Last October my fifth grader's teacher invited me to observe a session of philosophical discussion with her class. The sessions are outside of the assigned curriculum: the kind of teaching that so many primary school teachers today must fight to squeeze in between the district assessments and mandates. Although my son had described a previous session I really had no idea what to expect but I was intrigued. This would be the third session of its kind and adjusted slightly given what she learned from conducting the first two.
The sessions each focus on one general question. In this case, the question was, "Is it ever okay to lie?" The teacher began by directing a student to write the philosopher's name (Kant) on the board along with the place and time in which he lived. In previous sessions, the children asked about the last two items, trying to put the questions into context.
The teacher then explained that Immanuel Kant wrote that the ends never justify the means and, therefore, it is never acceptable to lie. She then posed five questions and led a discussion of them with the understanding that no one would be judged for what they said during the discussion. The five questions were:
1) If your mother asked you if you ate a cookie before dinner (and you had), would you lie and say you didn't?
2) If your best friend was wearing an extremely unattractive outfit, would you tell her she looks great even though you think she looks like a walking disaster?
3) If you knew that you could get someone you really don't like into trouble by lying, would you?
4) If you knew that you could get into the college of your dreams by lying on the application, would do it?
5) If you could save a person's life by telling a lie, would you?
The inspiration for this exercise and most of the material comes from a book called Philosophy for Kids: 40 Fun Questions That Help You Wonder About Everything by David A. White. I find the subtitle of the book a little odd; do kids really need help to wonder? However, I found the book itself to be extremely well organized and suitable for just about any age group. It is divided into four sections: values, knowledge, reality, and critical thinking. This question, of course, was in the "values" section.
The discussion kept returning to two of the questions and a pattern of responses emerged. As some children provided confident answers, the teacher added conditions. For example, when discussing whether they would lie about eating a cookie, some children questioned the seriousness of such a crime. She responded by asking, "What if it was the last food in the house?"
A few kids tried to justify the lie or twist the situation to make their original answer more palatable, but many discussed possible solutions to the problem such as dividing the cookie among siblings. One girl nearly made me cry when she said, "I would give the cookie to my brothers and sisters because if I died of hunger, I would be in a better place and I would see them again someday.” I am sure that many Swift readers will scoff, but what I saw in this child was a selflessness that I believe would have been there whether her religious beliefs provided a safety net or not.
A more interesting discussion was focused on the question of whether it was okay to lie on a university application. In my opinion, this is one of the best questions for such an exercise due to its depth. On the surface the act seems victimless, but one may construct scenarios in which the victim is severely harmed. When one child discussed the possible consequences to himself for such an act, the teacher did just that. She said (paraphrased):
“Let's say you discovered that your dream school was looking specifically for anthropology majors who come from South Dakota. Now, you want to major in engineering and you live in California, but you lie on the application. Somewhere on a reservation in South Dakota there is a boy who wants to major in anthropology at the same school. When the letters arrive, yours is a fat envelope containing an acceptance and his is a thin envelope with a rejection letter inside. This boy has not only dreamed of going to this school, but he sees the opportunity at his only means of leaving the reservation for a better life. He is so devastated by the rejection that he kills himself."
One of the children who said that they would lie on the application responded with, "I don't know him and it's not like he's Michael Jackson or someone like that, so why would I care?"
This may seem shocking, but consider two things before you judge. First, this is a 10-year-old boy who may be more concerned with "looking cool" than discussing the issue seriously. Second, one of the most difficult parts of reasoning well is letting go of what one currently believes. Very few people are open-minded enough to change in the face of counterevidence. This child had already committed himself to an answer; changing answers is harder in some ways than justifying them.
The class did not judge the child who made the statement about not knowing the victim, but instead discussed it. One child countered with, "It doesn't matter if I know him or not. It's still a life. I would let him have it. I'd just go to school somewhere else. It may not be what I wanted, but I'd still have a good life."
The vast majority of the children gave thoughtful answers to the questions in terms of consequences for them and for others, for the lie or if the lie were discovered. I am certain that the teacher learned quite a bit about her students, but the students probably learned a lot about themselves as well.
It did not take long for me to realize that while it appeared that this lesson was about morals, the term "moral reasoning" includes that word "reasoning" because it is indeed critical thinking. For example, the question about the college application was not as simple as it appeared because it required the children to challenge their assumptions. Critical thinking involves considering the information in front of you, but also the things you assume to be true. Overlooking the applicants who will not be accepted as a result of your lie is easy to do and carries dire consequences.
I actually wished that the children had been more interested in discussing the last question (Would you lie to save a life?). Once again, the answer that seems most humane on the surface is "Of course!” However, Kant felt that such a choice would not be truly rational and I must agree. I do not agree for reasons of integrity. I agree because every scenario I can think of involves decisions made from arrogance. For example, I am reminded of a scenario often used in film and television in which a child dies after an insurance company refuses to pay for a treatment. Usually the reason given is that the treatment was "experimental". There are serious problems with this story line which involve three related points:
1) “Experimental" does not mean "We know it works, but we're still testing it just to be sure". Insurance companies usually reject such requests for a reason: they are unlikely to work.
2) The characters (and the audience) seem to assume that the treatment would work and the child would be alive today if it were not for the greed of those terrible insurance companies. This is a very big assumption.
3) Sometimes that answer which is the most rational seems the least compassionate or humane, however, it is usually the most compassionate and humane. We live in a world with limited resources and, although it seems as if no life should carry a price tag, such considerations are a necessary evil. For example, should governments raise taxes until there is enough money to ensure that every child in a 3rd world country has enough to eat? What would happen to children in our own country if they did that? Critical thinking involves tough choices and assumptions get in the way of identifying what is truly best.
I'm not defending insurance companies here, but rather making the point that humans believe what they believe and it is often quite difficult to convince them of something which runs counter to those beliefs. We are convinced that we have enough information and our conclusions are "the right ones" regardless of what arguments might be made by others. We could all use practice considering other possibilities.
The teacher's wrap-up asked the children to consider two scenarios in which she clearly felt that it was better, or at least okay, to lie. One involved the death of a relative who, after discovering an advanced cancer, asked his doctor for a specific time estimate for his impending death. He was given a short time frame (I believe it was one month) and died one month to the day from when that time was provided. She implied that the relative may have lived longer had the doctor said, "I have no idea", but I contend that there is no reason to think that he would not have died sooner, either.
Her second scenario dealt with a time when she had received a shot of pain medication after an injury. She asked the nurse if the shot would hurt. The nurse affirmed that it would. The teacher felt that knowing it would hurt probably made it hurt more. When I suggested that if the nurse had lied, she might be angry about that lie, she responded with, "Yes, but I would still have preferred to not know." I completely understand her preference for being kept in the dark as this reminded me of a similar situation in which a nurse volunteered, "This won't hurt a bit!" In fact, it did hurt quite a bit and I was extremely angry at the nurse for lying about it. However, I had not asked whether it would hurt specifically because it did not matter; I needed the shot and I was going to get the shot whether it hurt or not.
When I picked my son up later in the day we discussed that morning's question and I told him where I stood on the matter. I told him that, like Kant; I felt that the ends do not justify the means because we make choices as if we know for certain what those ends will be. I explained that we rarely fully know the consequences (the ends) of our actions, yet we almost always believe that we do. Most of the examples people use to counter this argument are matters of hindsight.
I also explained that I sometimes lie. Part of being human is that we have many reasons for the choices we make. Even the most rational among us make irrational choices. The important thing is that we recognize our reasons rather than deny them. If we do that, we can work toward making better decisions. Meanwhile, we should not beat ourselves up over acts that appear hypocritical, but instead learn from them.
After discussing this and other exercises with the teacher, I began to believe that much of the children's epistemology and reasoning strategies are already well established by the 5th grade. I would very much like to see the entire educational foundation constructed with teaching philosophical thought from the earliest ages. Programs in Australia such as “Philosophy For Children – A Core Subject In B.Ed Training”reported by Kylie Sturgess and other sources are very promising. In his book, “The War For Children’s Minds”, philosopher Steven Law argues that philosophical discussion, particularly about moral issues, fosters intelligence and the acquisition of valuable social skills.
Although I would not draw conclusions from casual observations, mine strongly suggest a similar hypothesis: that when we teach children to think critically in general, they think critically about everything and form strong moral values. The children I have known who exemplify critical thinkers are also the most socially liberal, fair-minded, and compassionate children I have known. Rational thought wins in every domain.
As a final note, I would like to acknowledge that my husband and I feel very fortunate and are grateful for teachers like the one described in this post.
Barbara Drescher teaches research methods, statistics, and cognitive psychology at California State University, Northridge. Her research interests include perception, attention, learning, and reasoning. At ICBSEverywhere.com, Barbara evaluates claims and research, discusses education, and promotes science and skepticism.