The pas-
sages in Plato's works in which Socrates criticizes or disputes with the Sophists
are legion. It was, as Karl Jaspers puts it, the battle of philosophy against non-
philosophy. The Sophists in Plato's time were itinerant teachers of higher educa-
tion. They rented rooms and there gave lessons for an often quite substantial fee
to the scions of the aristocracy, who normally completed their elementary studies
in private schools at or about the age of 16. Plato himself almost certainly atten-
ded the courses of eminent Sophists such as Gorgias and Protagoras.
The Sophists taught the widest range of subjects; but they were best known
as teachers of rhetoric, the art of manipulating the masses. The oratorical art,
334 Charles Hummel
explains Gorgias in the dialogue that bears his name, is 'The power to convince
by your words the judges in court, the senators in Council, the people in the
Assembly, or in any other gathering of a citizen body' (Gorgias, 452e). The emi-
nent Protagoras asserts with great pride: 'From me [the student] will learn ...
the proper care of his personal affairs, so that he may best manage his own
household, and also of the state's affairs, so as to become a real power in the city,
both as speaker and man of action' (Protagoras, 319a). Plato's grand indictment
of the Sophists is contained in the dialogue of the same name. His critique is
presented as a sort of counterpoint to an authoritative lecture on Being, high-
lighting the abyss that divides true philosophy from non-philosophy. Here is the
hardly complimentary portrait he draws of the Sophist: 'The hired hunter of rich
young men, ... a sort of merchant of knowledge about the soul, ... A retail
dealer in the same wares, ... an athlete in debate, ... a controversialist', one
who instils in young people the opinion that he is, personally and in all matters,
the wisest of men; he is a magician and a mimic who has appropriated the
'shadow play of words' as an art (Sophist, 231d, 232b, 268c).
On the other hand, 'the philosopher, whose thoughts constantly dwell upon
the nature of reality, is difficult to see because his region is so bright, for the eye
of the vulgar soul cannot endure to keep its gaze fixed on the divine' (Sophist,
254a-b).
These passages on the Sophists show that Plato demanded a deep sense of
moral responsibility on the part of the true teacher, on whom lay responsibility
for the sound health and fate of his pupil's soul. It was his duty to protect his dis-
ciples against false knowledge and guide them on the path to truth and virtue.
He must never be a mere pedlar of materials for study and of recipes for winning
disputes, nor yet for promoting a career.
Is it not a terrible historical irony that by democratic vote the citizens of
Athens sentenced Socrates to death on the charge that he was, of all things, a
Sophist and that he was corrupting the city's youth?
to be able to train a physician one must be acquainted with the various diseases
and their cures. As a true philosopher, Socrates makes no claim to know any-
thing; indeed, he is conscious of all that he does not know and, consequently, is
always searching for knowledge, whereas the others - both the Sophists and the
people in the street with whom he converses and whom he 'examines' - live in
the illusion that they possess knowledge. In fact, exposing that illusion is the first
step in the process of learning to live a good life represented as a harmonious
relationship between a person and his or her final destiny, which is moral and
political in nature.
In the prologue to the Symposium there is a delightful episode that serves as
a good illustration of the Socratic method. Socrates is late in arriving because, as
was occasionally his custom, he paused on the way, lost in his own thoughts
(Symposium, 174c). Agathon, the host, invites Socrates to sit next to him because
'I want to share this great thought that's just struck you in the porch next door.'
At which Socrates replies to Agathon, 'I only wish that wisdom were the kind of
thing one could share by sitting next to someone - if it flowed, for instance, from
the one that was full to the one that was empty, like the water in two cups find-
ing its level through a piece of worsted' (Symposium, 175d). The Socratic
method is to be distinguished therefore from the traditional method of teaching,
in which teachers seek to transmit their knowledge to their pupils, who are
expected to assimilate it on the whole passively. The Socratic method is an inter-
active method in which teacher and pupil co-operate in the pursuit of knowledge
through dialogue. A series of questions and answers involve the two parties in
the same cognitive pursuit (Plato occasionally uses images taken from the hunt).
This is yet another reason - a methodological one - why Socrates does not want
to be described as one who possessed knowledge.
This dialectical method runs through the entire work of Plato. The reader is
drawn into the discussion as an active observer. Plato the educator takes his
readers, entangled in their desires and illusions, and leads them, patiently and
through a critique suffused with irony, to the point of reflection and indepen-
dence.
In the Apology, Socrates insists that he has been entrusted with his teaching
role by Apollo himself: 'God appointed me ... to the duty of leading a philoso-
phicallife, examining myself and others' (Apology, 28e). As to whether he would
renounce his role of 'examiner' should he be acquitted, he declares:
Gentlemen ... I owe a greater obedience to God than to you, and so long as I draw
breath and have my faculties, I shall never stop practising philosophy and exhorting you
and elucidating the truth for everyone that I meet. I shall go on saying, in my usual way,
'My very good friend, you are an Athenian and belong to a city which is the greatest and
most famous III the world for its wisdom and strength. Are you not ashamed that you give
your attention to acquiring as much money as possible, and similarly with reputation and
honour, and give no attention or thought to truth and understandlllg and the perfection of
your soul?' (Apology, 29d-e).
336 Charles Hummel
Accordingly, in Plato's mind, philosophy and education are one and the same dis-
cipline. The Socratic method of teaching has often been characterized as a
'maieutic' method, or one in which the teacher assumes the role of a midwife. A
deciphering of this method is contained in Meno. There, Plato's Socrates argues
that 'there is no such thing as teaching, only recollection' (Meno, 82a) and main-
tains that teachers should play the role of midwife in order to deliver their pupils
of the knowledge they unconsciously possess. To illustrate this original method,
Socrates conducts an educational experiment: by questioning a young slave, he
leads him to self-discovery of the solution to a relatively complicated problem in
geometry (Meno, 82b-85b). From this experiment Socrates concludes as follows:
So a man who does not know has in himself true opinions on a subject without haVing
knowledge ... This knowledge Will not come from teaching but from questIOning. He will
recover it for himself ... And the spontaneous recovery of knowledge that is in him is
recollection ... If then there are going to exist In him, both while he is and while he is not
a man, true opinions which can be aroused by questioning and turned into knowledge,
may we say that his soul has been forever in a state of knowledge? Clearly he always
either is or IS not a man (Meno, 8Sc-d; 86a).
The Academy
When Plato founded the Academy around 385 B.C. he was just over 40 years old.
He set up his establishment on gardened premises not far from Athens. The
Academy is often described as the first university in history - which is not exactly
true. It resembled the medieval universitas more than the modern university. It
was a centre of study and research, but nothing is known of the details of its
organization. It was more of a scientific community than a school. The Academy
was probably modelled after the Pythagorean communities Plato had visited in
Magna Graecia. Legally, it was established in the form of a thiasos, or religious
confraternity. It was dedicated to the Muses. Teachers and pupils lived there in a
communal atmosphere enhanced by a dialectical method of teaching, in which
doctrinal presentations were followed by discussion.
Plato remained head of the Academy for the rest of his life. This meant that
for some forty years he was the driving force and principal teacher of this intel-
lectual centre of ancient Greece. The Academy remained open until A.D. 529, that
is, for almost 900 years after Plato's death.
According to an old tradition, there was an inscription over the portal of
the Academy proclaiming that a knowledge of geometry was a requirement for
entry. Plato probably developed a passion for mathematics during his encounters
P L A T 0 337
state, which embodied justice. It was a sort of Utopia. (For Plato, however, the
world of ideas, because permanent, is more 'real' than the world of facts, which
is in a state of constant flux!) Rousseau believed that 'Plato's Republic . .. is the
best treatise on education ever written' CEmile, Book I). In the Laws Plato drew
up a highly detailed system of laws for a proposed colonial city-state. While the
themes of these two Dialogues would seem to be almost identical, there are
considerable differences between them. The differences, however, do not touch
upon educational issues. The Republic is a pure theory of the ideal state, whereas
the Laws is a practical application to a hypothetical concrete case.
In the Republic the inhabitants are divided into three distinct classes: slaves
who are the subjects of special provisions in the Laws, craftsmen and merchants
(generally alien without rights of citizenship) and, lastly, 'guardians', who are res-
ponsible for the security and administration of the state. The guardian class is
itself divided into two groups: the 'auxiliaries' and the 'perfect' guardians, or
regents - the first, in principle the youngest, having responsibility for internal
and external security (including the police and the army), while the second
group, the 'sages', watch over the smooth functioning and harmony of the state.
At the head of the state is a 'philosopher-king' (such as Archytas of Tarentum) -
an idea that is taken up again in the Statesman but is abandoned in the Laws, in
which a 'nocturnal council' assumes the responsibilities of the highest authority.
The ideal society for Plato is as immutable as a Doric temple; for, in an ideal
state, change can bring about only decadence and corruption (Laws, 797d).
Society must therefore be protected from all that could upset the civic order and
induce change. The guardians must devote themselves entirely to the service of
the state. They may not possess material riches (which give rise to jealousy and
conflict); they may not indulge in frivolities (which could compromise their integ-
rity); nor may they entertain private ambitions. All they have must be held in
common: room, board, wives and children.
One of the tasks of education in the Platonic state is to preserve the status
quo. All innovation is taboo. Contrary to most modern educational principles,
education must stand guard against all change and all forms of subversion.
Despite his extreme conservatism, however, Plato had some highly innova-
tive ideas. For example, he espoused equality of the sexes at a time when women,
with the exception of courtesans, were relegated to the household. In the Platonic
state girls, like boys, do their gymnastics in the nude and are expected to go to
war clad in the same armour as the men. They share the boys' education, with no
discrimination between them. Moreover, Plato prescribes compulsory education
for all, that is for all members of the guardian class. This idea, however, was not
to receive application until much later, at the time of the French Revolution.
Compulsory schooling goes far beyond an elementary education; yet Plato has
very little to say about the education of craftsmen and merchants, which consists
of no more than a simple apprenticeship, and slaves received no mention at all.
Plato, indeed, was the first to formulate a complete education system,
covering every aspect - from its administration to a detailed curriculum. In the
P L A T 0 339
Laws Plato describes how education should be organized and administered. The
whole education system should be headed by a 'Supervisor of Education', 'far the
most important of the highest offices in the state', who would supervise all
aspects of education for children of both sexes. He should be 'a man of not less
than 50 years, and the father of a legitimate family, preferably of both sexes'
(Laws, 765d-e). He will have working under him 'superintendents of
gymnasiums and schools in charge of their proper maintenance, as well as of the
education given and the ... supervision of attendances and accommodation for
children of both sexes, together with judges of performers contending in both
musical and athletic competitions' (Laws, 764c-d). These competitions are
important because the careers of the guardians are determined by their results.
The education of the guardians - a lifelong education that stretches from
before birth to retirement age - is described in detail in the Republic (especially
Books II-V and VII) and in the Laws (especially Books I, II and VII). In the Laws,
however, the programme of studies is abbreviatC'd. Having abandoned the idea of
the philosopher-king, Plato did not dwell any further on the teaching of philo-
sophy, as he had done in the Republtc. After introducing the concept of
'guardians', he goes on to say: 'But the rearing of these men and their education,
how shall we manage that? And will the consideration of this topic advance us in
any way toward discerning what is the object of our entire enquiry - the origin
of justice and injustice in a State ... ?' (Republic, 376c-d). The object of Platonic
education is therefore moral and political; it is not an apprenticeship for know-
how but an education in life skills.
Since the health and beauty of both body and mind are essential goals of
Platonic education (see Laws, 788c), education, in keeping with Greek custom, is
divided into two parts: gymnastics and music (i.e. culture).
Physical education begins before birth. Pregnant women are advised to
walk around and move about as much as possible, for 'every sort of shaking and
stirring [communicates] health and beauty, to say nothing of robustness' to the
unborn infant (Laws, 789d).
Preschool education is the responsibility of parents (whereas in the
Republic infants are raised collectively and do not know who their parents are!),
who are enjoined to treat infants with measured discipline, for 'while spoiling of
children makes their tempers fretful, peevish and easily upset by mere trifles, the
contrary treatment, the severe and unqualified tyranny which makes its victims
spiritless, servile and sullen, renders them unfit for the intercourse of domestic
and civic life' (Laws, 791c).
The teaching of culture begins very early on, through the stories parents tell
their children. Plato attaches the greatest importance to the content of these
stories, for first impressions shape the still malleable minds of children and deter-
mine their character. Consequently, such stories must pass the censors' scrutiny.
Plato places a strong and oft-repeated stress on censorship, not sparing even
Homer.
340 Charles Hummel
pure thought and turn the soul towards the heights of the world of ideas.
'Geometry is the knowledge of the eternally existent' (Republic, 527b). It is
through geometry that one learns how to manipulate concepts (Republic, 510-
11). Astronomy initiates the soul to the order and immutable harmony of the
cosmos. Harmony, a sister science of astronomy, focuses on the search for and
knowledge of the laws of, and the order in, the world of sound. The influence of
the Pythagoreans here is obvious. Plato repeated with insistence that we must
'prevent our fosterlings from attempting to learn anything that does not conduce
to the end we have in view' (Republic, 530e).
At the age of 30 - and not before - Plato's students finally begin to study
philosophy or dialectics. After pursuing this course for five years they must then
'return once again to the cave' and serve for fifteen years in the army and the
civil service, where they are constantly put to the test. 'At the age of 50 those
who have . . . approved [sic] themselves altogether the best in every task and
form of knowledge' will be able to behold the good; 'and when they have thus
beheld the good itself they shall use it as a pattern for the right ordering of the
state' (Republic, 540a). They will then devote the rest of their lives alternately to
philosophy and public life.
When they retire, these state officials will have the leisure time to devote
themselves entirely to the delights of philosophy - this being their sole reward.
Plato's polis is essentially an educational community. It is created by educa-
tion. It can survive only on condition that all its citizens receive an education that
enables them to make rational political decisions. It is up to education to pre-
serve the state intact and to defend it against all harmful innovations. The aim of
education is not personal growth but service of the state, which is the guarantor
of the happiness of its citizens for as long as they allow it to be the embodiment
of justice.
Notes
1. This text was flfSt published in Prospects, Vo!' 22, No. 4, 1992.
2. A profile of Confucius appears in this series of '100 Thinkers on Education'.
3. Quotations are from The Collected Dialogues of Plato, edited by E. Hamilton and
H. Calms, Princeton, N.]., Princeton University Press, 1973. The lme numbers, as is
customary, are those established by the Stephanus editIOn (1578).
4. A profile of Aristotle appears in this series of '100 Thinkers on Education'.
Select bibliography
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Meyer, 1968.
Brun, ]. L'Academie [The Academy]. Encyclopedle de la Pleiade, Histoire de la philoso-
phle, Vo!' 1. Paris, Gallimard, 1969.
- - . Platon et ['Academle [Plato and the Academy]. 10th ed. Paris, Presses Universitaires
de France, 1991. (Que sais-Je senes.)
342 Charles Hummel
Castle, E. B. Ancient Education and Today. 2nd ed. Harmondsworth, U.K., Penguin
Books, 1962.
Cross, R. c.; Woozley, A. D. Plato's Republtc. A Philosophical Commentary. London,
Macmillan, 1991.
Ferber, R. Platos Idee des Guten [Plato's Idea of Goodness]. Sankt Augustm, Academia
Verlag Richarz, 1989.
Gauss, H. Handkommentar zu den Dialogen Platos [Commentary to Plato's Dialogues]
Bern, Herbert Lang, 1952-67. 7 vols.
Gigon, O. Sokrates [Socrates]. Bern, A. Francke, 1979.
Grube, G. M. A. Plato's Republic. Indianapolis, Hackett, 1986.
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]aeger, W. Paideia. Die Formung des griechlschen Menschen [Paideia: The Making of
Greek Manhood]. 4th ed. Berlin, Waiter de Gruyter, 1959. 3 vols.
]eanniere, A. Lire Platon [Reading Plato]. Aubier, 1990.
Marcuse, L. Plato und Dlonys. Berlin, Blanvalet, 1968.
Marrou, H.-I. Histoire de l'education dans l'antiquite [History of Education in Antiquity].
7th ed. Paris, Semi, 1976.
Nietzsche, F. IntroductIOn it la lecture des Dialogues de Platon [Introduction to the
Reading of Plato's Dialogues]. Combas, Editions de l'Eclat, 1991.
Picht, G. Platons Dlaloge 'Nomoi' und 'Symposion' [Plato's Dialogue 'Laws' and
'Symposium']. Stuttgart, Klett-Cotta, 1990.
Pietri, C. Les origines de la 'pedagogie'. Grece et Rome [The Origins of 'Pedagogy': Greece
and Rome]. Histoire mondtale de l'education, Vo!. I. Paris, Presses Universitalres de
France, 1981.
Plato. Samtliche Werke [Collected Works]. (With an introduction by Olof Gigon; trans. by
R. Rufener.) Zurich, Artemis, 1974.
Popper, K. R. The Open SOCiety and its Enemies. Vo!. I: Plato. 5th ed. London, Routledge,
1991.
Rugglero, G. De. La Filosofia Greca [Greek Philosophy]. 6th ed. Ban, Laterza, 1946. 2
vols.
Vlastos, G. Socrates. Cambridge, UniverSity Press, 1991.
Wahl, J. Platon [Plato]. Encyclopedle de la Pleiade, Hlstoire de la phtlosophie, Vo!. 1.
Pans, Galhmard, 1969.
Wyller, E. A. Der spate Platon [The Latter-day Plato]. Hamburg, Felix Memer, 1970.
343
JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
(1733-1804)1
Ruth Watts
]oseph Priestley, now probably best known as the discoverer of oxygen, was in his
own lifetime as famous, or infamous, as a radical political and religious leader. At
the same time, he was a great educator, using his practical experiences of teaching
to support the many educational treatises he produced. His influence on English
education was deep, being immediately effective in radical, educational circles,
particularly those associated with the Unitarian religious movement, and thence
disseminated into the educational changes of the nineteenth century.
Priestley lived at a time when England was dominated by an established
order of aristocracy, landed gentry and Church, but a massive social, economic,
intellectual and cultural change was taking place. The aristocracy, great land-
owners holding leading positions in royal circles and in the Church of England,
had an unshakeable grip on political power and, with the gentry, ran local
government. The middle ranks in society, however, including both merchant
princes rich from tobacco and slave-trading, and new industrialists making for-
tunes in coal, iron and cotton, were growing in size and confidence. The begin-
nings of industrialization and urbanization were creating new tensions and
groupings in society (Porter, 1990).
Such tensions were reflected in religion where those people who refused to
conform to the established Church - the Church of England - were condemned
as dissenters or nonconformists. The most radical of these were the 'rational dis-
senters', including the Unitarians. The latter were a small group, but they attrac-
ted many leading industrialists and progressive intellectuals. Like other 'enlight-
ened' thinkers, Unitarians agreed that humanity and its environment was best
understood by reason, experience and experiment, but they fused religion with
philosophy and science, supremely confident that science was a way of under-
standing the rationality of God's creation and that only good could result from
open, free inquiry. Tolerant and optimistic, they sought a new, just moral order
in society. They supported the American Revolution and enthusiastically wel-
comed the outbreak of the French Revolution. Many were involved in the
344 Ruth Watts
struggle to reform the English constitution by widening political power and par-
ticipation and particularly by repealing those Acts of Parliament that militated
against dissenters. Foremost in all this was ]oseph Priestley.
Priestley was born and educated in Yorkshire, but from 1752 until 1755 he
attended Daventry Academy, one of those 'dissenting' academies which offered
some of the best higher education of the day. England's traditional education sys-
tem, in contrast, had many drawbacks in the second half of the eighteenth cen-
tury. The two universities, Oxford and Cambridge, from whose degrees dissen-
ters were excluded, had become rather ossified and self-contained, reflecting in
their traditional studies and comparative inactivity both their clerical dominance
and their increasing reliance on the governing classes. Both the public and gram-
mar schools, which together provided traditional, classical education for boys
from social classes above the poor, were generally at a low ebb and suffering
from competition with private schools offering either classics or a more modern
curriculum, possibly including mathematical and vocational subjects. Schools
and private education for middle-class girls were even worse, giving little but an
elementary education or a superficial grounding in showy accomplishments
designed to catch a husband. There was little schooling for the poor, the few
charity and private schools being increasingly insufficient at a time when the
population was rapidly expanding.
In this educational milieu it was the dissenters who tended to offer the best
education, certainly at the higher level. Their leading academies had a curriculum
more modern than that of the universities and led students to examine all sides of
every issue. ]oseph Priestley both took his own stimulus from such teaching and,
in turn, helped to expand the curriculum of the most liberal of them, thus
developing an outstanding education which foreshadowed developments in the
university education of the future. His ideas were also influential in schooling
generally. He himself ran a school for both boys and girls from 1755 to 1761. He
successfully introduced lessons in both practical science and modern history. For
the latter, he began preparing the much published Chart of Biography, which in
1766 contributed to his election as a Fellow of the Royal Society. His concern to
help his pupils write plain English correctly and fluently led him to publish for
them in 1761 his Rudiments of English Grammar, which he later enlarged and
was in print for half a century. So successful was he as a teacher that in 1761 he
was invited to become tutor in languages and belles lettres at the young
Warrington Academy, the flagship of dissenting education.
At Warrington, Priestley's wide-ranging lectures, particularly on history and
law, furthered a great broadening of the curriculum in an already innovative
institution. He included so much in his courses that when he left they had to be
divided between three men. He also lectured on chemistry and, for one year, on
anatomy, established a small library and, at a time when there was a dearth of
JOSEPH P R I EST L E Y 345
In education, therefore, Priestley was as much involved with the practice as with
theory, and this influenced his educational writings. But he was also deeply inter-
ested in rationalist philosophy, particularly that concerning the working of the
human mind. Like most dissenting educationists of the eighteenth century, he
admired John Locke, but even more than this he absorbed David Hartley's
ObservatlOns on Man which he reissued in condensed form and developed to
become the cornerstone of Unitarian educational thought in the eighteenth and
early nineteenth centuries.
Priestley welcomed Hartley's attempt to use Newtonian techniques to for-
mulate a few basic wide-reaching laws to establish a clear theory of the mind.
Hartley had developed a full associationist psychology, based on current physio-
logical knowledge and maintaining that all complex or 'intellectual' ideas arise
from simple ones, which, in turn, 'arise from the impressions made by external
objects upon the several parts of our bodies'. These sensations, he said, when
often repeated, give rise to ideas and any series of sensations. If associated with
each other sufficiently, they have 'such a power over the corresponding ideas ...
that anyone of the sensations when impressed alone, shall be able to excite in
the mind the ideas of the rest' (Hartley, 1976, Vo!. 1, p. 65).
346 Ruth Watts
From this, Hartley argued that associationism was the basis of man's men-
tal, emotional and moral life, a line of argument eagerly seized upon by Priestley
who stated that 'nothing is requisite to make any man whatever he is, but a sen-
tient principle ... and the influence of such circumstances as he has actually been
exposed to' (Priestley, 1790a, p. 184).
Priestley welcomed the analysis of complex ideas whereby 'our external
senses furnish the materials of all the ideas of which we are ever possessed' and
wholeheartedly agreed that, therefore, since not all associations were good ones,
development must not be left to chance - 'we [must] learn to cherish and
improve good ones, check and root out such as are mischievious and immoral'
(Priestley, 1790a, p. 189; Hartley, 1976, Vol. 1, p. 81). Rather than reliance on
innate character or divine intervention, tremendous importance was given to
environment and circumstance in the belief that 'children may be formed or
moulded as we please' (Priestley, 1782, p. 521; Hartley, 1976, Vol. 1, p. 82;
Vol. 2, p. 453). Through association, intellectual, physical and moral develop-
ment were seen by Priestley as interdependent. Thus real virtue for him was 'the
result of reflection, or discipline and much voluntary exertion'; making good
choices and judgements depended on extensive intellectual education, 'a large
stock of ideas and much experience'; a sound intellectual and moral development
depended on a healthy body although 'muscular habits' were not conducive to
sensibility of mind (Priestley, 1794, p. 389; Priestley, 1775, p. 21; Priestley,
1970, pp. 122-23). The law of association, indeed, was the basis of education
and life, a systematic means of achieving moral, religious and intellectual objec-
tives and even perfection (Priestley, 1782, p. 515).
education of the poor. He was concerned about their welfare and desirous of
their literacy, but his deep fear of state control over education and thus of unifor-
mity of thought and belief, instead of variety and freedom, prevented him from
advocating a national system. His educational writings were directed towards the
middle classes and for others he held the reservations typical of his class and
period (Priestley, 1771, pp. 43-47).
The law of association also implied what should be learned and how. For
Priestley 'the most effectual discipline of the mind' was experience, and thus a
reliance on empirical knowledge favoured those subjects whose content or
methods were based on experience and inductive reasoning. In the human
sciences, history was the outstanding example of these. As Priestley said, history
was 'anticipated experience'; perhaps not as striking as personal experience but
more correct and complete. It enabled students to understand change, cause and
effect, to improve their judgement and understanding, lose their prejudices, learn
from the past how to improve affairs in the future and appreciate the wide
variety of human nature (Priestley, 1803, pp. 25 et seq.). Until this time, how-
ever, history 10 formal education had always been 'ancient' history, so Priestley's
introduction of modern history as an academic discipline at Warrington was a
revolutionary innovation.
In the same way, Priestley, the leading British chemist of the day, delighted
not only in contemporary discoveries in the physical sciences, but also in their
methods of study. He rejoiced that scientific knowledge was increasing and, since
this meant that 'the security and happiness of mankind are daily improved', plea-
sure could be taken in these studies through association. The study of science,
like that of history, seemed to prove that divine providence was 'gradually
conducting things to a more perfect and glorious state' (Priestley, 1767, pp. 341-
42, 345). No wonder, therefore, that at Hackney Priestley developed further the
scientific teaching which he had encouraged at Warrington, teaching especially
'the whole of what is called Chemistry' (Priestley, 1794, p. 385).
As a Unitarian minister, Priestley tried to advance radical attempts to study
the beginnings of Christianity in a historical context and to promote the idea of
progressive revelation. He established Sunday classes for young, middle-class
'rational dissenters' of both sexes, writing appropriate materials for them in his
optimistic hope that simple, undogmatic religious teaching would prove satis-
fying, and that freedom of inquiry alone could develop and augment the nation's
wisdom. Such a principle, which was upheld only by the liberal dissenting
academies in higher education at the time, was as passionately denounced by
others as it was passionately upheld by Priestley (Priestley, 1791b, pp. 458-74;
Priestley, 1791a, pp. 420-40).
Priestley realized that, to avoid forming false biases or misleading impres-
sions through association, ideas and language should be kept clear. In his
348 Ruth Watts
In his dedication to his Course of Lectures, Priestley vigorously declared that his
was an age in which public distinctions based on mere force, superstition or acci-
dent would no longer stand unless they were made 'truly respectable and useful'
by 'good principles and good dispositions, joined to a cultivated understanding'
(Priestley, 1777, p. 255). His educational philosophy, in fact, was strongly
influenced by his perception of the needs of the rising industrial and commercial
middle class, in which many dissenters, including the energetic Unitarians, were
to be found. Convinced that it was an era of dramatic change for humanity, of
'new light ... bursting out in favour of the civil rights of men', he exhorted the
students of Hackney College to help obtain:
J 0 S E P H P R I EST L E Y 349
the flourishing state of science, arts, manufactures and commerce; the extinction of wars .
. ., the abolishing of all useless distinctions.... In short to make government as benefiCial
... as possible. Let the Liberal Youth be everywhere encouraged to study the nature of
government and attend to everything that makes nations secure and happy [Priestley,
1791a, p. 434].
This was why Priestley included in the study of history not only every aspect of
civil government including law, but also the principles of commerce and taxation,
subjects then generally dismissed as 'illiberal' because trade and commerce, from
the point of view of the ruling classes, were seen as activities of the lower orders
in society. Priestley, however, lived and worked among those who were
revolutionizing England into the first industrial nation. An active participant in
the scientific and industrial concerns of the small but vital Lunar Society of
Birmingham, which included in its membership James Watt, Matthew Boulton
and Josiah Wedgwood, he was certain that the leaders of the future would come
from those who mastered the sources of knowledge which were changing the
world (Schofield, 1963; Priestley, 1803, pp. 5,22,313-17,403-15,471-75). The
very scientific and industrial interests that were scorned in traditional education
were to him the just basis of a prosperous meritocracy. In contrast to widespread
traditional views, he upheld science rather than the arts as having the liberalizing
and humanizing role in education. He accepted that 'the arts ... promote society
and humanity, which are so favourable to the progress of science', but believed
that science was where human understanding reached its apogee, 'grasping at the
noblest objects' and thus enabling mastery of the powers of nature, an increase in
the well-being of mankind and thence a golden age (Priestley, 1803, p. 311;
Priestley, 1767, p. 345).
For Priestley, literary and scientific excellence accompanied by a proper
moral development were necessary in a 'truly liberal education'. He considered
that England needed to modernize higher education if it was to develop its full
potential. This was why he upgraded the teaching of modern languages, particu-
larly the vernacular (though he recognized the uses of the ancient languages,
especially for intending ministers) and why he made his reforms at Warrington.
He wanted those who would fill 'the principal stations of active life' and might
well influence politics to understand the history and laws of their country and 'be
well instructed in the great and leading principles of wise policy' (Priestley, 1794,
p. 389; Priestley, 1791a, pp. 420-21; Priestley, 1780, pp. 185-228). In similar
vein, he stimulated elocution lessons and recognized the importance of travel
abroad, although his usual open-mindedness baulked a little at the thought of
possible unwelcome influences from foreign morals and religion! (Priestley, 1970,
pp. 88-89; Priestley, 1780, pp. 146-48).
What Priestley was ardently desiring was the education of enlightened
leaders of the middle class whose culture and status they would raise. He did not
admire the hereditary aristocracy and condemned their 'public' schools as im-
moral and their universities as repressive (Priestley, 1780, pp. 50-52, 111-19).
350 Ruth Watts
1850, but they certainly had promoted these subjects since the time of Priestley.
Very importantly they had continued both to foster the study of science and to
attract to their ranks eminent scientists, including applied scientists and engineers
who were creating industrial England. Unfortunately, however, outside the insti-
tutions with which Unitarians and other progressive educationalists were connec-
ted, science did not become, as Priestley had hoped, an integral part of the curri-
culum at the time, with the result that the lack of status of science and
technology in British education has been a serious drawback for an industrial
nation.
Priestley did achieve success in another important ideal, however. His stri-
ving to have free inquiry in education and to have open access to all educational
institutions was a fight taken up with alacrity by Unitarians of the nineteenth
century, such as James Heywood who was foremost in the successful campaigns
both to open up the universities of Oxford and Cambridge to non-Anglicans and
to admit women to London University. Priestley, indeed, though over-optimistic
in his assumptions of what could be achieved in education in the eighteenth cen-
tury, forecast many of the changes that have gradually occurred (as well as some
of the problems, for example of central power dominating education) and
through his own work, further disseminated by his followers, had an incalculable
influence on English education.
Notes
1. Much of this profile is drawn from the unpublished Ph.D thesis: Watts, R.E. The
Unltartan Contribution to EducatIOn in England from the Late Eighteenth Century
to 1853. University of Leicester, 1987.
2. Priestley's wntings, many of which had several edmons, were reprinted in The
Theological and Miscellaneous Works of ]oseph Priestley. (Ed. by J. T. Rutt.)
London, 1817-31. 25 vols.
IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
1762. A Course of Lectures on the Theory of Language and Universal Grammar. The
Theological and Miscellaneous Works of ]oseph Priestley Vo!. 23. (Ed. by J. T.
Rutt.) London, 1817-31. (Hereafter referred to as Works.)
1767. The History and Present State of Electnclty, with Original Expenments. Works,
Vo!. 25.
1769. A Familiar Introduction to the Study of Electricity. London, Johnson & Payne.
1771. An Essay on the First Principles of Government. Works, Vo!. 22.
1775. An Examination of Dr Reid's Inquiry lllto the Human Mind ... Works, Vo!. 3.
1777. A Course of Lectures on Oratory and Criticism. Works, Vo!. 23.
1780. Miscellaneous Observations relating to Education; An Essay on a course of Liberal
Education for Civil and Active Life; . . . Lectures on the Study of History;
Lectures on the Laws of England. Works, Vo!. 25.
1782. The Doctrine of Philosophic Necessity Illustrated. Works, Vo!. 3.
J 0 S E P H P R I EST L E Y 353
ISMA'IL AL-QABBANI
(1898-1963)
Mahmud Kombar
Isma'il al-Qabbanl was born in a village in Asyut, Upper Egypt, in 1898. He was
born twenty-five years after the death of al-TahtawI (d. 1873), who had been a
pioneer in the renaissance of Arab culture and was the first Egyptian to advocate
modernization of Arab thought and education. I AI-Qabbanl also was born five
years after the death of 'All Mubarak (d. 1893), the Minister of Education who
had reformed the education system, giving it a sound modern foundation. 2
During his childhood and as a young man, al-QabbanI was in contact with such
renowned figures in the educational world as Sheikh Muhammad 'Abduh
(d. 1905) and Sheikh Muhammad Rashld Rida (d. 1935).3 He examined the pro-
grammes of political parties whose opposing ideologies varied between the far
right and the far left, including a range of tendencies from conservative Islamic
fundamentalism, conciliatory or innovative Islam, moderate liberalism, Arab
nationalism, radical secularism to revolutionary socialism. All of these parties
had placed education as one of the primary concerns in their national pro-
grammes,4 especially since the British colonial authorities in Egypt had in 1882
decreed the policy of withholding funds from education, fearing that its spread
would raise aspirations among the Egyptians and encourage them to launch a
campaign for liberation.)
These political parties had their own means of publicity which served to
increase press circulation: in 1948 there were 353 newspapers and magazines,
official and private, published in Arabic. There were also 102 newspapers and
magazines published in foreign languages. 6 Most of them gave regular space to
articles and sections dealing with educational thought, philosophy, organization,
planning and practice. 7
In his student days, al-QabbanI came into contact with contemporaries
studying in foreign schools, and came to know about the varied educational goals
and functIons of these systems. While located in Egypt, they represented their own
Western milieu, spreading new cultural values, lifestyles and ways of thinking -
the subject of considerable debate among local politicians and intellectuals. 8
356 Mahmud Kombar
Al-QabbanI was also acquainted with the work and ideas of the great
foreign educationists living and working in Egypt. There was the Swiss Dor Bey,
who established the system of educational inspection, and the Armenian Jacob
Artin who, as under-secretary at the Ministry of Education, had developed the
education system shortly before the British occupation of Egypt.
Al-QabbanI worked with a number of foreign professors who visited Egypt
to study educational problems and who suggested ways of modernizing the sys-
tem. These included the E. Claparede 9 of the Jean-Jacques Rousseau Institute in
Geneva, and the British inspector of education F. O. Mann. They spent a whole
year (1929) in Egypt, and presented two separate reports. There was also the
British specialist in elementary education, Marvin, who came to Egypt in 1931.
From these specialists, and from others, Al-QabbanI learned a great deal,
but he had ideas of his own which made him a unique educational pioneer.
Egyptian thinkers and innovators at the time of the national renaissance were
aware of the crisis in education; they shared in the spirit of reform and the will to
modernize. However, they were influenced by a variety of philosophies:
Rousseau's romantic naturalism, Kant's idealism, Conte's positivism, Locke's
empiricism, Spencer's rationalism and Darwin's evolutionism. The most impor-
tant books dealing with these philosophies and their educational consequences
were translated into Arabic. lO
Reformers writing on educational theories criticized education systems or
suggested that they should be modernized. For the most part, they were not
themselves specialists in education, but rather were moved by a variety of politi-
cal, secular and religious motives. 11 However, some of them did work as teachers
for a while, or supervised charitable organizations concerned with setting up
schools and propagating education. 12
Al-QabbanI was the first educational pioneer who could be described as a
professional, and whose academic formation in the field of education included
both theory and practice. He was a competent teacher and had experience in psy-
chology.13 In the Higher School for Teachers, he taught courses in both education
and psychology, and trained the students there in teaching techniques. Previous
to that, he had shown considerable professional skill working for some years as a
secondary-school teacher. He became well known as an educational innovator,
both in his ideas and in his practice, especially after his return from a year's study
on a scholarship to London (1917/18). During his time there he met the
Pragmatics, British professors who were spreading the theories and principles of
John Dewey and applying them in their new schools. He was also able to study
Dewey's works himself, which were enjoying great popularity at that time, and
he was encouraged by everything he read in them.
Al-QabbanI showed unusual brilliance throughout his career as a student
and practitioner. 14 He possessed a breadth of culture, combining both the ancient
I S M A ' I L AL-QABBANI 357
and modern, with an extraordinary ability to present his ideas and to convince
people. He was capable of untiring and persistent effort and great determination.
Due to these abilities, other educationists recognized him as the leader of the pro-
gressive educatIOn movement in Egypt.
Without underestimating al-QabbanI's contribution, it should be admitted
that he was neither an innovative philosopher nor a modern theoretician of prag-
matism. He did not come up with a totally new or fundamental idea. Pragmatism
was already a mature and well-established philosophy. What does make him
important and ensures his immortality as a great educational pioneer is that he
was a skilful and inspired strategist, who was able to adapt pragmatism to the
Egyptian and Arab milieu, and applied it with great success. The high official
posts that he held assisted him in his efforts, giving him academic and executive
authority. 1 ) This made it easier for him to carry out his reform projects, to which
he devoted his whole life, and which he made the focal point of his professional,
political and personal life.
For these aims and principles to be transformed from the realm of theory to
organized applicatIOn, al-QabbanI and his assistants strove to embody the
concepts of progressive education into institutional structures, educational pro-
grammes, technical orgalllzation, and legislative and executive policies. In this
field, al-QabbanI was particularly successful, although he faced opposition and
conflict and, in many cases, found himself in material and technical difficulties.
This compelled him to tackle reform with a combatlve spirit, accepting neither
fatigue nor defeat; he was never deflected by criticism or open attack.
There were numerous schools for training teachers for the various stages of edu-
cation, but without any fixed organization or basis for evaluating their level of
academic and educational performance. I9 This led to criticisms from experts and
officials, both Egyptian and foreign. Al-QabbanI was moved to action, and he
succeeded in convincing officials of the need to create a higher institute speciali-
zing in high-quality professional preparation for all teachers in Egyptian schools.
The fIrst institute of thIS kind was in fact established in 1929 in Cairo, with two
sectIons: one for primary school-teachers; the other for secondary school-
teachers. The institute enjoyed a good academic and educational reputation,
which made it the school of pragmatism both in theory and in practice, and a
centre for educational research and professional training. 20 Along these same
lines, the Institute of Education for girls was established in 1933. The parent ins-
titute was subject to several re-organizations which eventually resulted in the
suppression of the section for primary teachers and the creation of a division for
higher studies in 1941. It was authonzed to grant academic degrees: special
diplomas, Master's degrees and doctorates.
360 Mahmud Kombar
AI-QabbanI followed the example of John Dewey, who had established a school
for applying his theories attached to the University of Chicago (January 1896); it
was a workshop for educational research and experiment outside the range of
professional teacher training.
AI-QabbanI did the same in Egypt. He began by opening experimental
classes in 1932 attached to the Institute of Education, in which teacher trainees
would apply what they had learned in theory and carry out pioneering experi-
ments to produce a type of education not previously known. These classes were
attended by slow learners and by the mentally and physically handicapped. AI-
QabbanI also prepared experiments on a wider scale and with normal samples of
children in two secondary schools in 1937/38. In each school he appointed a
director to take charge. 22
His departure from the administrative post in the ministry in order to
become a deputy director of the institute meant that there was no one to pro-
mote experimentation, which then became neglected and increasingly subject to
criticism. This forced al-QabbanI to look for some other secure and permanent
vehicle for experimentation, and in 1939 he established, in the al-Qubba district
of Cairo, the al-Noqrashi model primary school, adding in 1942 the al-Noqrashi
model secondary school. He appointed al-Qousy, one of his chief assistants, as
superintendent of both schools. Following the success of this experiment, al-
QabbanI extended it by establishing the al-Orman model school at Giza with pri-
mary and secondary divisions, and appointed another of his assistants,
Muhammed Fu'ad Galal, as its superintendent.
These schools became so well known for their organization, programmes
and teaching methods that they attracted the best pupIls, recruited from the sons
of the enlightened bourgeoisie, the parents prefernng this education to that pro-
vided in private, government and foreign schools. The very best students grad-
uating from the institute were chosen to teach in these schools.
The innovations introduced in the model schools were highly esteemed by
educators and officials and adopted by many other Egyptian schools. Perhaps
one of the best educational innovations was the setting up of a 'parents' council',
a new development including both parents and teachers. This council studied the
I S M A ' I L A L - Q A B BAN f 361
affairs of the whole school community and strengthened ties between the school
and the home. This led the ministry to issue a regulation that such councils
should be set up in all Egyptian schools. 23
Thus, the model schools became a force for educational modernization,
radically different from the form and content of traditional education. Al-
QabbanI became the symbol of an epoch, one rightly known as the era of 'pro-
gressive education'.
EDUCATIONAL ASSOCIATIONS
In Egypt there were societies and associations for different groups of teachers,
according to their levels of teaching and the special subjects they taught. Most of
these took the form of associations working for social and economic objectives.
Al-Qabb:mI sought to unite them and direct them towards a technical and educa-
tlOnal objective, to improve education according to modern concepts and
methods of organization.
The first association established with this specific aim in view was the
Association of Modern Education, set up in 1936 by Al-QabbanI as a branch of
its headquarters in London. Its founding members numbered about eighty educa-
tionists, both men and women. This association became a pioneer in the pragma-
tic movement, seen for the first time in the Arab world.
Trained teachers increased in number and, in 1943, al-QabbanI founded the
Association of Graduates of the Institutes of Education. These were teachers who
had been trained according to modern principles, and their high level of profes-
sional skill was recognized within society; they stood for the excellence of 'pro-
gressive education'. Al-QabbanI was elected as the first president of this associa-
tion. 24
On this same pattern, al-QabbanI founded the Egyptian Society for
Psychological Studies so that particular attention could be paid to Improving
both theoretical and practical aspects of psychology in training institutes and 10
Egyptian schools.
Educational journals already existed at that time in Egypt, the earliest being The
Garden of Egyptian Schools, founded by al-TahtawI and first published on
16 April 1870. By 1948 there were thirty-five educational journals in Egypt. 25
However, they were all concerned With matters of instruction and the conditions
of schools through light informative artICles. Al-QabbanI was not satisfied with
this approach and he became the prime-mover behind the publication of the
Journal of Modern Education, which was to be a research journal printing
serious articles written by members of the Association of Modern Education. The
first issue appeared in June 1948 and was published three times that year. From
the following year, 1949, it was changed to a quarterly, which it has remained
362 Mahmud Kombar
ever since. Particularly in the early years, leading Egyptian, Arab and foreign
educationists were invited to write for the Journal, which thus presented modern
educational thinking to a wide readership of educators and teachers in Egypt and
the Arab world.
MODERNIZING EDUCATION
following topics: raising children, methods of teaching, teacher training, the tea-
cher's professIOn and functions, combating illiteracy, theories of education, and
educating parents (or raising educational awareness in families).
Al-QabbanT joined with Professor Jackson and others in writing textbooks
for students of the Institute of Education. He himself wrote the introductions to
a number of books, and in 1948 four were translated into Arabic: Groundwork
o{ Education Theory; Psychologie de [,education; A Textbook on the History o{
Education; and Freedom o{ Action in Education. 28
By forming educational managers, al-QabbanT ensured the steady growth of
reform policies and projects. Even after hiS death they were pursued by succes-
sive generations of outstanding educationists whom he had arranged to send on
scholarships to the United States of America and the United Kingdom. When
these students returned to Egypt after gaining higher academic qualifications, he
appointed them to the Institute of Education and entrusted them with teaching
functions, scientific research and in formulating education systems in Egypt and
the Arab world.
Al-QabbanT reahzed the importance of orgamzmg seminars, study circles
and conferences at the local, Arab and international levels. Here were studied the
most important issues included in his great project of educational reform. He
wished, in particular, to invite the very best educationists who, if they all accep-
ted a particular course of action, would have great influence with decision-
makers in the highest echelons of the educational authority. He also wished their
discussions and studies to have an enhghtening influence which would benefit
future development and the effectiveness of teaching.
While al-QabbanT was not necessarily the sole or even the principal person
responsible for preparing these seminars, study circles and conferences, he did in
fact play a positive role in most of them through his contribution in thought and
action. His voice was influential and most forceful in passing resolutions and
recommendations. Between 1925 and 1958, there were national and inter-
national meetings on elementary education, science teaching, model schools,
modern educational methods, compulsory education and inspection (or educa-
tional supervision). In 1949, al-QabbanT arranged a general programme for
teachers in which thirty-three lectures were given on various educational trends,
both theoretical and practical. 29
Al-QabbanT worked to pass legislation and rules, as well as organizing
regulations to protect his reform projects, to ensure their stability and their
continued effectiveness. Among the most important of these were:
- The establishment of model rural schools (1941) and rural teachers' schools
(1948) under the supervisIOn of the Ministry of Education.
- The abolition of the primary education certificate (1941). The reason for this
was that anyone obtaining this certificate, especially working-class children,
found themselves obhged to enter the labour market since they were barred
from any hope of further education.
364 Mahmud Kombar
SCIENTIFIC lANGUAGE
AI-QabbanI adopted a language for reform totally different from the rhetoric of
politicians, which was characterized by demagogy, exaggeration and vague pro-
mises. He spoke of: experience; interests; integration of the personality; the diver-
sity of educational activities; the development of critical thought; positive atti-
tudes on the part of the learner; the qualificatIons of teachers; and other
technical matters which required empirical research or objectIve interpretation
rather than political explanations. Issues that went to the very heart of educa-
tional policy, al-QabbanI approached from a cultural and humanistic standpoint,
which others found acceptable rather than provocative. For instance, when he
spoke of unifying elementary education and making it universal, and extending
the period of compulsory education, he used terms such as 'social justice in a
society which is still backward in every aspect of its life', and 'educating a people
now illiterate who in olden times spread the light of knowledge throughout the
world'. Unfortunately, his opponents were mainly educationists and administra-
tors working in the Ministry of Education, and who begrudged him his intellec-
tual superiority and reformist zeal.
Because of his integrity and his freedom from political ambitions and
manoeuvres, he gained the confidence of the leadership at the time of the 1952
military revolution and was appointed the first Minister of Education in their
new regime. He changed its alms from mere worJs into practical measures which
took concrete shape and were expressed in specialized language.
I S M A • I L A L - Q A B BAN f 365
As well as being an intellectual, al-QabbanI was realistic, and was thus able to
face up to the perilous state of education. He would not disregard reality and
embark on an enterprise that included a great risk of failure or rejection, nor
would he take up any new ideas which were of doubtful validity. He had a spe-
cial strategy based on three principles:
Reform in a global context. Al-QabbanI did not present his plans for reform
piecemeal, with each part having its own separate entity. On the contrary, he
began his great reform project to develop the Egyptian education system within a
wide pragmatic framework, which integrated both his ideas and the ways of
applying them. This gave him a comprehensive vision, the elements of which
were logically interrelated and embodied in a functional organic structure, inclu-
ding objectives, structures, programmes, methods, training the necessary staff to
work in the administration, drawing up plans, supervision and teaching.
Reform starting from the basics. While al-QabbanI's intellectual output included
literature on all the fundamental issues in education, he adopted the issue of
teacher preparation as the core of his great reform project. He took the qualifica-
tion of teachers as the cornerstone of educational reform, for teacher quality was
the measure of teaching. In the Institute of Education, new systems and curricula
were drawn up in order to produce large numbers of qualified persons. These
teachers undertook the task of speeding up the reform process and seeing that it
was well implemented in a fundamentally pragmatic way.
Reform in stages. The purpose of each stage was to lay down a broad foundation
for the larger and more comprehensive reform process that followed. This would
mean that reform would proceed in connected stages in an on-going national
process.
The Institute of Education was subjected to phased development, and the
same method was employed for the unification and development of elementary
education. Al-QabbanI had decided at the beginning of his professional career on
a policy of transforming the Kuttab (popular Koranic schools) into well-organi-
zed schools incorporating elementary curricula and modern culture, with
teachers who had obtained an acceptable level of knowledge and experience.
According to the circumstances operating at that time, nothing more ambitious
would have been feasible.
He set to work on improving the standard of compulsory schools, first
demanding that the length of obligatory attendance be increased from four to six
years. Then he sought to diversify curricula to include theoretical and practical
subjects. He obtained the lengthening of school attendance from a half to a full
day, as well as the provision of lunch for the pupils, and adequate health care. At
a third stage, he turned to the compulsory and elementary schools set aside for
366 Mahmud Kombar
the children of peasants and labourers. These he wished to see transformed into
high-quality elementary schools equivalent to the primary schools that led on to
secondary and then higher education. Curricula were changed, which opened the
way for transformation and preparation for the primary-certificate examination.
Finally, before the July 1952 revolution, al-QabbanI successfully incorporated all
types of elementary school into a single type of primary establishment that did
not recognize differences of socio-economic class, environment or religious affi-
liation. 31
AI-QabbanI knew how to conduct his reform projects in the face of opposition,
adopting a policy that respected the positive aspects put forward by the opposing
parties. He would take up a conciliatory position to satisfy all those concerned,
taking account of circumstances and possibilities, without compromising the fun-
damental methodology of the reform.
On the route towards reform, al-QabbanI combined the long-established
with the contemporary, religious values with secular ones; and while he wished
to strengthen Arab nationalism, he was aware of the importance of interaction
with world civilizations and the cultures of other peoples. Thus, education, as he
intended it, was 'neither old and traditional, nor borrowed from the West; but is
genuinely Arab, linking the past with the present, and preparing for the future'.32
With this belief, al-QabbanI considered that the school must carry out a
dual, though apparently contradictory, role; for him it must be 'a factor at once
for preservation and renewal, so as to help the individual to acquire a cultural
heritage, and at the same time prepare him to adapt and alter it. This gives him
the ability to improve social systems.'31
In the conflict between supporters of quantity and quality in education, al-
QabbanI took up a position midway between the two. The representatives of the
British colonial authority, the royal authority, the leaders of the bourgeoisie and
certain intellectuals, for obvious or not-so-obvious reasons, all supported quality
in education, claiming that Egypt urgently needed well-qualified cadres to take
up posts in government and administration. These could be supplied only by
high-quality education. While the claim for quality had won the day, the budget
was directed towards founding a limited number of bourgeois schools (primary,
secondary and higher education); this was at the expense of elementary educa-
tion for children of the common people. 34
In the opposite camp stood most of the political parties and the intellectuals
who adopted a more liberal and open attitude, valuing the place of education in
development and progress, and claiming that education for all was as vital as
'bread and water' or 'water and fresh air'.35 They demanded that elementary
education should be universal, compulsory and free; that secondary education
should be more widespread, and that universities should be open to all seeking to
I S M A ' I L A L - Q A B BAN f 367
further their education. On this point al-QabbanI was cautious, realizing the pos-
sible negative effects of a policy of 'quantity' in education.
At first, however, he agreed that the trend towards quantity was justified by
the humanitarian need to educate a nation of whom, in 1945, 80 per cent were
still illiterate, neglected and deprived of the opportunity for education. '6
AI-QabbanI explained the positive outcomes of educating ordinary people
in a country that was newly liberated and was progressing in the scientific, eco-
nomic, social and cultural spheres. He said:
However, he did not seek quantity at any price, for then education would decline
in significance and its effects would be lost. Therefore, he set out his policy,
which kept quantity within reasonable standards while the real improvement was
taking place in the availability of education.
Thus, al-QabbanI progressed along two parallel paths of equal importance.
There was numerical expansion to the extent that, in 1954 and during his time at
the ministry, two primary schools were built every three days, and half of the
ministry's budget was devoted to primary education. The aim was to raise this
proportion to two-thirds of the education budget to meet the expense of the ever-
increasing quantity and the Improvement in quality: equipping schools, preparing
well-qualified teachers, drawing up programmes, writing new and appropriate
textbooks, etc. 38
At the primary education stage, al-QabbanI did not separate quantity from
quality, for this level was important and essential. He called for primary educa-
tion to be made umversal, compulsory, of longer duration and to be unified. This
would do away with the unsatisfactory system divided into: (a) popular elemen-
tary education, which was bankrupt and meager; and (b) an excellent bourgeois
education intended for the children of the elite. He wrote:
The dlscrimmatton between elementary education and primary education is based on the
division of the natIOn mto two distinct classes: a class which governs as if by right, sup-
ported by rank and prestige, and a class which is condemned to submission, hard work
and low status. There IS no reason to prevent the first stage of education from being uni-
fied. The cornerstone of our educational poltcy must be for primary education to be Ulll-
versal, making It one of the stages of general education (and proVide the fmancial
resources required). For whenever education becomes cheaper it becomes worse. 39
Contrary to his usual custom, he made a provocative call - but one which was
very true: 'It is impossible for a democratic education system to exist in a society
ruled by feudal attitudes.'40
368 Mahmud Kombar
While this was his position regarding primary education, he felt that quality
should take precedence for academic secondary education. This, he declared,
should be for those of intellectual ability, regardless of their social background.
In his capacity as Deputy Minister of Education, credit is due to him for
passing the 1949 law, which put an end to the policy of automatically accepting
students for secondary education, following many complaints that the standards
of secondary education were collapsing. He stressed the importance of selecting
suitable candidates:
Secondary and higher education are the means of preparing men and women who in the
next generation will occupy positions of leadership in the life of the nation. Any falling of
educational standards Will mean a failure in the level of competence and of morality in
our public life for the future. If we are allowed to make some concessions - only some - in
the level of elementary education, to speed up its umversalization, this is not permitted
under any circumstances for secondary and higher education. It IS agreed among
educationists in all civilized nations that quahty must come before quantity m these two
stages of education, for the nation which sacrifices quality in seekmg quantity is a nation
which commits suicide. 41
EXPERIMENTATION
AI-QabbanI was the first Arab exponent of experimentation in the fields of both
education and psychology. For Egyptian education, despite his belief in pragma-
tism and the associated practical methods originating in the United States of
America, he subjected everything to scientific experimentation. His aim was to
adapt education to the national culture and to the availability of resources; he
also aimed at reassuring those intellectuals, educationists and politicians who
had doubts by letting them see for themselves that experimentation was sound
and innovation successful. He aimed also at providing practical field experience
to those working with these projects, which would help them to expand and
advance with other educational reform projects.
We have already referred to the experimental approach in curriculum design
and in the modernization of teaching methods, as practised in the experimental
classes and the model schools established by al-QabbanI for this purpose. In
addition, the methodology followed by al-QabbanI in rural education presents
I S M A • I L A L - Q A B BAN f 369
Throughout the 1940s and 1950s pragmatism in the United States was increas-
ingly criticized because of its negative aspects, which eventually led to a decline
in educational standards. It was accused of: submitting to the inclinations of
learners at the expense of the veritable educational aims; concentrating on physi-
cal education at the expense of acquiring sound knowledge; and giving promi-
nence to democracy and individual freedom so as to create educational chaos,
turning certain secondary schools into 'hell holes'. The idea was rampant that
education was life, rather than preparation for life, and thus young people
became imprisoned in the world of childhood, without being prepared to assume
their proper roles in adult society.46
Since the supporters of pragmatism had undermined its progressive prin-
ciples through their excesses and their practical shortcomings, they were not able
to hold out for long against the criticism and attacks from every side, especially
after the death of Dewey in 1952. They announced the disbanding of their asso-
ciation in 1955. In 1959, President Eisenhower officially declared the end of prag-
matism and the need for a return to fundamental teaching ('back to basics'). This
was especially true for the sciences which were essential to contemporary progress
and could ensure success in the 'space race'. He also stressed the importance of
discipline in school, as well as seriousness and responsibility in education:17
At the same time that pragmatism was declining in its American homeland,
it flourished and spread in Egypt as a umque and irreplaceable form of educa-
tion. 48 Especially after his academic visit to the United States in 1949, al-QabbanI
was very well aware of both the positive and negative aspects of pragmatism in
American schools. Through reflection and political measures, he tried to avoid
adopting 'dualisms', such as simultaneously promoting progressive education as
well as that which opposed it. al-QabbanI listened seriously and was convinced
by Dewey's warnings to his followers; they did not take any notice of him them-
selves, considering that he was senile and in mental decline.
So al-QabbanI was able, at least on the level of theory and planning, to
reconcile freedom and organization (recreation and hard work), practical activi-
ties and educational materials (vocation and culture), and individual growth and
co-operation. 49 He and his followers were not over-sensitive; however, they were
able to accept criticism, to make modifications and to comply with change. They
believed that continuous renovation is the essence of pragmatism, so long as it
works in the interest of the school and of society. Thus, al-QabbanI's pragmatism
was imbued with advanced ideas and methods, and achieved outstanding success
when compared with traditional schools and their didactic methods.
Successive generations of al-QabbanI's followers carried his pragmatism
beyond Egypt, and thereby changed the educational systems of the Arab coun-
tries. When al-QabbanI died contented in 1963, his followers were able to reas-
sure him that what he had planted would remain and flourish, and continue to
produce good results in the future.
I S M A ' I L A L - Q A B BAN f 371
Notes
1. AI-TahtawI wrote extensively on education, and also reflected about and practised
It. His book al-Murshid al-amTn lil-banat wa-I-banTn [The Faithful GUide for GirlS
and Boys], 1872, is the first educational work of ItS kind In the Arab world. His
reform theory reflected more traditional modernizing views as well as contemporary
views based on the French education system, where he had spent four years stu-
dying. A profile of al-TahtawI is included in this series of 'lOO Thinkers on
Education'.
2. In Ahmad Amln's words, 'he was intended to construct buildings and great estab-
lishments, but instead he engineered, designed and implemented with great care
methods of education; so he IS considered one of the greatest reformers'. Ahmad
Amln, Zu'anw' al-Islah fT I-'asr al-hadlth [Leaders of Reform in the Reform Era],
3rd ed., pp. 208-09, Cairo, Maktabat al-nahda al-misnyya, 1971.
3. Further information on Sheikh Muhammad 'Abduh's educational thinking and
efforts at reform can be found in Muhammad Rashld Rlda's Ta'rTkh al-usWdh al-
imam ai-sheikh Muhammad 'Abduh [The History of Sheikh Imam Muhammad
'Abduh], Cairo, Matba'at al-Manar, 1931,3 vols. Regarding the educational think-
ing of M. Rashld Rida, see the journal al-Man(lr, many issues of which contain hiS
cntlcal analytical essays aimed at educational reform.
4. Na'Im 'Atiya, Ma'(llim al-fikr al-tarbawT fT I-bllad al-'arablyya fT I-ml'a sana al-
akhTra [Trends of Educational Thought in Arab Countries in the Past 100 Years],
pp. 12-107, BeJrut, al-]am'lya al-Amrlkiyya, 1966. Political parties proliferated,
increaSing by an average of one new party each year from 1907 to 1914. See ]acob
M. Landau, Parlzaments and Parties in Egypt, pp. 139-73, Tel AVIV, Israel Publishing
House, 1953.
5. Salama Mlisa, The Educ,aion of Salama Musa, p. 27, Lelden, E.]. Bnll, 1961.
6. AI-SiJil al-thaqafT [Cultural Record], pp. 91-110, Cairo, Ministry of EducatIOn,
1948.
7. These newspapers Include: al-Muqtataf, al-MII'ayyid, al-Ahram, al-Hilal, al-Manar
and al-K(ltlb.
8. Glrgls Salama, Ta'rTkh al-ta'/im al-aJlwbT fT Mlsr fT al-qarnayn al-tasi' 'ashr wa-I-
'lshrTn [An Account of Foreign Education in Egypt in the Nineteenth and Twentieth
Centuries], pp. 136-256, Cairo, Supreme Council on Arts, Humanities and Social
SCiences, 1963. At a certain POint, there were more Egyptian than foreign pupils in
these schools.
9. A profile on Edouard Clapad:de appears in thiS series of '100 Thinkers on
Education'.
10. These translated books include: Emzle of the Nineteenth Century, by the French
author Skero, translated by 'Abd al-'Azlz Muhammad at the direction of
Muhammad 'Abduh, published in consecutive issues of al-Mamlr with an explana-
tion and commentary; Education, by Immanuel Kant, translated from an English
edition by Sheikh TantawI GoharI; Education, by Herbert Spencer, translated first by
Muhammed 'Abduh and subsequently by Muhammad al-Saba'i; and Euollltlon, by
Charles DarWin, translated and annotated by Shebli Shemayel.
372 Mahmud Kombar
11. Thinkers not mentioned here include: Shebli Shemayel, Ahmad LutfI al-Sayyid,
Salama Musa, Hafiz 'AMI and Taha Hussein (the latter also appears in this series of
'100 Thinkers on Education'). Their writmgs expressed diverse philosophical views
on education.
12. Those who taught or supervised educational associations mclude Sheikh
Muhammad 'Abduh and Sheikh Muhammad Rashld Rida, through al-'Urwcl al-
wuthqa and the IslamiC Charitable Association.
13. In this al-QabbanI resembled John Dewey, founder of American pragmatism, who
headed three departments - philosophy, pedagogy and psychology - at the
UniverSity of Chicago in 1894. See: S. A. Rippe, Education In a Free SOCIety: An
American History, 4th ed., p. 205, New York; London, Longman, 1980. A profile of
John Dewey appears in this series of '100 Thmkers on Education'.
14. AI-QabbanI's talents were flfSt discovered by the nation's leader and former Mimster
of Education, Sa'd Zaghlul, when visiting village schools in Asyut in southern Egypt
in 1908. In recognition of the brillIance of this child from a poor background, the
mmister ordered that Isma'Il al-QabbanI should receive free education in the pn-
mary school, which was at that time reserved for the sons of the elite. The minister
intervened a second time on hiS behalf when the admimstration of the Higher
School for Teachers would not accept him as he was under age, despite havmg
obtained the baccalaureate. He was enrolled and graduated, as usual with distinc-
tion, as the youngest among hiS fellow teachers. He subsequently worked in secon-
dary education. See: Sa'ld Isma'il 'AII, 'Isma'il al-QabbanI ra'id fI al-tarbiya [Isma'Il
al-Qabbanr: A Pioneer m Education], in Dir(IS{U ft al-tarblya wa-l-falsafa [Studies m
Education and Philosophy], pp. 315-16, Cairo, 'Alam al-kutub, 1972.
15. AI-QabbanI worked his way through educational, managerial and polmcal pOSI-
tions: as a secondary school-teacher, a professor at the Institute of EducatIOn for
Teachers, secondary school prinCipal, vice-president of the Institute of Education,
then ItS president, a technical counsellor at the Ministry of Education, a Deputy
Mmister of Education and then Minister. He also founded and chaired many asso-
ciations.
16. The American scientist Tyler was the first to write on educational objectives, in two
books: Achleuement Tests, 1934, and PrinCIples of Curriculum and Public
Education, 1950. Bloom produced Taxonomy of EducatIOnal Ob;ectives (New
York, Longmans, Green) m 1956. Ever since, educational theory and techmques
have provided a baSIS for research which has mfluenced the defmition, formulation
and evaluation of educational aims. See: Jerry Pocztar, La definitIOn des ob;ectifs
pedagogiques [The Definition of Educational ObJectives], pp. 48-54, Paris, Editions
ESF, 1982; V. and G. De Landsheere, Deflnir les ob;ectifs de l'education [Defining
the Objectives of Education], p. 10, Pans, PUF, 1975. Muhammad Fu'ad Galal, one
of al-QabbanI's assIStants, said m 1941 of 'educatIOnal aims and objectives': 'This IS
somethmg new in Egypt'. See: M. F. Galal, IttlJ{/hat ft al-tarblya al-hadltha [Trends
of Modern Education], 2nd ed., p. 5, Cairo, Maktabat al-adab.
17. 'Abd al-Hamrd Fahmr Matar, Al-Ta'llm wa-I-muta'attilz//l ft Misr [Education and the
Unemployed in Egypt], p. 278, Alexandria, Matba'at Muhammad 'Air al-sina'iyya,
1939.
18. See books and studies by al-QabbanI: Slyasat al-ta'ltm ft Misr [Educational PolIcy m
Egypt], pp. 20-24, Cairo, Matha'at lijnat al-ta'IIf wa-I-tarjama wa-I-nashr, 1944;
Siyasat al-ta'lIm al-jadlda [New EducatIOnal Policy], m: Sahtfat al-tarbiya, pp. 1-23,
I S M A • I L AL-QABBANf 373
HERBERT READ
(1893-1968)
David Thistlewood
In all thmgs, moral and intellectual, we should act on the belief that we really possess only
what we have conquered ourselves - that we are made perfect by natural habits, but slaves
by social conventIOns; and that until we have become accustomed to beauty we are not
capable of truth and goodness, for by beauty we mean the principle of harmony which IS
the given order of the physical Universe, to which we conform and live, or which we reject
and die [Read, 1944, p. 25].
Introduction
Herbert Read was a poet devoted to the evocation of vivid pictorial imagery,
especially of his native northern English countryside. He was also a histonan of
ceramics and stained glass, and was strongly committed to the modern revitaliza-
tion of industrial design. He was a literary critic, contributing important studies
of the English Romantic poets, such as Wordsworth, Coleridge and Shelley.
Twice decorated for bravery in the First World War, he subsequently became a
pacifist and theoretical anarchist. His unconventional politics did not prevent his
being honoured with a knighthood, nor his belonging to the British cultural
establishment, as signified in honorary professorships and prestigious lecture-
ships. But, in spite of this diversity of achievement, he is best remembered as a
critic of, and apologist for, the avant-garde art of his lifetime - particularly
English and European Modernism (Thistlewood, 1984) - and as a profound
explicator and defender of children's creativity.
His interests in art education, though nascent in his earlier aesthetic theori-
zing, did not develop fully until he was approaching his fiftieth year. They emer-
ged from his interests in theories and practices illuminating the position of the
avant-garde within the socio-political flux. The subject of child art was at first of
subsidiary importance: arguments about a 'pre-Iogical' essence within avant-
garde creativity could be supported with reference to properties apparent in both
primitive art and the imagery of children. However, he became deeply interested
376 David Thistlewood
in children's drawings and paintings after having been invited to collect works
for an exhibition of British art which was to tour Allied and neutral countries
during the Second World War. As it was considered too risky to transport across
the Atlantic Ocean works of established importance to the national heritage, it
was proposed that children's drawings and paintings should be sent instead.
Read, in making his collection, was unexpectedly moved by the expressive
power and emotional content of some of the younger artists' works. This
experience prompted his special attention to their cultural value, and his engage-
ment of the theory of children's creativity with a seriousness matching his devo-
tion to the avant-garde. This work both changed fundamentally his own life's
work throughout his remaining twenty-five years and provided art education
with a rationale of unprecedented lucidity and persuasiveness. Key books and
pamphlets resulted: Education through Art (Read, 1943); The Education of Free
Men (Read, 1944); Culture and Education in a World Order (Read, 1948); The
Grass Roots of Art (Read, 1955); and Redemption of the Robot (Read, 1970).
As these titles suggest, Read elaborated a socio-cultural dimension of crea-
tive education, offering the notion of greater international understanding and
cohesiveness rooted in principles of developing the fully balanced personality
through art education. Child art was the driving force of this philosophy: the
heroic task of education was to prevent the young child from losing access to
whatever ancient, ingrained, cultural wisdom he or she was able to manifest in
symbolization. Read's last years were devoted to the proclamation of this philo-
sophy throughout the world, especially in the proceedings of the International
Society for Education through Art, which he was instrumental in establishing
under the auspices of UNESCO.
Read was the son of a tenant farmer in North Yorkshire, and his first perception
of the world was of an utterly stable, conservative, rural community. In 1903,
however, when he was 10, his father died and his family was dispossessed of its
tenancy. His mother entered domestic service, he being boarded at an orphanage
school in Halifax before leaving, at the earliest opportunity, to become a bank
clerk in Leeds. The obvious facts of industrial poverty around him challenged
inherited political prejudices and, by the time he entered Leeds University in
1912 to study economics (after having matriculated at evening classes), he was a
ready participant in socialist debates.
He began to read The New Age, among the leading journals of socialist
politics and aesthetics of its day. He became a regular contributor to the paper
throughout a period in which it was a vehicle for promoting socialist alternatives
to Fabianism, a movement dedicated to opposing capitalism by debate and force
of argument rather than precipitate action. Read himself differed with the
Fabians not so much on questions of revolution as of materialism. In pursuit of
improving wages and conditions, and increasing workers' share of goods, the
HER B E R T REA D 377
for a brief time as a government civil servant at the Treasury, and then having
transferred his employment within the Civil Service to an assistant keepership of
ceramics at the Victoria and Albert Museum) naturally identified with the dislo-
cated individual who, while leading an ostensibly unproductive life, had the spe-
cial purpose of divining abstract principles for the benefit of the wider commu-
nity in an age of idealism following, and counteracting, a period of great
international aggression. At this time in his life, like his poet friend T. S. Eliot,
and the classicist T. E. Hulme, whose collected works he had edited (Hulme,
1924), Read considered the goals of aesthetic contemplation to be formal preci-
sion, harmony and elegant proportion - principles which, he firmly believed,
when evident in literature, art and conduct, offered the world the prospect of an
international medium of understanding.
This was in the 1920s. In the following decade he also advocated the very
opposite of formal precision, harmony and elegant proportion, urging society's
artists and art theorists to cultivate the irrational and imprecise. This new dimen-
sion was stimulated by Read's discovery of the celebration of the irrational crea-
tive act in Surrealism (Read, 1936), besides his own liberation from the civil ser-
vice - first in order to be Professor of Fine Art at Edinburgh University (1931/32)
and subsequently to be editor of The Burlmgton Magazine (1933-39). But a
prime contributory factor also was his perception of changes taking place in
European politics, in particular the rise of aggressive German nationalism. He
saw it as no coincidence that this nationalism attempted to eradicate avant-garde
art of both Abstract and Surrealist tendencies. It seemed obvious to Read that
communism and fascism were about to confront each other for the domination
of Europe, and that, even if the United Kingdom were not directly involved, indi-
viduals at least would be obliged to take sides. Though he recognized that repres-
sive state capitalism was the Soviet reality (Read, 1937, pp. 266-73), Read was
prepared to countenance communism for he saw in it an essence which promised
respect for disinterested ideals.
He flirted with philosophical communism, but was finally dissuaded from
close association with this movement because of its antipathy towards all reali-
ties of art, except the one it had contrived in 'social realism'. He was appalled to
discover that, like fascism, it had stamped out avant-garde art; and his conclu-
sion was that contemporary art had to become active rather than contemplative,
partisan rather than disinterested, and subliminal rather than super-evident. In
other words, artists and theorists had to adopt a militancy of a sort that was, in
the 1930s, most apparent in Surrealism, and contemporary aesthetics had to
assume less easily victimized forms. The most prominent themes of Art and
Society (Read, 1937) were that the greatest art of the past had belonged to com-
munal societies, and that the modern artist, conscious of an ability to transform
the world by his or her visions of a new reality, had to become a more consistent
communist than those, so-called, who would compromise with the aesthetic
conventions of a last phase of capitalism.
He hesitated to use the term 'anarchism' to describe his preferred culture
HER B E R T REA D 379
would be effected by individuals who happened (Read would have said involun-
tarily) to be the sensitive registers of an evolving intelligence comprising the
whole social body. His vision of society required the special creativity of certain
accomplished individuals, and also the special creativity latent within everyone,
because it would only be by extraordinary means that new aesthetic perceptions
might be won on behalf of society as a whole, as a vital aspect of a constant,
necessary process of social renewal and reinvigoration.
His concept of the avant-garde was therefore not elitist: it simply referred to
the extraordinary insight required to give shape to some value or truth newly
perceived or perceived anew. And it referred to a cohort functioning as if it had
no choice in the matter, for an occupation demanding constant nervous activity,
and erratic fluctuation between achievement and despair, would surely have been
the conscious choice of very few. It became Read's vocation to speak for such
necessary 'outsiders', those exerting perceptive shaping influence upon the stream
of ordinary events they could never join or rejoin, and to attempt to influence
some co-ordination of their creative originality. It became a consequent objective
to raise the consciousness of ordinary people by means of education through art;
and his amused realization that this was considered subversive (while encourage-
ment of really subversive avant-garde art was not) reinforced his inclination to
call himself an anarchist.
with such things as simple dress, vegetarianism and a belief in the spiritual value
of craftwork, had been a by-product of the English Arts and Crafts Movement.
The aims of the NSAM were effected by encouraging its members to pursue
high levels of technical accomplishment as measured by its own examination sys-
tem - the true descendant of a Victorian system of achievement-recognition in
which the most demanding exercises required months of unremitting attention to
the copying, shading and rendering of prescribed images circulated by the
Victona and Albert Museum (Macdonald, 1970, pp. 143-252). The ATG, on the
other hand, was much more concerned with tactical approaches necessary for
encouraging an essential creativity - an 'originating' activity - in children not
specifically destined for an aesthetic way of life. The ATG's referents therefore
included theories of child-centred creativity, and it became its prime purpose to
propagate the ideas of such innovators as Ebenezer Cooke and Franz Cizek,
whose arguments centred on the proposition that art was an aspect of human
development, the absence of which impaired mental growth and social fitness.
Before the 1930s such beliefs were regarded as peripheral to the main educa-
tional tasks of teaching drawing and design, and their attendant practices were
considered at best 'preparatory' to this mission.
The values embedded in the NSAM - what may be termed the 'classic
thesis' of twentieth-century art education - had been confirmed in recommenda-
tions for this discipline following the government's Education Act of 1918. These
recommendations affected not only the United Kingdom, but its Dominions and
all other countries sharing an anglo-saxon culture. They were the NSAM's initia-
tive, and they comprised an emphasis on drawing (both conventional and obser-
vational) and design (the realization of artefacts through practical involvement
with materials), the twin features of a specifically modern, industrially strategic
education. For example, the 1918 Act enabled local governments to provide
extensive post-school contInuation classes for young workers entering art indus-
tries, and also to admit apprentices to half-time courses in art schools. Such
trainees had special courses devoted to their crafts and industries, but their diets
also included the kind of drawing fostered by the NSAM.
Thus they would participate in 'figure drawing', 'drawing from nature', and
'architectural and ornamental drawing', in which great emphasis would be
placed on the receIved methodologies of tracing, hatching, shading and rendering
that formed the disciplinary spine of the NSAM's own standards of competence.
This linked academic drawing to the perceived needs of industry and thus
directly to conceptions of national well-being. Individual-centred values could be
accommodated to this scheme only if confined to the education of the young
child. This was regarded as the ATG's province: throughout the 1920s and early
1930s this organization had persevered with a defence of free, spontaneous crea-
tivity as both obviously present in the drawings and paintings of young children,
and also desirable in continuation beyond adolescence - that is, beyond the stage
in an indiVIdual's development when 'unstructured' creativity was deemed nor-
mally to cease.
382 David Thistlewood
Read's interest in child art was at first peripheral to his interpretation of the
significance of the avant-garde. In an early engagement of the subject, he sugges-
ted (Read, 1933, pp. 46-47) that more could be learned of the essential nature of
art from its origins in the primitive, and its continued rehearsal in childhood ima-
gery, than from its intellectual elaboration in great periods of culture - an elabo-
ration conventionalized in formal education. Children, he wrote, do not distin-
guish between the ideal (the conventionalized) and the 'real'. Child art was to be
regarded as an intensification of children's elementary perceptions of the reality
of the world around them, which he considered also a paramount purpose of the
avant-garde.
However, in this discussion there is no evidence that Read supported the
notion of a necessary 'continuity' of child and mature creativity. Their common
feature he recognized as 'play', which in the adult realm was confined to 'special
individuals who have special faculties - not of feeling or of thought - but of
expression, of objectification'. In other words, authentic creativity in adults is
confined to individuals of particular, pre-logical disposition. This was not, for the
time being, to countenance the possibility that all members of the adult commu-
nity might aspire equally to creative fulfilment.
HER B E R T REA 0 383
Instead, Read at first seemed to endorse the legitimacy of one kind of edu-
cational provision for children who would become 'artists' and another for
future artisans and all the rest. It is not difficult to detect Benda's influence in
suggestions that society required some external shaping guidance provided by
disinterested visionaries, but that there had to be safeguards against a prolifera-
tion of visionaries too great to be supported by productive labour. Read argued
this case in Art and Society (Read, 1937), maintaining that a consequent respon-
sibility of art teachers would be to distinguish between the education of positIve,
creative capabilities in the few who would be imtiators, and the encouragement
of taste, discrimination and appreciation in the many who would be consumers.
This view accommodated the Freudian conception of the artist as a potential
neurotic who had chanced upon ways of evading this fate by expressing what
would have been repressed fantasy in plastic form.
One of the most original features of Read's philosophy in its perfected state
was the extension of this prinCIple to embrace everyone. The artist IS no longer to
be regarded as unusual in his or her potential neurosis: modern humanity in
general suffers this propensity. In Education through Art (Read, 1943), published
only six years after Art and Society, everyone - that is, every child - is said to be
a potential neurotic capable of being saved from this prospect, if early, largely
inborn, creative abilities were not repressed by conventional education. Everyone
is an artist of some kind whose special abilities, even if almost insignificant, must
be encouraged as contributing to an infinite richness of collective life. Read's
newly expressed view of an essential 'continuity' of child and adult creativity in
everyone represented a 'synthesis' of the two opposed models of twentieth-cen-
tury art education that had predominated until this point.
What prompted this change of outlook was Read's direct (more than theor-
etical) encounter with the work of the very young. He was invited to advise the
British Council on a collection of children's art for wartime exhibition overseas,
and in the course of this he had come across an image, drawn by a five-year-old
girl, which she called Snake around the World and a Boat (Read, 1943, p. 187;
Read, 1968, pp. 44-45). He was deeply moved, he said, upon immediately
recognizing this image as a mandala, an ancient symbol of psychic unity, univer-
sally found in prehistoric and primitive art and in all the principal cultures of
history. The child, of course, could not attach meaning to what she had done; but
Read, aware for some time of what until now had been merely an interesting
hypothesis of Carl Gustav Jung's, was shocked to find phenomenal evidence of
archetypal imagery. He then discovered an astonishing consistency in children's
art of symbols Jung had associated with community stability, and he also found
them replete in the paintings and sculptures of the adult avant-garde.
The most significant of these images, to Read, was the mandala, invariably
a unified shape, perhaps in the form of a flower or some other four-fold arrange-
ment, with a distinct centre, the appearance of an unfolding, and a gathering per-
imeter. Especially in Eastern philosophy, though also for example in Christian
iconography, these images had been held to symbolize collective thought and
384 David Thistlewood
mutual belonging. Other archetypes which gave Read shocks of recognition were
the tendency to fabricate a 'dark shadow' from aspects of a personality opposed
to those personified in the self; and the tendency to protest against isolation,
individuation and independence by creating mother-images, earth forms, and
other symbols of dependence.
All of these projections-beyond-self - a fixing upon abstract unities; a colla-
tion of personality traits in externalized forms; the celebration of maternity; an
acknowledgement of belonging to the land - Read thought, were fundamentally
anarchistic. Manifest in the work of the avant-garde, their purpose was to guide
the collective unconscious into normal patterns of aspiration and behaviour and
away from those sinister alternatives (mass hysteria, nationalistic pride, dumb
subservience to the state) to which the unnatural mode of modern life had left
people prone. This remedial function, however, would wither into obsolescence if
the self-same imagery, evident in child art generally, could be protracted into
adulthood for everyone.
Read's encounter with the archetypal content of child art demanded expli-
cation. It was this research, conducted at the University of London in 1941142,
that resulted in his seminal work Education through Art, the central premises of
which were: 'that the general purpose of education is to foster the growth of
what is individual in each human being, at the same time harmonizing the indivi-
duality thus educed with the organic unity of the social group to which the indi-
vidual belongs' (Read, 1943, p. 8). The 'organic principle', signifying normal,
unhampered development of individual creativity, and a corresponding develop-
ment of society through collective creative enterprise, was thus adopted as both
generator and evaluative principle.
This book provided art education with a rationale, a defence and an opti-
mistic programme. It comprised: (a) definitions of authenticity in art and art-
making; (b) offered explanations of the materializing of images from the imagi-
nation; (c) compared typologies discernible in the literature of psychology and in
the study of children's drawings and paintings; and (d) proposed that the 'variety'
evident within such typologies supported the principle that everyone could be
regarded as a special kind of artist. Realization of this principle obliged Read to
revise the relevant passages of future editions of Art and Society (Read, 1945,
p.107).
In Education through Art, then, the 'organic' principle was deployed in
defining 'art', which - reasonably interpreted as 'good form' - could be illumina-
ted by scientific analogy. Good form is perceptible in all manner of natural
organisms at microscopic, normal and macroscopic scales, and exhibits such
attributes as structural order, elegance, harmony, economy, and dynamic equili-
brium - as revealed to Read by the scientific philosophy of D'Arcy Wentworth
Thompson (Thompson, 1942; Read, 1943, pp. 18-19).
Objectified in art-making, such properties evince balance, symmetry and
rhythm, thus suggesting the comparability of growth in nature and composition
in art. But for Read their applicability was not confined to objective art (that is,
HER B E R T REA 0 385
an art of purely formal relationships). The subjective also respects these prin-
ciples to the degree that it is 'externalized' (objectified) feeling, intuition or emo-
tion; and, Read speculated, the subjective may also tend to formal relationships
even when 'internalized', for fantasy and dreaming may be instigated by patholo-
gical complexes akin to force systems, and be subject to intrinsic dramatic unities
and patterns of organization (Read, 1943, p. 32).
He therefore maintained that a comparability of nature and art extends
across the whole range of creative faculties that produce and appreciate art. He
presented a digest of psychological research demonstrating the inherent com-
plexity of the human mind, especially in its great variety of 'forces', 'impulses' or
'drives', and he suggested correlations between mental types recognized by psy-
chologists, their characteristic impulses, and the sorts of imagery these impulses
might manifest (Read, 1943, p. 28). Enough of a consensus was evident for
Read to generalize on the basis of his undoubtedly profound knowledge of the
avant-garde creative processes he had studied at length - of contemporary artists
in great number (Read, 1933); of the Surrealists (Read, 1936); and of English
artists and Europeans working in the United Kingdom, particularly Henry
Moore, Barbara Hepworth, Ben Nicholson, Paul Nash and Naum Gabo - studies
of whom he published retrospectively (Read, 1952). He therefore proposed that
a distinction of avant-garde creativity as between (a) realism, (b) superrealism,
(c) expressionism and (d) constructivism offered a comprehensive categorization
of all evident modes, and that these correlated directly with the psychological
functions of (a) thinking, (b) feeling, (c) sensation and (d) intuition.
He was particularly interested in the idea of an impulse-driven emergence of
imagery from the subconscious into conscious attention by the reflex co-ordina-
tion of mental, physical and perceptual faculties. Conjoining Freudian and
Jungian philosophy, he wrote of the 'calling-up' of images - images with primor-
dial significance - from hidden depths of the mind. This formed theoretical
connections between the artist's command of eidetic visualization (mental evoca-
tion or recall of Images in vivid detail) and an archetypal significance (deep-
seated social and cultural symbolism) that could be divined in the images so evo-
ked. It also associated socio-cultural symbolism with modes of creativity that
rejected conventional, long-implemented methods of art education, concerned as
they were with replication of 'given' realities rather than evocation of the 'new'.
Ultimately, however, Education through Art was received as proof that a
number of distinct types of child artist could be identified in education, and a
varied diet offered them that would both strengthen their natural affinities and
credit their unique achievements. In his study of children's images Read discover-
ed eight distinct categories, all transcending age or stage development. He sug-
gested they corresponded to the four composite categories of mature creativity -
'realism: thinking'; 'superrealism: feeling'; 'expressionism: sensation'; and
'constructivism: intuition' - if each of these were considered in both introverted
and extroverted modes (Read, 1943, p. 145).
By this means Read constructed a co-ordinate system that would account
386 David Thistlewood
for the characteristics of all apparent tendencies in child art. Moreover, this cate-
goric division related directly to tendencies perceptible in the works of mature
avant-gardes. The pursuit of authentic avant-garde creativity, Read had long
maintained, was so emotionally and nervously demanding that it was the
conscious choice of very few. In the adult's realm it was an 'obsessional' activity,
while paradoxically in the child's realm it manifested the effortlessness of inheri-
ted reflex behaviour. This suggested a normality of creative identification shared
between all children and those adults who would strive to regain pre-logical sen-
sibility. It also suggested a fundamental abnormality in what had been considered
normal in conventional education, namely the intervention of logical, intellect-
dependent education at around the age of 10. If education were to go with the
grain of the biological imperative, ways needed to be found of encouraging the
perfection and protraction of pre-logical creative states.
Read did not offer a curriculum but a theoretical defence of the genuine and
true. His claims for genuineness and truth were based on the overwhelming evi-
dence of characteristics revealed in his study of child art. But they were founded
also in speculative extrapolation of a kind that was most welcome during the
Second World War (when his ideas received first publication), in the period of
reconstruction (when they were recognized in the 1944 Education Act), and in
succeeding decades dominated by Cold War politics. This extrapolation focused
on the apparent fact that authentic creativity was an inherent human necessity.
The question was why was it so necessary as to be universally present (though in
eight complementary modes) in all children, and potentially present in the citi-
zens they were to become?
Read discovered the answer in social psychology, at the same time confirm-
ing his predilection for anarchism and his recognition of profundity in Jung's
conception of the archetype. The biological necessity has two aspects - to call up
imagery from the subconscious and to externalize it in communicable form - the
second of which is served by the originating activity and is therefore the more
important. He argued that this is not an outpouring for its own sake, nor is it
evidence of children conversing with, and confirming, their own individual sub-
conscious experience: it is essentially 'an overture demanding response from
others' (Read, 1943, p. 164, quoting Suttie, 1935). It is thus to be regarded as
an integrating activity, 'a spontaneous reaching out to the external world, at first
tentative, but capable of becoming the main factor in the adjustment of the indi-
vidual to society' (Read, 1943, pp. 164-65). This not only establishes art - an
authentic, non-intellectualized art - as of profound significance in education, it
downgrades all other subjects in the curriculum intended to develop 'individua-
tion', or rather maintains that they too may serve 'integration' if taught with
artistic focus.
When published, Read's philosophy gave new meanmg to the work of many
HER B E R T REA D 387
sophy, as well as the latest researches in soclOlogy, anthropology and other disci-
plines. It was in Read's special sense an 'anarchist' cell, an organic community
dedicated to the constant revision and reinvigoration of its essential values, and
to the integration of diverse interests meeting in the common sphere of art.
But while Read took direct action in relation to the avant-garde, his general
educational philosophy - spread by means of his lecture tours but principally
through his writings - affected practices throughout the world. Education
through Art was translated into over thirty languages and is still regarded as a
seminal text in countries as diverse as Egypt, Brazil and Japan. Dissemination
relied upon remote conviction, but in the United Kingdom was assisted by the
popularization of Read's ideas through cheap pamphlets. In one of these (Read,
1944), he acknowledged his belonging to a tradition first given authoritative
shape by Plato, simplified Platonic theory for popular consumption, sketched out
a strategy for building an authentic communal culture by perfecting parent/child,
teacher/child and individual/group relationships, and argued against the curbing
of schools' freedom to determine curricula appropriate to localized circum-
stances.
Yet there was also within Read's scope a form of direct influence on nation-
al and supranational institutions. From 1946 until his death in 1968 he was pre-
sident of the Society for Education in Art (SEA), the renamed ATG, in which
capacity he had a platform for addressing UNESCO. He was extremely welcom-
ing of policies expressed at UNESCO's launching conference in 1946 - policies
devoted to the cultivation of worldwide understanding through education, and
the elimination of international conflict at the point of its normal origination,
mutual ignorance - but he was nevertheless critical of an automatic reliance on
conventional modes of education, and a perceived confusion of culture with
learning, education with propaganda.
In a lecture at the Museum of Modern Art, New York (timed to coincide
with a sitting of the United Nations), he delivered a devastating critique of
attempts to prevent war with card-indexes and documentary films (Read, 1948).
He argued that UNESCO's desired moral revolution could not be secured by
arguments addressed to minds corrupted with individuated intellectualization: a
moral revolution required the total reorientation of the human personality, which
could only be secured by integrative education. On the basis of such representa-
tion Read, with others, succeeded in establishing the International Society for
Education through Art (INSEA) as an executive arm of UNESCO in 1954.
No doubt the most compelling argument he proposed to UNESCO was that
art provides the best prospect of an international medium of cultural exchange
and understanding, for the comparable internationalism of science is always to
be confounded by national interests. While almost all other enterprises are inten-
ded to address the removal of barriers - of sovereignty, custom, language or
trade - the visual arts know no such barriers. They constitute 'a language of sym-
bols that communicates a meaning without hindrance from country to country
across the centuries' (Read, 1970, pp. 233-54). This posthumously published
HER B E R T REA D 389
assertion has continued to be the cornerstone of INSEA philosophy until the pre-
sent day. But it has required of officialdom a remarkable investment in faith, for
what Read proposed was not a means of transforming states of mind by propa-
ganda.
Education through art is in effect a reverse propaganda, for it begins with
the felt truth which is then expressed as symbol - the feeling finds its equivalent
in a plastic image (Read, 1955, pp. 88-89). Images originate in collective exper-
ience and create correspondences in shared realities: the social bond is rehearsed
and reinforced. That a virtual metaphysics should frame a supranational pro-
gramme is evidence of its conviction and sincerity.
So we must begin with small things, in diverse ways, helping one another, dlscovenng
one's own peace of mind, waiting for the understanding that flashes from one peaceful
mind to another. In that way the separate cells will take shape, will be Joined to one ano-
ther, will manifest new forms of social organization and new types of art. From that multi-
plicity and diversity, that dynamic interplay and emulation, a new culture may anse, and
mankind be united as never before m the consCiousness of a common destiny [Read, 1948,
p. 15].
References
Benda, J. 1928. La Trahlson des clercs. Translated into English by Richard Aldmgton as
The Great Betrayal, London, Routledge. Also: Treason of the Intellectuals. New
York, Norton, 1969.
Hulme, T. E. 1924. Speculations. (Ed. by Herbert Read.) London, Kegan Pau!.
Macdonald, S. 1970. The History and Philosophy of Art Education. London, London
University Press.
Read, H. 1933. Art Now. London, Faber.
- - . (ed). 1936. Surrealism. London, Faber.
- - . 1937. Art and Society. London, Hememann.
- - . 1938. Poetry and Anarchism. London, Faber.
- - . 1940. Annals of Innocence and ExperIence. London, Faber.
- - . 1943. Education through Art. London, Faber.
- - . 1944. The Education of Free Men. London, Freedom Press.
- - . 1945. Art and Society. 2nd ed. London, Faber.
- - . 1948. Culture and Education m a World Order. New York, Museum of Modern
Art.
- - . 1952. The Philosophy of Modern Art. London, Faber.
- - . 1954. Anarchy and Order. London, Faber.
--.1955. The Grass Roots of Art. London, Faber.
- - . 1968. The Cult of SincerIty. London, Faber.
- - . 1970. Redemption of the Robot. London, Faber.
Richardson, M. 1948. Art and the Child. London, London University Press.
Suttle, 1. D. 1935. The Origms of Love and Hate. London, London University Press.
Thistlewood, D. 1982. 'Orgalllc Art and the Populanzatlon of a Scientific Philosophy.'
BrItish Journal of Aesthetics (Oxford University Press), Vo!. 22, No. 4, pp. 311-21.
- - . 1984. Herbert Read: Formlessness and Form; An IntroductIOn to his Aesthetics.
London, Routledge.
390 David Thistlewood
- - . 1989. 'The Museum of Modern Art, New York, and the London Institute of
Contemporary Arts: A Common Philosophy of Modern Art.' British Journal of
Aesthetics (Oxford University Press), Vo!. 29, No. 4, pp. 316-28.
Thompson, D. W. 1942. On Growth and Form. New ed. Cambridge, Cambridge
University Press.
Woodcock, G. 1972. Herbert Read: the Stream and the Source. London, Faber.
391
Ph.D. Member of the Academy of Pedagogical Sciences and member of the edito-
rial board of the review Pedagogika. For more than twenty years he was a mem-
ber of UNESCO's International Jury on Literacy Prizes. His numerous publica-
tions have been concerned with human beings in a changing world and relations
between the individual and society. Recent publications in Russian include
Educating the Puptl's Personality (1985) and Educating Citizens at School
(1990).
Ce Zhengming (China)
A. R. Kamat (India)
Honorary professor at the Indian Institute of Education, Kothrud, Pune.
394 Con t r butors t 0 t his volume
Received his Ph.D. at the Sorbonne in Paris. At present professor and chairman
of the Department of Foundations of Education, University of Qatar. Author of:
Studies in Islamic Education (3 vols.); Adult Education: Concepts, Forms and
Arab Experiments; Education and Enlightening Society; Studies in the
Foundations of Education; and numerous other studies. Taught at the al-
Noqrashi Model School in 1957 and 1958.
Professor at the Universities of Tucuman and La Plata before joining the staff of
UNESCO. Author of numerous works, among which we may mention Dewey:
su pensamiento pedagoglco [Dewey: His Educational Thought] (1968), Spranger:
su pensamiento pedagogico [Spranger: His Educational Thought] (1968) and
Teoria de la educacion [Educational Theory] (1980). His educational interests
were directed towards the theory of education adapted to the Latin American
situation. He died in 1984.
Ph.D. in arts and human sciences. Professor of the history of educational thought
and educational philosophy at the Institute of Educational Sciences, Universite
Catholique de l'Ouest, Angers. Director of research at the University Lumiere,
Lyon 11. Author of Pestalozzi ou la naissance de l'educateur [Pestalozzi or the
Birth of the Educator] (1981), and of books on Pestalozzi (1987), Rousseau
(1988) and Frobe! (1990). He has been involved in the preparation of several
books and dictionaries, and has contributed numerous articles to French,
German, Italian and Swiss periodicals on the history of education and on pre-
sent-day problems. Invited professor at the universities of Wiirzburg and Padua.
Member of the Council of the World Association for Educational Research
(WAER) and of the Executive Committee of the Institut pour la Formation
Europeenne (ISFE), and secretary-general of the Association Fran<;:aise d'Educa-
tion Comparee (AFEC).
Senior fellow and head of the Educational Finance Unit at the National Institute
of Educational Planning. His publications include Economics of Inequality in
Education (1987), Educational Finances in South Asia (1988), Educational
Planning at Grassroots (1992), and Education for Development in Asia (1993).
He has also taught at the Universities of Delhi and Virginia, and worked at the
World Bank.
Con t r butors t 0 t his volume 397
Lecturer in education responsible for the trammg of history teachers and for
post-graduate courses in the teaching of history at the University of Birmingham.
Author of numerous articles and book chapters on the Unitarian contribution to
education in England, on women's educational history and on the teaching of
history.
Responsible for philosophy and the social sciences for EditIOns Encyclopaedia
Uniuersalis and senior lecturer at the Institut d'"Etudes Politiques, Paris. His
research is more especially concerned with the question of judgement in pheno-
menology - from Husserl to Sartre and Merleau-Ponty. Author of a number of
articles on Montaigne.
Director of China National Institute for Educational Research. Her more recent
works are: Survey of Reform in China: Education (1992); Moral Education and
Theory and Practice (1992); Educational Reform at Junior Middle Schools. Her
thesis, Training cum Production in China, was issued by the Centre for the Study
of Education in Developing Countries (CESO) in 1992. She has also contributed
to several educational journals.
399
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Too often, when people speak of the 'fOlJnders of education' they have in
mind only the thinkers and pedagogues who, in the West and elsewhere, have
devoted themselves to education to the exclusion of all else: in short.
education as a game preserve or private fief. Yet philosophers. politicians.
sociologists, scientists. theologians. novelists, historians. poets and essayists.
of every period and culture, have had much to say on the subjea of
education.
How is one then to understand in depth. through its successive suaca.
the philosophy that underlies a particular system of educadon if. beyond the
play of fashion, the surface eddies and the ups and downs of politics, one
knows litde or nothing about the thinkers who inspired it!
Clearly, there is a need to fill a gap by bringing together in a single work
monographs presenting and appraising. in our own terms and with the tools
available to us today. the great figures who. in one way or another, have left
their mark on educational thought.
This is the third volume in the four-volume series of 100 essays written
by internationally. regionalty or nationally recognized specialists. who are
perfectly familiar with and have direct access to the work of the educator in
question.
Far off, in terms of time. the most ancient of the authors studied is
Confucius; in our own day, figures still very much alive continue to animate,
directly or indirectly, the universal debate on education. In the intervening
period, as we progress through these pages. twenty-five centuries will elapse.
As regards geographical space. the reader will come to know China.
Japan, India, the Near and Middle East, North Africa, Greece, the Balkans, as
well as all parts of Europe. including Russia - and the former USSR. We will
have touched down in Africa and made stopovers in Argentina, Brazil. Chile.
Cuba. Mexico, Uruguay and Venezuela before reaching the United States.
To speak of traVelling in space and time is also to speak of an exploration
of religions, cultures and ideologies, and the circumnavigation of political
regimes of every description.