28.10.2009.
The question here is whether there is value in faith schools. Anglican and Catholic schools in Britain were among the first to be developed, before the state school system, and it is only recently that Muslim and Jewish schools have developed, with other religions taking an interest. Current policies have promoted these as responsive to parent needs. From the beginning, the object was the religious conversion and nurture of pupils. The parallel purpose was to make children good (that is, to enhance religious observance and moral behaviour).
I have come across two books of interest. Reflecting on Faith Schools edited by Helen Johnson of Kingston University; and For Goodness Sake: Religious Schools and Education for Democratic Citizenry by Walter Feinberg, both from 2006. Johnson balanced the views of the headteacher of Islamia School against the philosophical tirade of Roger Marples against indoctrination and for children's rights to be critically and openly educated. Other chapters (originally short conference papers) explore circumstances in war (Bogata), a comparison of a Catholic and a Jewish school, Methodism and Southlands College, Australian Catholicism, and historical-political aspects. Among the issues are, should education include religious teachings and make moral (behavioural) demands? how should education work on the attitudes of pupils? Are there benefits from a traditional framework for learning? The editor's own interest in reflection comes in two separate 'commentaries', but does not really penetrate into the book as a whole. Most chapters are descriptive rather than reflective.
The reality is that compulsion is not a lasting mechanism for developing religious convictions. Religious education may be supported by parents, but pupils are) not always persuaded. The fact that Christianity is based on miracle (the virgin birth and resurrection) adds to resistance. The dilemma for the curriculum was: how should the balance be achieved between religious instruction and critical thinking? The 1944 Education Act wrestled with it, insisting on a compulsory place for religious education, which it has had ever since - but as a part of a melange of literacy, numeracy, science, humanities and the arts. The concept of the broad curriculum is still with us.
Today, curriculum balance is an issue only for private schools. A fundamentalist Christian school, or a Muslim school could, if it chose, emphasise religious teachings at the expense of critical skills and knowledge. The events of 7/11 led to many fundamentalist Muslim schools being suspected as harbouring terrorists, which systemically they were not, even if a few individuals were radicalised. Such decisions about curriculum emphasis are not inevitable; Muslim schools have made curriculum decisions which are western and secular, whilst maintaining a key but minority place for religious (Islamic) education. Some have encouraged multifaith understanding by broader curriculum encouraging visits by members of other faiths.
Education needs to prepare pupils for life in a global world. Our question however is whether this is best served by a faith school based on the beliefs of one religion, or whether open inclusive schools without religious privilege are better fitted.
Feinberg sets himself this task. He studies a range of religious schools in America and draws out in particular the issues of education for a plural society, liberalism, moral development and critical thinking. Whilst not hostile to religious schools per se, he indicates that to be educationally acceptable, these features need to be in evidence so that exclusivist bigotry does not take over. Feinberg gives examples of critical engagement within the religious community encouraging a thinking engagement with the religious tradition. He stresses the potential flexibility of interpretation and the importance of challenging authoritarianism. However, the fact that there is this latitude in belief does not irradicate the religious exclusivity of the institution.
I am not generally in favour of faith schools, but am the first to admit that secular schools can miss out on important aspects of learning if they are hostile to religious faith. Propositional scientific knowledge is important, but questions of what kind of people we are and the quality of good relationships are also vital preparations for life, and faith schools tend to be good at these. My problem with faith schools is the assertion that belief is truth, but this is not inevitable. A faith school could develop a positive criticality which examines the religion's truth claims rationally. A faith school need not have unquestioning fundamentalist assumptions and beliefs. This criticality would go a long way to help pupils disentangle the inner 'truth' from the fiction within religious belief. Pluralism should encourage and enable pupils to find common ground between faiths, through which dialogue becomes possible. I would argue that this should better develop a pupil's mature spirituality.
One last thought. 'Faith' schools is strange terminology. A catholic school, or a Muslim school, gives central place to its religious beliefs. My own personal faith, in the potential goodness of humanity and the possibility (but not inevitability) of global moral progress, is secular and not religious. There is an unexplained assumption that only religious people have faith. This is not so. Religious people have doctrine, so if the term 'religious' school has fallen out of favour, the accurate replacement would be 'doctrinal school'. This of course properly exposes the exclusivity (or lack of inclusivity) of the enterprise.
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I read this article as a man of Christian faith, as a teacher who has worked in a C of E school and as Head of Religious Education for over a decade in secular schools.
The primary issue of significance appears to me to be the phrase ‘make children ‘good’ as part of the dual aims of faith schools. ‘Good’ is qualified through reference to religious observance and moral behaviour. This desired outcome echoes Steer’s (2005) range of recommendations which esteems compliance as a required state for subordinates. Those displaying ‘immoral’ overtones are met with a range of responses which find room to incorporate ‘symbolic’ punishments through a sanction system alongside shallow attempts to influence through monitoring mechanisms, the prospect of rewards and occasional psychoanalysis.
Have religious teachings any contribution to make to this aspect of education? Beyond a theological diagnosis of the condition of the ‘self’ the obvious contribution from the great traditions of the world to offer a profound moral compass emerges through the variations of the ‘Golden Rule’ – to treat others as you would like to be treated yourself’. I consider the accompanying structure of a faith school provides an appropriate context for the guidance to take root thus offering a framework from which to build the fabric of community.
The post asks ‘how should education work on the attitudes of children?’
Of course secular schools are not devoid of similar principles to those enshrined in the Golden Rule in which to establish a positive school ethos. My own school has recently made explicit use of the term 'respect' as the incoming Deputy seeks to unite the multitudes by embracing the underlying concept associating it as a supportive structure to formalised rules and practices. Unfortunately, as a colleague commentated, the term 'respect' has been 'bastardised' by those steering street culture. The possibility of a fundamental crack, due to a discrepancy in the understanding and interpretation of the term, developing into a chasm to undermine the valid, if clichéd initiative, is a real one in a school lacking the pillar of faith.
I am interested to note the view ‘religious education may be supported by parents…! (but) pupils are not persuaded…’. In my experience parents of a certain social standing certainly esteem religious schools as they represent a tangible example of standards which incorporate moral fibre. However, in my secular schools Religious Education as a subject is dismissed and marginalised in an age where core subjects are championed by those seeking to quantify ‘success’ in the education system. This, I feel is further reinforced through lip-service coverage of ‘religion’ in primary schools which often focus on the explicit coverage such as buildings alongside tales of faith that represent something akin to fairy stories to impressionable minds.
And so to the realm of critical thinking. Its absence would, I suggest foster further prejudice and discrimination to fuel those minds ignorant of the motives of the 7/11 members. Religious ‘education’ provides a valid platform to explore the ensuing struggles of fellow adherents of the faith associated and stained with skewed interpretations of ‘the truth’.
There is no doubt in my own mind RE and critical thinking is not only compatible but are essential companions. My own approach, derived from Westhill College, Birmingham, embraces shared human experience and the emerging ultimate questions of life and existence in which to evoke a valid passport into world of religion, there to have one’s beliefs / assumptions challenged or confirmed.
There is no room for bigotry and blind faith in my understanding of RE in a secular school or indeed in a school of faith other than to provide an objective study of the dangers of such a stance. And yet I find myself acutely aware of the pervading influence of Richard Dawkins who uses the vehicle of science to display the fundamentalist attitudes of religion he finds so abhorrent. If ever an example of bigotry and blind faith were required to examine prejudice disguised as all encompassing ‘truth’ (as a counter-balance to religious fundamentalism), Mr Dawkins would take the biscuit! (see ‘The Dawkins delusion: McGrath 2007).
The popular champion of atheism has pieced the commercial world to offer the only viable alternative to the superstitious offerings of religion. In my own experience I am aware of the prejudice of science teachers who influence students by trivialising and mocking the perceived opponent of their tangible 'truth'. A clear and candid examination of the concept 'truth' should in my opinion provide the foundation for formal community dialogue.
I have no doubt religious institutions inherently embrace and utilise the same power to manipulate and steer the masses as other establishments such as education. Whilst the enlightenment promises the emancipation of humankind through absorbing the discoveries of scientific knowledge I find myself equating faith schools which espouse doctrine as subversive opportunists. The utilisation of the diminishing rights of children enforced by law to compel young people to attend schooling has left faith schools with a captive audience with which to indoctrinate. And yet many parents willingly subscribe to this absorption in the name of academic standards. It has overtones of wilful slavery, of being blind to the light. In my experience faith is the most liberating of forces but does not resemble one iota the concept of a faith school working to narrow the mind of a child. I find it offensive for any school to misuse the term ‘Act of ‘worship’ as they play legislative lip-service to some make believe figment of people’s imagination.
Likewise, I find the attack of Dawkins distasteful and misguided. Indeed there is an assertion by some faith schools that belief is truth. Yet one of the first explorations I encounter with my incoming Year 7s is ‘What is truth?’ The scientific 'evidence' base (CCTV, fingerprints etc.) is extracted through a mock court case (Mr Pinchitt pinched Mr Big’s big car) before the term is unwrapped further by introducing the concept of interpretation (via optical illusions) and truth found in experience (through the elephant and blindmen story). It is through this comprehension that non religious students can engage in the material without feeling the need to dismiss their peers and teachers of faith or rejecting the benefits of faith because of an initial obstructive triviality. Furthermore, school members of faith can stand strong in their convictions that go beyond the limitations of 'proof' espoused by mockers who seek to minimise claims derived from faith. Mr Dawkins would learn much from the open dialogue found amongst my eleven year olds!
Whilst the students are encouraged and enabled to examine faith claims rationally there is space for awe and wonder to contribute in the exploration of the mysteries of life. After all, if all aspects were provable there would be little scope or need for faith / trust / hope which sustains many with their purpose in life.
Pluralism encourages common ground between faiths says the author. Beyond the arguments and attitudes that encompass the flagship 'creation or evolution / religion or science' distractions, I consider one of the, if not THE primary aim of all educational establishments is to nurture young citizens of 'character'. Both faith schools and their secular counterparts have ample opportunities and varied resources to contribute to the fulfilling of this aim. I consider the fertile common ground which emphasises the concepts of shared purpose and relationship bodes well with the faith of common goodness.
I believe the pursuit of 'character' and the discovery of its content allows for each individual to move beyond academic theorising to find a common ground under the guise of community. However, one’s school community is but a foretaste of wider society in which ignorance, prejudice and discrimination are ripe. I envisage ‘character’ has room to incorporate values (which might sit comfortably in popular religious examples) as well as Bigger’s faith in common goodness. A young person of ‘character’ is strong, is able to say ‘no’, is able to look beyond self to find avenues of valid contribution which help define their brief journey through this thing we call life.
The high-jacking of ‘education’, whether through the guise of religion or science has terrible scope to undermine and even destroy relationships with those who are deemed or labelled ‘different’.
As a man of faith who struggles with the institution of ‘church’ I consider my faith is based on a person. It has connections with trust and relationship. It has evolved over the years to settle on ‘who’ rather than ‘what’. Of course doctrine has informed me of ‘what’ but faith has moved me beyond that. My own experience of working in a C of E school equates to an objective, impersonal institution which was ‘flavoured’ with reference to Christ. In practice I would suggest ‘religious’ captures its structure and identity but it’s doctrinal influence was no more than a backdrop in the reality of day to day relationships and decisions.
Thanks for these thoughts, Sean.
Stephen
thanks for the good info...very good blog site.
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