Fade the Butcher
01-09-2006, 04:06 AM
New Oxford Review (http://www.newoxfordreview.org/article.jsp?did=0304-vonhildebrand)
He who aims at changing society -- for good or for evil -- knows that he should gain control over three things: education, the news media, and entertainment. These are the keys that shape a society.
My concern is education. Great men have always emphasized its crucial importance. To form young minds is to build the future of a society. There is no nobler task, and education begins at home. The mother is the primary educator of her child, for she will spend more time with her babies than the father can, even though his role is also crucial. To educate is to lead, to draw, to guide. The child, inexperienced and unknowing, needs a guiding hand to teach him the elementary rules of human existence. This hand should be both firm and gentle: firm because morally, intellectually, and physically, the child is not yet steady on his legs; gentle because this firmness should be an expression of loving concern for his welfare. Granted that these two qualities are not easily combined, it is typical of great personalities that they manage to unite what -- at first sight -- are irreconcilable opposites.
It is commonly said today that "we have fallen back into paganism." This claim is a gross oversimplification. Granted that man's nature has been wounded by Original Sin, it is definitely not true to claim -- as the Calvinists do -- that it is totally corrupt. We only need turn to the great works of pagan antiquity to see that the best among the pagans were sincere lovers of truth and that their contributions are remarkable even though they were inevitably incomplete. They did not benefit from Christian revelation, but their works prove that there is a natural law inscribed in man's heart, and that men of good will can easily read its dictates. Plato was such a man.
Plato devoted most of his writings to education. His two major works, The Republic and The Laws, are dedicated to this all-important topic. This article aims partly at etching the accomplishments of this great pagan.
Had Plato met Peter Singer (who advocates infanticide at Princeton), he would have been outraged. To place animals on the level of man would have kindled his ire. Some animals can be trained, that is, forced to do the will of the trainer; one can train a dog to take a few steps on two legs. Children can be trained as far as certain physical activities are concerned, but education addresses children as human beings. In this case, the educator worthy of the name does not impose his will upon his pupils; he guides them to do, in collaboration with them, what they ought to do, so that, one day, they will freely do it on their own. The knowledge of this "oughtness" will benefit the child: Knowing the moral law and living up to its norms is essential to man's true development.
Animals are trained so that they can serve us or entertain us. Children are educated because they are worth educating. Plato was keenly conscious of the metaphysical dignity of human beings. Raised in a society where beauty played a prominent role, he tells us that the aim of education is to make a masterpiece of man. A successful educator will help the child become a true man, that is, a human being in whose soul all his potentialities have blossomed.
Education must have a definite aim and purpose. The universe is a book that teaches us how we should approach this awesome task. For it is ruled by harmony: According to The Republic, whether we contemplate the firmament, the mysterious succession of the seasons, or the beauty of the world, we are struck by its harmony and order. Man, on the other hand, if left unguided, is capable of spreading chaos wherever he goes. Education should therefore aim at duplicating the harmonious order of the cosmos in the child's soul.
Moreover, the child possesses both positive and negative qualities which are war with each other. If virtues are overcome by vice, man becomes his own worst enemy. Education should aim at the child's unification, according to The Republic, but this unification should be "in the good." He should become one.
Plato was not acquainted with Genesis, and could not know of man's fall
from grace. But he knew that there are two horses in man's soul: a rebellious one and an obedient one, and that the charioteer has great difficulty guiding his chariot because of the unruliness of the disobedient horse. Four centuries before Christ, Plato saw, with remarkable acuteness, that we are split personalities, perceiving what is good, but tempted by evil. The real educator will help the child to develop his good qualities while uprooting his evil tendencies. If he succeeds in doing so, he will help create a type of human character "that heaven can approve of" (The Republic). Education should teach a child "to make up his mind that he will be one of the followers of God…" (The Laws). To revere God (at times Plato writes "the gods") is not only a must, but also crucial to the welfare of a society. For, Plato tells us, ignorance of the highest caused the ruin of the Dorians. He adds: "That was then, and is still, and always will be the case" (The Laws).
The gods are best served by teaching children to pursue moral goodness. A key virtue is reverence -- reverence toward the gods, toward antiquity, toward the moral law. Reverence, little practiced today, is a key word in both The Republic and The Laws. Disrespect for it inevitably leads to ruin.
This duplicity in human beings is also manifested by a tendency to confuse appearance with reality. The awesome task of the educator is to teach his pupil to distinguish between the two, and then to turn to "true reality" (The Republic). What is is, independently of whether or not it is acknowledged to exist.
In The Republic Plato tells us that men are living in a dark den where all that they can perceive is shadows of reality projected on a wall. Inevitably, the "prisoners" will believe that these shadows are the real world. One of them (a true philosopher) manages to escape from the dark cave, and penetrates into the true world, whose brightness at first blinds him. For this reason, he believes he is worse off than before. But slowly his eyesight becomes accustomed to the light, and he discovers that, up to then, he has lived in illusions. Man's spiritual eyesight being weak, the sun -- in all its brightness -- will be perceived last, even though it is the source of light.
Then the philosopher chooses to go back to the den to share his joyful discovery with his fellow prisoners. But alas, when he tries to open their eyes, they want to kill him (a clear reference to the fate of Socrates). Plato knew that men tend to prefer darkness to light. This painful discovery explains why the work of education is so difficult. Yet, Plato does not give up.
It is irrational indeed to prefer darkness to light. For light is lovable; darkness is not. This perverse attitude must be corrected. Once again, it is the task of the educator to guide the child to hate what he ought to hate, and to love what he ought to love (The Laws). It is hard to formulate a better educational program. Though Plato was "a pagan," these few words include what we should all be aiming at: to love what deserves to be loved. Why is the task of the educator so difficult? Plato saw, with a sagaciousness that we can only marvel at, that there are obstacles coming from inside us as well as outside us; their alliance renders the educator's task extremely difficult. What are these enemies of the soul? To ignore their existence is to expose oneself to a certain defeat.
One of the great temptations to which all of us are exposed is pleasure. This is so obvious that shallow thinkers such as Jeremy Bentham see the craving of pleasure and the rejection of pain as the linchpins of ethics! Some will openly declare that if one cannot do what one pleases, "life is not worth living." The educator should aim at liberating the child from the fascination of pleasure. Why is it, Plato asks, that an athlete is willing to undergo a severe training that calls for effort, fatigue, and pain in order to gain an earthly award, but is unwilling to make similar efforts to achieve the greatest victory, the victory over pleasure? This is one of the great aims of education.
But pleasure is not the only enemy lying in wait to ruin the efforts of the educator. We all know that the child (and not only the child) assumes that he needs neither help nor guidance. His immaturity (and maturity does not come with wisdom teeth) is such that he believes he knows better. The story of Pinocchio is so endearing because it is so true. The child will have many unpleasant experiences (such as burning himself) in order to discover that he was mistaken. Some are willing to learn from their mistakes; some never do and ruin their lives. Arrogance becomes particularly dangerous at the age of puberty, when adolescents believe that they know everything (The Laws). They disdain their elders for being old, presuming that being younger makes them wiser. The problem is compounded by the fact that when the adolescent fails, he promptly puts the fault on others. Today, this disease has reached such proportions that tua culpa has replaced the mea culpa of yore.
Numerous are also the obstacles "from outside." Inevitably, the child will observe the conduct of the people he lives with. In the fourth century B.C., Plato laments the practice of "free love" (The Laws), which undermines the structure of family life. Shamelessness among old men was rampant. The child will hear time and again that "might is right," and that moral laws are taboos that should be thrown overboard. Over 24 centuries later, we are exposed to the very same intellectual temptations. We too hear that "falsehood and deceit can be legitimate at time" (The Laws); we too are exposed to "novelties in dancing and music" (The Republic), the rhythm of which is an incentive to shameful passions. In both The Republic and The Laws, Plato warns us of the danger of musical compositions which are "expressive of meanness, insolence and frenzy," the very opposite of the harmony at which education should aim. Immoral arts join forces and destroy man's sense of reverence, which Plato rightly considers to be a key to ethics. The educator should inculcate in his pupils a "reverence for tradition." This reverence must be duplicated in the educator himself, who in educating gives the final touch to his own education. What he is as a person will leave as deep a mark upon his students as what he says, if not deeper.
The child should, from an early age, be exposed to true beauty. Once he has acquired sensitivity for its noble message, he will instinctively reject defect and ugliness in art and nature. "Such deformities will disgust him" (The Republic). . . .
He who aims at changing society -- for good or for evil -- knows that he should gain control over three things: education, the news media, and entertainment. These are the keys that shape a society.
My concern is education. Great men have always emphasized its crucial importance. To form young minds is to build the future of a society. There is no nobler task, and education begins at home. The mother is the primary educator of her child, for she will spend more time with her babies than the father can, even though his role is also crucial. To educate is to lead, to draw, to guide. The child, inexperienced and unknowing, needs a guiding hand to teach him the elementary rules of human existence. This hand should be both firm and gentle: firm because morally, intellectually, and physically, the child is not yet steady on his legs; gentle because this firmness should be an expression of loving concern for his welfare. Granted that these two qualities are not easily combined, it is typical of great personalities that they manage to unite what -- at first sight -- are irreconcilable opposites.
It is commonly said today that "we have fallen back into paganism." This claim is a gross oversimplification. Granted that man's nature has been wounded by Original Sin, it is definitely not true to claim -- as the Calvinists do -- that it is totally corrupt. We only need turn to the great works of pagan antiquity to see that the best among the pagans were sincere lovers of truth and that their contributions are remarkable even though they were inevitably incomplete. They did not benefit from Christian revelation, but their works prove that there is a natural law inscribed in man's heart, and that men of good will can easily read its dictates. Plato was such a man.
Plato devoted most of his writings to education. His two major works, The Republic and The Laws, are dedicated to this all-important topic. This article aims partly at etching the accomplishments of this great pagan.
Had Plato met Peter Singer (who advocates infanticide at Princeton), he would have been outraged. To place animals on the level of man would have kindled his ire. Some animals can be trained, that is, forced to do the will of the trainer; one can train a dog to take a few steps on two legs. Children can be trained as far as certain physical activities are concerned, but education addresses children as human beings. In this case, the educator worthy of the name does not impose his will upon his pupils; he guides them to do, in collaboration with them, what they ought to do, so that, one day, they will freely do it on their own. The knowledge of this "oughtness" will benefit the child: Knowing the moral law and living up to its norms is essential to man's true development.
Animals are trained so that they can serve us or entertain us. Children are educated because they are worth educating. Plato was keenly conscious of the metaphysical dignity of human beings. Raised in a society where beauty played a prominent role, he tells us that the aim of education is to make a masterpiece of man. A successful educator will help the child become a true man, that is, a human being in whose soul all his potentialities have blossomed.
Education must have a definite aim and purpose. The universe is a book that teaches us how we should approach this awesome task. For it is ruled by harmony: According to The Republic, whether we contemplate the firmament, the mysterious succession of the seasons, or the beauty of the world, we are struck by its harmony and order. Man, on the other hand, if left unguided, is capable of spreading chaos wherever he goes. Education should therefore aim at duplicating the harmonious order of the cosmos in the child's soul.
Moreover, the child possesses both positive and negative qualities which are war with each other. If virtues are overcome by vice, man becomes his own worst enemy. Education should aim at the child's unification, according to The Republic, but this unification should be "in the good." He should become one.
Plato was not acquainted with Genesis, and could not know of man's fall
from grace. But he knew that there are two horses in man's soul: a rebellious one and an obedient one, and that the charioteer has great difficulty guiding his chariot because of the unruliness of the disobedient horse. Four centuries before Christ, Plato saw, with remarkable acuteness, that we are split personalities, perceiving what is good, but tempted by evil. The real educator will help the child to develop his good qualities while uprooting his evil tendencies. If he succeeds in doing so, he will help create a type of human character "that heaven can approve of" (The Republic). Education should teach a child "to make up his mind that he will be one of the followers of God…" (The Laws). To revere God (at times Plato writes "the gods") is not only a must, but also crucial to the welfare of a society. For, Plato tells us, ignorance of the highest caused the ruin of the Dorians. He adds: "That was then, and is still, and always will be the case" (The Laws).
The gods are best served by teaching children to pursue moral goodness. A key virtue is reverence -- reverence toward the gods, toward antiquity, toward the moral law. Reverence, little practiced today, is a key word in both The Republic and The Laws. Disrespect for it inevitably leads to ruin.
This duplicity in human beings is also manifested by a tendency to confuse appearance with reality. The awesome task of the educator is to teach his pupil to distinguish between the two, and then to turn to "true reality" (The Republic). What is is, independently of whether or not it is acknowledged to exist.
In The Republic Plato tells us that men are living in a dark den where all that they can perceive is shadows of reality projected on a wall. Inevitably, the "prisoners" will believe that these shadows are the real world. One of them (a true philosopher) manages to escape from the dark cave, and penetrates into the true world, whose brightness at first blinds him. For this reason, he believes he is worse off than before. But slowly his eyesight becomes accustomed to the light, and he discovers that, up to then, he has lived in illusions. Man's spiritual eyesight being weak, the sun -- in all its brightness -- will be perceived last, even though it is the source of light.
Then the philosopher chooses to go back to the den to share his joyful discovery with his fellow prisoners. But alas, when he tries to open their eyes, they want to kill him (a clear reference to the fate of Socrates). Plato knew that men tend to prefer darkness to light. This painful discovery explains why the work of education is so difficult. Yet, Plato does not give up.
It is irrational indeed to prefer darkness to light. For light is lovable; darkness is not. This perverse attitude must be corrected. Once again, it is the task of the educator to guide the child to hate what he ought to hate, and to love what he ought to love (The Laws). It is hard to formulate a better educational program. Though Plato was "a pagan," these few words include what we should all be aiming at: to love what deserves to be loved. Why is the task of the educator so difficult? Plato saw, with a sagaciousness that we can only marvel at, that there are obstacles coming from inside us as well as outside us; their alliance renders the educator's task extremely difficult. What are these enemies of the soul? To ignore their existence is to expose oneself to a certain defeat.
One of the great temptations to which all of us are exposed is pleasure. This is so obvious that shallow thinkers such as Jeremy Bentham see the craving of pleasure and the rejection of pain as the linchpins of ethics! Some will openly declare that if one cannot do what one pleases, "life is not worth living." The educator should aim at liberating the child from the fascination of pleasure. Why is it, Plato asks, that an athlete is willing to undergo a severe training that calls for effort, fatigue, and pain in order to gain an earthly award, but is unwilling to make similar efforts to achieve the greatest victory, the victory over pleasure? This is one of the great aims of education.
But pleasure is not the only enemy lying in wait to ruin the efforts of the educator. We all know that the child (and not only the child) assumes that he needs neither help nor guidance. His immaturity (and maturity does not come with wisdom teeth) is such that he believes he knows better. The story of Pinocchio is so endearing because it is so true. The child will have many unpleasant experiences (such as burning himself) in order to discover that he was mistaken. Some are willing to learn from their mistakes; some never do and ruin their lives. Arrogance becomes particularly dangerous at the age of puberty, when adolescents believe that they know everything (The Laws). They disdain their elders for being old, presuming that being younger makes them wiser. The problem is compounded by the fact that when the adolescent fails, he promptly puts the fault on others. Today, this disease has reached such proportions that tua culpa has replaced the mea culpa of yore.
Numerous are also the obstacles "from outside." Inevitably, the child will observe the conduct of the people he lives with. In the fourth century B.C., Plato laments the practice of "free love" (The Laws), which undermines the structure of family life. Shamelessness among old men was rampant. The child will hear time and again that "might is right," and that moral laws are taboos that should be thrown overboard. Over 24 centuries later, we are exposed to the very same intellectual temptations. We too hear that "falsehood and deceit can be legitimate at time" (The Laws); we too are exposed to "novelties in dancing and music" (The Republic), the rhythm of which is an incentive to shameful passions. In both The Republic and The Laws, Plato warns us of the danger of musical compositions which are "expressive of meanness, insolence and frenzy," the very opposite of the harmony at which education should aim. Immoral arts join forces and destroy man's sense of reverence, which Plato rightly considers to be a key to ethics. The educator should inculcate in his pupils a "reverence for tradition." This reverence must be duplicated in the educator himself, who in educating gives the final touch to his own education. What he is as a person will leave as deep a mark upon his students as what he says, if not deeper.
The child should, from an early age, be exposed to true beauty. Once he has acquired sensitivity for its noble message, he will instinctively reject defect and ugliness in art and nature. "Such deformities will disgust him" (The Republic). . . .