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The
Great Conversation
by Robert M. Hutchins
The
tradition of the West is embodied in the Great
Conversation that began in the dawn of history and
that continues to the present day. Whatever the
merits of other civilizations in other respects, no
civilization is like that of the West in this
respect. No other civilization can claim that its
defining characteristic is a dialogue of this sort.
No dialogue in any other civilization can compare
with that of the West in the number of great works
of the mind that have contributed to this dialogue.
The goal toward which Western society moves is the
Civilization of the Dialogue. The spirit of Western
civilization is the spirit of inquiry. Its dominant
element is the Logos. Nothing is to remain
undiscussed. Everybody is to speak his mind. No
proposition is to be left unexamined. The exchange
of ideas is held to be the path to the realization
of the potentialities of the race.
At a time when the West is most often
represented by its friends as the source of that
technology for which the whole world yearns and by
its enemies as the fountainhead of selfishness and
greed, it is worth remarking that, though both
elements can be found in the great conversation,
the Western ideal is not one or the other strand in
the conversation, but the conversation itself. It
would be and exaggeration to say that Western
civilization means these books. The exaggeration
would lie in the omission of the plastic arts and
music, which have quite as important a part in
Western civilization as the great productions
included in this set. But to the extent to which
books can present the idea of a civilization, the
idea of Western civilization is here presented.
These books are the means of understanding our
society and ourselves. They contain the great ideas
that dominate us without our knowing it. There is
no comparable repository of our tradition.
To put an end to the spirit of inquiry that has
characterized the West it is not necessary to burn
the books. All we have to do is to leave them
unread for a few generations. On the other hand,
the revival of interest in these books from time to
time throughout history has provided the West with
new drive and creativeness. Great Books have
salvaged, preserved, and transmitted the tradition
on many occasions similar to our own.
The books contain not merely the tradition, but
also the great exponents of the tradition. Their
writings are models of the fine and liberal arts.
They hold before us what Whitehead called "'the
habitual vision of greatness." These books have
endured because men in every era have been lifted
beyond themselves by the inspiration of their
example, Sir Richard Livingstone said: "We are tied
down, all our days and for the greater part of our
days, to the commonplace. That is where contact
with great thinkers, great literature helps. In
their company we are still in the ordinary world,
but it is the ordinary world transfigured and seen
through the eyes of wisdom and genius. And some of
their vision becomes our own."
Until very recently these books have been
central in education in the West. They were the
principal instrument of liberal education, the
education that men acquired as an end in itself,
for no other purpose than that it would help them
to be men, to lead human lives, and better lives
than they would otherwise be able to lead.
The aim of liberal education is human
excellence, both private and public (for man is a
political animal). Its object is the excellence of
man as man and man as citizen. It regards man as an
end, not as a means; and it regards the ends of
life, and not the means to it. For this reason it
is the education of free men. Other types of
education or training treat men as means to some
other end, or are at best concerned with the means
of life, with earning a living, and not with its
ends.
The substance of liberal education appears to
consist in the recognition of basic problems, in
knowledge of distinctions and interrelations in
subject matter, and in the comprehension of
ideas.
Liberal education seeks to clarify the basic
problems and to understand the way in which one
problem bears upon another. It strives for a grasp
of the methods by which solutions can be reached
and the formulation of standards for testing
solutions proposed. The liberally educated man
understands, for example, the relation between the
problem of the immortality of the soul and the
problem of the best form of government; he
understands that the one problem cannot be solved
by the same method as the other, and that the test
that he will have to bring to bear upon solutions
proposed differs from one problem to the other.
The liberally educated man understands, by
understanding the distinctions and interrelations
of the basic fields of subject matter, the
differences and connections between poetry and
history, science and philosophy, theoretical and
practical science; he understands that the same
methods cannot be applied in all these fields; he
knows the methods appropriate to each.
The liberally educated man comprehends the ideas
that are relevant to the basic problems and that
operate in the basic fields of subject matter. He
knows what is meant by soul. State, God, beauty,
and by the other terms that are basic to the
insights that these ideas, singly or in
combination, provide concerning human
experience.
The liberally educated man has a mind that can
operate well in all fields. He may be a specialist
in one field. But he can understand anything
important that is said in any field and can see and
use the light that it shed upon his own. The
liberally educated man is at home in the world of
ideas and in the world or practical affairs, too,
because he understands the relation of the two. He
may not be at home in the world of practical
affairs in the sense of liking the life he finds
about him; but he will be at home in that world in
the sense that he understands it. He may even
derive from his liberal education some conception
of the difference between a bad world and a good
one and some notion of the ways in which one might
be turned onto the other.
The method of liberal education is the liberal
arts, and the result of liberal education is
discipline in those arts. The liberal artist learns
to read, write, speak, listen, understand, and
think. He learns to reckon, measure, and manipulate
matter, quantity, and motion in order to predict,
produce, and exchange. As we live in the tradition,
whether we know it or not, so we are all liberal
artists, whether we know it or not. We all practice
the liberal arts, well or badly, all the time every
day. As we should understand the tradition as well
as we can in order to understand ourselves, so we
should be as good liberal artists as we can in
order to become as fully human as we can.
The liberal arts are
not merely indispensable; they are unavoidable.
Nobody can decide for himself whether he is going
to be a human being. The only question open to him
is whether he will be an ignorant, undeveloped one
or one who has sought to reach the highest point he
is capable of attaining. The question, in short, is
whether he will be a poor liberal artist or a good
one.
The tradition of the West in education is the
tradition of the liberal arts. Until very recently
nobody took seriously the suggestion that there
could be any other ideal. The educational ideas of
John Locke, for example, which were directed to the
preparation of the pupil to fit conveniently into
the social and economic environment in which he
found himself, made no impression on Locke's
contemporaries. And so it will be found that other
voices raised in criticism of liberal education
fell upon deaf ears until about a halfcentury
ago.
This Western devotion to the liberal arts and
liberal education must have been largely
responsible for the emergence of democracy as an
ideal. The democratic ideal is equal opportunity
for full human development, and, since the liberal
arts are the basic means of such development,
devotion to democracy naturally results from
devotion to them. On the other hand, if acquisition
of the liberal arts is an intrinsic part of human
dignity, then the democratic ideal demands that w
should strive to see to it that all have the
opportunity to attain to the fullest measure of the
liberal arts that is possible to each.
The present crisis in the world has been
precipitated by the vision of the range of
practical and productive art offered by the West.
All over the world men are on the move, expressing
their determination to share in the technology in
which the West has excelled. This movement is one
of the most spectacular in history, and everybody
is agreed upon one thing about it: we do not know
how to deal with it. It would be tragic if in our
preoccupation with the crisis we failed to hold up
as a thing of value for all the world, even as that
which might show us a way in which to deal with the
crisis, our vision of the best that the West has to
offer. That vision is the range of the liberal arts
and liberal education. Our determination about the
distribution of the fullest measure of these arts
and this education will measure our loyalty to the
best in our own past and our total service to the
future of the world.
The great books were written by the greatest
liberal artists. They exhibit the range of the
liberal arts. The authors were also the greatest
teachers. They taught one another. They taught all
previous generations, up to a few years ago. The
question is whether they can teach us.
Robert M. Hutchins has been
deemed one of America's most highly esteemed and
most well known educators. He was born on January
17, 1899, in Brooklyn, New York. Hutchins was
educated at Oberlin College in Ohio, before serving
in the military during World War I. He later
completed his education at Yale university,
graduating in 1921 and earning a law degree in
1925. From 1927 to 1929, he was the Dean of the
Yale Law School. By the age of 30, Robert M.
Hutchins became the President of the University of
Chicago. He remained at the university until 1951,
and served as Chancellor of the University of
Chicago from 1945 to 1951. Hutchins then went on to
become the director (1951) and President (1954) of
The Fund for the Republic. He served as Chairman of
the Board of Editors of the Encyclopedia Britannica
from 1943 until his death on May 14,
1977.
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