Head's Blog | Bridges | Embley School, Hampshire

In January 1942, in a small suburb just outside Berlin, a group of engineers, scientists and logicians gathered to map out a strategy that would change the face of Europe. What became known as the Wannsee Conference was designed to propose the mechanism that would achieve the Final Solution - for the Nazi party, this meant the elimination of the Jewish population of Europe. On Monday in assembly, Mr Le Coq and some sixth formers walked us through the events that followed and the consequences for Europe and the world. They extended our thinking to dwell also on genocide in other areas and among other nations. Their theme was on building connection. Not just among and between us today, but also with the events of the past such that the memory of the Holocaust is a living reminder of what we are capable of.I have touched in earlier comments reader on what Hannah Arendt called the ‘banality of evil’. Looking at those in that room in January 1942, there can be fewer rooms less filled with highly educated individuals. Arendt’s point is that the horror of what they unleashed was done without any critical faculty and not by ‘monsters’. They loved their children, bought their partners gifts and remembered birthdays. My question is how then can this happen? The long shadow of Auschwitz casts itself over the entirety of the human endeavour and experience. It challenges notions of progress and civilisation. In a cultural heartland of a cultural heartland, in a country which had previously seen some of the most advanced thinking in extending suffrage and democracy, how could this happen?
 
What we can certainly take from this is that years of schooling and the collection of letters and distinctions conferred as confetti don’t of themselves constitute an education nor produce thoughtful critical minds capable of stepping away from the herd. The accumulation of data, facts and knowledge of process, is useless without some considerable degree of human understanding. It may be what stands between us and the machines, you might well ask: ‘for how long?’. But that is another story. Primo Levi’s work might seem to challenge this but I’m not sure that he doesn’t so much challenge as complement. In addressing a nation, he points the accusing finger at a generation; those who knew were complicit in their lack of action, how could they be so unthinking, so wilfully blind?
 
There is a profound difference between what I will call schooling and education. The challenge for education and educators today is to avoid over valuing the things which can be measured, because the things of value can’t be. The argument for an all-rounded education stems from the intrinsic belief that while we have the capacity for many things, evil included, we are naturally disposed to the good and a thorough well-rounded education civilises us, it makes us more human. The answer to the question of why I have to study this or that, when this or that is not going to be my career, is simple. We are not educating you for a career; we are educating you for a life in which a career or many careers may form a part but cannot be the ultimate aim. This is not to say we are not ambitious, not academic, quite the opposite. We are ambitious for the right things; there’s little point in climbing to the summit and finding you're on the wrong hill. 
 
In going through scholars interviews and entrance interviews this month, one question I often ask is ‘why do humans write stories?’ I get lots of answers about imagination, creativity and entertainment. But I wonder if we could press a little deeper. We may write for these reasons and more besides, but maybe we tell stories to understand and in that we understand one thing above others. It is the purpose of education, it is the essence of what we do, the heart of Embley’s purpose and defines the Renaissance individual. That regardless of colour or context, we understand stories because we are human and share the same experiences. I may read from Endo to Allende, Dostoevsky to Dickinson, I understand because we share a common humanity that bridges our difference. It’s why all my stories are true even if some have never happened. In the shadow of the camps, in a world where to quote one political leader, ‘we are seeing the old order rupture’, it seems now is a good time to be building bridges.