In whose hands does the future lie?

By Simon Longstaff

A version of this article was first published: This paper was presented at Hutchins School, Tasmania in the 1999 Webber Lecture - December 1999

Might I begin by thanking the school community for extending to me the honour of delivering the second in this series of Webber lectures? Although I was not present at the inaugural lecture, I have had the pleasure of reading that excellent address. The Reverend Michael Webber has set an enviable standard in erudition and wisdom - a standard that I, for one, will find it extremely difficult to meet.

I would like to begin where The Reverend Michael Webber left off - with reference to Wordsworth's idea that "The Child is father to the Man". In this thought we find a familiar and compelling idea. It is that the future is, in many respects, already with us; that tomorrow is made today. To take this idea seriously is to accept that we share responsibility for co-creating the world into which we move with each passing second; a world that will reverberate with the effects of our decisions long after our time has passed.

My aim, tonight, is to expand this idea and to explore what implications it might have for society more generally, and for the institutions of family and school in particular. I doubt that I will be able to generate any definitive answers.

However, I hope to make the journey of exploration an interesting one that, at the very least, stimulates a few discussions. In order to do this, I will have to touch lightly on topics as diverse as: the possibility of free will, the formation of a good society, the qualifications for parenthood, the place of the nuclear family and the role of the school. All this in thirty minutes! So, to work!

Let us suppose that life is a kind of journey. In the simplest of models, we travel down a single path. No matter how our path might twist and turn we proceed step by step - untroubled by any need to choose one direction over another.

A more complex model is one in which the journey is punctuated by a series of choices whenever we meet a fork in the road. At each junction we must choose from amongst the options available to us. In some cases there will seem to be just two choices. In other cases, there will be dozens of options from which to make a selection. We will not always recognise an option for what it is. Nor will be able to make an accurate prediction of where the path might lead. Indeed, some paths will seem to head in opposite directions only to converge after time. Others will seem more or less equivalent - only to lead to wildly different outcomes.

The point is that each choice (including one to stay on an existing path) will give rise to a slightly different future (including a future that is identical to all others except in that it includes the decision to make the relevant choice). While each new decision will be freely made, the options available to the decision-maker will be profoundly affected by earlier decisions - but, most importantly, not his decision.

As time passes, the effect of these choices can be compounded. For example, a person might apply a general rule of always taking the path farthest to the right. All things being equal such a traveller will probably find him or her self veering to the allegorical East. Those always choosing the left-hand path will veer to the West and so on.

Now, there are a number of grounds for objecting to this model. For example, it could be argued that our choices are illusory and that everything is predetermined in a endless chain of cause and effect. At one level, this objection helps to make my point - namely, that what we do today shapes the future.

As to the question of whether or not there is any meaningful choice to be made, I would observe that our 'ordinary' idea of cause and effect is historically rooted in the assumptions of an exclusively Newtonian universe. However, we now know that Newton's conception of a 'clockwork universe' does not fully describe reality as we have found it to be.

We also inhabit a quantum universe in which probability and uncertainty are written into the structure of matter, energy, space, time and any other dimensions that might exist as yet undiscovered. in this universe, the idea of determinism is largely incoherent. More importantly, the world of quantum mechanics leaves room both for the possibility of free will and for its practical effect on the world that unfolds.

Indeed, it has been suggested that there is not one but a series of these 'quantum universes' in which all possible worlds exist simultaneously. According to this view of reality, our conscious experience consists of a journey through successive possible worlds with our trajectory (and experiences) altered by the choices we make.

I should be clear, I am not claiming that the discovery of quantum mechanics demonstrates the reality of free will - only its possibility. And for me, that is enough.

A further objection might be that our experience of choice is real but essentially futile in that all roads lead to the same, inevitable destination. However, even if this notion of a fixed end were found to be true, it would still leave each of us with the opportunity to attend to the quality of our journey. In other words, the destination might be considered less important than our manner of getting there.

A final objection might be made that the class of things able to be affected by the exercise of free will is strictly limited. For example, few would accept the suggestion that we live in a world in which a mouse can be turned into an elephant by a simple act of free will. That is, free will might be accepted as real but irrelevant - limited, say, to the realm of quantum events.

One might respond by noting that science is moving towards the idea of a universe governed by a single, unified 'theory of everything' in which quantum events influence the unfolding of events in the larger scale, Newtonian, world that most of us experience for most of the time. If the unified theory emerges in a form that survives the rigors of the scientific method, then free will at least has to be taken seriously as a possible source of large scale events of the kind that we experience every day.

As the Reverend Webber noted last year, our common experience would seem to confirm the likelihood of this result. It would also suggest that although we might not be able to will a mouse to become an elephant we can (and do) influence the shape of the adult through our action on the child.

The debate about free will is of crucial importance to anyone who is interested in ethics. This is because free will is an essential ingredient in any account of personal responsibility. If the theory of determinism were ever found to be correct (even in a quantum universe), then any judgement about the quality of human actions would become quite senseless. Even the vilest criminal could plead a kind of innocence based on the inevitability of their actions.

There is one further difficulty that I need to anticipate before moving on. You will have noticed that my argument makes the future rather unpredictable. With the loss of determinism we also surrender a large slice of certainty.

Instead, the best that we might hope for is a probable outcome - a notoriously unreliable basis for predicting what might happen in a reality where a person with a two-sided coin can throw 'heads' a million and one times.

Given this, it might be said that it is unreasonable to talk seriously about the idea of allocating responsibility to anyone for the shape of the future. How can we possibly know how our actions might affect some particular outcome? What if we aim to do good but unwittingly contribute to an unmitigated disaster? After all, life is full of examples where well-intentioned people set in course a train of events, complete with improbable coincidences, leading to an entirely unintended, but dire, set of consequences. Given this, how can we hold anyone responsible for anything? Those of us who are parents and teachers might breathe a small sigh of relief! But only a small one ...

First, we need to recognise the importance of a person's intentions. That we should do so is not a novel suggestion. Indeed, it is reflected in our legal system. With a few exceptions, it is necessary for the prosecution to establish the existence of a 'guilty mind' before a person can be convicted of a crime. This is not to say that a person can be a well-meaning buffoon who recklessly endangers others through either negligence or incompetence. Reasonable people expect a reasonable degree of care and diligence to be applied - especially when the things that we do have the capacity to affect the welfare of others.

That is why we look to surgeons, for example, to be something more than a genial character, with reassuring silver hair, dressed in a smart, white coat. Imagine a case in which a patient dies of post-operative complications. A subsequent investigation could conclude that the surgeon performed in line with the highest technical standards of competence. Even so, we would be appalled to learn that he had turned up at the operating theatre feeling a little tipsy.

Second, our judgement of the rightness or wrongness of an action might have nothing to do with an assessment of its consequences. A police officer might be convinced that a known criminal is better kept behind bars. From the point of view of the immediate safety of the community he might be right and, as a matter of fact, we may all be better off if the criminal is in gaol. Yet, for all that, we would usually condemn a police officer who manufactured evidence to secure the conviction of a person who had committed the crime but would otherwise be acquitted.

All of this suggests that there may be occasions when it is extremely difficult (if not impossible) to allocate individual responsibility for a particular outcome (expecially one that is remote in time). However, this still leaves the possibility of holding people accountable for the quality and character of their intentions and for the care and diligence with which they approach the tasks that they perform. We can also assess the means employed in securing some particular end.

Finally, while it may be difficult to pin down the responsibility of a particular individual for a particular outcome, the difficulty in doing so is greatly diminished when looking at larger groups such as institutions, societies and nations and dare I say it, schools.

I hope that you are beginning to see where I am heading. It seems to me that the preceding discussion raises some extraordinarily challenging issues for anybody involved in the task of nurturing and educating children.

We may not know the exact consequences flowing from our decisions in relation to children. However, we can be pretty sure that they will reverberate into the future. We may not be able to allocate responsibility to a particular person for a particular outcome in a particular life. However, we can assess the contribution made by a society, or a generation, in educating their children for (and into) the future. So what is going to be the basis for our choices?

We need to ask if there are some basic approaches and standards that need to be insisted upon for the sake of today's children and the future that they will inherit and help to create. Following on from this should the opportunity to raise and educate children be limited to those who are prepared to adopt and apply these approaches and standards? Finally, what are we going to do about people who reject these basic approaches and standards but insist on the right to raise children in a manner that society may determine to be 'sub-optimal' or worse?

In coming to grips with such questions we might begin by looking at one or two ideas about how a society could best organise itself for the future.

Plato's great work, The Republic, is one man's attempt to offer a comprehensive account of how a theoretically good society might be developed in practice. The key to Plato's thinking is the need to develop and maintain a proper balance between the different parts of an ideal city in which people perform specialised functions that combine in their effect for the common good. Plato sees little sense in everybody trying to do everything for himself or herself. He therefore supports the principle of the division of labour. Not only are there to be artisans, labourers and shopkeepers, there is also a need for soldier-citizens and at the pinnacle of society, the philosopher kings (generally regarded, by informed opinion, as being one of his better ideas).

The route to achieving this vision of the good society lies in education. One of the distinguishing features of this ideal society was the fact that it should be a true meritocracy. Unlike Aristotle, Plato believed in the essential equality of the sexes. He also believed that talent could arise from any quarter of the polis. However, he was suspicious of the parental instinct to favour one's offspring. With this in mind, he argued that all children should be reared in common, with all adults being 'parents' to the young.

Plato hoped that his device would allow the truly gifted children to be identified and then educated, according to merit, so that they might become fit to perform the tasks for which they were naturally suited.

Now, we should not assume that Plato was unmindful of the natural affections between parents and children. As noted above, he was all too aware of this. Nor was he uninterested in the welfare of the children of The Republic. It is not the case that he wanted to use them merely as the means to some other person or group's end. Plato believed that he had created a framework in which the good of all would be realised. His scheme of education was not only good for the wider community - but of definite advantage for the children - especially in the longer term.

One key point to note here is that Plato assumes that there is a strategic role to be played by educators in developing a good society. Education is not an accidental activity left in the hands of a few individuals who just happen to profess an interest in the activity. Rather, it is a matter of supreme importance for the long-term viability of a society.

The other point to note is that Plato is not prepared to gamble with the future of particular children and the long-term health of his ideal society by allowing that individual parents have an automatic right to control the development of their children. Plato knows what a good society looks like and is prepared to curtail many of the freedoms that we would naturally expect to enjoy as parents and citizens. Once again, it is worth noting that he is prepared to do so for the sake of a common good that he can clearly articulate.

A first response might be to reject the Platonic model as being too harsh - too lacking in respect for the rights of parents and children. I suspect that Plato might be a little surprised by our response and remark that he observes much in our current arrangements that is similar to what he had in mind.

For example, he might point to the fact that, from the time their children turn five, many parents play only a minimal role in their education. He might observe that most parents routinely hand their children over to a place in which blood ties have no bearing, in which there is a specialist group of educators who select, reward and promote on the principle of merit. He might conclude that most families have conceded that the best thing for them to do is to play a relatively minor role in the process of educating their children.

Plato would also be likely to point out that this pattern of involvement is a relatively rare exception, in history and amongst other cultures, to the norm in which the extended family (the dominant social structure in most societies in most times) has largely been responsible for the education of children.

I suspect that Plato would not be unhappy with the evolution of the nuclear family - especially given the way it has contributed to the creation of a society that is unusually close to the model that he advocated. However, he would be perplexed by our apparent decision to implement his program in a half-hearted manner. Finally he would want to know what thinking lay behind this modern structure and how we were ensuring that the development of our children was done effectively in such a hybrid system.

He would also want to know how it is that we allocate responsibility under this arrangement. Do parents accept their share of responsibility for the outcomes of the education process, or do they act as if the school is entirely responsible for the whole parenting process - at least during school hours? And how is this hybrid model operated in order to ensure a coordinated response that allows for consistency between home and school? Are parents routinely communicating with teachers and vice versa?

I suspect that at this point in our history we would not be able to provide Plato with much of an answer. Part of our trouble lies in the fact that we do not have a deep shared understanding of what a good society would look like. I believe that our age is the culmination of a prolonged period of forgetting. That is, we live at the end of a period during which form and structure have taken precedence over substance.

I might better explain what I mean by drawing on an approach adopted by Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell when trying to describe a moment of spiritual enlightenment and all that follows. Both talk about a moment that is best captured with the expression, "Ah Ha!". The trigger for this response might be: a sunset, a face in a crowd, an unexpected chord in music, a flash of insight that comes with a new hypothesis. In fact, it could be almost anything. Whatever the source, there is a brief moment of extraordinary clarity and unarticulated understanding.

Alas, the risk of forgetting begins at the moment when we try to explain, to ourselves or to someone else, what it is that we have experienced. Not wanting to lose the insight we cloak it in words. If the idea is powerful enough we will try to capture it in the form of an institution. Some have even tried to preserve fundamental insights in brick and stone.

I want to suggest that each of our great institutions has been an expression of a great idea. I want to suggest that over time there has been a progressive forgetting of these ideas and that we have covered our loss with a facade that is real enough to hide the fact that the interior is empty.

A society can live with this type of illusion when the winds of change are light. Then there is time enough to 'gild the lily' and 'paper over the cracks'. But these are not the times in which we live.

Ours is a time in which our structures are buffetted by change and tested to the limit. Only those with a solid core could have hoped to survive. Few have done so.

That is why our long period of forgetting has been so destructive - not only of the old order but also of those who depended on it for support. That is why so many people feel lost and confused as they struggle to make meaning in a world where the old touchstones of certainty have eroded. That is why strangers stop me to tell of their troubles; people who have surrendered hope in the face of seemingly intractable problems, people who have reluctantly given up their sense of community as unrealistic in a world where self-interest reigns supreme.

It has been suggested that all of this is evidence of a collapse in our sense of being a society. Instead, we have become its pale imitation - an ‘enterprise association’. The latter has been explained in the following terms:

We might imagine a city founded purely as a trading post. The laws of the city will reflect its original purpose, and have to be understood in relation to this purpose. Contracts will be vigorously enforced however unreasonable or unjust, because it is of the highest importance to retain the confidence of those with whom the city trades.

Indeed, the notion of a contract being 'unjust' will have no meaning. All education will be subordinated to the need to produce an ‘enterprise culture’, and no subject will be studied as an end in itself. The rulers of the city will regard themselves essentially as the managers of the enterprise. Their tasks will be to maximise wealth and promote trade.

Is this so very far from what we now experience? Some may say that this is an accurate and even attractive picture of the type of world in which we live. But does such a view of our relationships miss something of vital importance? For example, do we exist simply to "facilitate the exchange of commodities", or is there something more? Is there, for example, a need to value friendships, to realise that other people can make a claim on us? Is living in a society only possible when we recognise that each person is bound to others within a network of formal and informal relationships?

So here we are. Is this not a miserable picture? Yes.

Need we meekly accept this state of affairs? No.

Must we surrender to the twin demons of cynicism and despair? No.

On the contrary, this is a great time to be alive. It's a time to defy those who say that our future is fixed. It is a time to shrug off the dead hand of unthinking custom and practice and start to think for ourselves as we explore questions that will help us to define who we are as a people and what it is that we stand for. In short, we have an opportunity to take a fresh look at what it is that makes for a good life and a good society.

If this were not challenge enough, this task of rethinking will have to take place at a time of rapid and profound change. New forms of technology, new patterns of engagement, at home and abroad, will throw up a host of possibilities that were probably inconceivable a generation ago. As more things become possible so there are more arenas for choice.

We need to understand that this enlarges the ethical landscape that must be traversed. The reason for this is that ethics is about answering a very fundamental question, “What ought one to do?” In other words, whenever we have a choice or decision, then we encounter the ethical dimension of our existence.

At the end of our great forgetting we find ourselves with the rare opportunity to think afresh and, in doing so, rediscover the lost heart of our society and its institutions.

I suspect that when we eventually say, "Ah ha!" it will be because we have discovered the same enduring truths encountered by our forefathers - a commitment to the search for truth, a belief in the possibility of justice, a recognition of the essential dignity of all, and dare I say it, the power of love. But there will be one, extremely important difference - no matter how close to ancient insights, these truths will be our truths.

Of course the process may be painful. We are already losing the option of looking back and blaming the past for the shape of our present. Beyond this, we will need to accept a greater degree of responsibility for the future that we fashion. Some are bound to shrink from this challenge. After all, there is a long-standing prediction that the western democracies will eventually collapse because of our radical incapacity to cope with the burden of our freedom.

So why accept this challenge? My first response is to ask, quite seriously, if there is any alternative to exploring the fundamental questions that we all face. My second response is to suggest that, even if there were an acceptable alternative, we should still choose to confront questions that challenge our notions of what is good and right because, in doing so, we discover the core of our humanity.

What is the price of Experience? Do men buy it for a song,
Or Wisdom for a dance in the street? No! it is bought with the price
Of all that a man hath – his house, his wife, his children.
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy,
And in the wither'd field where the farmer ploughs for bread in vain.
It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer's sun,
And in the vintage, and to sing on the waggon loaded with corn:
It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted,
To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer,
To listen to the hungry raven's cry in wintry season,
When the red blood is fill'd with wine and with the marrow of lambs:
It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements;
To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter-house moan;
To see a God on every wind and a blessing on every blast;
To hear sounds of Love in the thunderstorm that destroys our enemy's house;
To rejoice in the blight that covers his field, and the sickness that cuts off his children,
While our olive and vine sing and laugh round our door, and our children bring fruits and flowers.
Then the groan and dolour are quite forgotten, and the slave grinding at the mill,
And the captive in chains, and the poor in the prison, and soldier in the field
When the shatter'd bone hath laid him groaning among the happier dead:
It is an easy thing to rejoice in the tents of prosperity –
Thus would I sing and thus rejoice; but it is not so with me.

There is nothing in Blake's poem that is not with us today. There is nothing in Blake's poem that we do not have the capacity to alleviate - if we choose to do so. If I am right in my assessment that we have reached a time where new beginnings are a real possibility, then it follows that each of us here tonight has a critical role to play. This is because each of us is required to take decisions that will establish patterns for the future. The future lies in the hands of each and every one of us. The question is, do we recognise this and will we rise to the challenge that this represents?

There will be many wanting to tell you that, in the face of the horrors of his time, it was futile of William Blake to protest that, "it is not so with me". Don't believe them. Whether as a young person setting out on the journey of life, as a teacher, a parent or a concerned citizen - you can make a difference if only you are minded to do so.

I suspect that there are many here who are relieved not to live in a fully blown version of Plato's Republic. I, for one, could not bear to think of my children being taken from me as part of a coolly rational system to deliver an ideal society. Believing that it would be for their own good would hardly make me feel any better. And I would be crushed by the suggestion that I was not a good enough parent or person to be allowed involvement in the task of raising and educating my own children.

Yet, I can also imagine Plato calling me aside and asking me to justify why it is that my personal likes and dislikes should be allowed to get in the way of a better future for my child and the wider society. He might ask any of us a similar question in an effort to test our understanding of our responsibility to help co-create a better future. Should he do so, then our task would be to convince Plato that we have a view of the good life that is at least as compelling as his own and that our involvement in the education of our children is a necessary element in achieving this vision.

Now, I wonder how many of us would be able to offer such a response to Plato? How many of us could give a compelling account of the good life, the good society and then demonstrate how our approach to education supports their attainment.

How many of us could give a conscious, reflective and therefore ethical response to a challenge about the basis for our parenting, teaching and learning? In other words, how many of us could offer a convincing answer to the question, "why should you be allowed to hold the future in your hands?"