Conceiving education: The creative task before us

Introduction: Defining philosophy of education

What does it mean to be a philosopher of education? Should philosophers of education devote themselves to philosophy, to education, or to both? The answers to these questions inform assessments of philosophy of education: some argue that the field has strayed too far from the parent discipline of philosophy, others that it has strayed too far from the policy and practice of education, or that it is an impossible task (Biesta, 2009; Bingham, 2012; Curren, 2010; Phillips, 2008; Siegel, 1981, 1983, 2009; Soltis 1983). Generally, philosophers of education labor under the imperative to be practically relevant. The reasons are largely historical. Philosophy of education emerged as a research specialization in the mid-twentieth century, a time when teacher education was expanding to meet the escalating demand for elementary and secondary teachers after World War II. Colleges of Education employed philosophers of education on the assumption that they could make a unique contribution to educational practice and policy.

Among philosophers of education, Harvey Siegel stands out for arguing that philosophers of education should do philosophy. He insists that they ‘must aim at understanding the philosophical dimensions of education – not at improving education, or convincing educators that philosophy might be of value to them’. They should seek theoretical understanding about questions concerning education in the spirit of such philosophers as Paul Hirst, R.S. Peters, and Israel Scheffler. Siegel’s (2009) ambition for the field is reflected in The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Education which, he hopes, will help restore philosophy of education ‘to its rightful place in the world of general philosophy’ by rekindling the interest of professional philosophers in the philosophical questions of education (p. 7). Siegel believes that the scholarly contributions of general philosophers will not only improve philosophy of education but position it as a branch of philosophy. Thus, the Handbook’s authors ‘are predominantly, but not exclusively, non-specialists in philosophy of education’ (White, 2013: 295).

Responding to the Handbook, John White offers a perspective on the field that begins with an articulation of one of Siegel’s underlying concerns, namely, that specialists in philosophy of education rank lower than even the lowest ranking philosophers – with philosophy of education, we hit what White describes as ‘subterranean depths’ (White, 2013: 296). Siegel thinks that philosophers of education should (a) be concerned by the field’s low intellectual status within the general philosophical community and (b) strive to become more upwardly mobile within the profession. The risk of such a strategy, according to White (2013), is that

in an endeavor to show that they are not second-class philosophical citizens, but pukka members of that community, some may turn too far inwards, trailing brief and unexciting ‘educational implications’ for their in-depth studies of Leibniz or the nature of pragmatism. (p. 297)

White is skeptical that philosophy of education could ever gain the status of a branch of professional philosophy, because the contrast between them is too great. Professional philosophy is specialized (often compartmentalized and technically sophisticated) and self-contained. Philosophy of education, on the other hand, is non-specialized – drawing widely from epistemology, moral, political, and social philosophy – and it is involved with educational issues of the day.

White argues that philosophers of education would do better to adopt the Deweyan perspective that Philip Kitcher outlines in Siegel’s Handbook. Kitcher credits Dewey with having bequeathed to philosophy of education ‘a conception of philosophy quite different from the one most prominent in contemporary Anglophone philosophy’ (Siegel, 2009: 300). Dewey conceives of philosophy as responding to society’s current problems. It aims to understand the good human life and holds that social institutions can promote opportunities for living well by considering how young people can best be prepared for their lives as individuals and citizens. White’s invocation of Dewey recalls earlier exchanges within the American philosophy of education community (Arcilla, 2002; Robertson, 1992; Siegel, 2002). Siegel has responded in the past with the argument that Dewey’s conception of philosophy is both at odds with the practice of professional philosophers and ‘deeply problematic’ (Siegel, 2002: 278). According to Siegel (2002), Dewey limits philosophy’s contribution to the resolution of society’s problems and fails to recognize that philosophy, like mathematics and physics, has ‘an integrity of its own’ (p. 278).

I do not intend to pronounce upon whether the correct conception of philosophy is Deweyan or non-Deweyan. Rather, I question the necessity and value of such debates as that between Siegel and White. The article divides into two parts. First, I will rehearse White’s objections to Siegel’s vision of philosophy of education, and his explanation for the appeal and necessity of a Deweyan alternative. White (2013) believes that philosophers of education are uniquely ‘at home in the world of education’, a world characterized by the here-and-now: educational policies; dramatic changes in parental upbringing; and the pedagogical potential of new technologies (p. 295). While I agree with White (2013) that some contemporary philosophers of education are usefully engaged in bringing philosophical thought to bear on contemporary educational issues, I disagree that their work defines our field. I suggest that philosophy of education has its own timeless philosophical questions related to education – it is ‘an area of philosophical interest in its own right’ (p. 295) – and that acknowledging this feature of our field need not prohibit alternative and applied approaches. In an effort to resist any and all totalizing approaches to our field, I conclude by recommending a Wittgensteinian-inspired approach to philosophy of education that is particularly valuable for teachers.

John White’s call to action

In the Handbook, Siegel defines philosophy of education as a branch of philosophy and cites reasons that the philosophical tradition has regarded education as a worthy subject of philosophical reflection. He regrets ‘that the pursuit of philosophy of education as an area of philosophical investigation has been largely abandoned by general philosophers in the last decades of the twentieth century, especially in the United States’ (Siegel, 2009: 5). This represents a shift in Siegel’s thinking. In 2002, Rene Arcilla (2002) articulated the same concern: ‘By and large, the philosophical community expresses no interest in thinking about education’ (p. 1). At the time, Siegel (2002) was prepared to grant for the sake of argument that Arcilla’s claim had been true some years ago, but he considered it mistaken because in his view general philosophers were addressing ‘educational matters with increasing frequency’, citing philosophers Richard Rorty, Hilary Putnam, Martha Nussbaum, Alasdair MacIntyre, Alvin Goldman, and Amélie Rorty (p. 276). In a similar move, White grants for the sake of argument that Siegel is correct about the contemporary situation in the United States, but claims that he is wrong about the United Kingdom where professional philosophers never abandoned education. White cites contemporary philosophers David Archard, John Haldane, Stephen Law, and Michael Luntley, who have all offered philosophical treatments of educational issues.

National differences aside, White considers it unrealistic of Siegel to expect philosophy departments to include at least one faculty member with a specialist interest in education. There are no historical precedents, he writes, ‘even in Siegel’s recent heyday of philosophical involvement in education from 1950 until 1980’ (White, 2013: 295), and philosophy of education is distinct from other branches of the discipline. It requires a specialist interest in education capable of addressing specific contemporary phenomena such as corporate influences in schools, new technologies, parenting practices, and educational policy. To address these problems, philosophers of education draw widely from research in epistemology, moral, political, and social philosophy. Their use of epistemology, ethics, and political philosophy is typically derivative rather than innovative. Insofar as philosophy departments need specialists at the forefront of these areas, the appointment of non-specialist philosophers of education becomes untenable.

White develops his argument by a comparison of philosophy of education to aesthetics. However, that it is reasonable to expect philosophers of education to be ‘wholly at home in the world of education’, just as it is reasonable to expect philosophers specializing in aesthetics ‘to be passionately interested in the world of the arts’ (White, 2013: 295). Unlike education, he argues, those engaged in the arts are ‘not mainly [interested] in contemporary phenomena, but in achievements across millennia’ (White, 2013: 295). Furthermore, aesthetics constitutes ‘an area of philosophical interest in its own right’ (White, 2013: 295). According to White, these differences preclude philosophy of education from being classified, like aesthetics, as a branch of philosophy. With respect to the first difference, White (2013) acknowledges that although education has ‘a millennia-long history’, philosophers of education are fascinated by events of the present ‘for the most part’ (p. 295). He concedes, however, that ‘philosophy as it is today may not be philosophy as it ought to be’ (White, 2013: 296).

The analogy with aesthetics is deeper than White admits. Although philosophers of education are expected to have an interest in the world of education, their interest need not be limited to the contemporary context. Many philosophers of education strive to understand ancient, medieval, renaissance, and modern practices of education. They have contributed to the scholarship on prominent historical philosophers of education such as Plato, Augustine, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (Cahn, 2009; Curren, 2006; Rorty, 1998). Since its inception, philosophy of education has included engagement with central and timeless questions: how individuals become good, the nature and purpose of childhood, how discipline does or does not contribute to freedom, and so on. These questions define education as an area of philosophical interest in its own right. Just as philosophers specializing in aesthetics are expected to have an interest in the arts and ‘are able to develop the partly sui generis area of philosophy devoted to these’, so too philosophers of education would be expected to have an interest in the world of education and be able to develop the partly sui generis area of philosophy devoted to it (White, 2013: 295).

Today it is more common for philosophers of education to mine the work of Jacques Derrida, Emanuel Levinas, and Giles Deleuze for the educational implications of contemporary philosophical discussion. According to Curren (2010), the drawback of such inquiry is that it often addresses education in only a cursory manner (p. 3). He seeks a balance between the theoretical understanding of education, privileged by Siegel, and involvement in the world of education, privileged by White, arguing that the purposes of philosophy of education ‘are to understand and guide education’ (Curren, 2006: 2). Thus, he concludes, philosophers of education consider questions that ‘are both theoretical and practical’ and their analysis ‘is sometimes descriptive, sometimes normative or action-guiding, and sometimes both’ (Curren, 2006: 2).

In White’s (2013) estimation, the contributions to Siegel’s Handbook from philosophers ‘do not breathe the passion for educational issues of the day’ evident in the contributions of philosophers of education, Harry Brighouse and Meira Levinson (p. 298). As the philosophers refer to education in only one or two paragraphs, their essays could be ‘published as standard philosophical pieces in their own right’, with the exception of essays by Curren, Martha Nussbaum, and Phillip Kitcher (White, 2013: 298). White (2013) praises Curren for tackling difficulties associated with developing a ‘specifically pragmatist philosophy of education in our own age’ (p. 298). He describes Nussbaum’s detailed account of educational practice as ‘a flash of color in a grayish landscape’ and Kitcher’s essay as the most ‘riveting’ and ‘troubling’ of the three (White, 2013: 299).

In ‘Education, Democracy and Capitalism’ Kitcher (2009) seeks to demonstrate ‘how deep and difficult’ is the problem of the socioeconomic feasibility of Dewey’s ambitious educational ideal (p. 301). Kitcher defines education as the provision of three types of learning: knowledge of particular propositions, habits and dispositions to judge and act, and skills to acquire further knowledge of the first two types. He turns to John Stuart Mill for four significant, but potentially incompatible, ends of education. These are individual self-determination, democratic citizenship, the expansion of public knowledge, and advancing human culture. He credits Dewey with having successfully harmonized Mill’s four ideals: ‘For Dewey, he writes, individual flourishing is bound up with democratic participation, with contributing to and learning from public knowledge, and with playing a role in the progress of human life emphasized by Mill’ (Kitcher, 2009: 306). Kitcher doubts the socioeconomic feasibility of Dewey’s otherwise compelling ideal and turns to Adam Smith to formulate his worry. Smith argues that a society’s economic well-being relies on division of labor. With increased division of labor comes increased specialization of workers, putting pressure on educational institutions to prepare the workforce by providing highly specialized training. The imperative to enhance economic productivity and competitiveness by emphasizing what is useful in the workplace threatens to undermine the feasibility of Deweyan education. Preparing individuals for meaningful lives, civic engagement, and participation in human culture is an expensive, and therefore temporary or exclusive, ‘luxury’ (Kitcher, 2009: 308, 312).

Kitcher offers both an ambitious and moderate defense of Deweyan education. The ambitious defense claims that Deweyan education creates a genuinely productive workforce while realizing its commitment to liberal and democratic ideals. The moderate defense acknowledges a loss of technical expertise but argues that the resulting habits of mind are economically more important. Kitcher sharpens the argument by introducing four categories of workers: ordinary (unskilled), specialized (obtainable by many but requires considerable effort), elite (obtainable by a few, requires considerable effort and is directed at existing technologies), and innovators (obtainable by a few, requires considerable effort and directed at innovation). He argues that the broader training required by elite workers and innovators need not be provided by a Deweyan education with its emphasis on preparing individuals for meaningful and robust lives (Kitcher, 2009: 212).

According to Kitcher, global capitalism exacerbates the problem. For even if you grant for the sake of argument that Deweyan education does not diminish socioeconomic efficiency, ‘a more economically efficient Smithian rival always exists’ – as eastward movement of global economic power demonstrates (Kitcher, 2009: 314). As Western countries lose their competitive economic edge, they will find it harder to sustain their commitment to a liberal, democratic education system; they will have no choice but ‘to go Smithian’ (Kitcher, 2009: 313). Kitcher sees this dynamic in global capitalism as a reason to work toward changing the economic conditions. But for this, he thinks, we must renew and revitalize Dewey’s conception of philosophy. Philosophers should be asking what people need in order to live valuable lives in the postindustrial context of the twenty-first century. They should examine the economic constraints governing the provision of liberal, democratic education and propose ways to modify them so that Deweyan education can flourish.

White endorses Kitcher’s concluding remarks adding that philosophers of education have a special obligation to respond to the new economic realities created by the eastward movement of economic power. They must seek to ‘head off the possible threat to the well-being of our own and other citizens’ by working closely with others to create ‘some kind of picture of possible ways forward’ (White, 2013: 301). This picture should not be confined to education; it should depict a global society. The role of philosophers of education is to explain how global society can promote a decent life for citizens, including the provision of an income, adequate space, and time for meaningful activities beyond work and the other conditions for civilized life. Philosophers of education are responsible for infusing education with a humane and imaginative social vision. To ‘reshape[ing] society in an equitable way’, philosophers of education must enlist the theoretical perspectives of philosophers and work collaboratively with economists, political scientists, and others (White, 2013: 302).

White’s vision for philosophy of education is a noble and demanding one. It usefully clarifies what philosophers of education should be doing in the context of the dramatic changes facing the contemporary world. I think there is a lot of truth to what White says – but I doubt that the vision is realistic. It is premised on the tenuous assumption that this social vision, once developed, will be practical and powerful enough to ensure the global provision of liberal, democratic education. A second consideration is that philosophers of education are not adequately equipped to provide a vision for how we are to advance a more equitable and democratic global society. After all, philosophers of education are not trained specialists in economic, social, and political theory. A further consideration that undermines the feasibility of White’s vision is that not all philosophers of education have an interest in the educational implications of our changing economic realities. I object to the mandate that philosophers of education must consider questions of pressing and practical import if they are to qualify as engaging in philosophy of education. Clearly, it is possible to conceive of philosophy of education on the model of biomedical ethics and jurisprudence, that is, as using philosophical thought to resolve urgent issue of educational policy and practice. However, it is also possible to conceive of philosophy of education as a branch of philosophy that aims at theoretical understanding.

To define philosophy of education as either aiming at theoretical understanding, following Siegel, or confronting ‘issues of wider social policy’, following White (2013), is limiting (p. 302). To be fair to both Siegel and White, they each attempt to deflect this impression. In an earlier response to Jonas Soltis, Siegel (1983) explains that his issue is not with philosophers of education pursuing questions concerning educational policy and practice but with the claim that philosophers of education must pursue these questions (p. 37). White does not dismiss Siegel’s point of view outright; he offers a Deweyan alternative that will, he thinks, lead ‘towards a very different self-evaluation’ (White, 2013: 297). Parenthetically, Kitcher is far more critical of professional philosophy than White or Siegel. He argues that professional philosophy has become ossified and ‘removed from the ambient culture’; its technically sophisticated concerns are ‘pursued without any sense of ultimate purpose’ (Kitcher, 2009: 315). Qualifications aside, the debate is formulated in terms of an irresolvable conflict between Deweyan and non-Deweyan conceptions of philosophy. This formulation risks a reduction in the wide range of approaches that typify our field. Curren’s (2006) more inclusive definition of the field as seeking ‘to understand and guide education’ is helpful here because it accounts for philosophers of education considering questions that are theoretical or practical or both (p. 2).

Ongoing professional self-definition is important, albeit difficult. Philosophers of education should want to undertake the challenging task of defining their field and accounting for what they do. In doing so, they should resist the totalizing impulse to narrow philosophy of education to one conception. While this may not improve the professional ranking of philosophy of education within the general philosophical community, it would enhance communication and understanding within the field. It would also align philosophy of education with fields like aesthetics that sustain a rich array of self-conceptions and methodological approaches. Unifying philosophy of education under one conception leads to the institution of categorical, as opposed to hypothetical, imperatives governing professional practice. It also needlessly restricts the joy of philosophy of education to one or other of its outcomes: theoretical understanding or practical import. It inadvertently marginalizes and trivializes approaches deemed illegitimate.

In the spirit of plurality, I offer a Wittgensteinian-inspired approach to philosophy of education. It has the advantage of being more inclusive than the positions of Siegel and White. Their positions call upon the expertise of the philosopher of education and relatedly define the discipline in terms of its use, whether theoretical or practical. Philosophers of education impart their knowledge to those who lack it, whether philosophers, educators, policy-makers, or educational researchers. The Wittgensteinian-inspired approach does not call for the theoretical expertise of professional philosophers nor does it assume that education must be directed and defended by an appropriate vision of society (Hogan and Smith, 2003: 165). A key task of the philosopher of education is to find effective ways of enabling themselves and others – whether policy-makers, school administrators, teachers, students, or parents – to see the multiple dimensions of education clearly.

Another advantage of the Wittgensteinian-inspired philosophy of education is that it begins at home (Lavery and Read, 2009). It calls upon individuals to ‘speak for themselves and do what they can do’ (Smeyers and Marshall, 1995: 348). Clearly, Kitcher and White describe genuine and urgent threats to the ongoing viability of liberal, democratic education. It is important for philosophers of education to address these threats, but it is also important for them to bear in mind that whatever the school – professional or progressive, private or public, large or small, religious or non-religious, rural, suburban or urban – these institutions are populated by individuals, organizing themselves around the ‘form of life’ that is teaching and learning. ‘Keeping school’, to borrow Thomas Hardy’s phrase, is a form of life replete with its own rituals, activities, interactions, and ways of speaking. These include taking attendance, hallway etiquette, class periods, turn-taking, personalizing, and emptying classroom and lockers each year. A Wittgensteinian-inspired philosophy of education attends more closely to the texture of this educational form of life; it relates our modes of responsiveness to educational concepts. This approach has particular relevance for teachers, as I shall demonstrate.

Adding to the mix: Wittgensteinian-inspired philosophy of education

Wittgenstein, like many other philosophers, conceived philosophy as beginning in wonder (Rhees, 1994: 578). There is no reason this should be any less true of philosophy of education. Wonder is more than puzzlement or curiosity; it is not simply the desire to know or to produce solutions (Malpas, 2006: 282). It is true that we can wonder at a phenomenon that we understand. Jeff Malpas cites the example of a rainbow: we know what it is and yet we find ourselves drawn to wonder at the one we happen to see in the sky. Wonder is an activity into which one is drawn. It is more than a psychological motivation or temporal starting point; it informs the very nature of philosophizing. To wonder at education is to take a step back and marvel at its possibility. We can do this even while feeling satisfied with our understanding of education (although this is rarely the case). Wonder allows us to consider as important certain questions: What does it mean to educate? Is there such a thing as teaching? Who or what is the learner beholden to? The aim of contemplating these questions is not to discover answers; it is not like trying to solve a problem in mathematics or social theory. The aim is to engage more deeply with the questions and what they reveal about human life. The philosopher of education is seeking clarity and understanding. This is difficult to do in a culture such as ours that conceives of education as something that institutions, and individuals, do and must do more efficiently. The specialized or secondary words that frame this picture of education include ‘learning outcomes’, ‘performance outcomes’, and ‘standardized tests’.

Deepening engagement with philosophical questions reminds us that education does not happen automatically, and yet we exercise profoundly limited control over it. Clearly, students attain knowledge, acquire skills, and develop dispositions, and yet we understand so little about how these things occur. We find it difficult to identify in what mastery of a skill consists, we cannot specify how dispositions come about, and it is impossible to isolate precisely when an idea has been grasped. Our powers of explanation run dry. Thus, our control over this process is largely creative. So much of education is inherited from past generations: the pedagogical institution, disciplines of study, curriculum, extracurricular activities, and assessment. This inheritance can overshadow the fact that education is a creative task. It is up to us as individuals to make something of education in the context of our institutions and how we think, speak, and behave.

Concepts give shape to our activities, interactions, and lives. They are not fixed because individuals are, to quote Cora Diamond, constantly ‘coming into life’ with terms, using them ‘in ways, perhaps no one else would, [and] expecting others will follow’ (Diamond, 1988: 268). Prompted by unique situations, individuals exercise their concepts in creative ways. They do not simply subsume the new situation under an old idea; instead, they exercise familiar ideas in unfamiliar ways. Such improvisatory uses result in a modified or revised conceptual understanding expressed in changes to the individual’s manner of speaking, behaving, and interacting. These modifications can be instantaneous or gradual, subtle or dramatic, haphazard or purposeful. We are all engaged in what Iris Murdoch (1970) describes as ‘the active “reassessing” and “redefining”’ of our concepts (p. 25).

Educational concepts are no different in that individuals ‘come into life’ with them within their families, libraries, after-school programs, religious communities, neighborhoods, and schools. Words and phrases get used and acquired within the context of practices and relationships. For the young child, to learn means to master an activity like walking or swimming; to exercise behavioral control like not shouting, hitting, or fighting; and to read words and count numbers. A child is praised as clever for reading aloud, commended for her talent in drawing, called stupid by her neighbors for refusing to play, and reprimanded by her teacher as ignorant for not using the correct form of address. What these words mean depends on their use within language-games. The variety of language-games leads to educational concepts having what Wittgenstein (2009) describes as ‘blurred edges’ (p. 38). Their extension is not bounded and they cannot be exhausted by definition; rather, they have a ‘family of meanings’ (Wittgenstein, 2009: 41). Thus, a maturing conceptual understanding occurs within a multifarious and complex interplay of communication, action, and thought.

Philosophy of education takes seriously the centrality and indeterminacy of educational concepts:

‘The concepts we have [writes Peter Winch] settle for us the form of the experience we have of the world . . . there is no way of getting outside the concepts in terms of which we think of the world . . . The world is for us what is presented through those concepts.’ (Winch, 2008: 14)

Philosophy of education is an occasion to illuminate, elaborate, and enrich engagement with these educational concepts and the forms of life that support them. Sometimes, philosophers of education will seek to recapture or establish alternative conceptual frames. For example, some Wittgensteinian philosophers are concerned about what they see as the loss of our educational concepts (Gaita, 2012). They lament the fact that students view themselves as customers instead of pupils, that teachers conceive of themselves as professionals rather than as having a vocation, and that schools and universities are seen as businesses and not places of study. They argue that it is impossible to make sense of education without concepts like love, authority, inwardness, and transformation. Wittgensteinian philosophers of education look backwards for the conceptual resources that can make us responsive to educational values no longer readily available. They reveal certain forms of life as exemplary: the mathematician who devotes his life to proving a theorem, the history professor who, while publishing little herself, inspires a new generation of historians, or the graduate student who seeks to be apprenticed in his or her chosen discipline.

If philosophy of education involves reflecting on the meaning of educational concepts in relationship to ways of thinking, speaking, and behaving, then it is also a highly individualized process. Experienced and prospective teachers should be invited to participate in their own conceptual analysis with the assistance of philosophers of education as models, guides, and conversational partners. By this means, educators will learn what they think and be able to revitalize and redirect their participation in schools. To achieve conceptual clarity, experienced and prospective teachers must be given occasions to speak for themselves. They must experiment with metaphors, analogies, and images to discern how they wish to frame or reframe what it is they are about. Taking up educating teachers in this manner places an ethical demand upon philosophers of education. They must refrain from the authoritarian imposition of ideas, having recognized that no single approach is better grounded than another. They must share what they think, honestly and clearly, inviting teachers to do the same. They must not seek to elicit agreement from teachers; instead, they must provide and preserve for the disclosure of concepts.

Conclusion: Living education philosophically

I have argued that a Wittgensteinian-inspired philosophy of education is inclusive, begins at home, and secures against the impoverishment of educational life. It performs these functions by discussing language philosophically. It is a promising approach because it draws out the meaning of our most ordinary educational interactions and practices. It shows individuals how to understand and appreciate what it is to be schooled. As the social analysis called for by White and Kitcher proceeds, the conversations initiated by (Wittgensteinian) philosophers of education will, in the meantime, nourish the practice and understanding of teachers.