[Bups-dis] Re: Philosophy for Children

[Paul Hubbard]

I'm not feeling too great today, so I'll just post something off the top 
of my head, for now, and see where others take it from there.  Perhaps 
one of the questions people might ask in relation to this topic is 
whether children, especially younger ones, are actually capable of doing 
philosophy?  I would imagine this is a question that is particularly 
pressing for professional philosophers; that is, those who are currently 
involved with post-graduate study, teaching or research.  For 
'philosophy' is not just about asking random questions out of curiosity, 
or even, as in this case, 'childish curiosity'.  Surely to DO philosophy 
means to ask questions -- and seek out answers -- that probe beneath the 
surface of a cliche like: 'Why is the sky blue?'

I use this cliche for a reason, and I beg everyone's forgiveness for a 
moment whilst I dredge up some material from my older posts to make my 
point clear.  Now surely before we can ask whether children can do 
philosophy or not, we need first some kind of working definition.  In my 
first post to this board, entitled 'What is Philosophy?', I tried to 
argue that philosophy was concerned, primarily, with foundations.  Thus: 
'Why is the sky blue?' would not be generally thought of as a truly 
philosophical question.  Whilst asking:  'Is blue a colour that exists 
in my head or in the world?' (ie asking about the reality of certain 
aspects of perception) is of a different order.  True, the motivation to 
ask the second question may be born of the same aimless curiosity that 
was behind the first; but the second question, as an ontological one, 
provides foundations upon which further questions of a philosophical 
nature can be formulated.

Such a simple example, I think, illustrates the point as best it can.  
For to ask whether children can actually do philosophy must surely be 
answered in the affirmative.  (Though, of course, that is not to say 
children will be aware that by asking such questions they are actually 
engaged in a philosophical activity.)  Philosophy is not the sole 
property of the ivory tower academic, or departmental 'specialist'.  
Philosophy begins with the mundane questions of everyday life.  Thus, to 
re-tread old ground once more, to dismiss a question like 'Is President 
Bush a good leader?' as un-philosophical, might be a bit too hasty.  
True, I do not believe that this question is especially philosophical; 
but a question like: 'What makes a good leader?' is not solely of 
interest to the political historian, but surely to moral philosophers 
also.  Therefore, the first question, whilst being philosophically 
inadequate by itself, sets the stage for the second.

Now another concern that might be raised in relation to the teaching of 
philosophy to children is what the 'end goal' of such an endeavour is 
supposed to be.  That is, why bother to teach children philosophy at 
all, assuming that we even accept it is possible to do so?  In her post, 
Amanda suggests that there may be positive social benefits to be gained 
from philosophy, and that students who have been taught philosophy from 
an earlier age might have more confidence, and greater analytic skills, 
by the time they reach university.  Speaking as someone who has sat 
through seminars in psychology, philosophy and sociology, at 
undergraduate level, I often found the one thing that separated the 
philosophers from the rest was their ability to question 'received 
wisdom'.  I am generalising, of course, but (cheap shots about 'Freshman 
Relativists' aside) in my experience philosophy students seem to have a 
greater willingness to be independent in terms of their attitudes 
towards their studies, and academic responsibilities in general.  Now 
that's not to say that their aren't philosophy students who don't expect 
to be spoon-fed, rarely attend classes, and hand in substandard or 
plagiarised assignments.  But usually this type of student has been 
'weeded out' by the first semester of the second year.

Perhaps what separates the attitudes of the philosophy students from 
those of other disciplines is unrelated to their educational 'training' 
as philosophers?  Perhaps there is some genetic or psychological factor 
at work?  But, for the sake of argument, let us suppose that philosophy 
does bestow on those who study it an improved sense of self-confidence, 
intellectual independence or the ability to 'think critically', etc.  
The question still remains as to what the point of studying philosophy 
actually is.  For, surely, how we go about answering this question will, 
in turn, influence the methods that we believe are suitable for teaching 
philosophy in the classroom?  It seems to me that the idea of a Liberal 
education -- and the 'well-rounded' and 'cultured' individuals that are 
supposedly the products of it -- has always existed as an ideal rather 
than in reality.  (Or perhaps I am generalising the memory of my own, 
rather uninspiring, comprehensive education a bit too far?)  In any 
case, the dilemma is clear: are we to teach children philosophy because 
it is good 'in itself', or because it takes the weight of responsibility 
to bring up civilised offspring from the shoulders of the social 
services, education authorities, parents, teachers, etc?

Now this is not pure cynicism talking.  I do, in fact, believe that 
philosophy can bring many benefits to one who studies it, as I have 
discovered for myself.  But what concerns me is that if a case for 
studying philosophy cannot be made on its own merits, then whatever is 
taught inside the classroom will, as a consequence, be tailored purely 
to the needs of society, and to the market more generally.  It would 
take us too far off topic to go into a discussion, here, about the 
merits and de-merits of the 'knowledge economy', or whether education 
can really be 'for its own sake'.  However, the pressing question is 
whether, in attempting to fit philosophy into a custom-built 'mould', 
intended to serve purposes other than the pursuit of philosophical 
wisdom (perhaps a bit too much of a broad-stroke term?), we actually 
cease to teach philosophy?  If philosophy is, as I have repeatedly 
suggested, concerned with foundations, with our knowledge and experience 
of the world, then how can a method of philosophical inquiry that has 
had its 'wings clipped' function properly?  In other words, if 
philosophy is supposed to aid our ability to think critically, or foster 
a sense of independence from received opinions, then how can this 
actually be achieved if its method and content are restricted in terms 
of the assumptions from which it must begin?  For example (and I'm 
thinking, here, more of secondary school pupils) could notions like 
pluralism; relativism, in morals as well as epistemology; or equality 
between sexes, races, religious beliefs, etc, be questioned?  I use 
these controversial examples because when I want to deepen my 
understanding of any idea, accepted belief, or opinion, I often try and 
develop as many criticisms as I can against it in order to expose its 
weaknesses, and, often enough, its strengths also.  Today it seems that 
there are a large number of sacred cows that education cannot touch; 
true philosophy must not be so constrained if it is to survive.

To end on a positive note, what would I like to see philosophy in the 
classroom (nursery, primary or secondary) achieve?  To break down, at 
this pre-undergraduate level of education, the barriers between the 
departments.  That is, I would hope that if philosophy could achieve 
just one thing it would be to enable children to see how the knowledge 
that they learn in one lesson can be related to that which they learn in 
others, or even that which they may pick up outside school.  I remember 
sitting in my classroom at primary school doing maths, and then being 
told to put my books away because the English lesson had begun.  Now how 
is a child supposed to connect his mathematical knowledge with his 
knowledge of the English language, or indeed any other subject?  I think 
part of the problem undergraduates face at university is their inability 
to exchange ideas with students in other departments.  Their whole 
experience of education has taught them to compartmentalise their 
knowledge into mutually exclusive categories.  At Bolton, our courses 
were structured so that students from maths, computer science and 
philosophy were taught together for logic lessons; and when we attended 
seminars on political economy we were joined by students from social and 
community studies.  All too often, in my experience, students from 
different departments never get the chance to talk to one another, or 
when they do they cannot understand one another (due, in most instances, 
to the prevalence of various 'specialist languages' that distinguish one 
department from another, and exclude outsiders).

Such a state of affairs inhibits the ability to think creatively, as the 
mental resources at students' disposal are artificially limited by the 
format and structure of the education they receive.  Philosophy has 
allowed me to link together ideas from politics, aesthetics, psychology, 
sociology, economics, legal theory, literature, religion (the list goes 
on and on).  The result is that  I can draw on a wide range of potential 
sources of inspiration when I'm trying to solve a specific problem, or 
even when I'm just posing a 'what if?'.  Perhaps THE major benefit of 
'exposing' children to philosophy at an early age (and one which, to my 
knowledge, has not be stressed thus far) will be to give them the 
ability, and inclination, to connect what appear to be unrelated ideas 
in a much more imaginative way.  For what the world needs today are 
those people who can bring to a problem not only expertise, in the 
technical sense, but also creativity and a heightened sense of 
'perspective'.