Michel Tournier on Education 2: Erotic Religiosity

It is not enough to love the young; 

they must know that they are loved - St. Don Bosco

 

 

I. 

 

I closed part one of this post [click here] mourning the fact that only rarely in an age of remote learning do teachers and their students form those close bonds that were common when education was about initiation in the old aristocratic sense of the term (i.e. becoming a good human being and member of society), rather than instruction in the modern bourgeois sense (i.e., becoming someone with the skills and knowledge valued by employers).

 

Perhaps, I tentatively suggested, we need to radically rethink the question of education and reintroduce an element of erotic religiosity back into the classroom; whether this be modelled on classical Greek lines, Loyola's order of Jesuits, or even upon Lawrentian lines in terms of the democracy of touch, is something that would obviously have to be discussed carefully and at length [a].

 

 

II.

 

The French writer Michel Tournier seems to favour the Catholic model, if only because this is the one with which he is most familiar. 

 

In his autobiography [b], he tells us that the two schools that occupy a special place in his memory among the dozen or so he attended in the course of a "chaotic scholastic career" [47], were both religious institutions; Saint Erembert's in Saint-Germain-en-Laye and Saint Francis's School in Alençon. Each were far more successful than their secular counterparts "in preserving the initiatory aspects of education" [47].

 

Tournier explains what it was about Catholicism that particularly appealed to his youthful self and how this inclined him in later years towards the study of philosophy:

 

"The Catholic religion, with its rituals, holy days, theology, and mythology, served as a marvelous emotional counterweight to mathematics and the natural sciences, a counterweight without which the child or adolescent is afflicted by a sense of dryness and aridity. In any case, I cannot separate my memory of the theology [...] from the sumptuousness of ritual. Dunce that I was, I found in religious history and catechism an anticipation of what I later discovered in metaphysics: concrete speculation inextricably intertwined with powerful and brilliant imagery. For metaphysics is nothing other than the rigour of mathematics wedded to the richness of poetry." [47]   

Not that Tournier was smitten with other aspects of Catholicism: "I had little use for the bludgeon of dogma or for the zombie-like obedience and faith of the humble." [47] This is probably why he became a novelist and not a priest. He appreciated the fact that the Church initiated the child into a world that was both spiritual and sensual; a world that granted access to all - not just members of the nobility - to poetry, music, painting, sculpture, and architecture.

Alas, the institutionalised clergy also has another face, hideous, hypocritical, and hateful ...

"Having lost its temporal power, the Church signed on as handmaiden to the most constricted, conservative element of the bourgeoisie, whose interests and ideas it ardently adopted as its own. It continued to draw its teachings from the Gospel, but from the words of the Pharisees rather than those of Jesus. In other words, it began to preach respect for social hierarchies, money, and power as well as hatred of sexuality." [48-49] 

For Tournier, it's simple: in teaching a false morality (conservative and anti-erotic), the Church cannot possibly initiate the young into the good life. In a manner similar to D. H. Lawrence, he dreams of a Jesus fully resurrected in the flesh:

 

"Fear of the flesh has made the crucifix - a corpse nailed to two pieces of wood - the centre of Catholic worship in preference to all other Christian symbols [...] The Church has resolutely set its face against the dogma of resurrection in the flesh and attempts to ignore the fact that whenever Jesus encountered sexuality - even in the antisocial forms of prostitution and adultery - he defended it against the wrath of the Pharisees. [...] Prudes are ugly and impute their own ugliness to love, but when they spit on it, they spit on themselves. Loved and celebrated in those we love, the flesh is as radiant as that of Jesus on Mount Tabor." [49-50] [c]

 

Tournier continues:

 

"Sumptuous, subtle, and erotic - such is the initiatory Church of which I dream when I think back on how my childhood might have been. I thank my stars that the Church that actually raised me only partially betrayed that ideal." [50]

 

Sadly, those days are now remote - Tournier was born almost a hundred years ago (in 1924) - and secular education has pretty much triumphed:

 

"The revolution begun by the men of the Enlightenment is now complete. Emotional bonds, personal and possibly erotic relationships, pose no further danger of polluting the aseptic atmosphere of the classroom. Education, cleansed of every last vestige of initiation, has been reduced to nothing more than a dispenser of useful and saleable knowledge. Already computers are taking the place of teachers [...]" [50]     

But still the heart beats and the flesh quivers ... And tomorrow is another day ...

 

Notes

 

[a] I am aware of the danger that initiation can collapse into indoctrination and that models of pedagogy that flirt with ideals of pederasty can often serve as an apologetics for the sexual abuse of minors. In replacing modern teachers with tutors and mentors who care about more than exam results, we don't want to end up appointing orgres to the classroom (or even dangerous women like Miss Brodie). 

      On the other hand, if you banish the warm and magical aspect of education entirely from the official curriculum and prohibit all forms of amorous relations in the classroom, then you can be certain they will develop elsewhere and often in guises you wouldn't anticipate.    

         

[b] Michel Tournier, The Wind Spirit, trans. Arthur Goldhammer, (Collins, 1989). All page references given in the post refer to this work. 

 

[c] As Deleuze notes: "A certain number of 'visionaries' have opposed Christ as an amorous person to Christianity as a mortuary enterprise." See 'Nietzsche and St. Paul, Lawrence and John of Patmos', in Essays Critical and Clinical, trans. Daniel W. Smith and Michael A. Greco, (Verso, 1998), p. 37.  

Michel Tournier on Education 1: Initiation contra Instruction

Ivor Fox: The Initiation (c. 1950) 

Oil on board 

 

 

I've asked it before and I'll ask it again: What is education all about? 

 

I don't think government ministers or even those working in the teaching profession can answer this question with any real confidence. Thus it is that we have to turn to our philosophers and writers to find an answer ...

 

D. H. Lawrence, for example, made a bold attempt to address this question in a long essay entitled 'Education of the People' (1920); an important text that I have discussed elsewhere on Torpedo the Ark [a]. 

 

More recently, the French author Michel Tournier had a crack in his intellectual autobiography, Le Vent Paraclet (1977), arguing that education can be thought either in terms of initiation or instruction:

"Education in the broad sense of the word prepares a child to enter society and to occupy his place in it. In all times and places it appears to come in two forms, one moral, emotional, indeed magical, the other purely intellectual and rational. The first is called initiation, the second instruction. [...]

      Of course these two components of education assume many guises, and their importance varies. My view is quite simply that, historically, the relative importance of initiation has been diminishing compared with that of instruction and that for some time now this has passed the point of being harmful." [b]

 

Beginning in the eighteenth century, says Tournier, there was a bourgeois-Romantic attack launched upon the classical, aristocratic model of education "dispensed primarily by the Jesuit schools" [44]. Such a model was said to lack relevance in the age of commerce, industry, science and technology. What's the point of a man knowing about Ancient Athens and Rome, if he is incapable of earning his living in the modern world?    

"Behind these indictments (echoes of which can still be heard today in strictures against the teaching of Latin and Greek) lies a lack of understanding that comes close to bad faith. The critics pretend that the Jesuits' instruction was intended to equip the child with the knowledge needed to become a merchant, manufacturer, sailor, or government official. Had that been its purpose, it would have indeed fallen far short of its goal! But to begin with, the Jesuits were educating young aristocrats, who did not need to become scholars in order to succeed. High birth was enough. But they were also supposed to be human beings, and the education they were offered was supposed to help them toward that end. Here we touch on the crux of the misunderstanding that arose in this period between the 'ancients' and the 'moderns'. For the aristocrat, the child was not a full-fledged human being. He was a little animal, dirty, vicious, and stupid, on the whole rather contemptible. Education was supposed to make him presentable. The Jesuits were concerned not with enriching the child's mind and preparing him for a career but with shaping his moral being. Toward that end they caused him to live in a wholly unreal world in which people spoke only Latin [...] In other words, initiation was much more important than instruction in this version of education. But the moderns had no notion what this initiation was all about, and they actively opposed it. For them, the child was not wicked but simply uninformed. His mind was a blank page upon which knowledge had to be inscribed. Whereas the only ambition of earlier educators was to conduct the child from an animal state to a human one, the moderns wished to enrich his mind with science and technology, tools with which to make his fortune ..." [45-46]  

I don't know if this is true or not, but I find this passage fascinating. As I do the one which follows: 

"This crisis, which began in the eighteenth century, appears to have been a turning point in the history of education, as moral initiation gradually lost out to practical instruction. Since that time, the initiatory function of education has steadily diminished, and we are now witnessing the elimination of the few vestiges that remain. First to go was corporal punishment, which established a sadomasochistic bond between teachers and pupils, followed by religious instruction and confession, which established a similar bond at a spiritual level. More recently, Greek, Latin, philosophy, and literature have been stricken from the curriculum as obviously superfluous nonsense. All traces of humanity must be eliminated from the classroom so that the 'heartless teacher' [...] can inoculate his students exclusively with knowledge deemed to be of practical use." [46-47]

This final line is particularly resonant in an age in which schools are repeatedly (and now almost routinely) closed on the pretext of a virus presently doing the rounds, and more and more teaching is done remotely via a screen - or online, as we like to say. 

 

"Only rarely and with a feeling of illicitness" [47], says Tournier, do students and teachers now form close relations and, in some cases, life-long bonds of friendship. 

 

Perhaps, therefore, we need to radically rethink the question of education and - dare one say it - introduce an erotico-religious (or initiatory) element back into the classroom ... An idea I will develop in part two of this post: click here.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'Education of the People', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambrdge University Press, 1988), pp.85-166. 

      

Recent posts on Torpedo the Ark that discuss this essay include 'Back to School in the Age of Coronavirus' and 'Education, Education, Education à la D. H. Lawrence'.

 

[2] Michel Tournier, Le Vent Paraclet, (Éditions Gallimard, 1977). I am quoting here, obviously, from the English edition, translated as The Wind Spirit by Arthur Goldhammer, (Collins, 1989), p. 43. Following page references to this text will be given directly in the post.