the inadequate income to be derived therefrom, and the unsatisfactory
prospects which it presents. Let it suffice to mention the teaching
profession, which fails to attract in any considerable numbers the
right kind of men and women. A large proportion of its members did not
become teachers from deliberate choice, but, having failed in their
attempt to secure other employment, were forced to betake themselves
to the ever-open portals of the great Refuge for the Destitute, and
become teachers (or, at least, become classified as such). True there
are a few "prizes" in the profession, and to some of the _rude
donati_ the Church holds out a helping hand; but the lay members
cannot look forward even to the "congenial gloom of a Colonial
Bishopric."
Others, again, are attracted to employments (for which they may have
no special aptitude) by the large salaries or profits which are to be
earned therein, often with but little trouble or previous training--or
so, at least, they believe. The idea of vocation is quite obscured,
and a man's occupation is in effect the shortest distance from poverty
which he cannot endure, to wealth and leisure which he may not know
how to use.
It frequently happens, too, that a young man is unable to afford
either the time or the expense necessary to qualify for the profession
which he desires to enter, and for which he is well adapted by his
talents and temperament. Not a few prefer in such circumstances to
"play for safety," and secure a post in the Civil Service.
It is plain from such considerations as these that all attempts to
realise the Utopian ideal must needs be, for the present at least, but
very partially successful. Politics are not the only sphere in which
"action is one long second-best." Even if it were possible at the
present time to train each youth for that calling which his own gifts
and temperament, or the reasoned judgment of his parents, selected as
his life-work, it is very far from certain that he would ultimately
find himself engaged therein. English institutions are largely based
on the doctrine of individual liberty, and those statutes which
establish or safeguard individual rights are not unjustly regarded as
the "bulwarks of the Constitution." But the inalienable right of a
father to choose a profession for his son, or of the son to choose one
for himself, is often exercised without any real inquiry into the
conditions of success in the profession selected. Hence the frequent
complaints about the "overcrowding of the professions" either in
certain localities or in the country at large. The Bar affords a
glaring example. "There be many which are bred unto the law, yet is
the law not bread unto them." The number of recruits which any one
branch of industry requires in a single year is not constant, and, in
some cases, is subject to great fluctuations; yet there are few or no
statistics available for the guidance of those who are specially
concerned with that branch, or who are considering the desirability of
entering it. The establishment of Employment Exchanges is a tacit
admission of the need of such statistics, and--though less
certainly--of the duty of the Government to provide them. Yet even if
they were provided it seems beyond dispute that, in the absence of
strong pressure or compulsion from the State, the choice of
individuals would not always be in accordance with the national needs.
The entry to certain professions--for instance that of medicine--is
most properly safeguarded by regulations and restrictions imposed by
bodies to which the State has delegated certain powers and duties. It
may happen that in one of these professions the number of members is
greatly in excess, or falls far short of the national requirements;
yet neither State nor Professional Council has power to refuse
admission to any duly qualified candidate, or to compel certain
selected people to undergo the training necessary for qualification.
It is quite conceivable, however, that circumstances might arise which
would render such action not merely desirable but absolutely essential
to the national well-being; indeed it is at least arguable that such
circumstances have already arisen. The popular doctrine of the early
Victorian era, that the welfare of the community could best be secured
by allowing every man to seek his own interests in the way chosen by
himself, has been greatly modified or wholly abandoned. So far are we
from believing that national efficiency is to be attained by
individual liberty that some are in real danger of regarding the two
as essentially antagonistic. The nation, as a whole, supported the
Legislature in the establishment of compulsory military service; it
did so without enthusiasm and only because of the general conviction
that such a policy was demanded by the magnitude of the issues at
stake. Britons have always been ready, even eager, to give their lives
for their country; but, even now, most of them prefer that the
obligation to do so should be a moral, rather than a legal one. The
doctrine of individual liberty implies the minimum of State
interference. Hence there is no country in the world where so much has
been left to individual initiative and voluntary effort as in England;
and, though of late the number of Government officials has greatly
increased, it still remains true that an enormous amount of important
work, of a kind which is elsewhere done by salaried servants of the
State, is in the hands of voluntary associations or of men who, though
appointed or recognised by the State, receive no salary for their
services. Nor can it be denied that the work has been, on the whole,
well done. A traditional practice of such a kind cannot be (and ought
not to be) abandoned at once or without careful consideration; yet the
changed conditions of domestic and international politics render some
modification necessary.
If the Legislature has protected the purchaser--in spite of the
doctrine of "caveat emptor"--by enactments against adulteration of
food, and has in addition, created machinery to enforce those
enactments, are not we justified in asking that it shall also protect
us against incompetence, especially in cases where the effects, though
not so obvious, are even more harmful to the community than those
which spring from impure food? The prevention of overcrowding in
occupations would seem to be the business of the State quite as much
as is the prevention of overcrowding in dwelling-houses and factories.
The best interests of the nation demand that the entrance to the
teaching profession--to take one example out of many--should be
safeguarded at least as carefully as the entrance to medicine or law.
The supreme importance of the functions exercised by teachers is far
from being generally realised, even by teachers themselves; yet upon
the effective realisation of that importance the future welfare of the
nation largely depends. Doubtless most of us would prefer that the
supply of teachers should be maintained by voluntary enlistment, and
that their training should be undertaken, like that of medical
students, by institutions which owe their origin to private or public
beneficence rather than to the State; nevertheless, the obligation to
secure adequate numbers of suitable candidates and to provide for
their professional training rests ultimately on the State. The
obligation has been partially recognised as far as elementary
education is concerned, but it is by no means confined to that branch.
It is well to realise at this point that the efficient discharge of
the duty thus imposed will of necessity involve a much greater degree
of compulsion on both teachers and pupils than has hitherto been
employed. The terrible spectacle of the unutilised resources of
humanity, which everywhere confronts us in the larger relations of our
national life, has been responsible for certain tentatives which have
either failed altogether to achieve their object, or have been but
partially successful. Much has been heard of the educational
ladder--incidentally it may be noted that the educational sieve is
equally necessary, though not equally popular--and some attempts have
been made to enable a boy or girl of parts to climb from the
elementary school to the university without excessive difficulty. To
supplement the glaring deficiencies of elementary education a
few--ridiculously few--continuation schools have been established.
That these and similar measures have failed of success is largely due
to the fact that the State has been content to provide facilities, but
has refrained from exercising that degree of compulsion which alone
could ensure that they would be utilised by those for whose benefit
they were created. "Such continuation schools as England possesses,"
says a German critic, "are without the indispensable condition of
compulsion." The reforms recently outlined by the President of the
Board of Education show that he, at any rate, admits the criticism to
be well grounded. A system which compels a child to attend school
until he is fourteen and then leaves him to his own resources can do
little to create, and less to satisfy, a thirst for knowledge. During
the most critical years of his life--fourteen to eighteen--he is left
without guidance, without discipline, without ideals, often without
even the desire of remembering or using the little he knows. He is
led, as it were, to the threshold of the temple, but the fast-closed
door forbids him to enter and behold the glories of the interior. Year
by year there is an appalling waste of good human material; and
thousands of those whom nature intended to be captains of industry are
relegated, in consequence of undeveloped or imperfectly trained
capacity, to the ranks, or become hewers of wood and drawers of water.
Many drift with other groups of human wastage to the unemployed,
thence to the unemployable, and so to the gutter and the grave. The
poor we have always with us; but the wastrel--like the pauper--"is a
work of art, the creation of wasteful sympathy and legislative
inefficiency."
We must be careful, however, in speaking of "the State" to avoid the
error of supposing that it is a divinely appointed entity, endowed
with power and wisdom from on high. It is, in short, the nation in
miniature. Even if the Legislature were composed exclusively of the
highest wisdom, the most enlightened patriotism in the country, its
enactments must needs fall short of its own standards, and be but
little in advance of those of the average of the nation. It must still
acknowledge with Solon. "These are not the best laws I could make, but
they are the best which my nation is fitted to receive." We cannot
blame the State without, in fact, condemning ourselves. The absence of
any widespread enthusiasm for education, or appreciation of its
possibilities; the claims of vested interests; the exigencies of Party
Government; and, above all, the murderous tenacity of individual
rights have proved well-nigh insuperable obstacles in the path of true
educational reform. On the whole we have received as good laws as we
have deserved. The changed conditions due to the war, and the changed
temper of the nation afford a unique opportunity for wiser counsels,
and--to some extent--guarantee that they shall receive careful and
sympathetic consideration.
It may be objected, however, that in taking the teaching profession to
exemplify the duty of the State to assume responsibility for both
individual and community, we have chosen a case which is exceptional
rather than typical; that many, perhaps most, of the other vocations
may be safely left to themselves, or, at least left to develop along
their own lines with the minimum of State interference. It cannot be
denied that there is force in these objections. It should suffice,
however, to remark that, if the duty of the State to secure the
efficiency of its members in their several callings be admitted, the
question of the extent to which, and the manner in which control is
exercised is one of detail rather than of principle, and may therefore
be settled by the common sense and practical experience of the parties
chiefly concerned.
A much more difficult problem is sure to arise, sooner or later, in
connection with the utilisation of efficients. Some few years ago the
present Prime Minister called attention to the waste of power involved
in the training of the rich. They receive, he said, the best that
money can buy; their bodies and brains are disciplined; and then "they
devote themselves to a life of idleness." It is "a stupid waste of
first-class material." Instead of contributing to the work of the
world, they "kill their time by tearing along roads at perilous speed,
or do nothing at enormous expense." It has needed the bloodiest war in
history to reveal the splendid heroism latent in young men of this
class. Who can withhold from them gratitude, honour, nay even
reverence? But the problem still remains how are the priceless
qualities, which have been so freely devoted to the national welfare
on the battlefield, to be utilised for the greater works of peace
which await us? Are we to recognise the right to be idle as well as
the right to work? Is there to be a kind of second Thellusson Act,
directed against accumulations of leisure? Or are we to attempt the
discovery of some great principle of Conservation of Spiritual Energy,
by the application of which these men may make a contribution worthy
of themselves to the national life and character? Who can answer?
But though it is freely admitted on all hands that some check upon
aggressive individualism is imperatively necessary, and that it is no
longer possible to rely entirely upon voluntary organisations however
useful, there are not a few of our countrymen who view with grave
concern any increase in the power and authority of the State. They
point out that such increase tends inevitably towards the despotism of
an oligarchy, and that such a despotism, however benevolent in its
inception, ruthlessly sacrifices individual interests and liberty to
the real or supposed good of the State; that even where constitutional
forms remain the spirit which animated them has departed; that
officialism and bureaucracy with their attendant evils become supreme,
and that the national character steadily deteriorates. They warn us
that we may pay too high a price even for organisation and efficiency;
and, though it is natural that we should admire certain qualities
which we do not possess, we ought not to overlook the fact that those
methods which have produced the most perfect national organisation in
the history of the world are also responsible for orgies of brutality
without parallel among civilised peoples. That such warnings are
needful cannot be doubted; but may it not be urged that they indicate
dangers incident to a course of action rather than the inevitable
consequences thereof? In adapting ourselves to new conditions we must
needs take risks. No British Government could stamp out voluntaryism
even if it wished to do so; and none has yet manifested any such
desire. The nation does not want that kind of national unity of which
Germany is so proud, and which seems so admirably adapted to her
needs; for the English character and genius rest upon a conception of
freedom which renders such a unity foreign and even repulsive to its
temper. Whatever be the changes which lie before us, the worship of
the State is the one form of idolatry into which the British people
are least likely to fall.
II
The recent adaptation of factories and workshops to the production of
war material is only typical of what goes on year by year in peace time,
though, of course, to a less degree and in less dramatic fashion. Not
only are men constantly adapting themselves and their machinery to
changed conditions of production, but they are applying the experience
and skill gained in the pursuit of one occupation to the problems of
another for which it has been exchanged. The comparative ease with which
this is done is evidence of the widespread existence of that gift which
our enemies call the power of "muddling through," but which has been
termed--without wholly sacrificing truth to politeness--the "concurrent
adaptability to environment." The British sailor as "handy man" has few
equals and no superiors, and he is, in some sort, typical of the nation.
The testimony of Thucydides to Themistocles ([Greek: kratistos dê oytos
aytoschediazein ta deonta egeneto]) might with equal or even greater
truth be applied to many Englishmen to-day. As this power [Greek:
aytoschediazein ta deonta] in the present war saved the Allies from
defeat at the outset, so we hope and believe it will carry them on to
victory at the last. Yet it becomes a snare if it leads its possessor to
neglect preparation or despise organisation, for neither of which can it
ever be an entirely satisfactory substitute, albeit a very costly one.
At the same time we should recognise that any system of training which
seriously impairs this power tends to deprive us of one of the most
valuable of our national assets. It follows that, for the majority at
least, exclusive or excessive specialisation in training--vocational or
otherwise--so far from being an advantage, is a positive drawback; for,
as we have seen, a large proportion of our youth manifest no marked bent
in any particular direction, and of those who do but a small proportion
are capable of that hypertrophy which the highest specialisation
demands.
It is important to remember that, though school life is a preparation
for practical life, vocational education ought not to begin until a
comparatively late stage in a boy's career, if indeed it begins at all
while he remains at school. On this it would seem that all
professional bodies are agreed; for the entrance examinations, which
they have accepted or established are all framed to test a boy's
general education and not his knowledge of the special subjects to
which he will afterwards devote himself. The evils of premature
specialisation are too well known to require even enumeration, and
they are increased rather than diminished if that premature
specialisation is vocational. The importance of technical training as
the means whereby a man is enabled rightly to use the hours of work
can hardly be exaggerated; but the value of his work, his worth to his
fellows, and his rank in the scale of manhood depend, to at least an
equal degree, upon the way in which he uses the hours of leisure. It
is one of the greatest of the many functions of a good school to train
its members to a wise use of leisure; and though this is not always
achieved by direct means the result is none the less valuable. In
every calling there must needs be much of what can only be to all save
its most enthusiastic devotees--and, at times, even to them--dull
routine and drudgery. A man cannot do his best, or be his best, unless
he is able to overcome the paralysing influences thus brought to bear
upon him by securing mental and spiritual freshness and stimulus; in
other words his "inward man must be renewed day by day." There are
many agencies which may contribute to such a result; but school
memories, school friendships, school "interests" take a foremost place
among them. Many boys by the time they leave school have developed an
interest or hobby--literary, scientific or practical; and the hobby
has an ethical, as well as an economic value. Nor is this all.
Excessive devotion to "Bread Studies," whether voluntary or
compulsory, tends to make a man's vocation the prison of his soul.
Professor Eucken recently told his countrymen that the greater their
perfection in work grew, the smaller grew their souls. Any rational
interest, therefore, which helps a man to shake off his fetters, helps
also to preserve his humanity and to keep him in touch with his
fellows. Dr A.C. Benson tells of a distinguished Frenchman who
remarked to him, "In France a boy goes to school or college, and
perhaps does his best. But he does not get the sort of passion for the
honour and prosperity of his school or college which you English seem
to feel." It is this wondrous faculty of inspiring unselfish devotion
which makes our schools the spiritual power-houses of the nation. This
love for an abstraction, which even the dullest boys feel, is the
beginning of much that makes English life sweet and pure. It is the
same spirit which, in later years, moves men to do such splendid
voluntary work for their church, their town, their country, and even
in some cases leads them "to take the whole world for their parish."
However much we may strive to reach the beautiful Montessori ideal,
the fact remains that there must be some lessons, some duties, which
the pupil heartily dislikes and would gladly avoid if he could; but
they must be done promptly and satisfactorily, and, if not cheerfully,
at least without audible murmuring. Eventually he may, and often does,
come to like them; at any rate he realises that they are not set
before him in order to irritate or punish him, but as part of his
school training. It will be agreed that the acquirement of a habit of
doing distasteful things, even under compulsion, because they are part
of one's duty is no bad preparation for a life in which most days
bring their quota of unpleasant duties which cannot be avoided,
delegated, or postponed.
At the present time, however, there is a real danger--in some quarters
at least--of unduly emphasising the specifically vocational, or
"practical" side of education. The man of affairs knows little or
nothing of young minds and their limitations, of the conditions under
which teaching is done, or of the educational values of the various
studies in a school curriculum. He is prone to choose subjects chiefly
or solely because of their immediate practical utility. Thus in his
view the chief reason for learning a modern language is that business
communications will thereby be facilitated. One could wish that he
would be content to indicate the end which he has in view, and which
he sees clearly, and leave the means of obtaining it to the judgment
and experience of the teacher; for in education, as in other spheres
of action, the obvious way is rarely the right way, and very often the
way of disaster. Yet it is a distinct gain to have the practical man
brought into the administration of educational affairs; for teachers
are, as a rule, too little in contact with the world of commerce to
know much of the needs and ideas of business men. The Board of
Education has already established a Consultative Committee of
Educationists. Why should not a similar standing Committee, consisting
of representatives of the Chambers of Commerce of the country be also
appointed? Such a Committee could render, as could no other body,
invaluable service to the cause of education.