Our argument is not that only Catholics should be professors, nor even to limit the teaching office to Christians. But one thing must be demanded of the college-teacher, that he possess the pedagogic qualifications to render him competent of educating the hope of the Christian people. As a rule this demands a religious, Christian disposition. One thing the state must absolutely demand of the teacher, that he have appreciation for the foundations of the Christian state; he who has no understanding for the historical forms of the life of a nation, who even regards them with hostility, should remain away from this vocation.
In the United States the Jesuit Order has five free universities, founded and directed by the Order. Their professors are not all Catholics; there are professors of other creeds, even Jews. All work in harmony to the common end of the university.
Men who sincerely and conscientiously strive for the interests of science will everywhere show not only consideration, but even understanding and respect, for what is true in the ideas of others. “I gaze,” so writes Prof. Smolka, “upon the likenesses of my venerable Protestant masters, under whom I studied at Göttingen. Thirty-seven years have passed since I went to them, in full confidence to find in their school the leaders who would be free from the influence of the Catholic view of the world. To their profound knowledge I owe, first of all, the emancipation from the prejudices I was raised in, from the views of an atmosphere devoted to Indifferentism in which I had passed my youth. Prof. Waitz opened my eyes to the grandeur of the Catholic Church in the course of the centuries, in the repeated prostration of the Papacy and its ever-following rise to unsuspected heights, a fact unparalleled in the history of human institutions. Prof. Lotze rebuked me at the very beginning of my studies at Göttingen for a slighting remark about scholastic philosophy: later he imbued me with profound respect for it and for the wealth of problems it embraces. These scientists, Protestants without exception and in exclusively Protestant surroundings, inoculated me with sincere love for scientific truth, regardless of the consequences it would lead to. They also introduced the youthful mind to the tried methods of scientific research, indicating the boundaries where the domain of research ends and the right of dogma, or arbitrary rule of subjective imagination, begins.”
Restriction of Right.
We need no further proof that the state is justified in restricting the freedom of teaching, whenever demanded by the business of the state as described above. Restriction of this kind can be considered unjustified only by a state theory of liberalism, which holds that the object of the state consists in merely protecting individual liberty, no matter if this liberty should lead to the gravest injuries so long as it does not affect the freedom of others; a theory which changes the state community from an integral organism into a conglomeration of autonomous individuals. Lasalle scornfully termed this theory the “nightwatchman idea” of the state. The state has the right and the duty to exert a necessary influence upon the pursuit of science, especially at the universities. Against it the pleading of autonomy of the college and its teacher will not hold. They have a certain autonomy, that was even greater in former times. An important part of it is the right to propose appointments for vacant chairs. It must be admitted that this method of appointment is proper; it vouches for the scientific fitness of the appointee, and will prove a protection against the exercise of undue political influence and ministerial absolutism, provided that this method is impartially exercised. But an autonomy that disputes the right of the state to protect its interests, where free science conflicts with it, that would demand, as has been asserted, that “no infringement of the freedom in teaching must be deduced from the official position as teacher,”—such autonomy would be a palpable misconception of the dependency of the college-teacher and of the social service of science. The rules that apply to other, non-judicial, officers should apply to teachers appointed by the state, and offences in their office, or conduct injurious to the purpose and the dignity of their office, should be treated similarly as in the case of other public servants. Nor should members of the legislature be forbidden to defend the rightful interests of their constituents in regard to schools. They are elected by the people for this purpose, and the people have a claim on the schools, which are supported [pg 361] by their taxes and to which some of their greatest interests are attached.
It has been demanded to concede to college-teachers the independence and immunity of judges. This, however, would be overlooking the vast difference between professors and judges. The judge has to render legal decisions in concrete cases, according to existing laws; in order to lessen the danger of his being guided by outside considerations he is given a large measure of independence. But what questions has the college-professor to decide? Mathematical or physical questions? There his incorruptibility is not in such danger that he must be made independent of government. Religious and moral questions, questions of views of the world? These he is not compelled to decide. Neither state nor people have appointed him to question, time and again, the fundamental foundations of human life, and to render decisions which nobody requested.
It is not clear why science, pleading its independence, should oppose justified restrictions. As a matter of fact this independence does not exist anywhere. Numerous are the considerations, often unwarranted, it is actually tied to, yea, often tied to by its own hands. He who is familiar with scientific doings, especially academic doings, knows numbers of such ties—there is the professional opinion in scientific circles; woe unto him who in his scientific works dares to confess a supernatural view of the world!—ties of the predominance of certain leaders or schools, without or against whose favor it is difficult to attain recognition, approval, or position; the ties of parties and cliques in an academic career; the tie, too, of that insinuating power of the state that confers much-desired decorations and titles.
“Where is this freedom of science?” asks a modern academic teacher. “Some will say science and its teaching are free in our country. True, it is so written on paper. But those charged with keeping this principle inviolate are human. For instance the monists have the chief voice in appointments to zoölogical chairs. They will propose only scientists who are not opponents to the monistic faith. Far be it from me to assume any mala fides. They simply believe that only their faith is the proper one to promote science. But I ask again, where is the freedom of science?” (Dahl).
H. St. Chamberlain tells of an amusing incident in his life: “Many years ago, when I desired to devote myself to an academic career, a chemist said to me: ‘My dear fellow, since you belong to the profession, I tell you as a friend that it is not enough for you to be proficient: you should try, first of all, to marry the daughter of one of the professors, [pg 362]of a privy counsellor if possible.’ ‘This advice comes too late,’I replied, ‘I am already married.’ My well-wisher was visibly shocked. ‘What a pity! Too bad! You don't realize what an influence this has here upon one's career.’ What trouble I had to obtain even the venia docendi! and then I stuck fast and could not budge despite all achievements until I undertook to marry the daughter of one of the ‘head-wirepullers’; then things were fixed within three months. I may have looked at him in a peculiar way, for his wife was a veritable Xanthippe, and, he added with a laugh: ‘You know I am all day at the laboratory, from morning until late at night.’ ” There is nothing new under the sun. In the year of grace, 1720, Johann Jacob Moser started his lectures in Tuebingen, but could get no audience. “No wonder, even a cleverer man than I would not have fared better at that time, when everything depended on nepotism.” The young man had crossed Chancellor Pfaff by rejecting a marriage arrangement (Horn).
One will find these things very human. Moreover, it would be unwarranted to assume that they happen always and everywhere. But they prove that the pursuit of science rests also on general human grounds, and does not always remain aloft, in the ethereal heights of pure truth.