"Less attention, I suppose, is paid to philosophy in the United States than in any other country of the civilized world"—Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, vol. II, part 1, chap. 1.

As the above quotation from Tocqueville witnesses, life in the United States generally rolls along with little attention paid to first principles. The activity of education is one such topic that escapes close examination.

In times of reasonable prosperity, real discussion or debate about what education is or what is it for are rare. Recently, though, because of the continuing recession with its persistently high rate of unemployment and lack of well-paying jobs, a controversy has arisen about both the cost of higher education and what is called its low return on the dollar, or low return on investment. Although discussion of the aims and benefits of education is always welcome, this present controversy unfortunately is not particularly concerned with what the purpose or purposes of education might be, and simply assumes that the end of education, and specifically of higher education, is to increase a graduate's earning power. Since good jobs are scarce and the cost of higher education has increased in recent decades much more so than the rate of inflation or income, the wisdom of an "investment" in a degree seems dubious. But until we have considered the question of what education is and what it is for, even justified complaints about the cost of higher education are likely to be off-the-mark, since they simply assume an understanding of the aims of education, with little or no examination. My purpose here is to discuss some of the prior questions about education—such as what it is and what it is for—that need to be answered before we can say whether or not pursuing higher education is worthwhile today, and why and for whom, and how it ought to be paid for.

In thinking about education it might be helpful to remember that education is not confined to schools. Anyone who carries on a program of reading and study throughout his life or learns some practical art: is engaged in educating himself. Schools, in fact, exist in great part to facilitate later self-education, to provide a sound foundation for lifelong learning, whether gained by deliberate private study or simply on-the-job experience.

Second, neither schooling nor education as a whole is one thing nor do they have one purpose only. Speaking only of post-secondary schooling, we can distinguish between learning a trade, learning a profession, and study of the liberal arts. The first of these includes such honorable trades as electrician, plumber, mechanic, etc. Professions, moreover, can be placed on a sort of scale, with some of them having more of a basis in a body of theoretical knowledge, and others consisting of more how-to knowledge, in some cases not altogether different from a trade.

Law, medicine and architecture, for example, have more of a theoretical basis of knowledge than do the studies one must undertake before becoming an accountant or a librarian or an undertaker. Of course, it is possible to teach law or medicine as mere techniques (as is unfortunately too often the case) and ignore the often profound philosophical questions implicit in them, but that is the fault of the particular kind of schooling, not of the professions themselves. But a physician unacquainted with discussions about the relation between the health of the body and of the soul, or a lawyer who has never pondered questions of justice or the implications of Aristotle's dictum that man is a political animal, is simply a highly-skilled technician. Robert Hutchins, president of the University of Chicago and himself trained as a lawyer, wrote that "Every learned profession has a great intellectual heritage, and it is this which should be the prime object of the attention of professional schools" (The Higher Learning in America, 1936). If professional schools fail to do this, they are cheating both their students and the community.

The purpose of these two types of schooling or education should be clear. They have an immediate practical aim: the acquisition of the knowledge and skills needed to successfully engage in some trade or profession. This is not to say that study of these subjects can never have other aims, e.g., the study of law as a means to gain increased rigor in thinking. But primarily they are oriented toward obvious occupational purposes.

Now, what of the third type, liberal education? What it is may perhaps be more easily determined than precisely what it is for. Of course the liberal arts are those of the trivium and quadrivium, but liberal education in a broader sense may be said to include those, plus more, such as philosophy and theology, history and literature, again broadly conceived so as to include subsidiary and related studies. Mathematics and natural science form part of this learning but only when they are studied in a liberal as opposed to a professional or technical manner, as components of the liberal arts of the quadrivium.

This type of education is concerned with acquiring an understanding of reality as a whole, in its fundamental principles, and not, at least directly, in order to accomplish some particular goal (whether that is fixing an engine or designing a church), as well as acquiring the ability to think rationally, examine arguments, etc.

Frequently the opinion is maintained or assumed that such knowledge is its own end. This is stated in a particularly forthright way by Cardinal Newman:



I consider, then, that I am chargeable with no paradox when I speak of a knowledge which is its own end, when I call it liberal knowledge, or a gentleman's knowledge, when I educate for it, and make it the scope of a university (The Idea of a University, I, 5).

But if "liberal knowledge" is solely "its own end," i.e., if it has no effect whatsoever upon the character of the learners, individually or socially, then one might wonder why Church or state should be concerned to foster that schooling or contribute anything toward funding it. But Newman goes on to say that "from the nature of the case, what was so good in itself could not but have a number of external uses, ... and that it was necessarily the source of benefits to society ..." Therefore it is not necessary to decide here whether it is correct to say that such learning exists solely or primarily for its own sake and only accidentally and secondarily is "the source of benefits to society," or whether we should state its purposes more broadly than Newman does and make such public benefits a part of its primary intention. In either case we have good cause for agreeing that society does have sufficient interest in liberal schooling so as to make efforts on its behalf.

If such learning is a "source of benefits to society," how exactly is this so? Does education in liberal subjects have anything to do with remunerative work that will benefit society, or with citizenship in general? Certainly, yes. Proper professional schooling presupposes a prior background of liberal schooling, and liberal learning must naturally be the means of forming university faculties of liberal arts. But beyond this, liberal education, however acquired, ought to raise the level of citizenship, and for those members of society, such as politicians or writers or editors, who assume some responsibility for shaping public policy and opinion, such learning should be a sine qua non for the proper performance of their jobs, if those are conceived as benefiting society and advancing truth, not as means for private enrichment, or titillating and distracting the public, or helping corporations make more money.

If this classification of the different types of education, and of the aims of each type, is correct, we can return to the discussion or controversy that I mentioned earlier: Whether an "investment" in higher education is worthwhile, considered as simply a financial investment. Even in asking the question in that manner an essentially individualistic purpose of such schooling is assumed. What can I get out of it? Is it worth it to me? But when we consider all the elaborate institutions of higher education that have been established and maintained by religious bodies and governments for centuries, we might conclude that higher schooling was more than a means for individual advancement, more than a quick start to getting ahead. Religious bodies often established schools at all levels in order to propagate their doctrines, train their clergy, and so on. Governments were interested in schooling to inculcate loyalty and patriotism or to promote their economies by producing educated workers. In any case, in the United States, schooling, at least at the elementary level, was considered of sufficient importance that public provision has been made for it for some time, beginning in many of the colonies before the revolutionary war. And the Congress under the Articles of Confederation provided in the Northwest Ordinance of 1787 that "Religion, Morality and knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, Schools and the means of education shall forever be encouraged." Similarly, public universities were traditionally subsidized by state or local funds, thus reducing the cost of tuition, often considerably. Charitable bequests for scholarships in private institutions were likewise seen as having a public purpose, not merely as a means of benefiting those individuals who received them. In Europe public universities have often been entirely or almost entirely free of charge. In all these cases schooling was regarded as of such importance as to be paid for, at least in part, out of general governmental funds. For as Pius XI taught in his 1929 encyclical on education, Divini Illius Magistri, "Education is essentially a social and not a mere individual activity" (#11).

Now if we accept that there is a legitimate interest in promoting schooling on the part of entities such as religious bodies or governments, what can we conclude from this as to the questions I raised above, whether higher education is worthwhile today, and why and for whom? If we were to assume that schooling was solely for the financial benefit of the student, then the way to approach this question would be to collect statistics on earnings of graduates versus non-graduates, broken down by subject studied and by institution attended, and counsel prospective university students accordingly. But we have already seen that there is good reason to think that this is an inadequate understanding of the purpose of education. Certainly there is nothing wrong with a student hoping for a satisfactory future income, whether from a profession or a trade or even as the result of a liberal education. However, that is not the same as maintaining that this is the only or even the chief purpose of attending a university. Religious bodies and governments, as we saw, usually had larger and more general goals in subsidizing schooling—to serve the common good, as they understood it. And we can agree with this, for any society has need of education in order to carry on its various necessary tasks. Traditionally, at least, it was never thought that higher schooling existed simply to allow a graduate to command a higher salary. The principal aim was to serve the common good; the individual benefits were secondary. If this is broadly the case, can we answer the questions I raised above more exactly?

In the first place, those charged with care of the common good, whether that of Christ's one Church or of the political community, have a legitimate interest in providing and promoting schooling. Secondly, that, just as in the United States few dispute that primary and secondary schooling should be free, there is a strong case to be made that the same should be the case with tertiary schooling. This does not mean that universities should simply open their doors to anyone and everyone, no matter how ill-prepared or unmotivated or intellectually unsuited to higher studies, but it does argue that all those who can truly master a rigorous program of such studies should be allowed to pursue them, regardless of their ability to pay the costs. If such schooling is rightly conducted, society as a whole will benefit as much as or more than the individual. The French Dominican, A. D. Sertillanges, spoke of the benefits accruing to Christ's Mystical Body from each person's fulfillment of his assigned task, especially those called to higher studies:



Christianized humanity is made up of various personalities, no one of which can refuse to function without impoverishing the group and without depriving the eternal Christ of a part of His kingdom. Christ reigns by unfolding Himself in men. Every life of one of His members is a characteristic moment of His duration; every individual man and Christian is an instance, incommunicable, unique, and therefore necessary, of the extension of the "spiritual body." If you are designated as a light bearer, do not go and hide under the bushel the gleam or the flame expected from you in the house of the Father of all. Love truth and its fruits of life, for yourself and for others; devote to study and to the profitable use of study the best part of your time and your heart (The Intellectual Life, chap. 1).

But if we make the attainment of such studies depend upon being born into a rich family, we not only impoverish society as a whole: we encourage a polity resting neither upon merit nor upon a tradition of true nobility and service, but purely upon money, and eventually upon greed. This is to foster a deformed type of regime and society.

Even in the case of skilled trades, there is no reason to put the cost of training upon the individual, if in fact such trades contribute toward the well-being of society. The existence of what are called vocational high schools indicates acceptance of the principle that the preparation of young persons for such trades is a legitimate area of public activity, not merely a question of individual advancement or increase of earning power.

In one way or another all cultures have taken an interest in the education of their young. To reduce that education, whether we are speaking simply of schooling or of education as a whole, to a financial calculus is simply a sign of the corroding effects that the commercial mentality has had upon the American mind. A healthy polity will provide free or low-cost education not primarily for the benefit of individual persons, but in order to promote the common good. Such promotion of the common good is the primary business of governments, and education is surely a chief part of that business. This is not to say that all schooling need be conducted by the state. Indeed, the best situation would be a mix of schools at all levels—religious, non-profit, state—coexisting with home schooling.

Education by one means or another is surely as old as the human race, and equally as surely has been a chief concern of those with a care for the common good. Our society should not be different. But because of the pervasive American mentality that the purpose of life is primarily about individual advancement or gain, and the circumstance that educational institutions, even those that are legally non-profit, are presently failing in their commitment or even attention to the common good, mean that students increasingly focus more and more on their future job prospects. This is not primarily their own fault, and it is not fair to expect students alone to be responsible for altering such an important feature of American culture.

But someone must begin working to alter the ideals that place individual profit before any concern for the common good. Catholics ought to be the ones to begin to do that, for we have inherited a rich and vast tradition of thought that should instruct us better than the shallow maxims of the Enlightenment do. As always, the challenge for Catholics is to know that heritage, to appropriate it, and to make some attempt to shape their lives and the life of their culture accordingly.