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Signs of The Times
The Robot Corporation
http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20070820&fname=Martha+Nussbaum
+%28F%29&sid=1
Aug 20, 2007
column
The Robot
Corporation
Far from
spawning mere skilled professionals, education must give us
wise, sensitive citizens. Only then will democracy become valid.
MARTHA NUSSBAUM
A
while back, the US House of Representatives passed a resolution
praising the Indian Institutes of Technology for the manifold ways in
which their graduates "advance and enrich American society". So great
is the success of the IITs today that their graduates are seen as prize
catches all over the world, a world dominated by the profit motive.
Despite this evidence of a brain drain, the IITs have surely
contributed, above all, to "advance and enrich" India. The greater
prosperity they have brought to many, if by no means all, of India's
citizens, is surely to be applauded.
What does the ascendancy of
the IITs mean, however, for democracy in India? Given that economic
growth is so eagerly sought, too few questions have been posed about
the direction of Indian education, and, with it, of Indian society.
With the rush to profitability in the global market, something precious
is in danger of being lost: the human individual, on whose capacity for
critical and imaginative freedom the very survival of democracy in
India depends.
How, then, is education in India doing, 60 years
after Nehru spoke of putting an end to "ignorance"—as well as
"poverty", "disease", and "inequality of opportunity"? No honest
assessment could be favourable. The staggeringly high rates of
illiteracy, particularly among women and girls, the well-known problem
of teacher absenteeism (in many areas it reaches the figure of 20 per
cent), the scourge of "private tuition"—all these make the promise of
educational opportunity utterly meaningless for large segments of
India's population. At one end we have the shiny success of the IITs,
at the other the dismal daily reality of government schools in many
urban and most rural areas. Kerala has shown that it is possible to
produce virtually universal male and female literacy through an
ideal-driven combination of intelligent planning and determined
administration; the rest of the nation, however, has been slow to
follow the slender southern state's lead.
These well-known
problems, however, are not India's only—or even her greatest—dangers
where education for democratic citizenship is concerned. With the
ascendancy of the IITs has arisen a dominant conception of education
that is technical, indeed mechanistic, given to force-feeding and
regurgitation and suspicious of critical independence of mind.
Education, in this picture, is about the implanting of useful skills
that will ultimately lead to both personal and national enrichment. It
should, therefore, focus on these technical skills and on the rote
learning of whatever historical and political information is strictly
necessary to deploy them in profitable ways. As Rabindranath Tagore
once wrote of schools he knew, "Achievement comes to denote the sort of
thing that a well-planned machine can do better than a human being
can." He already saw that the globalisation of the economy was leading
to an educational imbalance, "obscuring (our) human side under the
shadow of soul-less organisation".
Education is not simply a
producer of wealth; it is a producer of citizens. Citizens in a
democracy need, above all, freedom of mind. They need to be trained to
ask tough questions; to analyse what they read for accuracy, logic, and
comprehensiveness; to reject specious reasoning and shoddy historical
argument; to imagine alternative possibilities; to think what it might
be like to be in the shoes of a person different from themselves. These
skills are crucial for keeping democracy vital, preventing it from
degenerating into mindless ideological banner-waving. They are also
pivotal in dealing with the pressing issue of ethnic and religious
violence, since people who cannot criticise propaganda or imagine the
pain of another human being are ripe targets for the rhetoric of hate.
The
skills I have just enumerated are associated with the humanities and
the arts, and they are utterly neglected, even in the more successful
government schools. Rote learning is the method of the hour, the
imagination is viewed with suspicion, and the central question that is
endlessly debated is what version of history students should memorise
and regurgitate. A parent's glory is the admission of a child to one of
the IITs. A parent's shame would be a child pursuing literature, or
philosophy, or art—and this means that these subjects are despised even
as elements in primary and secondary education.
India, more than most nations, has a glorious tradition of humanistic
education: Tagore's school influenced educational ideas all over the
world. The school he founded in Santiniketan is in disarray today, but
the legacy of similar ideas can be seen in many places, particularly in
the Indian women's movement, which makes creative use of critical
thinking and the arts in education programmes run through NGOs (and
sometimes through government sponsorship). In many ways, the
desperately poor who benefit from NGO programmes are receiving a better
education for democratic citizenship than the increasingly prosperous
middle classes. The rest of the nation should take note, for a nation
of docile engineers and managers will not long remain truly free. It is
time for a national focus on pedagogy—on the teaching of critical
thinking and imagining—for a national acknowledgment that the
humanities and arts are crucial for democracy's future.
How
can India afford the luxury of thinking about such refinements, one
might ask, when teachers do not even show up to teach, or do much of
their real teaching in the homes of wealthier students after school
hours? One might argue that the basic things need to be fixed first,
and then one can move on to pedagogy. I believe, however, that we
should reject this argument. When something exciting is being imparted
and received in the classroom, when the whole enterprise of education
is alive and full of surprises, both teachers and students want to show
up. We see this clearly in NGO education, where nobody is coerced on
either side, and yet pupils and teachers participate with passion,
because what is happening strikes everyone as really pertinent to their
lives.
India has one of the world's most vital
democracies, with
its enormous diversity, its strong traditions of argument and critical
exchange, its artistic distinction, its great rational and imaginative
powers. But India's democracy has also committed some conspicuous
failures of public reasoning, giving way to parochialism, sloppiness,
inattentiveness, and worse. Education based mainly on profitability in
the global market magnifies these deficiencies, producing a greedy
obtuseness that threatens the very life of democracy itself. Tagore
said in Japan in 1917 that a nation might commit "gradual suicide
through shrinkage of the soul". India's soul is so large that it would
be difficult indeed to kill it; but it is surely in danger of
shrinking.
(Nussbaum is the author of The Clash Within: Democracy,
Religious Violence and India's Future)