Richard Smith

Education as a public activity is inescapably political. There are different and competing views about what constitutes the good life, about human nature, about justice and equality, about what is worth learning and why, and about the purposes of education in relation to these. Accordingly it is entirely proper in a democracy that education policy should be created by the people’s elected representatives in parliament, even if the thought that it would be good to keep politics out of education from time to time holds its attractions.

This chapter enquires into the nature of university teaching. I consider whether Alasdair MacIntyre’s notion of a practice, together with some of his related ideas, is useful to us here. My argument is that MacIntyre’s talk of incommensurable rationalities tells in the end against the fragmentation of higher education and rather points to one distinctive and important role for the university: that the university should be conceived in some respects as a therapeutic community, whose function it is to encourage and enable its members to think together.

The language of self-belief, including terms like shyness and diffidence, is complex and puzzling. The idea of self-esteem in particular, which has been given fresh currency by recent interest in ‘personalised learning’, continues to create problems. I argue first that we need a ‘thicker’ and more subtle moral psychology of self-belief; and, secondly, that there is a radical instability in the ideas and concepts in this area, an instability to which justice needs to be done. I suggest that aspects of deconstruction are helpful here, and offer a deconstructive reading of Kipling’s poem, If—, in order to illustrate the power of literature and a certain kind of philosophy to destabilise and resist closure.

Self-esteem has become an educational shibboleth. But over-valuing it brings dangers, particularly of dishonesty, manipulation and devaluation of human relationships. Yet there is clearly something here we want to save: a gentler culture with wider possibilities of self-fulfilment. Here I try to distinguish three levels of self-esteem talk. There is the exaltation of self-esteem as the chief aim of education, the therapeutic approach to education and the recognition of self-esteem as one educational value among many. It is the latter, I argue, that can preserve the benefits of the idea of self-esteem while avoiding the worst of its pitfalls.

This paper responds to Tröhler's charge that my paper ‘As if by Machinery: The levelling of educational research’ takes Francis Bacon's vision of scientific research out of context. I distinguish four senses of ‘decontextualisation’: as ignorance, as belief in ‘timeless truths’, as comparison of contexts, and as genealogy. I argue that Tröhler has a case against the first sense and aspects of the second, but that his argument against the last two makes philosophy and philosophical conversation impossible and his own case self‐annulling.

A new title from Routledge's Major Works series, Major Themes in Education, Philosophy of Education II is a five-volume 'mini library' of the very best scholarship. It is an essential successor collection to Philosophy of Education (1998) (978-0-415-12944-2), edited by Paul Hurst and Patricia White, and described by the Bulletin of the UK-Japan Education Forum as 'indispensable for libraries'. Philosophy of Education (1998) was the first comprehensive collection of the field's canonical and cutting-edge research, and this new collection now takes full account of the numerous important developments that have taken place since its appearance. Moreover, Philosophy of Education II also includes coverage of many new areas and topics without the scope of the first collection. With a full index, together with a comprehensive introduction, newly written by the learned editor, which places the collected material in its historical and intellectual context, Philosophy of Education II is a crucial work of reference. It is destined to be valued by scholars, students, and researchers as a vital resource.

It is remarkable just how often philosophy of education assumes the school or, occasionally, the university as its context. There is very little philosophical work on vocational training or workplace learning; perhaps this is the legacy of an older generation of theorists who assumed that training was somehow inferior to education, and thus automatically beneath notice. Life, Work and Learning: practice in postmodernity, by David Beckett and Paul Hager (Routledge, 2002), is therefore to be welcomed as one of the few texts now offering philosophical discussion of this important area. Beckett and Hager describe themselves as ‘strategic postmodernists’, by which they mean that they do not want to jettison the insights into workplace learning offered by modernist writers, while at the same time they believe modernism itself needs to be held up for scrutiny.

This is the second of two Special Issues, the first of which appeared as Volume 40, Issue 2 of this year. In the first Issue, our contributors were particularly inclined to question two assumptions that colour thinking about educational research. The first is that educational research is essentially a ‘scientific’ exercise, reaching its apogee in randomised control trials, as if medical research were the ideal to which all other kinds of research should attempt to measure up, and as if education were a process largely analogous to that of administering drugs in order to enhance performance. The second, related assumption is that educational research is to be understood as, at heart, a matter of discovering ‘what works’. This is the background—also explored in other recent publications such as Smeyers and Depaepe (2006)—against which this second Special Issue should be seen.

Philosophy as Interplay and Dialogue is an original and stimulating collection of essays. It covers conceptual and critical works relevant to current theoretical developments and debates. An international group of philosophers of education come together each summer on a Greek island. This book is the product of their diligent philosophical analysis and extended dialogues. To deploy their arguments, the authors draw on classical thinkers and contemporary prominent theorists, such as Badiou and Malabou, with fresh and critical perspectives. This book thus makes an original contribution to the field. (Series: Studies on Education, Vol. 5) [Subject: Philosophy of Education]

Jonathan Dancy’s Ethics Without Principles (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 2004) presents the fullest account of the moral particularism for which its author is well known. Moral particularism, for Dancy, is the view that there is little if any place in the moral life for moral principles, that moral judgement does not need to appeal to them, and that ‘there is no essential link between being a full moral agent and having principles’ (p. 1). We need an account of moral thinking which allows for moral conflict: the idea that moral thinking consists essentially in subsuming particular cases under a universal principle implies that the agent who thinks she is confronted by conflicting reasons is simply in error, since she has not found the relevant universal principle. And this seems wrong. Roughly similar considerations apply to the idea of regret. When I face a dilemma such that the consequences of whichever path I do not take seem bound to haunt me, the ‘subsumption’ view of principles entails that ‘there was no reason to do the other thing at all, since only one principle applied to the case, and it was decisive, and the only reasons around were those which depend for their existence on that principle’ (p. 4). Thus Dancy seeks, in Aristotelian fashion, to save the phenomena: conflict and regret just are part of our moral lives. Principles do not work in our moral deliberation in the way that their supporters think they do; and they may often cause us to fail to attend to the particularity of moral phenomena.

Education as a public activity is inescapably political. There are different and competing views about what constitutes the good life, about human nature, about justice and equality, about what is worth learning and why, and about the purposes of education in relation to these. Accordingly it is entirely proper in a democracy that education policy should be created by the people’s elected representatives in parliament, even if the thought that it would be good to keep politics out of education from time to time holds its attractions.

It is remarkable just how often philosophy of education assumes the school or, occasionally, the university as its context. There is very little philosophical work on vocational training or workplace learning; perhaps this is the legacy of an older generation of theorists who assumed that training was somehow inferior to education, and thus automatically beneath notice. Life, Work and Learning: practice in postmodernity, by David Beckett and Paul Hager (Routledge, 2002), is therefore to be welcomed as one of the few texts now offering philosophical discussion of this important area. Beckett and Hager describe themselves as ‘strategic postmodernists’, by which they mean that they do not want to jettison the insights into workplace learning offered by modernist writers, while at the same time they believe modernism itself needs to be held up for scrutiny.