Education and "Free Will"

The wise, in every age, have never been, nor have they ever proposed to be, anything more than teachers, whose purpose is to guide others in the way of becoming wise. The word "sage" is useful in illustrating this point, as it essentially means "wise teacher", but it is also redundant; since we should understand that a wise person and a teacher are one and the same. The function of the wise person is to educate or instruct, and the very first, most essential teaching which wisdom sets before us concerns the ultimate importance of education itself.

Down through the ages, nothing has been stressed so much as the proper shaping of young hearts, minds, bodies, and wills. Always, the wise have tried to make clear how profoundly a man's fate is determined by his upbringing; how fine characters may be corrupted, and lesser natures may be ennobled, according to the influences brought to bear during their formative years. The task of education is to be undertaken with the utmost seriousness and diligence.

The Chinese sage, Sun Tzu, before he teaches us anything of "The Art of War", takes pains to illustrate the significance of instruction itself. He speaks of a certain tree whose grain is knotted and whose trunk is not strait, and points out how even this wood, after receiving the proper treatment, can be made pliable; laid flush or perfectly bent into a circle. This is the man of little potential who, through proper guidance, may yet become a master. Conversely, he tells of a certain plant known to produce the most exquisite perfume, and how no person would want to smell it were it doused with urine. Clearly, this is the man of great talent whose gifts are smothered by improper education.

This first principle of wisdom has been almost utterly neglected in our present time. It is widely believed that boys will become men quite on their own; without help, or without much help, from educators. This is clear from the fact that, beyond a certain age, -- which may be relatively indeterminate or as exact as the eighteenth birthday, -- they are held entirely responsible for their choices; which cannot be traced to their upbringings without awakening tremendous controversy. "Free will" has taken such a powerful hold on our modern imaginations, we easily fail to see that it is utterly at variance with the very concept of education.

One may object that children, nonetheless, spend the majority of their time in school. And it is true, many hours are spent on learning mathematics and the like, but morality is altogether left out of our lesson plans; and morality, not mathematics, is the true measure of a man (and, by extension, of his education). No, it enters only as an afterthought; the child is reprimanded or punished for some "unforeseen" transgression which, it is assumed, he ought to have known and abstained from without preparation of any kind. Moral lessons do not begin or end the day, except in fairly religious families, where these lessons are often muddled and overshadowed by various dogmatic superstitions.

Consider the world as it is now. Who does more ill to a child, than those into whose hands he is commended for good? Those who love him most, but most unwisely, do him the gravest harm, by catering to those baser appetites which readily present themselves, and not to that subtler taste for virtue, which must be acquired. They feed his clamoring vices, and starve his quiet virtues.

In spite of this, our culture is saturated with moral exhortations and examples, so that we cannot help but acquire some sense of what it means to be a righteous person. The prospect of becoming righteous ourselves, however, is treated rather carelessly. We are accustomed to shrug off such notions with words like, "Well, I'm not Mother Teresa". It has become almost unthinkable that the very purpose of our existence is, perhaps, to become very much like Mother Teresa.

Individuals whose consciences are sensitive, however, have no choice but to entertain such thoughts. Early on, they conceive a desire to be good, and find themselves attracted by stories of the most exalted heroes. They are not confused by the multitude of heroic types which our culture sets before them, but immediately begin to zero-in on the true teachers of mankind. Napoleon and Alexander, Newton and Franklin, Rembrandt and Shakespeare do not impress them half as much as Francis, Gandhi, and Siddhartha. Yet, even these talented youth, who exude the perfume of virtuous aspirations, can scarcely hope to escape being doused by the urine of our modern age.

Enticed by virtue, they will, nevertheless, be conditioned into the most deplorable habits of stagnation and self-indulgence. Rather than learning to be silent, -- for this is the foundation of patience and all the virtues -- they are inundated with desensitizing stimuli to such a degree that they may forever after be seeking intense sensory experiences; often leading to drug use or other destructive behaviors. Before they can talk, they may be plopped down just a few feet away from some big-screen television. While the simplest things would suffice to inspire their awakening wonderment, they are immediately confronted with a maelstrom of colors and sounds, often for hours on end. Then come the video games. Before they can ride a bike, they are committing virtual car-jackings. Rather than the vigorous exercises which ought to be prescribed, they are left to wander among amusements which are so demonstrative as to force them into a passive and receptive condition.

It ought to be noted here that training of the body is no less serious a matter than training of the mind. To equip the mind with an understanding and appreciation of virtue, while habituating the body to stagnation and self-indulgence, is to set a man upon a course which he has no possibility of seeing through to completion. Morality is conceived in the heart and mind, but it is practiced with the body. Is it any wonder, then, when physical exercise is neglected, that we see men going only half of the way?

It is as though they have hit a wall. They stand motionless on the path, and exhort others to righteous actions which they have not the capacity to perform themselves. For they were brought up to love virtue, trained to praise what is good, then, with insufferably sluggish bodies and thoroughly wayward wills, sent into the world and expected to bring their actions into accordance with their noblest ideals and impulses.

How could they be anything but hypocrites?

For their sake, it might have been better to pervert their judgement no less than their will, so that the two would, at least, accord with one another, and the man who is wicked would be known as well by his words as by his deeds. He would be at odds with the world, but relatively at peace with himself; as unconscious as he is incapable of goodness. Instead, we fire young souls with a passion for goodness, even heroism, while denying them the means to accomplish such lofty ends.

Not bodies only, but wills, as well, must be disciplined. Even where bodies are conditioned to vigorous activity, we see, all too often, these muscles developed only in the service of the personal will. Charity is praised, yet, the actual incentives which are used to promote an active lifestyle are almost always of a highly personal nature; one gets for oneself, and not for others. Ultimately, the man who is self-sufficient in pursuit of his selfish desires is no less spoiled than the one who depends on others, and he may yet be a far greater burden on society. Indeed, the latter waits on charity, and survives on what modest allowance is provided, while the former, who has the power to gather as he pleases, always takes much more than his share. And, yet, both men retain in their minds and hearts a knowledge and appreciation of virtue which will never permit them to be comfortable with such a life.

Finally, we say their training is at an end (when it has just begun), and deem them adults, responsible for their choices. We unleash this cruelly exaggerated lie of "free will"; which essentially contradicts every principle of education. After all, what would be the purpose of education if every man, however instructed, were equally capable of knowing and doing what is right?