Education alone is not Enough

“Time is filled with swift transition…”
– Jennie Wilson, in the hymn “Hold to God's Unchanging Hand”

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
– Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr

Often, those who hold prejudiced, racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, classist, and religiously intolerant views are portrayed as misinformed or uneducated. We think that if only these individuals were enlightened with the Truth, they would change their perspective. Such a broad generalization is not only inaccurate, but it also ignores the role that education—particularly higher education—has played in promoting these ideologies. As an educator, I believe in the transformative power of gaining knowledge and engaging in scholarly dialogue. However, the fact of being educated alone is not sufficient to stop the ongoing harm to our society, especially if educational institutions fail to confront their past and present complicity in systems of oppression. 

In his book Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities, historian Craig Steven Wilder demonstrates that many longstanding colleges and universities, including every single Ivy League school founded before the abolition of slavery, were established by profits from the transatlantic slave trade. These schools were established by Christian denominations and had the dual purpose of advancing white interests and promoting religious conversion. On the one hand, colleges like Harvard sought to train ministers and Christianize indigenous peoples; on the other hand, they promoted racist principles that depicted African-descended people as intellectually and morally inferior, unworthy, and incapable of higher learning. Their graduates, who for centuries were almost exclusively white men, reaped the benefits of credentials and networking, along with the resulting boosts to their status and wealth. People of color and other marginalized groups have not had the same opportunities.

Some schools have publicly acknowledged their troubling pasts, and a few have enacted initiatives to remedy past indiscretions. Nevertheless, hundreds of years of racism and heteropatriarchy baked into an intricate and immensely significant institution will require more than carefully crafted apologies and a few scholarships to minorities to repair. Furthermore, these oppressive systems will not simply resolve themselves. The adage that “time heals all wounds” does not apply here. This is not something that can simply be covered up. It requires extensive cleaning, debridement, and stitching before conscientious bandaging of wounds, lest infection set in. Above all, healing cannot occur when trauma is ongoing. If we are honest, minoritized people in higher education still bear the burdens of ignorant, incompetent, and intolerant individuals and institutions.

What, then, can theological education do?

We must embrace justice as central to our mission. Justice is not some progressive buzzword. It is a pillar of democracy. Fairness is often heralded as the bedrock of democratic societies. This often translates into calls for equality, ensuring that everyone has the same opportunities and resources, regardless of social context. Hence, the recent attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts have been labeled as “unfair” to white people. Justice, on the contrary, concerns itself with what is equitable, individually and collectively.  It requires atonement for past sins, including transgressions we didn't directly commit but benefit from today. It calls for more than tolerance or inclusion—it's about dismantling the very systems that have caused generations of disenfranchisement and centering the experiences of the marginalized.

In practice, this involves questioning (or rejecting) the canonization of white male theorists and theologians as archetypes of ideal scholarship and not categorizing BIPOC, women, and queer scholarship as novelty or niche. It is making courses on indigenous, African, and non-Christian spiritualities part of our core curricula and not just infrequently offered electives. It means balancing our budgets on our values rather than our fears. It is the hard work of challenging ourselves and our colleagues to think outside the box rather than trying to fit the Divine into one. Justice involves moving those people and ideas traditionally relegated to the margins to the center.

The good news is that by centering the margins, we improve conditions for everyone. (Consider that white women have benefited most from affirmative action and diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives.) Justice is inherently communal. It should not be viewed as extracurricular, nor should we hide it out of fear of political scrutiny. If we want our schools—and more importantly, our democracy—to survive, equity and justice must become central.