ROGER SCRUTON
211
terms of some interest other than the interest of education. Worse, it en–
courages us to assess the value of the curriculum in terms of the interests
of those who have yet to understand it. Prior to learning them, no student
is able to see the exact worth of classical languages or higher mathematics.
A student must take on trust what only those who are already educated
can tell him. Indeed, relevance is a wholly chimerical objective. Who is
to know what will be relevant to a student's interests in ten years' time?
Even in the applied sciences, it is not
re/evallce
that forms and transforms
the curriculum but
/-mo
I
v/edge.
A relevant technology is one that is relevant
to us, here, now. To concentrate on teaching such a technology is to en–
sure that we remain locked in techniques that will very soon be useless.
Those considerations are perhaps obvious. But they are worth re–
viewing since they connect with the question of the nature and utility of
knowledge itself. Knowledge advances because it is pursued for its own
sake. Those who make discoveries frequently have no use for them. But
invariably a use is found, and that which was most useless, and perhaps
even valued for its pristine futility, like the theory of the transfinite car–
dinals, is suddenly revealed to be an indispensable asset to mankind. Who
would have supposed that Boole's algebra and Frege's logic would lead to
anything more than the rarefied speculations of philosophy? In fact they
led in time to the computer revolution and to a renewed prosperity in
America. The same is true of the humanities. How were those romantic
students, destined for government offices in the city of London, to know
that the dead languages and ancient literatures which were the sum of
their learning would suddenly be precisely what they needed
to
govern an
empire acquired in a fit of absentmindedness? Thanks to Homer and
Virgil, our ancestors were able to grasp the reality of other cultures;
through their knowledge of ancient history and the rhythms of ancient
languages, they could summon up an intuitive familiarity with the life of
other peoples. Out of this experience of applied classical scholarship the
new science of anthropology was born.
I could multiply the examples, but the lesson is clear. There is a kind
of utility that comes only when utility is set aside and when the useless is
pursued for its own sake. True education is the pursuit of useless knowl–
edge - knowledge severed from its present purposes and pursued wher–
ever it may guide us. For if we do not detach knowledge from its appli–
cation, we shall never acquire it. Imagine someone who sought
to
learn
only those parts of mathematics that were useful
to
his present needs.
Would he really succeed in understanding what he learned? Would he
acquire a real interest in the subject or an ability to extend it into new ar–
eas? Would he be able to teach it to another? Ponder that last question,
