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John Henry NewmanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In his first discourse, Newman prepares the ground for the intellectual explorations in subsequent discourses. While he comes to the topic as a Catholic scholar speaking to a Catholic audience, he asserts that his case can be held true by all, whether religious or not: “The principles on which I would conduct the inquiry are attainable […] by the mere experience of life. They do not come simply of theology” (4). Newman defends this adoption of an experiential (rather than theological) foundation to his inquiry by noting that the Catholic Church has deferred to external authorities on issues of those authorities’ expertise, and so his adoption of nontheological principles for an inquiry into educational theory fits with the larger Catholic intellectual tradition. Thus, he proposes to make use of some of the educational theory underlying the Protestant university tradition in Great Britain, from which his own training derives.
Newman also answers objections against the idea of founding a Catholic university in Ireland. He appeals to specifically Catholic arguments, noting that the request for such a university in Ireland, coming from the Pope himself, overrides all practical concerns against it. In the context of an overview of the history of Catholic missions in the British Isles, Newman suggests that their enterprise of founding a Catholic university might go down in history as just such a mission.
In his second discourse, Newman begins by addressing whether it would be proper for a university to exclude the study of theology and to focus solely on other sciences and branches of knowledge. He suggests that excluding theology would go against the nature of a university, the very name of which suggests universal knowledge. The mission of a university (as opposed, for instance, to a trade school) is to offer teaching upon every branch of knowledge.
To defend the place of theology within a university, Newman makes the case that the content of theology is indeed a form of knowledge. He believes that most of his contemporaries will accept that premise on its face and agree that “such an Institution [that excludes theology] cannot be what it professes, if there be a God” (18). He also anticipates the objection that knowledge might only consist of those things that our senses can directly detect and verify (i.e., the discoveries of physical science). Newman points out, however, that such a definition would exclude disciplines like philosophy, ethics, and much of history. Against those who might portray religion as personal sentiment rather than objective knowledge, he presents the longstanding Catholic position that faith is an objective affair, not simply subjective: “Faith was an intellectual act, its object truth, and its result knowledge” (21). He concludes that if there is a God of the sort envisioned by the classic Christian creeds, a God who exists beyond mere personal sentiment or the spirit of the age, then seeking knowledge regarding his existence and attributes is just as objective a goal as the knowledge of any other science.
Newman begins his third discourse by proposing the unity of all knowledge. Since knowledge seeks to ascertain truth about all that exists, its object is a unified totality, and every academic discipline is necessarily interconnected because of that unity. No single person or discipline can encompass all of this knowledge, and so the various disciplines rely on each other to keep the unified whole in view, while scholars research their own particular subset of that whole. There are even some disciplines whose exclusive focus is the very unity of the whole, disciplines that examine “the comprehension of the bearings of one science on another” (38). Philosophy, for instance, engages to understand issues of truth that bear on the union of all knowledge. Theology would be one step above philosophy, in that it seeks knowledge of the One who made all truth and holds it all together. As such, the knowledge of theology has bearing on every other discipline.
Newman presents a scenario in which a hypothetical university proposed to study only those sciences explainable by physical and mechanical forces, and that denied any place to human volition. Such an institution might develop an idea of truth that suggested that the interactions of human beings and even nations are entirely reducible to physical causes that could be replicated in a laboratory. Newman takes such a view to be ridiculous, and he warns that this is precisely what those universities that exclude theology are doing. By removing a discipline that has explanatory power over all other disciplines, the conclusions of each subset might end up warped and unreliable. The fundamental claims of theology are essential to a full understanding: “[Theology is] not only a portion, but a condition of general knowledge. To blot it out is nothing short […] of unravelling the web of University Teaching” (53). If theology, the science that examines the ultimate cause of all things, is removed from the unified circle of knowledge, then the circle cannot hold together.
In his fourth discourse, Newman explores what he considers another likely aspect of the fallout of removing theology: Namely, any discipline might be tempted to exert its method beyond its proper place if other disciplines are removed. The experimental sciences, for instance, might begin to suggest theories on the nature of reality for which no experiments can even be performed. If theology exercises a proper discipline that bears upon the unified knowledge of all things, then its removal will tempt other disciplines to move into the void and attempt to answer theology’s questions by their own methodologies, partial and limited though they are: “[This] is not only the loss of Theology, it is the perversion of other sciences. What it unjustly forfeits, others unjustly seize” (58). By making the assumptions and methods of their own disciplines the measure of all things, these other sciences end up with a misjudged view of reality; instead of seeing the unified whole of knowledge, they are attempting to comprehend the whole from the vantage-point of just their own little subset.
Newman uses analogies to make his point. An economist, for instance, might be led to assume, based on the features of his science, that the growth of wealth is an ultimate good for both persons and nations. This conclusion, however, is contradicted by many religious and philosophical traditions, which hold that far from being an ultimate good, the growth of wealth as its own end can be a serious moral danger. The conclusions of the practitioner of a particular science may be true within their own discipline, but those truths may not be the whole truth, and they cannot serve as the measure of all things. Since theology deals with ultimate truths, it is a necessary part of university teaching. If its spot is vacated, other disciplines, which do not deal in ultimate truths, will try to fill that gap with their own methodologies simply because the human mind seeks to synthesize and make sense of all knowledge in an orderly system.
Newman’s first four discourses present two central points of his overall argument for the place of theology in university education: first, that theology, properly considered, is a branch of knowledge; and second, that all knowledge is connected in the unity of truth, and so each part has a bearing on other parts. Newman’s argument for theology as a branch of knowledge begins with a premise that was widely accepted in his own day, when the overwhelming majority in the British Isles were at least nominally religious. He argues that most people accept the truth of religious claims in their basic form, admitting that there is a God. If there is a God, as most people accept, then it follows that anything known about him is indeed knowledge. (Newman will address a corollary argument, as to whether anything can be known about God even if he exists, in Chapter 5 of Part 2.) Another line of Newman’s argument applies even to societies that might not admit the existence of God as an assumed premise. While in many places Newman takes the content of theology to be revealed truths based on biblical texts and apostolic traditions, in other places he makes his argument on a broader definition of theology: the consensus of the monotheistic religions and of much classical philosophy that there must be an ultimate cause that explains the existence of all else (50-52). Theology, when considered along these lines as the science of ultimate causes, would likely also admit to being considered knowledge even in the most religiously skeptical of societies.
Having made his case for theology to be considered a branch of knowledge, Newman builds his second point, regarding the unity of truth. The point is so simple as to be taken for granted: Since knowledge has reference to that which is true, then all knowledge, in broad view, looks at the same grand picture—everything that can be known about all that is. This simple point, however, is a major part of Newman’s argument regarding the value of a university education. A university seeks to teach all knowledge, and while each individual student will not take courses in every branch of knowledge, the very environment of a university will teach that student how to keep the whole picture in view. True knowledge is not merely information about one subset of universal knowledge, but the ability to hold that information in the broader context of the whole, with an understanding of how each subset of knowledge relates to others. To gain this broad view of the whole unity of truth, with all the benefits to mental formation that come from it—judgment, patience, intellectual humility, and so on—a university must teach all branches of knowledge. Should it withdraw any one branch, especially one so all-encompassing as theology, then the picture one gains of the whole will be warped and misaligned, as other branches try to fill the gaps beyond their proper disciplines.
The medium Newman uses shapes his rhetorical approach. Rather than written essays, Newman’s arguments were originally given as discourses, a planned series of speeches to a university audience. Because his audience is composed of Catholics—a partisan audience sympathetic to his religious views—Newman makes use of polemics against their shared religious rivals, the Protestants. He has a specific feature of the Protestant English university system in view in his criticisms, namely, the growing tendency of such universities to regard theology as an optional feature of university teaching. Theology’s displacement in Protestant English university curricula presents a contrast with his hopes for the Catholic University of Ireland, and it thus provides the occasion for his arguments.
Newman also makes use of analogies to support his points, often with the literary device of caricature. His caricature of an economist who makes economics the measure of ultimate values offers an accessible and convincing portrayal of his argument against academic disciplines encroaching on other disciplines’ territory. Just as economics cannot fully explain or guide the highest values of human life, so any discipline—physical science, history, or others—that seeks to answer the ultimate questions undertaken by theology will necessarily fall short. Another caricature Newman uses is his hypothetical portrayal of a university that allows no place for human causes to explain phenomena, relying only on natural, mechanical causes. Again, the caricature is an apt one, allowing the audience to see the absurdity of a university supposing that all events in the world are reducible to mechanical causes, and, by extension, to perceive the dangers of excluding an understanding of ultimate causes from a university education.