I had the chance, again this week, to give a conference-workshop on equity issues to a group of members of a central union. I have been leading this type of activity — not always, but very often at the request of education services to members of one union or another — for several years now.
Each time, I come away with a little more faith in humanity. Because there is a whole universe outside of political and media debates, where egos come into play — and therefore where humility, vulnerability, the possibility of hesitating, changing one’s mind, and even to listen sincerely are rare. In the right context, it remains entirely possible to intelligently discuss sensitive topics with just about anyone.
The spaces offered to adults to continue learning throughout their lives about political and social issues are rare, too rare. Frankly, I don’t know how much time is made available to beneficiary attendants, welders, postmen, radiology technicians, administrative assistants, teachers, machinists or heavy vehicle drivers to perfect their knowledge of the power structures that nevertheless govern the all of our lives, except when union leadership or community organizations make it their mission.
The school also of course has its role to play in providing spaces for reflection on the political, economic and social systems that govern us. But it is worth remembering that education became compulsory when the economy transformed enough to create mass demand for literate workers. The mission of the school, in our societies, has remained to create workers trained to respond to market demands.
By this very fact, the time devoted to questions from young and old about the market itself – capital, work, what it means, for whom, and for whose benefit – remains limited. We reserve these questions, which should nevertheless be everyone’s business, for those who go to university. Moreover, since economics departments are mostly monopolized, almost everywhere in North America, by right-wing thinkers, even the university does not always offer the space for reflection and debate that we all need.
This lack of time and space is not accidental: it is a central cog in the status quo. We saw, for example, how awareness of social inequalities suddenly increased during the pandemic, simply because many people were forced to take a moment to stop.
The state of perpetual shortness of breath in which most parents remain. The imposter syndrome that we cultivate in people whose job is not to think about the fate of the world, but who nevertheless have crucial questions and essential perspectives to offer, precisely because of the place that they occupy in institutions. The low expectations, even the thinly veiled class contempt, which too often persists among academics towards those who are not. The few resources allocated, in our society, to the democratization of knowledge, not only technical or factual, but also ethical and critical. The culture which dictates respecting expertise, of course, but which forgets to explain the scientific or journalistic approach, in short, which does not care enough about teaching people how to learn.
This all contributes to a political and economic ecosystem that facilitates populist manipulation and disinformation.
An example of a question accessible to all. Why, in our legal system, can we justify the act of killing by self-defense, but never theft by hunger or poverty? To ask the question is to immediately put your finger on the sacrosanct nature of private property in our civilization – and to understand how, in many cases, property remains better protected than the dignity of human life. . The link between private property, wealth accumulation and social status constitutes one of the most central nodes of Western political and economic thought.
When you think about it, you can see why seeing housing as a human right rather than an investment opportunity can be seen as an existential threat to the propertied class. We see why our laws and our economic ecosystem were designed to help the wealthy own more and better things, and not to give everyone access to a decent roof over their heads – and certainly not to eliminate poverty.
Scarcity increases the wealth of those who already have: a system that does not work for everyone is therefore not a broken system, but a system that fulfills the purpose for which it was designed. We also understand the downright cultural resistance to the idea that housing can exist outside the market, on a large scale, more than for a few poor or original people who should aspire to better.
If popular education on these issues were more accessible, the political class would never be able to join forces with the economists of the big banks to make people who are struggling to pay their rent or their mortgage believe that this precariousness is caused by… immigrants. Immigrants, yes, yes, and not this same political class, the economic school of thought that advises it, and the private actors who take advantage of the current situation.
When we say that education can be dangerous, we must ask: what type of education? And dangerous for whom?