An Introduction to the History of Science

by Walter Libby

[CHAPTER XX]

SCIENCE AND DEMOCRATIC CULTURE

Education is the oversight and guidance of the development of the immature with certain ethical and social ends in view. Pedagogy, therefore, is based partly on psychology—which, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, is closely related to the biological sciences—and partly on ethics, or the study of morals, closely related to the social sciences. These two aspects of education, the psychological and the sociological, were treated respectively in Rousseau's Emile and Plato's Republic. The former ill-understood work, definitely referring its readers to the latter for the social aspect of education, applies itself as exclusively as possible to the study of the physical and mental development of the individual child. Rousseau consciously set aside the problem of nationality or citizenship; he was cosmopolitan, and explicitly renounced the idea of planning the education of a Frenchman or a Swiss. Neither did he desire to set forth the education of a wild man, free and unrestrained. He wished rather to depict the development of a natural man in a state of society; but he emphasized the native hereditary endowment, while expressing his admiration for Plato's Republic as the great classic of social pedagogy. The titles of the two works, one from the name of an individual child, the other from a form of government, should serve to remind us of the purpose and limitations of each.

Plato's thought was centered on the educational and moral needs of the city-state of Athens. He was apprehensive that the city was becoming corrupted through the wantonness and lack of principle of the Athenian youth. He strove to rebuild on reasoned foundations the sense of social obligation and responsibility which had in the earlier days of Athens rested upon faith in the existence of the gods. As a conservative he hoped to restore the ancient Athenian feeling for duty and moral worth, and he even envied some of the educational practices of the rival city-state Sparta, by which the citizen was subordinated to the state. The novel feature of Plato's pedagogy was the plan to educate the directing classes, men disciplined in his own philosophical and ethical conceptions. He was, in fact, an intellectual aristocrat, and spoke of democracy in very ironical terms, as the following sentences will show:—

"And thus democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their opponents.... And now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government have they? For as the government is, such will be the man.... In the first place, are they not free? and the city is full of freedom and frankness—a man may do as he likes.... And where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order his own life as he pleases?... Then in this kind of State there will be the greatest variety of human natures?... This then will be the fairest of States, and will appear the fairest, being spangled with the manners and characters of mankind, like an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower. And just as women and children think variety charming, so there are many men who will deem this to be the fairest of States.... And is not the equanimity of the condemned often charming? Under such a government there are men who, when they have been sentenced to death or exile, stay where they are and walk about the world; the gentleman [convict] parades like a hero, as though nobody saw or cared.... See too ... the forgiving spirit of democracy and the 'don't care' about trifles, and the disregard of all the fine principles which we solemnly affirmed ... how grandly does she trample our words under her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honor anyone who professes to be the people's friend.... These and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing equality to equals and unequals alike.... Consider now ... what manner of man the individual is ... he lives through the day indulging the appetite of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he is for total abstinence, and tries to get thin; then, again, he is at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often he is in politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of anyone who is a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that. His life has neither order nor law; so he goes on continually, and he terms this joy and freedom and happiness. Yes, his life is all liberty and equality. Yes, ... and multiform, and full of the most various characters; ... he answers to the State, which we described as fair and spangled.... Let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the democratic man."

In spite of the satirical tone of this passage much of it may be accepted as the unwilling tribute of a hostile critic. Democracy is the triumph of the masses over the oligarchs. It is merciful in the administration of justice. It shows a magnanimous spirit and does not magnify the importance of trifles. It prefers the rule of its friends to the rule of a despot. Under its government people feel themselves blessed by happiness, liberty, and equality. The culture of the democratic man is above all characterized by adaptability.

In the nineteenth century Matthew Arnold, the apostle of culture, discussing the civilization of a democratic nation of many millions, unconsciously confirmed the views of Plato in some respects, while showing interesting points of difference. He expressed his admiration of the institutions, solid social conditions, freedom and equality, power, energy, and wealth of the people of the United States. In the daintiness of American house-architecture, and in the natural manners of the free and happy American women he saw a real note of civilization. He felt that his own country had a good deal to learn from America, though he did not close his eyes to the real dangers to which all democratic nations are exposed. Arnold failed in his analysis of American civilization to confirm Plato's judgment concerning the variety of natures to be found in the democratic State, as well as the Greek philosopher's censure that democracy shows disregard of ethical principles. In fact, Arnold considered the people of the United States singularly homogeneous, singularly free from the distinctions of class; "we [the English] are so little homogeneous, we are living with a system of classes so intense, that the whole action of our minds is hampered and falsened by it; we are in consequence wanting in lucidity, we do not see clear or think straight, and the Americans have here much the advantage of us." As for the second point of difference between Arnold and Plato, the English critic recognized that the American people belonged to the great class in society in which the sense of conduct and regard for ethical principles are particularly developed.

Nearly all the old charges against American democracy can be summarized in one general censure,—the lack of calm and reasoned self-criticism,—and this general defect is rapidly being made good. It is partly owing to charity and good-will, and it includes the toleration of the mediocre or inferior, as, for example, in the theater; the failure to recognize distinction, and to pay deference to things deserving it; the glorification of the average man, and the hustler, and the lack of special educational opportunities for the exceptionally gifted child. That criticism as an art is still somewhat behindhand in America seems to be confirmed by comparing French and American literary criticism. In France it is a profession practiced by a corps of experts; in America only a very few of the best periodicals can be relied on to give reviews based on critical principles, of works in verse or prose. (One American reviewer confesses that in a single day he has written notices of twenty new works of fiction, his work bringing him, as remuneration, seventy-five cents a volume.)

There is no evidence, however, that Americans as individuals are wanting in the self-critical spirit. And for Arnold this is vital, seeing that the watchword of the culture he proclaims is Know Thyself. It is not a question of gaining a social advantage by a smattering of foreign languages. It is more than intellectual curiosity. "Culture is more properly described as having its origin in the love of perfection. It moves by the force, not merely or primarily of the scientific passion for pure knowledge, but also of the passion for doing good." Human perfection, the essence of culture, is an internal condition, but the will to do good must be guided by the knowledge of what is good to do; "acting and instituting are of little use unless we know how and what we ought to act and institute." Moreover, "because men are all members of one great whole, and the sympathy which is human nature will not allow one member to be indifferent to the rest, the expansion of our humanity, to suit the idea of perfection which culture forms, must be a general expansion."