Philosophy
Criticism of course content can never be completely, but even if the manner of teaching were perfect, the content of Philosophy courses at Harvard would leave much to be desired from the point of view of liberal education. I talk only about Philosophy, because that is the only subject with which I have been closely acqainted. It may be that my conclusions apply also to other departments. I have the impression that they can be generalized a great deal, and still prove valid.
Philosophy could be one of the most humanistic of subjects; for it is, as traditionally conceived, the study par excellence of world views of the most profound kind, formed under varying cultural conditions and articulated to the highest degree. Traditional philosophical views have provided answers concerning a variety of issues related to general aspects of human nature and therefore relevant to every person's life: issues concerning the basis of an individual's felt obligation to others, the relations of the individual to his society, and so on. These philosophic issues, in other words, are humanistic ones. Most persons never find completely satisfactory answers concerning them. Even a perfectly wise man, we might suppose, though he would not be troubled by the issues, could not eliminate them from his life--form he would still have to live according to certain positions with regard to them.
In order to understand how the Harvard Philosophy Department stands on such issues, it is well to consider certain basic views of philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, who was the chief inspirer of that viewpoint known as linguistic analysis. This is for two reasons: because Wittgenstein's views have so influenced philosophy at Harvard, and because they illustrate so well the difference between humanistic issues and those technical issues with which the Harvard department is largely concerned. Wittgenstein's professed ultimate aim was to show that the traditional philosophical problems were really pseudo-problems; he wished to dissolve them by analysis of language. Not: He did not aim to solve the traditional problems; he aimed to dissolve them.
But the humanistic problems cannot be dissolved without dissolving human life itself. So Wittgenstein could not have been dealing with the humanistic issues of traditional philosophy. Rather, he was dealing with technical problems, i.e., problems which have no significant degree of relevance to understanding human nature or the human condition. Linguistic analysts, largely following Wittgenstein, seek most of all to speak about speaking; this leads to concern with technical issues only.
About half the members of the Harvard Philosophy Department subscribe to the viewpoint of linguistic analysis. Almost all the others may be described as analysis itself, but the term "analysis", as applied at Harvard, has a special implication; it implies that since only certain technical questions are appropriate for analytic treatment, only these questions can seriously be considered. For example, a typical Harvard philosophy professor would consider it quite proper to analyze Wittgenstein's notion of "criteria"" for use of words but he would not find it proper to analyze Sartre's use of the word "freedom." The various areas of philosophy comprise a hierarchy of sterility, and those subjects highest in the hierarchy are most respected at Harvard. Symbolic logic and philosophy and language are the areas most respected; epistemology, which borrows most from those two areas, is next. Metaphysic and ethics are permitted to the extent that they are amenable to the technical-analytic approach. The other areas receive what attention is left over.
An Alternative
It must not be assumed that the only alternative to this type of analytic philosophy is vague or ill-grounded thinking. Philosophy can be--can in many cases has been--hard-headed, logically competent, and humanistic. Philosophy is most valuable when, through analysis, it discriminates between features of human experience, and then, with the aid of imagination, recognizes what those features of experience signify concerning human nature and the human condition. Harvard philosophy either does not treat those features of experience which might be significant, or it refuses to use imagination to go beyond the superficial. Imagination seems to have no place in Harvard philosophy at all.
Speaking more specifically, of the 26 Philosophy courses open to undergraduates in the 1962-3 catalogue, I would categorize only four of them as being predominantly humanistic in orientation, with several others being on the borderline. Among the 22 100-group courses, most are systematic, i.e., organized around a specific subject. I would categorize these as follows: two humanistic, 11 technical, and one borderline. Among 100-group courses as a whole, Continental philosophy since the 17th century is represented almost entirely by one course on idealism, one on phenomenology, and one on Kant's epistomology, while Medieval philosophy is not represented at all.
Apart from the content of courses in one department or another, the concern of the College seems to be, in general, more with technical values than with humanistic values. According to the conception which seems prevalent among students--and to some extent among the faculty--the proper function of an instructor is not to enlighten the student about matters of human matters of human significance, but instead to be an expert on more or less technical questions within a narrow field. An instructor is usually known as an expert on logical empiricism, or 20th-century Indian nationalism, or whatever, and the courses be teaches are courses on his specialty or specialties. The material taught may have a significant amount of humanistic value, but also may not, especially if the instructor treats if from the point of view of a technician.
There seem to be few in the College who both want and are able to insure that a student's overall instruction is humanistically valuable. Those in position of responsibility usually appear to infer that because courses are given at Harvard, therefore they must be valuable. The logic of this inference is faulty: the results are regretable. "Enter to grow in wisdom" should be replaced, perhaps, by "Enter to increase in technical competence."
Pre-eminence of 100-group courses, as they are now constituted, seems to be one of he reasons why instructors treat course material from a technical viewpoint. These courses are meant for both undergraduates and graduate students. But in the great majority of cases, the subject-matter of a 100-group course is not meant for both groups, but rather is chosen primarily to aid the graduate student attain a technical mastery of the discipline.
Gen Ed
The taming of the General Education program is symptomatic of the pressures stiffing liberal education. The basic intent of that program is humanistic; but it never achieved the significance it deserves. Some of its elementary courses, in fact, are little more than departmental courses. Moreover, General Education courses are meant mainly for the uninitiated, and thus do not give the student opportunity to explore a field thoroughly. This opportunity can come only in the departments. Thus, even if the General Education program had the importance it deserves, it would not be adequate by itself to the task of humanistic education.
So in Philosophy, at least, liberal education suffers because of the selection of subject-matter to be studied. Here, as in matters of methodology. It seems fair to give an explanation in terms of the faculty's unwillingness to put reason to use, instead of yielding to convention or prejudice. For there is a great difference between the material which most scholars study and the material which is most appropriate for a liberal education; yet faculty members seem to assume uncritically that the current topics of advanced scholarly activity are the topics most suitable for undergraduate education.
The illiberal quality of Harvard education affects not only the value of that education. but also the attitudes of the students. The typical student comes to the College yearning for success above all, and success is defined for him by his educational superiors. If his course work deals with humanistic issues, and these are related to experience which he has had or at least can understand then the student will seek to deal successfully with these humanistic issues himself.
But when his instructors deal only with technical issues, this shows the student that success as defined academically--is purely the ability to deal well with these same issues. The student comes to believe that he must either devote himself to technical issues or else reject any definition of success presented by the academic world, and so detach himself from the academic machinery altogether. He comes to believe--and he is given some reason to believe that he must learn what is necessary to follow the vocation of being a college professor, or learn nothing. Such a student therefore chooses one or the other of these alternatives, depending on his needs, and tends to become either as academic conformist or a rebel.
Harvard College, therefore, seems to consist largely of a process of limited interaction between scholars and students. In which the scholars often ignore the humanistic values of liberal education, show a disregard of reason in their practices, and in fact do little but recreate their own kind among their students, while a group of disaffected undergraduates seek elsewhere for what they think Harvard should offer. Am I mistaken as to the purported aim of Harvard College? Is it really meant to be a trade school, despite all protestations to the contrary? Or should the Peace Corps send some real teachers to Cambridge? Gordon L. Brumm '53
(Mr. Brumm was head section man in hum 5 for two years. Presently, he is employed by the Mitre Corporation.)