Book Review: Educational Philosophy for a Post-secular Age, by David Lewin
London: Routledge, 2017. Pp. 168. Hb. 9781138923669 £110; ebook 9781315684901 £35.99
Reviewed by Piotr Zamojski, University of Gdansk, Poland
David Lewin’s book seems to call for more than just reading, apprehending, and discussing what is proposed in the argument. It seems to be a call to follow and develop the argument further. On the one hand, this is very difficult to do, as this argument is strongly embedded in Lewin’s personal experiences, and this disclosure of the intimate sphere gives the book (and every book) a strong sense of authenticity. But this also signifies the uniqueness of the perspective involved. The author is telling his story, but is it also the reader’s story?
On the other hand, the issue addressed in David Lewin’s book is of paramount importance to us all today. We live in a time when, paradoxically, increasing secularisation, rather than making religion and religiousness irrelevant, has brought them centre stage. Regardless of the personal origins of the book, the argument it presents addresses this issue in a profound philosophical way, and therefore invites the reader to rethink it with all the seriousness it deserves.
The scope of a review is, naturally, too narrow to make such an attempt. However, I would like to try to disclose the path of thinking that was initiated in me by David Lewin’s book.
What is said only implicitly by Lewin, seems to be a very clear and strong claim of the book: if we want to educate a good human being, religion becomes an inevitable part of that education. This claim, however, is based on an assumption that religion and faith should be understood as something performed, as a practice, as opposed to an institution of Church. Religiousness and faith, on this view, are rather specific attitudes towards the world, other people, and God, and not a set of institutionalised rituals, rules, fixed knowledge, belonging to a solidified hierarchical structure of social positions. Religion understood in this way seems to be necessary to educate a good human being because it consists of, and hence develops, a specific relation, a relation with the other (Lewin, 2017, p. 21). The other is not entirely understandable; s/he is a mystery. To grasp this otherness, David Lewin uses the term ‘transcendence’ (Ibid., e.g. p. 19).[i] It is this problem, as I see it, that I will address in this review.
However, before doing that, let me follow a little further the argument David Lewin is building in his book. This transcendent, religious way of relating with the world, other people, and God seems necessary in order to shape our ethical potential. Also, it seems to be inevitable for a citizen of a healthy democracy, as democracy requires people to have an ability to discuss even the most sensitive, problematic issues. This ability is not developed within a fixed system of orthodox beliefs, solidified in an institutional infrastructure, but is engendered in the relation to the other. The very mystery inherent to the other means that that relationship involves uncertainty and is marked by doubt. And it is exactly such uncertainty and doubt that gather us around something unknown and make us ask questions, discuss, and debate about it, rather than simply impose an ultimate truth on everyone. In that way, religiousness is immanent to democracy itself (also understood in a performative way, as acts of deliberation, rather than as a set of laws, rules, institutions, and procedures).
However, religion and faith understood in such a way seems to be suppressed by two opposite forces. On one hand, as I have already mentioned, an institutionalized orthodoxy deprives religion of its mystical and mysterious character, and transforms it into a set of fixed rules that people have to simply obey. On the other hand, the performative sense of religiousness is supressed by the enlightenment with its drive for the disenchantment of the world. In short, the enlightenment introduces critical reason, which is supposed to displace religious beliefs. Of course, as we know thanks to Horkheimer and Adorno (1973), the story went another way. Instead of the displacement of religion, the enlightenment simply replaced it with its own belief, in the purity of reason. The problem is that our understanding of education is largely shaped by enlightenment ideas, or maybe simply by the whole imaginary of that philosophical era. Hence, it is organized in a way that deprives students of this unique, essential relation with the other. Education is not about the encounter with the not-understandable, with mystery. On the contrary, education is all about coming to understand what is not yet understood; it is about knowing things, and so it seems to be quite opposite to mystery.
This is why David Lewin sees a chance for a rebirth, or a renaissance, of a performative understanding of religiousness, and a chance to rethink the relation between religion and education in the ‘post’ discourse: post-modern, post-secular, post-metaphysical. It is the last of these that functions as a turning point in the argument of Lewin’s book. This is visible through the very structure of the book, when Chapter 4, with Heidegger as its main figure, seems to provide a way to make a leap from the critical to the constructive part of the argument. It is exactly this leap that I find the most interesting and – in a way – problematic in Lewin’s inquiry. It seems as if the author’s invention took him further than some of theoretical devices he used (especially in the critical part) will allow. Let me briefly explain.
Post-metaphysics stems from the critique of so-called Western metaphysics, as initiated by Martin Heidegger. Western metaphysics always looks for arché – a ground, the first being, from which all other beings would originate, and functions, therefore, as both their principle and highest fulfilment at the same time (Cf. Heidegger, 1969). People of the west look for this arché as a source of certainty. Since arché is the principle and the goal of all beings, it transcends the diversity and alterity of what exist, functioning therefore, as the hard ground from which one can depart in order to prove something. But thinking within the scope of this fundamental/primal being that transcends everything, develops an inclination to search for similarity, for something in everything that is a remnant of that first. This is exactly how dialectics is born: philosophical thinking is all about overcoming the otherness and proving unity between a particular being and the transcending arché.
The post-metaphysical move made by Heidegger is to try to think without a ground, as if there was no origin/no goal/no transcendence. One way to do that is via phenomenology, with its aim to describe how a thing essentially presents itself to us (and not in relation to any origin). This is precisely the path Lewin takes in the second, constructive, or propositional, part of his book (entitled, significantly, ‘Experiments in reframing’). There we find a beautiful and original description of education as bare witnessing that results from a gathering of students, teachers, and the world. He distinguishes three dimensions of such a gathering: submission (to a thing that gathers, focuses, and divides); attention (to a thing that makes us bare witness/behold); and union (between means and goals – as there are no future or external aims to achieve). Education on this view is not about achieving, but performing or practicing. It is not about producing prescribed and a priori desired effects, but about practicing as such, for the sake of itself. One could say: education is not subordinated to any other external (political, economic, but also religious) goals. So it seems that this post-metaphysical attempt to describe education perceives it as an immanent phenomenon.
Such an immanent take on education seems to be contradicted by two dimension of Lewin’s argument. The first one is the – already mentioned – reference to transcendence, as the sign of God/Otherness/Mystery. Maybe – I would argue – it is exactly the achievements of the post-secular and post-metaphysical thought that should persuade us to conceptualise God/Otherness/Mystery beyond the language of transcendence?
The second dimension of Lewin’s argument that seems to contradict the immanent approach to education is the inclination towards dialectical reasoning. Surprisingly, Lewin develops many dialectical devices throughout the first part of his book. And so, in order to conceptualise the meaning of post-secularity he builds passages from being naïve towards being critical, and finally to being post-critical, or from the religious into the secular, and finally towards the post-secular. I wonder, is there a structural necessity in turning to dialectics when describing any ‘post’ discourse (whose form – naturally – assumes overcoming or going beyond something)? Maybe this is just the matter of the ‘side’ of such a description, that is, maybe it is a possible to describe the ‘post’ from within, and not to employ any dialectical schemes.
These rather technical, but nonetheless very important, questions are opened up by what I find simultaneously problematic and most valuable in Lewin’s book: making an attempt to conceptualise education anew in face of the lines of thought that make our usual ways of conceiving it inoperative. In that regard, one must acknowledge – in my view – this attempt as successful, since David Lewin’s book provides an un-dialectical and immanent perspective on education. And this is exactly what I find particularly valuable about this project.
[i] On that account it must be acknowledged that the absence of Lévinas in Lewin’s book is very intriguing.
References:
Heidegger, M. (1969 [1955-57]), Identity and Difference, transl. J. Stambaugh, New York, Evanston, London: Harper & Row Pub.
Horkhemer, M., Adorno, T.W. (1973 [1944]). Dialectic of Enlightenment. trans. John Cumming, New York: Continuum.
David Lewin, (2017) Educational Philosophy for a Post-secular Age, London & New York: Routledge.
Author Interview: David Lewin
Dr David Lewin is Lecturer in Philosophy of Education at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow, UK. Here he discusses his most recent book, Educational Philosophy for a Post-secular Age (Routledge, 2017).
Why did you decide to write Educational Philosophy for a Post-Secular Age?
There is an urgent need for religious literacy in our world today. For better and worse, religious ideas are never far from the headlines, though rarely is religious sensitivity evident in reporting or commentary. So one motivation for writing this book arose out of a sense that too many educational theorists speak about religion in terms that I would regard as dubious. There is a lot of concern about religious education as a curriculum subject, faith schooling, and the competing rights between parents, children, and the state. These concerns are important, but they tend to make unhelpful assumptions about the nature of religion and education. I wanted to complicate some of these debates, and suggest other ways of seeing the place of religion in education.
What’s the main aim of the book, and why is it important now?
The book aims firstly to recognise the ongoing significance of religion in public life, and secondly, to explore the implications of this for education. The concept of the ‘post-secular’ provides a way of speaking about the persistence of religion both in critical terms, but also as a structuring force in contemporary culture. The idea is not to make space for the return of religious influence on education. The post-secular does not suggest some sort of return to the pre-secular (whatever that might mean). I spend considerable energy trying to explain why post-secularism neither rejects nor affirms secularism, but rather complicates it. I want to show the ways in which something recognisably religious (though perhaps not always interpreted as ‘religion’) is inevitably involved when we talk about education as formation. This is important now because religion is widely conceived as a problem for education which, I think, misunderstands both religion and education.
And what is it that draws you, personally, to this area of research?
Even though (or perhaps because) I was not brought up within a religious tradition, I have always been fascinated by the religious impulse and religious communities. My Bachelor’s degree was in theology followed by a Master’s in the study of Mysticism and Religious Experience and a PhD in a Religious Studies department. Throughout my studies, the problems of how to reconcile some sort of authentic religious life with academic conceptions of religion and culture were never too far away. I have explored various religious and spiritual practices in my own life and have generally experienced religion as a force of inclusion. But the general questions of the relation between religion as formative and formation as something intrinsically religious, animate this research.
What sort of reaction do you hope the book will get?
It is always great to have a conversation with someone about this topic and it is particularly exciting when people have read the book. I am delighted that the book is being reviewed in JOPE (and look forward to reading the review!). I would hope that the book inspires people working in education to reflect on the ultimate concerns of education, and of life generally. The metrics that frame education today take no real account of what education is ultimately about. I do not propose straightforward answers to that, but I would hope for at least a little hesitancy concerning the responses that are offered as justification within the broad movement for educational improvement.
What sort of audience did you have in mind when writing the book?
I am tempted to say this book is for everyone and no one. By this I mean that at certain points in writing I felt as though I was trying to appeal both to those who hold strong religious commitments, and those who are strongly sceptical of religion and its relevance. I felt that certain opposed groups like this tend to talk at cross purposes and hoped to provide some opportunity for shared understanding: at least of the questions that exist. I have talked about the ideas in the book with secularists, atheists, spiritualists, and religionists. There seems to be far more common ground among these groups than might be expected.
What’s your current project? What’s next?
Recently I have been taken with some ideas from the German Didaktik tradition, particularly around pedagogical reductions and exemplarity. My impression is that the Anglo-American traditions of education have a good deal to learn from continental educational sciences. More specifically, I have been thinking about the tensions between pedagogical reduction as an essential component of education, and reductionism as a problem within the study of religion. In other words, to what extent is pedagogical reduction a problem when it comes to understanding religion?
What is philosophy of education and why does it matter?
Working in education today one can feel as though a general educational improvement agenda is all encompassing. From league tables, to research excellence assessments, we are never far from a metric or a plan. At its core, philosophy of education could disrupt the logic of these structures and imperatives by showing the conditions that give rise to them. The gift of philosophy of education might be said to alienate us from (or out of) that prevailing culture; to draw attention to what lies hidden within it. This unsettling is ultimately grounded in something larger, something post-critical (and perhaps post-secular). Of course, this disruptive work can be quite annoying, or may be just a consoling fantasy that helps me to sleep at night. But surely without those prepared to unsettle, we are abandoning who we really are.