Princeton
Review by Walter Cummins
As I read the explanatory chapters of Leslie Valiant’s The Importance of Being Educable—winner of the Turing Award, I found myself quibbling with him about what he meant by education, specially what would be transmitted by the process he describes in thorough detail, systematizing the steps involved. From his beginning premises, he considers education fundamental to the development of human civilization. How, I wondered.
At several points in the book, Valiant reiterates three pillars of educability: “(a) learning from experience, (b) acquiring theories through instruction, and (c) applying what one has acquired through (a) and (b) in an integrated way.” The emphasis on experience and applicability convinced me that he was limiting the material transmitted to tangible situations with concrete goals, in essence, forms of problem solving.
He gives examples from the annual kingdom, crows that stripped leaves from a twig to create an appliance for digging insects from the earth and a group of chimpanzees that figured out how to pile cushions to give them enough height to escape from an enclosure. Human inventiveness, he asserts, takes learning many steps further.
This approach isn’t limited to practical tools. The same steps lie behind the creation of computers and space rockets and the discovery of the DNA double helix. Humans develop methodologies that allow them to achieve concrete goals. But, as I considered much of what I deem formal education, the three pillars play are not central. Consider a course in which I read Plato’s Republic, guided through comprehension of the theories by a competent instructor. That’s pillar (b). But how do I move onto the application of (c)? Conjure up my own version of an ideal society? That doesn’t enable me to plant a flag on the moon. Unlike the crows and chimps and rocket scientists, my conclusions could not be demonstrated experientially in the physical world.
A very different form of education from goal-directed learning is the transmission of theoretical concepts like those that result in philosophical, theological, and political systems. These are based on assumptions resulting from ideas that have no definitive pragmatic outlet. When Valiant turns to the consideration of such belief systems, the book takes a radical turn from all that has preceded these concluding chapters. Education is no longer the application of a systematic problem-solving process. In fact, it becomes highly vulnerable.
Although it does not appear to be his intention, this contrast helps explain why human civilization can demonstrate so many advancements in what might be called the quality of life, such as vaccines and flush toilets, but little progress in the basics of human nature, as may be seen in today’s ongoing warfare over territory and tribal hatreds. The pillars of education have produced much deadlier weapons, hardly achievements for the human condition.
After many pages of arguing for the rights and benefits of education for all, Valiant suddenly shifts his premises and exposes the limitations of formal education: “A widely held belief about education is that it is inherently good. The more education an individual receives, and a country offers, the better. Education will automatically cure the evils of the world. History offers some cautionary warnings.” He cites the high level of education in the Germany that unleashed the horrors of World War II. Valiant reminds us that miseducation can be “used for nefarious purposes.” Human nature is “naïve and gullible.”
Valiant began by crediting the vital role of education as a Civilization Enabler. Yet he sees no evidence that “our civilization is on an upward slope.” He concludes with a plea that humankind find a way to “guard against the worst dangers” of destructive belief systems. Rather than providing a new theory of human uniqueness, Valiant circles around to reinforcing the threats of our vulnerabilities.
