I recently spent two years writing a book review. So I’m not
quite the one for the task of summarizing, however briefly, the legacy
of life and work that my
father has left behind. The task is made more difficult by the
differences in
our lives. He was raised in Berlin,
under the shadow of Hitler, and first experienced this country as
a refugee. The path he took, first to the academy, and then within the
academy,
was largely determined by these experiences. I was raised in
a secure setting, surrounded
by other children of academics, and my work is not related to the
experiences of my past. Finally, my father was not a typical
academic,
content (as I am) to master a small area, and rule over his academic
fiefdom
with an iron fist. Specialization was not for him. Indeed, he wrote a
whole
book about its dangers.
That book, The Technological
Conscience: Survival and Dignity in an Age of Expertise, tries to
do many
things. But fundamentally its topic is human dignity, a topic that is
perhaps the
theme of my father’s life and work. As a person, my father was
steeped in myths
that usually accompanied a more religious cast of mind. He lived his
own life
as a calling, and was not one to let others live as they thought they
wished.
He could not understand how anyone could live without a deeper purpose
or
meaning. Like many a religious soul, he was suspicious of mechanistic
explanations whose purpose he suspected was to remove the mythic
purpose of our
journey. It is presumably for this reason that The Technological
Conscience
is occasionally found on the syllabi of courses taught in Christian
colleges,
which concern the conflict between religion and science.
But it would be a fundamental
misunderstanding of my father’s life to construe him as
religious. Religions run
certain risks my father was never prepared to take. They run the risk
of rejecting
the truths of the past, of the moral lessons of the Holocaust, and they
run the
risk of rejecting the truths of the future, that we are, unless all of
us make
it our callings to intervene, doomed. Religion conflicts with the
humanistic
impulse to face directly the hard truths that emerge through the study
of human
interaction. Once we have recognized these truths, we will see our
future, and
may function as agents in altering its course. Dignity is achieved in
recognizing our agency in this task. The purpose of myths, morals, and
meaning
is to motivate us towards this purpose.
At the end of the Technological
Conscience, my father moves to the topic of education. Education
was the
battleground that my father believed the war over the soul in the
mechanistic,
consumerist age would be fought. Without intervention, education was
bound to
become the domain of technocrats, seeking to instill in us tools for
survival,
but not the means by which to flourish. (There is an unfortunate
tendency, in
the book, to view this grim future as one in which we are all forced to
learn
some math; we are darkly warned that “We may expect that
mathematics, statistics,
and computer related symbol skills will spread as a nationwide focus of
curriculum revision and elaboration”.) The topic of education was
one that
occupied my father through the rest of his career. In particular, he
wrote
about the role of the university in providing the means by which to
achieve
dignity. The way we academics function as agents in history is by
bestowing the
gift of autonomy upon our students.
Again, religious themes emerge in
this work. My father’s reading of the Adam myth, in his paper
“The Educator’s
Conscience: From Paradise to Disneyland”,
was that
autonomy was God’s gift to Adam and Eve. Through eating from the
Tree of
Knowledge, Adam and Eve acquired self-reflection, and thereby became
autonomous
moral agents, capable of forging their own paths through the world. The
function of the university is to play God, by awakening critical
self-reflection.
At our best, according to my father’s work, we academics grant
our students the
gift of autonomy along with knowledge of the mistakes of the past, in
the perhaps
vain hope of securing the future.