The unfinished work of PH education
MANY OF our young academicians are astonishingly abstract, whereas most of our social problems are undeniably concrete. To begin, the emphasis on intellectual competition rather than on cooperative learning in the higher education system in the country projects the sense of superiority of the Renaissance man. This monolithic perspective dictates how the human self must view the world. The emphasis is on self-achievement. The self is seen as the center of the universe who seeks to discover his or her sense of being in the world of free-floating ideas.
Paolo Freire has forewarned us that “the interests of the oppressors lie in changing the consciousness of the oppressed, not the situation which oppresses them.” Our education system is supposed to perpetuate human freedom, but sometimes it does things differently instead. The merit system, for instance, puts persons with disabilities in an unfavorable situation. It is demeaning because it sets only one standard— intellectual skill—for self-achievement. But in truth, this norm or standard is pure egotism. Dismantling this type of mentality is the unfinished work of Philippine education.
Richard Rorty complains that philosophy sometimes attacks social problems with “clumsy dialectical instruments.” He is critical, for instance, of the theory of representation, the same paradigm that many of our schools use as an instrument for learning. In this view, the learning process is delivered on the basis of our mirror image of the world. Knowledge is nothing but a recreation of what is inside our head. There is no originality. Many of our engineering schools seldom innovate; they simply tell students to copy the work of others. The objectivity of the truth depends solely on a subject who pictures reality in his or her mind. Given this, the meaning of the world is limited to the mirror’s point of view. That mirror has never been broken. Consequently, it does not and will never know how to accommodate difference.
The dominance of an elitist system silences the voices in the peripheries. The implications are many: exploitation, marginalization, exclusion and violence. For example, the emphasis on technical education means that young people learn and yet will be reduced to machine-like entities once they are employed by industries. The type of knowledge our workers possess has one specific attribute: instrumentality. In fact, a person’s toil is often monetized, measured merely on the basis of economic productivity. The person is no more than a mere function. This is the reprehensible strategy of an oligarchic system that uses education as a tool of oppression.
There is a culture of fear that envelops the minds of many inside our schools. Instead of being inspired by the works of Goethe and Shakespeare, our students are more concerned about memorizing in order not to fail their tests. But this epidemic is not exclusive to students. There is also a great divide between the faculty and the administration. Some administrators are usually good managers, but often lack the leadership skills to actually motivate people. Like small tyrants, they hide under protocols and policies but are unwilling to test the muddy waters of democratic discourse.
The postmodern school of thought has emphasized the claim that culture is a dynamic reality. This dynamism also means that knowledge has a situated context. In this view, the claim that truth is universal is just an admission that we are all under the domination of a prevailing mentality that controls the whole world. In the absence of authentic dialogue and tolerance, the cry of the powerless is put aside.
If education is to be truly liberating, then schools must provide that space for the clash of ideas. In the end, the true task of learning must be contextual and intersubjective. Students need to explore, engage, question and experience the truth of their lives, both on a personal and communal level. A school that is truly inclusive is not addicted to intellectual merit. It values solidarity more than personal ambition. It is not about competing claims on individual greatness, but the authentic concern for the poor, the widow, or the street child.
If the society in which we are born will allow those who are at the top of the economic and political hierarchy to continue acting like overlords, how can one live, if at all? The quite simplistic strategy of the slave, given the unavoidable misery in the world, as pointed out by G.W.F. Hegel, will not work in a truly democratic society. Epictetus once said: “Do not seek events to happen as you want them to, but instead want them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go well.” Now, if a person proclaims the said principle as his or her personal conviction, then one will never improve or find the meaning of life. It is the kind of life that no one actually wants, for a person cannot be indifferent to his or her suffering.
Christopher Ryan Maboloc is assistant professor of philosophy at Ateneo de Davao University. He holds a master’s degree in applied Ethics from Linkoping University in Sweden.
