In a long and learned article in City Journal, classicist
Victor Davis Hanson bemoans the end of liberal arts education. America’s
universities have given up on teaching the classics, the foundation of a liberal arts
education.
They no longer teach Plato and Aristotle, Homer and
Sophocles. They do not teach that democracy began in ancient Greece and that
republican government comes to us from the ancient romans.
Hanson does not mention it, but I suspect that precious few
of today’s professors know enough to teach the classics, or to teach the
history of Western philosophy or literature. They were trained to indoctrinate
their students, not to teach them. Let’s not forget, many of today’s courses
are taught by poorly paid adjuncts. Fewer and fewer tenured professors walk the
halls of academia.
And how many of today’s college students would be capable of
studying Plato and Aristotle, or reading Homer and Virgil. I suspect that few of them could. All of the carping about the hegemony of Western white males
is probably just a cover for students who cannot do the work.
So, the academy is being dumbed down. And this is sad
indeed. But, perhaps we overreached when we decided that everyone should have a
liberal arts education. Some people do not need it and would not know how to
profit from it. One hates to say it, but for some people vocational training is
probably best. The egalitarian notion that everyone is the same and that all
students can learn something from reading Shakespeare and Milton was far too
optimistic.
In other words, even if today’s professors could teach the
classics effectively, many of their students, the products of America’s
secondary schools, would not be capable of studying them?
There is, in other words, enough blame to go around.
Some universities have turned into indoctrination mills,
more concerned with teaching students the supposed therapeutic benefits of
political correctness. Others are offering vocational training. And much of the
educational slack is being picked up by online courses. After all, Hanson
notes, these courses probably offer better instruction than you get in college.
Taught by academic stars, they not only provide exposure to the material, but
they sometimes offer interactive homework assignments, tailored to each student’s
needs.
Hanson tracks the movement:
As the
American workforce increasingly needs retraining and as higher-paying jobs
demand ever more specialized skills, students are beginning to pay for their
education on a class-by-class basis through distance learning. Online classes,
which do not require campus residence or commuting, also eliminate the overhead
of highly paid, tenured faculty, campus infrastructure, and such costly
elements of undergraduate education as on-campus lectures and extracurricular
activities.
And also:
Perhaps
their unspoken premise is that if universities do not believe in the value of
teaching Western civilization as part of a mandated general-education
curriculum, then why not simply go to the heart of the matter and offer
computer-programming skills or aeronautical-engineering know-how without the
pretense of a broad education? And who is to say that paid-by-the-hour
instructors at the online University of Phoenix are less responsible teachers
than their traditional counterparts? After all, their market-driven employers
must serve a paying constituency that, unlike traditional university students,
often demands near-instant results for its fees.
Those who want to find a more classical liberal arts education
are gravitating toward more religious schools, like Hillsdale College, St. John’s
College, etc.
Hanson is himself a classicist, so he defends the classics
eloquently:
Classical
learning dedicated itself to turning out literate citizens who could read and
write well, express themselves, and make sense of the confusion of the present
by drawing on the wisdom of the past. Students grounded in the classics
appreciated the history of their civilization and understood the rights and
responsibilities of their unique citizenship. Universities, then, acted as
cultural custodians, helping students understand our present values in the
context of a 2,500-year tradition that began with the ancient Greeks.
He continues:
Study
of Athenian democracy, Homeric epic, or Roman basilicas framed all exploration
of subsequent eras, from the Middle Ages to modernity. An Aquinas, Dante,
Michelangelo, or Montesquieu could be seen as reaffirming, adopting, modifying,
or rejecting something that the Greeks or Romans had done first. One could no
more build a liberal education without some grounding in the classics than one
could construct a multistory house without a foundation.
But, classical liberal arts education has been supplanted by
more practical subjects:
Over
the last four decades, various philosophical and ideological strands united to
contribute to the decline of classical education. A creeping vocationalism, for
one, displaced much of the liberal arts curriculum in the crowded credit-hours
of indebted students. Forfeiting classical learning in order to teach
undergraduates a narrow skill (what the Greeks called a technĂȘ) was predicated on the shaky
notion that undergraduate instruction in business or law would produce superior
CEOs or lawyers—and would more successfully inculcate the arts of logic,
reasoning, fact-based knowledge, and communication so necessary for
professional success.
And, as I have often noted on this blog, universities have
come to see their mission as therapeutic. They do not want students to learn;
they want students to attain a specious version of mental health.
In Hanson’s words:
A
therapeutic curriculum, which promised that counseling and proper social
attitudes could mitigate such eternal obstacles to human happiness as racism,
sexism, war, and poverty, likewise displaced more difficult classes in
literature, language, philosophy, and political science. The therapeutic
sensibility burdened the university with the task of ensuring that students
felt adjusted and happy. And upon graduation, those students began to expect an
equality of result rather than of opportunity from their society. Gone from
university life was the larger tragic sense. Few students learned (or were
reminded) that we come into this world with limitations that we must endure
with dignity and courage rather than deal with easily through greater
sensitivity, more laws, better technology, and sufficient capital.
The radical left has turned the academic into an
indoctrination mill, where political correctness reigns supreme. Note well
Hanson’s observation: political correctness does not involve learning or
inquiring. It is not about knowing but believing.
It seeks to persuade, to convince, to indoctrinate students
in dogmatic beliefs. To be fair, this practice has its roots in the Socratic
dialogues. They are not designed to teach the art of inquiry. They were
designed to seduce unwitting dupes into believing something:
Political
correctness, meanwhile, turned upside-down the old standard of inductive
reasoning, the linchpin of the liberal arts. Students now were to accept
preordained general principles—such as the pernicious legacy of European
colonialism and imperialism and the pathologies of capitalism, homophobia, and
sexism—and then deductively to demonstrate how such crimes manifested themselves
in history, literature, and science. The university viewed itself as nearly
alone in its responsibility for formulating progressive remedies for society’s
ills. Society at large, government, the family, and religion were hopelessly
reactionary.
Is there still a value to going to America’s great
universities? Surely, if you are going to study STEM subjects, the answer is
Yes. Beyond that, these schools are becoming places for the elite to form
friendships and social alliances. They provide status and prestige… and
yes, an access to privilege. Will ironies never cease!
Hanson is not optimistic:
But
their attractions—and especially the enticements of the Ivy League schools,
Stanford, Berkeley, and such private four-year colleges as Amherst and
Oberlin—will largely derive from the status that they convey, the career
advantages that accrue from their brand-name diplomas, and the unspoken allure
of networking and associating with others of a similarly affluent and
privileged class. They are becoming social entities, private clubs for young
people, certification and proof of career seriousness, but hardly centers for
excellence in undergraduate education in the classical sense. For all the tens
of thousands of dollars invested in yearly tuition, there will be no guarantee,
or indeed, even a general expectation, that students will encounter singular
faculty or receive a superior liberal arts education—let alone that they will
know much more about their exceptional civilization than what they could find
on the Internet, at religious schools, or on CDs and DVDs.