In this article Alan Brine offers a discussion of the current state of assessment in RE, an agenda for improvement, and an outline practical framework for attainment and assessment in RE.
In this article Alan Brine offers a discussion of the current state of assessment in RE, an agenda for improvement, and an outline practical framework for attainment and assessment in RE.
Philosophy won’t make you rich. Perhaps that’s what many students may think when entering the RE classroom. However, Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor has just been awarded the second prize of $1,000,000 in his life. His most recent award was given by the Berggruen Institute and his previous prize, of the same amount, was awarded by the John Templeton Foundation for his 2007 book, A Secular Age.
In this blog I reflect on what some of Taylor’s ideas about what living in a secular age may mean for religious education.
In A Secular Age Taylor tells a story of secularisation that seeks to explain the ‘conditions of belief which obtain in the west’. He argues that we live in an age where the notion of an objective moral order has declined, and society is commonly held as being constituted of individuals living for mutual benefit, with increasingly privatised and ‘interior’ concepts of spirituality. This has led to a pluralistic condition in which individuals are continually made aware of a number of different reasonable, incommensurable views of reality.
We can use this analysis to examine the development of RE over the last 60 years. Christian religious instruction has given over to religious education that educates for, and about, religious pluralism. This can be considered as symptomatic of what Taylor considers as ‘secularity 1’ and ‘secularity 2’: the ‘emptying out’ of God from public institutions, and the decline in belief and practice respectively. RE has needed a justification and intellectual rationale that is palatable to a secular populace: it is no longer appropriate to consider it a form of induction into the nation’s eroded religious life. Indeed, the assumption among religious educators that such modes of inquiry into religion are neutral are indicative of what Taylor calls the ‘presumption of unbelief’ in public institutions and the academy.
Taylor does not argue that this atheistic default position is heterogeneous or certain, but religious practice and belief in this context is continually challenged. Likewise, so are the whole range of beliefs, positions and choices people make – religious or otherwise. He states naïveté is not an option for anyone, we are always evaluating and comparing our beliefs and construals of life:
We live in a condition where we cannot help but be aware that there are a number of different construals, views which intelligent and reasonably undeluded people, of good will, can and do disagree on. We cannot help looking over our shoulder from time to time, looking sideways (2007, 11)
This view of the current social milieu is perhaps useful for religious educators who are often negotiating ongoing clashes and controversies surrounding religion in society. If, as Taylor suggests, naïveté is not an option, RE can be considered a worthwhile activity that allows students a deeper and more sophisticated initiation into the different ‘construals’ of believers and unbelievers. Good RE enables and equips students to ‘look over their shoulders’ at others’ worldviews.
Perhaps one useful further observation made by Taylor for religious educators in this respect is that religious beliefs are not to be seen as rival ‘theories’, but as how ‘our whole experience is inflected if we live in one or another spirituality’ (p. 11). Thus, RE should be more than philosophy (perhaps a refreshingly surprising claim to be made by a philosopher!).
Another implication of Taylor’s work is that for Taylor, although the believer and unbeliever have incommensurable worldviews, they share the same quest. Religions are not considered as independent of the observer’s method of inquiry into them, as objective entities that can be separated from the perspective of the student and teacher. Rather, they can only be considered from a plurality of perspectives both believing and unbelieving, and as part of a common search for fullness shared between believers and unbelievers alike.
There are more important things than prizes and money, we might tell our students. Embarking on a search for fullness of life is perhaps one of them. Drawing on Taylor’s work we can argue that RE is one reasonable way that young people can be encouraged in this pursuit. But in this task, we will always also need public intellectuals to inform our debates. Perhaps financial recognition may be necessary to raise awareness of them in an age when so many other things compete for our attention.
As a student, one way of knowing that autumn was upon us, was the pile of cans and assorted dried goods would start piling up in the assembly hall. I distinctly remember peeking through the curtains and my stomach would grumble at the thought of the tasty treats that were shielded from me. The cans were there for the Harvest Festival, a time to give to those in need; an opportunity for us to think about those without whilst we had abundance, mixed with an unforgettable excitement for the changing of seasons.
In the few years that I’ve been teaching, as autumn rolls around there is still a sense of excitement amongst the pupils. Why wouldn’t there be? Autumn is, after all, when the newest iPhone comes out. What is there, other than religion, that can divide opinion more than whether you use an iPhone or an Android device? Many are united in the common belief that mobile technology is great, but when it comes to the details, we sometimes forget the bigger picture and we lay down our allegiances.
The stoic devotion to technology is remarkable. Customers queue for day-after-day in harsh conditions. They fend off devilish temptations that could see them lose their place in the queue or worst still to see them switch allegiances to a different device altogether. To do either would see them miss out on the ‘prize’ of eternal glory (well, until the screen smashes at least). Such devotion is hard to see elsewhere.
Apple have always seen themselves as leading the way forward, but they are faced with a schism that religion already surpassed many years ago. Their latest device has caused uproar, they have done away with a headphone jack and are instead claiming that the path to salvation is through the use of their wireless earbuds. This has seen a split, the Orthodox are claiming heresy, the liberal understanding the message in a way that is appropriate for modern times. Perhaps Apple will heal this schism, if not, we can at least hope that they can find common ground and can move forward together.
I could take this analogy further, but I think it is clear what my point is. There is an argument that society’s passion for technology is near religious in its devotion. My intention is not to argue that, but to argue that the link between them is much closer than we could imagine.
As professionals in the field on Religious Education we should capitalise upon this. We are already seeing Religion taking a lead on the use of new technologies with the release of the first full-length virtual reality feature film, Jesus VR. The film has been on the receiving end of more than its fair share of negative reviews (https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/sep/02/jesus-vr-the-story-of-christ-review-virtual-reality-cinema), but should be praised for making the most of the technologies that are available to us. The creators wanted to give a fully immersive retelling of the story of Jesus, with virtual reality they are able to do that. The viewer is no longer detached from what is going on, but is inside the story, it is happening all around them. Arguably it is as close as you can get to a religious experience whilst using your iPhone (though I suppose it depends on who you ask).
Google, another key player, who claims to have the answers to the ultimate questions of life, have just brought us ever-closer to the Holy Grail of successful Educational Technology with the release of their Expeditions (https://www.google.co.uk/edu/expeditions/). This allows teachers to take their pupils on virtual field trips. It does mean that your school needs to be operating a BYOD (bring your own device) policy, but you can be certain that although pupils are on their phones, you can know that they are looking at what you actually want them to be looking at, which gives you that nice omnipresence feeling. These give us real opportunities in the classroom that other subjects really do not have.
An argued aim of RE is to increase community cohesion. How are you meant to achieve that when you might be teaching in an area that has very little cultural diversity? Well, technologies can present you with the opportunity to connect in real time with people anywhere in the world. For example, you want to discuss the role of women in Islam but you work in an area where there are no Muslims to speak to. You could find a few news articles, but what better way to show pupils the real issue by actually speaking to a range of different Muslim women from different parts of the world? You can use things like Skype to ‘bring them’ into the classroom and to show pupils what a diverse religion Islam is.
Given that religion is already starting to embrace new technologies, maybe recognising some of the common ground that they share in terms of devotion. It is time for us to embrace new technologies, to bring them into the classroom and to see them as the utility that they are. They can help bring our subject to life and we need to capitalise upon that.
‘Character education is not new’ remark American character educators Berkowitz and Bier in a seminal paper on the topic. Indeed, the ancient Greeks believed education should help a person form good habits, wisdom and right action for their own happiness and flourishing – as well as the good of society in general. Arguably, every civilisation since has also promulgated similar teachings and ideas about the development of the person. In the present, character education is even considered a ‘growing movement’, with projects in Latin America and elsewhere.
The new focus on character education in UK schools, however, is something new, at least under that name. Since last year, the Department for Education has instigated a system of grants available for developing character and the Church of England, in conjunction with the Department for Education, has recently issued a report on an innovative project for character education in schools. A principal actor in raising growing awareness of character education in the last five years has been the Jubilee Centre for Character and Virtues, led by Professor James Arthur.
‘Character education’ is a broad term that defines a range of approaches and frameworks that aim to foster the moral actions, habits and understanding of students, and not just help them pass exams. Conceiving character education as the development of social and moral virtues – positive traits, habits and dispositions – is one popular approach, and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics remains a standard text for the field.
Many character educators have argued, following Aristotle’s reasoning, that character education is for everyone. The virtues are self-evident and universal and will help anyone flourish in any context. But young people need the right school environment and good relationships with their teachers to build these virtues – otherwise they might become lost.
But what about the role of religion in this venture? The world’s religions have all, in some form or another, advanced similar ideas to the Christian concept of virtue and its classical precursors. However, character educators have been keen to promote character education as something more universal than instruction within the frame of one religion, in favour of conceiving and offering it as a noncontroversial and straightforward, ideologically neutral enterprise.
This raises perplexing questions for religious adherents and educators, and for those in favour of secular public education alike. Can the development of the whole person as a moral subject and actor be neutral? To what extent can an Aristotelian framework be justified or applicable to everyone today? Is the concept of virtue quasi-religious and conservative? How can character education work in diverse and plural contexts? Should religious people give up their own traditions’ view of moral development and its sources in favour of something more universal at school?
The Church of England’s Vision for Education, the result of a consultation led by the Cambridge Theologian David Ford, as part of a more general educational rationale, gives some answers to these questions from a Christian perspective. No vision of education is neutral, it is argued, and the public space should not function on a consensus or perceived common denominators, but on the principles of reasoned debate and respectful disagreement. The Christian vision for education is for all, but located in a particular tradition that values wisdom, hope, dignity and community.
Projects conducted in several schools by a team based in Canterbury Christ Church University led by Professor Trevor Cooling show how such a vision may be enacted. A qualitative study of teachers shows how distinctively Christian values may inform practice within secondary schools. Another project in primary schools examined the impact of a cross-curricular intervention promoting the Christian virtue of hospitality. With a powerful methodology using pre and post- tests measuring the attitudes of students to diversity, the project demonstrates that values located in a particular tradition may contribute to the common good.
The role of religion is always controversial in education. What is interesting about the role of religion in character education is that religion can provide a strong source for the anchoring of beliefs and aspirations. The virtue of hospitality is one such focus that obviously serves others as well as developing the character virtue of those practising hospitality.
It could be argued that at a time when intolerance appears to be rife, tolerance may not be enough to rebuke it. Appealing to the riches of religious traditions may offer a stronger solution. Professing Cooling sees this as ‘looking for the resources religion offers for living well together’. In this way, the contribution of a Christian vision of character education may be compatible with a more complex liberalism. Rather than erasing traditions in favour of a supposed universal consensus of neutral values, perhaps coexistence and education for diversity is better served by engaging more whole-heartedly in the positions in which we may already stand.
Some people will use any strapline to try to grab attention. But searching for illiteracy (yep, you read it right) would seem to be the plumbing the depths. However, there is a serious paradox at the heart of RE.
The more religiously literate you become, the more you realise that most religious people are theologically illiterate. Discuss!
And this paradox underpins the struggles some folk are having with the latest GCSE courses.
As pupils get better at understanding religion you hope they will recognise that religious affiliation consists of patterns of being, belonging and believing. And for many (most?), their religious life is primarily about being and belonging rather than believing.
Few religious folk have much depth of theological literacy. As one of my colleagues often reminds me, there is a danger that we are starting to expect Year 6 pupils to develop a subtler level of theological understanding than most religious believers (noting the paradoxical use of the word ‘believers’). ‘Belonging not Believing’ characterises the religious life of many; much to the chagrin of some. But many are happy to operate with a light touch approach to theological concepts. (See the brilliant analysis in Linda Woodhead and Andrew Brown’s new book: That Was The Church That Was.)
What is the role of RE in relation to theological illiteracy?
Should we note it and move on? Should we try to make sense of it as part of the complex nature of religion? Should we try to compensate and address that illiteracy?
A consequence and symptom of this paradox can be seen daily in the fascinating cries for help by those teaching the new GCSEs. The RE community is being incredibly supportive as always.
This week it was the issue of the Genesis concept of ‘ruach’. How do we teach it? Is it the same as the Holy Spirit? Is it a dimension of the Trinity? How can I help students understand? Help! Many came to the rescue.
But isn’t there a more fundamental question? How many Christians would have a clue? It has pointed out yet again the gaps in theological and scriptural knowledge of many RE teachers. But this level of theological knowledge was not what religious studies degrees were about. Certainly not mine with Ninian Smart all those years ago.
Some are arguing that we need to improve our subject knowledge. Guilt abides. But one thing we know as good students of religion is that few Christians would have this subject knowledge. So what is it we don’t know? If theology does not play a meaningful part in the religious life of most people, why are we placing so much emphasis on it as part of the impartial study of religions?
Aren’t we massively over-playing the role of doctrine, belief and theology in the lives of most religious people? And if so, who is driving that agenda?
Other examples come to mind. The request for help in understanding the question: how does belief in the incarnation affect the daily life of Christians today? Answer – for most it probably doesn’t!! Or the Catholic teacher wondering why he is trying to explain the scriptural origins of The Trinity and its development in the Council of Nicaea to Set 4. To use his words: What’s it for? What is the point?
In the background are talented teachers who love this stuff and can convey that enthusiasm to their students ……… and make the rest of us feel a bit inadequate! Enthusiastic, talented teachers can teach their enthusiasm to any students. But is the content worth learning? (and I know how irritating I can be explaining glazes, slips, throwing and slabbing to a poor passer-by with no knowledge of ceramic processes!).
This level of theological understanding is now niche stuff – it’s for specialists not the general population. The cost of making it central to the RE curriculum is the topics that get left out – that are arguably much more central to the study of religion and belief and much more useful in developing religious literacy ………………. the study of real religion and belief!!!
So can I suggest that those theological keeners need to ‘curb your enthusiasm’ and recognise the virtues of theological illiteracy?
But in the meanwhile you struggle on with those GCSE demands!
Big ideas are the new big thing.
In a way it’s not surprising that language of ‘big ideas’ should now be dominating educational discussion and thinking. With an ever-increasing emphasis on a knowledge-based curriculum, it’s fairly obvious that if we’re going to have clarity about subject content, there must be clarity about core content. Therefore, at the heart of all discussions about curriculum design, assessment and subject identity is the question of ‘what are the big ideas that students need to grasp to achieve mastery of their subject?’
In this new post-levels, knowledge-based educational landscape, this is a question that all subjects must grapple with and RE is no exception. In the last year of meeting with consultants, academics, and teachers to discuss a huge range of issues, from legal structures around RE to assessment after levels and educational technology, we always return to the question of what are the big ideas in RE? What are these core parts of the subject that should lie behind all RE lessons?
Inevitably we can take this discussion right back to the purpose of RE. However, I would argue that the core part of developing the big ideas in RE revolves around establishing whether the subject is about ‘religion’ or ‘religions’, ‘belief’ or ‘beliefs’. Once we can take a clear and firm stand on that, the big ideas should emerge fairly easily.
For me RE should be about the intellectual study of religion and belief. Big ideas should relate to the phenomenon in a holistic sense and explore questions of ‘what is religion’, ‘what does it mean to be religious’, and ‘what is a religious question’. Religion-specific concepts, like the theological concepts highlighted in Understanding Christianity, should be used to illustrate big ideas, but shouldn’t be taken as ends in themselves.
I would argue that these big ideas should be developed collaboratively in a way that allows the whole RE community to take ownership of them, so I will avoid the huge temptation to start trying to define them here! However, as a way of framing those community wide discussions, I would argue that RE big ideas should be based on the variety of ways in which different academic disciplines have engaged with religion as a phenomenon. This diverse range of approaches has the benefit of not only providing core knowledge content, but also providing methodological approaches to the phenomenon of religion and belief that can be used to define key RE skills.
For example, theology might provide a big idea related to orthodoxy and a focus on doctrinal issues. The associated methodological approach and associated RE skill would revolve around textual exegesis. Sociology might provide a big idea related to religion as social function and a methodological approach and RE skill related to large-scale empirical analysis and demographical surveys. Anthropology might provide a big idea related to orthopraxy, belonging and community and provide a methodological approach and RE skill rooted in ethnography. The list could include history, psychology and, of course, Religious Studies, where, building on some of the key discourses coming from American university-level RS, a big idea could be developed around the question of whether the phenomenon of religion and belief can exist at all beyond its specific manifestations.
Down the wonderful RE grapevine, I have heard that Barbara Wintersgill and a wider group of RE experts are working on this issue of big ideas in RE. I’m thoroughly looking forward to seeing what this group produce. I hope that we can seize upon this renewed focus on the big ideas in our subject and use this opportunity to develop a framework that gets to the heart of the purpose of RE, wrestles with issues of subject identity, core knowledge and core skills, and establishes a clear sense of progression that coherently links RE in KS1 with RS at A level and the interdisciplinary study of religion and belief in HE.
Dr James Robson is the Knowledge and Online Manager at Culham St Gabriel’s and a Lecturer at Oxford University Department of Education.
When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you
(Winston Churchill)
There is a popular narrative that we tell ourselves in the RE world – popular but probably wrong!
The story goes like this. RE is under threat from a series of external enemies. These mainly focus around the Gove legacy, the EBacc and the dominance of the core subjects, the neglect of the DfE, academisation and the collapse of SACREs, ITE recruitment etc. BUT our ability to resist this attack comes from within – the strength of the RE community; the commitment of RE teachers; our common determination to affirm the value of RE in the face of the threat.
It’s a great story but I suspect it is fatally wrong.
My fear is that the real enemy is within. And my worry is that the threat is growing. The threat is the increasing collapse of consensus about what we are trying to do in RE and the rise of divisive interest groups and power blocks within our RE world. I fear that the notion of a shared RE community rooted in a consensus around the purpose, nature and value of RE is collapsing.
And as always in great political thrillers, the enemy within is much more dangerous that the enemy without – ask the Labour Party!
Who is at fault? As with the Labour Party – it’s probably the wrong question. Seeking to apportion blame will not help. As a ‘community’ we have always had to work with unstable compromises between different groups – the faith/non-faith school divide; the faith nurture v impartial enquiry debates; the personal development v academic study lobbies; the tricky attempt to balance the interests of different religious and belief communities.
In the past this ‘uneasy truce’ was sustained by a balance of power and resource within the ecology of the RE world. Efforts were made to construct quite complex pedagogies to try to bridge some of the divides. Where there were disagreements, mechanisms were in place to ‘allow’ for differences and fudge debate.
But now things seem to be breaking apart. Most notably we are seeing a collapse in the influence of the community school agreed syllabus model of RE driven by QCDA, local authority advisers and inspectors. At the same time, we are seeing the rise of the power of the faith school sector working in partnership with major commercial resource providers.
The real threat here is to the credibility of RE. Our strength can only lie in a conviction that RE is an essential component of a balanced curriculum. But this depends on the notion of a shared common entitlement for all pupils. If the subject disintegrates and comes to mean quite different things in different contexts, the argument that RE is an essential part of the curriculum collapses.
At the heart of the growing threat seems to be a breakdown in agreement about basic language. There is no longer agreement (or at least some truce) about the way we use words like: impartial, breadth, balance, concepts, depth, confessional, nurture, objective.
Two current initiatives offer some hope that we can work through these internal problems:
There are big challenges but these initiatives provide a context for addressing the dangers posed by the enemy within.
Religious education in England is under threat from the move to make all schools academies. Religious educators are therefore looking for a renewed justification to promote it anew. But there still is a lack of consensus over the meaning, purpose and remit of the subject, as recently shown by a discussion on Beyond Belief (Radio 4).
The late Professor Terence Copley, the only chaired Professor of Religious Education in the University of Oxford’s history, was concerned about the uncertainty of the nature and lack of purpose of RE before his untimely death in 2011.
One question that interested Copley was what had happened in the 1960s, both socially and educationally, that led to liberal and secular models of religious education dominant in the subsequent decades. His thesis was that religious education in England and Wales had dispensed with God, and could even act as a form of secular indoctrination. (Indeed, small scale research suggests that schools can be hostile environments for believing students).
Copley, a Quaker who had moved from Methodism, was liberally-minded in theology, but towards the end of his life, saw some weaknesses in a religious education founded on liberal theology. He once commented to me in a private conversation: ‘I think we’ve got to have a liberal religious education, but not a simple, naïve one, like we used to have, but a more complex one’.
In this blog, I try and make sense of what Copley meant by this in order to gain further conceptual purchase on what religious education should and could be today. I do so by invoking the useful dichotomy, used by the political philosopher John Gray, that liberalism has ‘two faces’. One is an ideology or set of absolute values or a ‘comprehensive doctrine’; the other is an accommodation of incompatible values, a modus vivendi (way of living).
Firstly, it is important to clarify some terms.
By ‘liberalism’, I mean a ‘free’ ideology, or free way of thinking. This can be applied to economics, politics, education, religion, etc. Since the Enlightenment, liberalism – one of its main legacies – has become the dominant political and economic mode of thought, and with it has come the associated notions of democracy, religious freedom and tolerance.
By liberal theology, on the other hand, I mean a post-enlightenment tradition of theology that can be traced back to Schleiermacher, that rests on a simple ethical monotheism, and an individual’s own experience of God, and tends towards an inclusive or universal view of other religions.
With increased religious diversity caused by immigration and secularisation, since the 1970s or so, religious educators have adopted various approaches to the subject that we may call ‘liberal’- ‘free’ ways of educating about religion that allow for, or deal with, religious difference and supposedly promote tolerance and freedom of belief.
Given the liberal tradition of Britain, and the tenets of freedom of belief and association, it is impossible to think of religious education that was not liberal in some sense. So what did Copley mean by naïve liberalism?
By ‘naïve liberalism’ I think Copley was referring to the theological liberalism that has underpinned many of the moves within RE since the 1960s, when RE ceased to aim to be a form of Christian nurture. The theology of these developments is often associated with John Hick. These approaches included a thematic approach when several religions are studied across modules such as ‘festivals’ or ‘rites of passage’, and the ‘world religions’ approach, when five or six world religions are studied and their beliefs and practices are compared.
From the 1990s onwards, these approaches have been criticised by Barnes, Wright and others because they resulted in, and rested on, the liberal, inclusive, theological vision of universalism: that religions were equally valid, perhaps even ‘all the same at heart’. They point out that this imposition of liberal theology when coupled with the liberal tenets of freedom of belief and tolerance privatises religious belief and indoctrinates children.
I also argue that there is second naïve liberalism that has dominated RE in more recent years that is also a comprehensive set of values in itself. This is the ideology behind an instrumental view of RE as a subject whose primary aim is to foster ‘social cohesion.’ RE’s task is to make sure religions remain compatible with the ideals of the secular, liberal state, and compatible with each other. This naïve liberalism became prominent post 9/11 when some have suggested it became the home front of a wider war of liberalism against terrorism.
I call these conceptions of religious education ‘naïve liberalisms’ because they are both a comprehensive and overbearing set of values. In short, they make explicit and totalising claims about the nature of religions that could alienate students and other stakeholders who do not agree with the ideologies and theologies undergirding them.
What happens if you do not share the universalism and inclusivism of John Hick, for example, as many religious traditions do not? The social cohesion agenda, on the other hand, arguably leads to misrepresentation, either by a romantic apologetic, or by further stigmatisation as we have seen in the case of Islam in the curriculum.
I contend that the naïve liberalisms I have described above count as comprehensive doctrines that clash in critical cases with religions.
In contrast to these liberalisms, I would like to advance that there could be a second ‘face’ of liberal RE that could be more complex, and would not represent a comprehensive value in itself. This could be a kind of RE that balanced different views of religions and operated as a modus vivendi. This would be a fairer approach, actually more compatible with religious freedom because it did not squash religions into any comprehensive view, and would actually allow individuals to be presented with, and to hold, any reasonable conception of life. This includes the possibility of a genuine encounter of religions, including the possibility of actually believing exclusively in a religion on its own terms.
Naïve liberal conceptions of RE make religions lose their distinctiveness and exclusivity. They have trivialised their alternative epistemological and metaphysical outlooks. They’ve even reduced their ‘religiousness’.
Religious educators need to consider addressing these problems. For after all, in times when religion continues to be of national and international significance, what use is salt if it loses its saltiness (Mark 9:50)?
Since my first post on this, in the summer, there have been a number of helpful emails and conversations. There’s also been the disturbing Brexit imbroglio, which – whether you voted in or out – has stirred up ugly and divisive feelings. So all that has prompted me to share this more developed version. Starting with the same premise, that the law on religious education in England needs to be reformed, I have added in several of the points people made to me. The end result is a new legal statement that is rather more developed – but still, I hope, simple enough in design, and broad enough in intention, to be a legal framework for a new kind of RE in all maintained schools.
As with the first version, I am using the textual and legal method of Midrash. First by offering commentary on the text of the current law, and next by absorbing the impact of the commentary into the law itself to change it, I hope to show how we can move on from our current impasse.
The current law
At the heart of our impasse is the provision in the Education Reform Act 1988, Section 8(3), repeated in the Education Act 1996 Section 375(3) and the School Standards and Framework Act 1998 Schedule 19(5), and subsequent Acts. The wording has not changed. Many RE professionals can quote it from memory:
‘Agreed syllabuses must reflect the fact that religious traditions in Great Britain are in the main Christian, whilst taking account of the teaching and practices of the other principal religions represented in Great Britain.’
As a profession, our reasons for wishing to change this law are multiple, so first some critical commentary is necessary.
Our brief Midrash has revealed that the current law seems riddled with problems:
Two other factors in our present context should be taken into account when framing a new legal basis. The first concerns schools with a religious character (so-called ‘faith schools’). The present legal arrangements require most schools with a religious character to set their religious teaching according to the religious authorities (the exceptions being Voluntary Controlled schools and academies that were Voluntary Controlled). While some religious authorities make entirely proper use of this arrangement, others do not. Some permit instances of ignoring religious diversity or teaching scorn and contempt for other religions. This is intolerable, and probably illegal; yet the present inspection arrangements and accountability culture seem unable to challenge it.
A second consideration is that our country now faces a serious threat of global organised religious violence and hatred on an unprecedented scale, as well as an upsurge of secular or Christian groups very hostile to religious and cultural diversity, often associated with the far right. In both cases, hate speech, bullying, threats of violence, and actual violence affect children and families in the UK. Both kinds of extremism thrive on ignorance, simplistic arguments, and poor reasoning, sometimes described as low levels of religious literacy. In this charged and ominous context, we urgently need expectations on all maintained schools – expectations that are clear and unambiguous in promoting religious literacy; and we need inspection and accountability arrangements that more effectively guard against the promotion of extremism, for the protection of all communities. In turn, the inspection and accountability measures must, if they are to work at all, be based on a very clear legal requirement. We should note that fundamentalist and hate-fuelled positions are known to derive from a lack of historical knowledge and perspective on how religions and cultures change over time, from rigid definitions of right and wrong, and from a narrow and fixed way of interpreting sacred texts. We therefore need these features to be required teaching in all schools. Case law requires RE teaching to be critical, objective (or impartial), and pluralistic. These features, though not always with these words, are built into the proposed new law.
A new law
So RE needs a new religious basis. The new basis of RE needs to be consistent with the new legal framework for diverse kinds of maintained schools; it needs to reflect the nation’s religious and cultural traditions and its modern realities in a globalised world. What follows is a suggested basis:
‘All maintained schools must deliver RE. School RE programmes must:
– teach the fact that Britain and the world are religiously and philosophically diverse
– teach knowledge and understanding of Christianity and a range of other religions and philosophies
– show how theological and philosophical ideas and traditions change over time, how a range of ethical ideas can be variously applied, and how texts can be interpreted in different ways.
RE teaching must offer knowledge and understanding in impartial ways. It must promote respect, openness, scholarly accuracy, reasoning, and critical enquiry.’
There may be plenty to disagree with in this proposed new law; I look forward to critical comments and suggestions from readers.
This short Midrash has only addressed one facet of RE’s legal basis. Questions about the name of the subject, the right to withdraw, the future of SACREs and agreed syllabuses, and the provision of initial and continuing professional development, are all important too. Yet somehow I feel that this new law, or something like it, could be a key to our progress.
Inciting students’ curiosity is the key to a good lesson. When motivated, we all learn better. Scientific research supports this intuition.
In my last blog I suggested that some bafflement about religions may not be a bad thing among students in order to prompt them to think further.
The importance of encouraging students to think for themselves has been extolled by educators throughout time.
Socrates is perhaps the best example of a pedagogue who presented students with conceptual puzzles to solve in order for students to be drawn into a more complex understanding of the issues surrounding any given topic. He believed this so strongly that he famously stated that he knew nothing himself and was only a ‘midwife’ to knowledge. The process of posing perplexing questions in order to promote learning has since become known as the Socratic method.
A typical Socratic way of teaching was to introduce a seeming impasse, or aporia, that would necessitate new ways of thinking. Students’ initial thoughts could then be challenged and refined further by counter-examples and sub-questions.
Religion presents unique problems for pedagogy in this respect. To what extent can students begin to answer questions about religions themselves? And to what extent is it appropriate to challenge students with religious questions?
Some educators have argued that children’s narratives should not be silenced by the truth-claims of religions (see my previous post on this). Yet at the same time, most religions rely on traditions, authorities and bodies of knowledge that can be certainly questioned, but when abandoned entirely, no longer remain of that religion. Because of this, pedagogies of religious education that are too child-centred have been criticised on the account that they are not religious education at all.
Yet it is possible to present some subject content in the form of conceptual puzzles. I use here the term ‘thought experiment’, taken from philosophy, to mean a hypothetical question that prompts thinking or rethinking on a given principle or idea.
Here are three thought experiments adapted for the classroom in the form of practical conundrums.
Give two students at random a space academy’s mission assignment to go to another planet.
In another room place two boxes, one labelled ‘Planet A’ the other ‘Planet B’. In one box place a rock. In the other place an old mechanical stop clock, in working order with its mechanism exposed.
The two astronauts bring the items back to the classroom, describe them and show the class.
Give the class five minutes to draw as many conclusions about the planets as possible from the evidence. The only evidence available about planet A is that there was a rock on it. The only evidence available about planet B is that there was a clock on it.
After, consider and build upon the students’ answers. You may wish to prompt the following: the rock could be evidence that there was life because it could limestone made from dead sea creatures. Others say that the clock proves that the planet has been visited by humans or aliens.
After a discussion about what we could glean from our astronauts’ findings, then introduce the design argument in a condensed form.
Finally, discuss and have students write their own opinions and reasons of whether they think the argument is good or not.
Before the lesson, arrange for a student or assistant to hide until the rest of the class has begun work. This person will from outside the room hit a shuttlecock into the room with the badminton racquet when you begin the lesson.
A student will without doubt shout out an assumption like ‘Someone hit the shuttlecock into the room’, to which you can challenge – ‘how do you know that?’ Throw the shuttlecock out again and have it mysteriously fly in again. Ask ‘Couldn’t it have happened for no reason?’ Repeat as much as necessary.
After eliciting the idea that we usually expect something to happen for a reason, give another example with a row of dominoes. The last domino falls as a result of the chain reaction set off by the first domino being pushed. Ask the next key question, if it is the case that everything is caused by something, what started everything off in the first place? This is the question which St Thomas Aquinas asked, is there not an ‘unmoved mover’ who started the whole thing rolling? At this point, introduce a version of the cosmological argument.
Display the following information with your name:
What’s the sensible choice?
I do not know if [insert name here] will give me a present, but if I write ‘[x] has a present for me’, s/he may give me one. If I write, ‘[x] does not have a present’, s/he won’t give me anything.
| Make your choice and copy the sentence below
I think the most sensible choice is to write ‘[x] has/does not have a present for me’ because … |
Ensure students know to complete the sentence, but give as little away as possible. Have a box on your desk with a lid closed shut. In it have a bar of chocolate or some other small prize. You may like to have more around the room in secret places and a couple of dummy locations. Pick students to read out their sentences. If they have not written a complete sentence, disqualify them. If they have written that you do not have a present for them, do not invite them to look into the box. If they have, invite them to look in the box. It is good to run the experiment a few times to make sure there are students who say you have a present for them who are both winners and losers.
The main question for discussion is therefore, what is the sensible choice? Elicit the rational answer that you lose nothing if you say there is something there and there is not, but you lose everything if you say there is not and there is.
After discussing this, ask the question: ‘what has this got to do with RE?’ Then introduce the use of a similar argument by Pascal for belief in the existence of God.
Presenting students with a choice or dilemma by presenting a practical conundrum to solve helps keep religious education interesting, open and inclusive. The dilemmas need not force students into taking up a particular philosophical position.
Once the conundrum has been introduced and understood, it is important to develop the lesson with factual information and criticisms of those arguments in order to take their learning beyond their own suppositions and take their learning to higher levels.
It is also important to remember that Christianity – the religion that the above thought experiments relate to – has traditionally claimed that religious belief is a matter of both faith and reason (a principle shared by thinkers in other religious traditions too). Hence, according to mainstream Christian theology, no thought experiment is sufficient alone to make sense of its doctrine.