Читать книгу The Moral Instruction of Children - Felix Adler, Felix Adler - Страница 3

It will be the aim of the present course of lectures to give in outline the subject-matter of moral instruction for children from six to fourteen or fifteen years of age, and to discuss the methods according to which this kind of instruction should be imparted. At the outset, however, we are confronted by what certainly is a grave difficulty, and to many may appear an insuperable one. The opinion is widely held that morality depends on religious sanctions, and that right conduct can not be taught – especially not to children – except it be under the authority of some sort of religious belief. To those who think in this way the very phrase, unsectarian moral teaching, is suspicious, as savoring of infidelity. And the attempt to mark off a neutral moral zone, outside the domains of the churches, is apt to be regarded as masking a covert design on religion itself.

The principle of unsectarian moral instruction, however, is neither irreligious nor anti-religious. In fact – as will appear later on – it rests on purely educational grounds, with which the religious bias of the educator has nothing whatever to do. But there are also grounds of expediency which, at least in the United States, compel us, whether we care to do so or not, to face this problem of unsectarian moral education, and to these let us first give our attention. Even if we were to admit, for argument's sake, the correctness of the proposition that moral truths can only be taught as corollaries of some form of religious belief, the question would at once present itself to the educator, To which form of religious belief shall he give the preference? I am speaking now of the public schools of the United States.

These schools are supported out of the general fund of taxation to which all citizens are compelled to contribute. Clearly it would be an act of gross injustice to force a citizen belonging to one denomination to pay for instilling the doctrines of some other into the minds of the young – in other words, to compel him to support and assist in spreading religious ideas in which he does not believe. This would be an outrage on the freedom of conscience. But the act of injustice would become simply monstrous if parents were to be compelled to help indoctrinate their own children with such religious opinions as are repugnant to them.

There is no state religion in the United States. In the eyes of the state all shades of belief and disbelief are on a par. There are in this country Catholics, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Jews, etc. They are alike citizens. They contribute alike toward the maintenance of the public schools. With what show of fairness, then, could the belief of any one of these sects be adopted by the state as a basis for the inculcation of moral truths? The case seems, on the face of it, a hopeless one. But the following devices have been suggested to remove, or rather to circumvent, the difficulty.

First Device.– Let representatives of the various theistic churches, including Catholics, Protestants, and Jews, meet in council. Let them eliminate all those points in respect to which they differ, and formulate a common creed containing only those articles on which they can agree. Such a creed would include, for instance, the belief in the existence of Deity, in the immortality of the soul, and in future reward and punishment. Upon this as a foundation let the edifice of moral instruction be erected. There are, however, two obvious objections to this plan. In the first place, this "Dreibund" of Catholicism, Protestantism, and Judaism would leave out of account the party of the agnostics, whose views may indeed be erroneous, or even detestable, but whose rights as citizens ought not the less on that account to be respected. "Neminem læde," hurt no one, is a cardinal rule of justice, and should be observed by the friends of religion in their dealings with their opponents as well as with one another. The agnostic party has grown to quite considerable dimensions in the United States. But, if it had not, if there were only a single person who held such opinions, and he a citizen, any attempt on the part of the majority to trample upon the rights of this one person would still be inexcusable. In the sphere of political action the majority rules, and must rule; in matters that touch the conscience the smallest minority possesses rights on which even an overwhelming majority arrayed on the opposite side can not afford to trespass. It is one of the most notable achievements of the American commonwealths that they have so distinctly separated between the domain of religion and of politics, adopting in the one case the maxim of coercion by majority rule, in the other allowing the full measure of individual liberty. From this standpoint there should be no departure.

But the second objection is even more cogent. It is proposed to eliminate the differences which separate the various sects, and to formulate their points of agreement into a common creed. But does it not occur to those who propose this plan that the very life of a religion is to be found precisely in those points in which it differs from its neighbors, and that an abstract scheme of belief, such as has been sketched, would, in truth, satisfy no one? Thus, out of respect for the sentiments of the Jews, it is proposed to omit the doctrines of the divinity of Christ and of the atonement. But would any earnest Christian give his assent, even provisionally, to a creed from which those quintessential doctrines of Christianity have been left out? When the Christian maintains that morality must be based on religion, does he not mean, above all, on the belief in Christ? Is it not indispensable, from his point of view, that the figure of the Saviour shall stand in the foreground of moral inculcation and exhortation? Again, when the Catholic affirms that the moral teaching of the young must be based on religion, is it to be supposed for an instant that he would accept as satisfying his conception of religion a skeleton creed like that above mentioned, denuded of all those peculiar dogmas which make religion in his eyes beautiful and dear? This first device, therefore, is to be rejected. It is unjust to the agnostics, and it will never content the really religious persons of any denomination. It could prove acceptable only to theists pure and simple, whose creed is practically limited to the three articles mentioned; namely, the belief in Deity, immortality, and future punishment and reward. But this class constitutes a small fraction of the community; and it would be absurd, under the specious plea of reconciling the various creeds, in effect to impose the rationalistic opinions of a few on the whole community.

The second device seems to promise better results. It provides that religious and moral instruction combined shall be given in the public schools under the auspices of the several denominations. According to this plan, the pupils are to be divided, for purposes of moral instruction, into separate classes, according to their sectarian affiliations, and are to be taught separately by their own clergymen or by teachers acting under instructions from the latter. The high authority of Germany is invoked in support of this plan. If I am correctly informed, the president of one of our leading universities has recently spoken in favor of it, and it is likely that an attempt will be made to introduce it in the United States. Already in some of our reformatory schools and other public institutions separate religious services are held by the ministers of the various sects, and we may expect that an analogous arrangement will be proposed with respect to moral teaching in the common schools. It is necessary, therefore, to pay some attention to the German system, and to explain the reasons which have induced or compelled the Germans to adopt the compromise just described. The chief points to be noted are these: In Germany, church and state are united. The King of Prussia, for instance, is the head of the Evangelical Church. This constitutes a vital difference between America and Germany. Secondly, in Germany the schools existed before the state took charge of them. The school system was founded by the Church, and the problem which confronted the Government was how to convert church schools into state schools. An attempt was made to do this by limiting the influence of the clergy, which formerly had been all-powerful and all-pervasive, to certain branches and certain hours of instruction, thereby securing the supremacy of the state in respect to all other branches and at all other hours. In America, on the other hand, the state founded the schools ab initio. In Germany the state has actually encroached upon the Church, has entered church schools and reconstructed them in its own interest. To adopt the German system in America would be to permit the Church to encroach upon the state, to enter state schools and subordinate them to sectarian purposes. The example of Germany can not, therefore, be quoted as a precedent in point. The system of compromise in Germany marks an advance in the direction of increasing state influence. Its adoption in this country would mark a retrograde movement in the direction of increasing church influence.

Nor can the system, when considered on its own merits, be called a happy one. Prof. Gneist, in his valuable treatise, Die Konfessionelle Schule (which may be read by those who desire to inform themselves on the historical evolution of the Prussian system), maintains that scientific instruction must be unsectarian, while religious instruction must be sectarian. I agree to both his propositions. But to my mind it follows that, if religious instruction must be sectarian, it ought not to have a place in state schools, at least not in a country in which the separation of church and state is complete. Moreover, the limitation of religious teaching to a few hours a week can never satisfy the earnest sectarian. If he wants religion in the schools at all, then he will also want that specific kind of religious influence which he favors to permeate the whole school. He will insist that history shall be taught from his point of view, that the readers shall breathe the spirit of his faith, that the science teaching shall be made to harmonize with its doctrines, etc. What a paltry concession, indeed, to open the door to the clergyman twice or three times a week, and to permit him to teach the catechism to the pupils, while the rest of the teaching is withdrawn from his control, and is perhaps informed by a spirit alien to his! This kind of compromise can never heartily be indorsed; it may be accepted under pressure, but submission to it will always be under protest.1

The third arrangement that has been suggested is that each sect shall build its own schools, and draw upon the fund supplied by taxation proportionately to the number of children educated. But to this there are again two great objections: First, it is the duty of the state to see to it that a high educational standard shall be maintained in the schools, and that the money spent on them shall bear fruit in raising the general intelligence of the community. But the experience of the past proves conclusively that in sectarian schools, especially where there are no rival unsectarian institutions to force them into competition, the preponderance of zeal and interest is so markedly on the side of religious teaching that the secular branches unavoidably suffer.2 If it is said that the state may prescribe rules and set up standards of its own, to which the sectarian schools shall be held to conform, we ask, Who is to secure such conformance? The various sects, once having gained possession of the public funds, would resent the interference of the State. The Inspectors who might be appointed would never be allowed to exercise any real control, and the rules which the State might prescribe would remain dead letter.

In the second place, under such an arrangement, the highest purpose for which the public schools exist would be defeated. Sectarian schools tend to separate the members of the various denominations from one another, and to hinder the growth of that spirit of national unity which it is, on the other hand, the prime duty of the public school to create and foster. The support of a system of public education out of the proceeds of taxation is justifiable in the last analysis as a measure dictated to the State by the law of self-preservation. The State maintains public schools in order to preserve itself – i. e., its unity. And this is especially true in a republic. In a monarchy the strong arm of the reigning dynasty, supported by a ruling class, may perhaps suppress discord, and hold the antagonistic elements among the people in subjection by sheer force. In a republic only the spirit of unity among the people themselves can keep them a people. And this spirit is fostered in public schools, where children of all classes and sects are brought into daily, friendly contact, and where together they are indoctrinated into the history, tradition, and aspirations of the nation to which they belong.

What then? We have seen that we can not encourage, that we can not permit, the establishment of sectarian schools at the public expense. We have also seen that we can not teach religion in the public schools. Must we, therefore, abandon altogether the hope of teaching the elements of morals? Is not moral education conceded to be one of the most important, if not the most important, of all branches of education? Must we forego the splendid opportunities afforded by the daily schools for this purpose? Is there not a way of imparting moral instruction without giving just offense to any religious belief or any religious believer, or doing violence to the rights of any sect or of any party whatsoever? The correct answer to this question would be the solution of the problem of unsectarian moral education. I can merely state my answer to-day, in the hope that the entire course before us may substantiate it. The answer, as I conceive it, is this: It is the business of the moral instructor in the school to deliver to his pupils the subject-matter of morality, but not to deal with the sanctions of it; to give his pupils a clearer understanding of what is right and what is wrong, but not to enter into the question why the right should be done and the wrong avoided. For example, let us suppose that the teacher is treating of veracity. He says to the pupil, Thou shalt not lie. He takes it for granted that the pupil feels the force of this commandment, and acknowledges that he ought to yield obedience to it. For my part, I should suspect of quibbling and dishonest intention any boy or girl who would ask me, Why ought I not to lie? I should hold up before such a child the Ought in all its awful majesty. The right to reason about these matters can not be conceded until after the mind has attained a certain maturity. And as a matter of fact every good child agrees with the teacher unhesitatingly when he says, It is wrong to lie. There is an answering echo in its heart which confirms the teacher's words. But what, then, is it my business as a moral teacher to do? In the first place, to deepen the impression of the wrongfulness of lying, and the sacredness of truth, by the spirit in which I approach the subject. My first business is to convey the spirit of moral reverence to my pupils. In the next place, I ought to quicken the pupil's perceptions of what is right and wrong, in the case supposed, of what is truth and what is falsehood. Accordingly, I should analyze the different species of lies, with a view of putting the pupils on their guard against the spirit of falsehood, however it may disguise itself. I should try to make my pupils see that, whenever they intentionally convey a false impression, they are guilty of falsehood. I should try to make their minds intelligent and their consciences sensitive in the matter of truth-telling, so that they may avoid those numerous ambiguities of which children are so fond, and which are practiced even by adults. I should endeavor to tonic their moral nature with respect to truthfulness. In the next place, I should point out to them the most frequent motives which lead to lying, so that, by being warned against the causes, they may the more readily escape the evil consequences. For example, cowardice is one cause of lying. By making the pupil ashamed of cowardice, we can often cure him of the tendency to falsehood. A redundant imagination is another cause of lying, envy is another cause, selfishness in all its forms is a principal cause, etc. I should say to the moral teacher: Direct the pupil's attention to the various dangerous tendencies in his nature, which tempt him into the ways of falsehood. Furthermore, explain to your pupils the consequences of falsehood: the loss of the confidence of our fellow-men, which is the immediate and palpable result of being detected in a lie; the injuries inflicted on others; the loosening of the bonds of mutual trust in society at large; the loss of self-respect on the part of the liar; the fatal necessity of multiplying lies, of inventing new falsehoods to make good the first, etc. A vast amount of good, I am persuaded, can be done in this way by stimulating the moral nature, by enabling the scholar to detect the finer shades of right and wrong, helping him to trace temptation to its source, and erecting in his mind barriers against evil-doing, founded on a realizing sense of its consequences.

In a similar if not exactly the same way, all the other principal topics of practical morality can be handled. The conscience can be enlightened, strengthened, guided, and all this can be done without once raising the question why it is wrong to do what is forbidden. That it is wrong should rather, as I have said, be assumed. The ultimate grounds of moral obligation need never be discussed in school. It is the business of religion and philosophy to propose theories, or to formulate articles of belief with respect to the ultimate sources and sanctions of duty. Religion says we ought to do right because it is the will of God, or for the love of Christ. Philosophy says we should do right for utilitarian or transcendental reasons, or in obedience to the law of evolution, etc. The moral teacher, fortunately, is not called upon to choose between these various metaphysical and theological asseverations. As an individual he may subscribe to any one of them, but as a teacher he is bound to remain within the safe limits of his own province. He is not to explain why we should do the right, but to make the young people who are intrusted to his charge see more clearly what is right, and to instill into them his own love of and respect for the right. There is a body of moral truth upon which all good men, of whatever sect or opinion, are agreed: it is the business of the public schools to deliver to their pupils this common fund of moral truth. But I must hasten to add, to deliver it not in the style of the preacher, but according to the methods of the pedagogue – i. e., in a systematic way, the moral lessons being graded to suit the varying ages and capacities of the pupils, and the illustrative material being sorted and arranged in like manner. Conceive the modern educational methods to have been applied to that stock of moral truths which all good men accept, and you will have the material for the moral lessons which are needed in a public school.