Decision-Making: Student Education

HL Deb 09 March 1994 vol 552 cc1432-58

3.5 p.m.

Viscount Hanworth rose to call attention to the case for teaching students the importance of reaching decisions on political and other issues on grounds of logic rather than emotion; and to move for Papers.

The noble Viscount said: My Lords, for many years I have wondered whether I might take the risk of suggesting how, to a minor extent, academics could help students to disentangle emotional viewpoints from common sense. If one agrees that, even here in England, to a great extent un-thought out reaction is the governing factor in people's views, anything that could be done to help them analyse their emotions and thought processes so as to arrive at logical conclusions would be useful. The problem is that people's outlooks are very largely determined by their own experiences in life—which are sometimes traumatic, remote or unusual and often influenced by the press.

There follows another aspect to the matter. If one knows why people think as they do, illogical though it may appear to be, it can help toward a better understanding of others' standpoints on controversial issues. There are clearly the counter-claims of the bias in religious convictions. However, bearing in mind that there are at least five major faiths, all of which seem to believe that they alone are right, there must even here be some common ground.

The purpose of the Motion is to suggest just one possible approach; namely, that under some university discipline students should have to consider dramatic situations of the past and analyse their own points of view about them, both emotionally and logically. That sort of exercise could lead to modern problems being given the same approach and one hopes that thereby to some extent people could separate their emotions from their logic.

Unfortunately, whatever we do in this small way, few persons are capable of analysing the several—I say again, several —complicated sentiments which affect their decisions. It seems part of human nature. I end by saying that teachers have hoped in the past that education would provide a magic formula for those problems. That has not yet been shown.

While I am speaking, I must say that nowadays there is a tendency to believe that events in political and public life are always motivated by a single factor and that can be very unfair, except perhaps when the major motive is just personal or party gain. In the latter area, party political ambitions seem to have ousted the old ethic: to serve one's country's best interests first.

Putting that aside, I shall digress and illustrate my theme from a personal and lighter example. As a young man I owned an MG sports car. I decided to visit an aged aunt. On analysis, there were three motivations. First, I hoped that she would enjoy my visit. Secondly, I wanted a run in the car. Thirdly, she might leave me something in her will. That is a rather old fashioned and silly example perhaps, but all three motives come from common sense. It is important to realise that people's motives are mixed and are not all the same. For example, a politician may do something because he is motivated by several different reasons, both for and against an argument. My Lords, I beg to move for Papers.

3.10 p.m.

Lord Beloff

My Lords, I rise with some diffidence to reply to the noble Viscount because I am not exactly clear as to what one is meant to reply. If he tells us that people's motives are mixed, I am sure that no one in your Lordships' House has ever thought the contrary. If he says that much could be done to improve our understanding of the major political issues of our time, to some extent he is criticising what currently takes place in institutions of higher education. And I find that curious in that, so far as I know—the noble Viscount will correct me if I am wrong—he himself has had no experience since his undergraduate days (some time back though not as far back as my own) of what actually does happen.

Fortunately for the House and the noble Viscount, the next speaker in the debate will be the noble Earl, Lord Longford. When I first knew him in the mid-1930s he held the appointment of tutor in politics at Christ Church, Oxford. He actually had experience, which he will no doubt share with us, of what it was like to inculcate logic in the consideration of issues of public policy. He will need to be a little careful when he does so because his recollections cover a number of years. As I remember, when appointed he was a supporter of the Conservative Party. Whether his tutorials were affected by that chance collocation, I do not know. At some point in the 1930s his interests and sentiments led him to attend, as an observer, a meeting in Oxford Town Hall addressed by Sir Oswald Mosley. At that meeting there was, as probably nobody here but me recollects, and perhaps my noble friend Lord Blake—

Lord Blake

My Lords, I do. I was there.

Lord Beloff

—a certain amount of disturbance in the course of which the noble Earl, Lord Longford, was hit over the head, to put it bluntly. Subsequently he joined the Labour Party. I am not suggesting cause and effect, but it means that he is doubly capable of answering the noble Viscount because he will have taught politics under both flags.

It was suggested that that could be done best not by tackling immediately the themes, issues and problems of our own day, but by the teaching of events in the ancient or medieval world and thereby enabling people to see how specific decisions were reached. That seems to me to be admirable. It is of course not novel in the sense that in the mid-19th century, when we were the leading country in the world economically as well as in other respects, the basic instruction of our then rulers was in the classics. They were no doubt deeply familiar with what was in Caesar's mind when he crossed the Rubicon or what made Nero prefer his musical practice to serving in the fire brigade. It has therefore been done before, and I think successfully. The decline of classical studies and the rise of so-called modern studies is one of the reasons that this country finds it so difficult to modernise. But that may be an argument for another occasion.

What is at the root of the noble Viscount's perplexity is the question of what we mean by "logic" in this respect. There are two kinds of problem which are covered by that. Normally, by "logic" one would mean showing people—I imagine that in both his incarnations that was done by the noble Earl, Lord Longford—that if they believe one thing, they must also believe the other. It used to be said that if one believed in reducing a country's armed forces, one must also believe in reducing its external commitments. If one believed that the state should spend more money on worthy causes, one must also believe that it should increase taxes or increase borrowing. Those are examples of logic which do not need us to go too far back to illustrate them.

As was hinted by the noble Viscount when he spoke of the diversity of religious opinion, the difficulty is that the logic normally works for most people for most of the time within a specific commitment. That is to say, one begins with a commitment to equality or to hierarchy; to a belief in a revealed religion or a belief in the unaided capacities of human understanding. I am not certain—I shall look forward to hearing other noble Lords with teaching experience—that it is the business of the teacher to try to shift those fundamental beliefs. That is going beyond the explaining of the use of logic to something which comes closer to proselytisation.

In that regard the noble Viscount was perfectly right. Most people believe and act in politics, as in life generally, on the basis of fundamental beliefs, acquired, no doubt in part, from school and from parents. The society in which they are brought up also plays a part. No doubt it could be traced biographically in the case of any individual. But it is what makes people act. If they did not have a set of fundamental beliefs, why should they do anything at all? Those beliefs may, and often do, produce events which we regard as catastrophic. In today's Question Time we again went back to Bosnia. What is the source of the problem? It is the belief on the part of the Serbs that they are entitled to hold any territory which the medieval Serbian kingdom may at one time or another have claimed; the views of the Croats which are a mirror image of that; and the views of the unfortunate Moslems that, having been there for centuries, they are entitled to continue to live a peaceful life with their neighbours.

All those beliefs are held; they are held to the extent, as we have seen, that people are willing not merely to fight but to commit atrocities on their behalf. We must take it for granted that it will take a lot to get rid of anything of that kind and that the best service that those of us who teach can render our students is at least to make them aware that the world is full of people who hold views which they may find odious or inexplicable, but which are part of the world with which, in their adult lives, they will have to deal. That is as true of groups as it is of individuals.

I shall conclude with an individual point about logic. While your Lordships yesterday were devoting yourselves to the no doubt important debate on Sunday opening, I took the opportunity of going to see the opera Katya Kabanová at the Royal Opera House. Always choose art against politics if the possibility arises! Now the plot of that opera which is based upon a Russian play is very simple. Young lady marries middle-aged husband; middle-aged husband goes off on business; young lady succumbs to the blandishments of another man; husband returns; young lady confesses, is miserable, is torn in her emotions and ends her life by jumping into the Volga. That was a perfectly logical action as far as she was concerned. If you believe, as she did, that she had committed an unutterable sin against the religion to which she adhered—the Russian Orthodox Church —ending one's life is very logical. But if this were generalised, if everyone who committed a marital infidelity were to find it necessary to jump into the Volga, to say the least of it, the Volga boatmen would be much incommoded. So one has to take a great deal of care before assuming that what we can accept in the individual is equally acceptable in the collective.

There are no doubt plenty of things that can be brought to the notice of young people which will help them, including, I repeat, the way in which such problems have been treated in great works of art. It is a humble task. Those of us who have been doing it, as in my case, for nearly 60 years know that the rewards are not great in any sense and we do not mind defending what we are doing. No doubt that will be the case as regards those speaking later in the debate.

3.22 p.m.

The Earl of Longford

My Lords, I congratulate the noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, on raising a subject which at least has the merit of making us think for ourselves. We cannot go to our party Whips and say, "What's the party line here?", because presumably there is not one, so the noble Viscount needs to be very much praised. I am also happy to follow someone who is widely regarded as the most entertaining and thought-provoking orator in the House. He lived up to his reputation just now. He made references to my change of party allegiance in the 1930s. I cannot quite remember where he stood in the old days when I supported Randolph Churchill in 1933 in the "King and Country" motion debate. I do not know which party the noble Lord belonged to. Perhaps he can tell us.

Lord Beloff

My Lords, I have changed my opinions frequently through the force of circumstance and the external arguments. But never, I think, after a brawl.

The Earl of Longford

My Lords, at any rate the noble Lord is well qualified to discuss change of allegiance.

If we have been involved in the academic world or have been student; of these subjects we know that there are various kinds of logic—deductive and inductive logic to start with—and all kinds of logicians. When I was a young man, the father of the noble Earl, Lord Russell—I do not know whether the noble Earl is present today—was the most distinguished mathematical logician of the day. My tutor in philosophy at Oxford was the terrifying H. W. Joseph. The noble Lord, Lord Jay, if he were here, would subscribe to that description. Joseph poured total scorn on Lord Russell. He regarded him, to put it bluntly, with disdain. He used to titter at the very mention of Lord Russell's name. In those days logicians certainly did not see eye to eye with each other.

Joseph himself came in for some rough treatment. On one occasion I remember going to some kind of philosophical gathering; I cannot think why I was admitted. I was tutor in some subject or other at Christ Church, as the noble Lord mentioned, and I went along with Professor Lindemann, who later became Lord Cherwell. He delivered an address and Joseph got up in his usual style and said, "What does the noble Lord mean by that last phrase?" Lindemann knew the answer to that one. He said, "What does Mr. Joseph mean by 'mean'?" That flummoxed Joseph and he was silenced. These logicians knew the way to pull each other to pieces in the old days.

Then there was my colleague at Christ Church, Freddie, as we called him; Sir Alfred Ayer. He wrote a famous book, very popular with the students, called Language, Truth and Logic, which proved that all these moral concepts were nonsense and that "duty" was an emotive phrase. I remember being in a discussion with Freddie Ayer, later Professor of Logic at London and Oxford. Freddie Ayer was pouring scorn on duty, to the delight of the undergraduates who were at his seminar. I said to him, "I am sure that when the war comes you will do your duty better than I do", which proved to be the case. He joined the Welsh Guards and lasted quite a time there, which is more than I did in the Ox and Bucks. Freddie Ayer knew his duty when the time came. I remember writing a poem about him: He mocked his duty with indignant voice That trembles with a passion for the good". In other words, his logic had nothing to do with his life. That is fair comment on someone and he was quite pleased with the poem.

Later I worked with Sir William Beveridge for three years. He had first-class degrees in Classical Mods. and Mathematics Mods. and Greats at Oxford. He was about as well qualified as anyone could be in the academic world. I remember when I was working for Beveridge someone saying to him, "Would you say that you are the cleverest man in England, Sir William, or would you say that that is true of Maynard Keynes?" He paused, stroked his chin, and said, "Well, inductively it might be me, but deductively Maynard has it". That was one way of looking at logic and that is what we are discussing this afternoon.

This seems to be a time unlimited debate so I shall bring in just one reference to Maynard Keynes. When I was a young man I hoped to be an economist, rather like a poor man's version of the noble Lord, Lord Peston. With that in mind I was working in a stockbroker's office in which Maynard Keynes was some kind of sleeping partner. He was produced one day. I was sat opposite him and he was told that here was a young man who wanted to come and work with him at Cambridge. I do not know if any noble Lords knew Keynes but he had very penetrating eyes. He bored into me across the table and said, "The trouble is I can't see into your mind". The trouble was that I thought he could see into it a great deal too clearly and did not really approve of what he saw. He said, "I don't know whether you can keep up with us. We claim in Cambridge to be maybe 10, 20 or 50 years ahead. Could you go our pace?" I reached the same conclusion as he did—that I could not go his pace—and so I abandoned that idea of being a professional economist. Noble Lords might ask what was at work there: logic, emotion or a bit of both perhaps? These decisions are very complicated.

When I worked with Beveridge there he was examining hundreds of people and trying to arrive at social truth and to reach conclusions and help humanity. No one would deny that Beveridge helped humanity as much as anyone in this country this century. He had a tremendous passion for the public good. Whatever one likes to call it, that was what motivated Beveridge. Beveridge, as I knew him, lacked one thing. He lacked religion. He used to say to me, first rather proudly and then rather regretfully, that he was brought up without any religion. At the time of his marriage, which was very happy, I was his bottle-washer or acolyte and made some of the arrangements for the marriage. Beveridge was hoping that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Archbishop Temple, an old friend from Balliol, would perform the ceremony. But Temple pointed out that Beveridge had not been baptised so he could not be married by Temple. Nevertheless Temple said that he would perform a service of blessing. Beveridge tried to persuade himself that that amounted to the same thing. However, I think the thought worried him and as time went on I think that he regretted his loss of religion.

Finally, we had a debate in the House in 1961 initiated by the father of the noble Earl, Lord Arran. It was based on Christian unity and Beveridge took part. I was delighted of course, but I was a little surprised that he was joining in this great Christian discussion. I said to him after tea,"Master"—I always called him by that title—"which part of the Christian church do you belong to these days?" He paused, so I then said, "When I was at Eton, if you could not get your boy's name down for a house, you could get him put down on the general list". Beveridge liked that idea and said, "All right, put me down on the general list". So at the end of his life Beveridge was on the general list of Christians. He was a wonderful man.

Everybody here has his own experience and has reached conclusions in which that experience is bound to have played a great part. When I was a boy and still at Eton, I went a lot to the Eton Manor Club in Hackney Wick, over which my uncle presided. So I was in contact with the working class in that well-meaning Etonian way. I played rugger. I used to go to camp at Cookham Weir and all the rest of it. That was the kind of thing which a great many Old Etonians in my time were inspired to do by the wonderful sermons which we used to listen to.

Later I taught for the Workers' Educational Association and there I did get some feeling for the working class movement. That was autonomous and sprung from those who had been deprived of any real opportunities in life. Even so, I was then still able to work for the Conservative research department. That was true when I first became an Oxford don. The noble Lord is entitled to refer to the Mosley meeting. I would much rather he did that than say it was because I got concussion having fallen off a horse in a point-to-point, which is the other explanation for my becoming a Labour supporter. As I have said elsewhere, I became a socialist through reading the Gospels under the influence of my wife with all the logic, passion or whatever word one likes to use.

When one comes to philosophers and their decisions, there was only one Prime Minister who was a philosopher with professional qualifications; namely, A. J. Balfour. It has been said that when he stayed in a famous house he got stuck on the first landing because the staircase then divided; one set of stairs went down to the right and the other to the left. This philosophy king, A. J. Balfour, used to stay there transfixed because the argument for going down the right hand side of the staircase was exactly balanced by the argument for going down the left. He stayed there indefinitely until someone dragged him down. That is the trouble with academic thinkers; of itself, logic does not suffice.

By my late 20s I knew all the economic arguments. For a short while I was a lecturer, but my standing was not comparable to that of people like my noble friend Lord Peston. For a short time I was a lecturer at the LSE. I knew all the economic arguments—Conservative, Labour, Liberal and all the rest of them. Then other factors arose which I have already mentioned.

Therefore, when we come to the crucial decisions in life which affect everybody in this Chamber and beyond, in the end and if we are fortunate, some higher influence helps us. That is something which is higher than logic or what is ordinarily called emotion. As a result it may be that, if we are lucky, we can make a little difference to the world.

3.34 p.m.

Lord Annan

My Lords, I confess to being slightly puzzled when I read the Motion for today's debate because I have always thought that most teachers in universities did try to teach students to study the evidence and not justify their opinions by repeating, however sincerely, slogans.

Anyone who has studied British history at a university in the past 50 years or more could hardly have failed to do what the noble Viscount wants. He wants universities to take an historical event and see how men and women long ago regarded the issues of their times. Now nearly all history students will have had to study the Civil War in the 17th century and consider the evidence. Indeed, we have in this House two of the foremost experts on the Civil War who have been teaching students to do this very thing; namely, the noble Lord, Lord Dacre, and the noble Earl, Lord Russell. They have done what the noble Viscount wants.

The trouble is that there are a lot of other things that a university teacher ought to promote. He should somehow teach his students how to acquire knowledge and how to express themselves in clear, eloquent English. He should teach them to learn from criticism of their own efforts where they could do better and also, if they can, to rebut the criticism of their teacher and to articulate their dissent decently and without venom. Good manners in argument are the hallmark of a scholar, even if w can all think of great scholars who were famed for their bad manners and their talent for lacerating their adversaries in argument. These are things which dons should do. I am afraid that very few of us consciously teach our students all these things.

Of course, there are indeed remarkable teachers who inspire their students not by their devotion to scrupulous dissection of the evidence but by the strength of their emotion. E. P. Thompson, who died the other day, was just such a one. He campaigned against the Cold War and for nuclear disarmament. He satirised with equal vehemence Stalinism and Thatcherism. He savaged the Establishment and received wisdom. His book The Making of the English Working Class is regarded by many as a classic in social history. But no one ever thought of praising E. P. Thompson for being dispassionate.

Nor did that word spring to mind when one thought of his exact opposite, the ultra-conservative don at Peterhouse, Maurice Cowling, who pulverised liberalism and socialism. Indeed, he preferred to criticise his own side. For Cowling, the conservative philosopher, Michael Oakeshott, was guilty for not endorsing Christianity and he thought that his own mentor, the Christian historian Herbert Butterfield, was far too polite to his adversaries. Yet Cowling influenced a generation of Conservative students at Cambridge.

Both Thompson and Cowling no doubt regarded themselves as being on the side of clear cool thinking, however much some of us regarded them as being carried away by gusts of emotion and failing to understand the nature of politics itself. Still, it could well be argued that university discourse in the past 25 years would have been the poorer without their voices.

It is precisely because I distrust teachers who are dedicated to a cause that I am wary of courses to make students more politically aware, if only because those who want to teach such courses may well be keener to indoctrinate than to analyse. I am also sceptical of courses on western civilisation, or great books, or introductions to contemporary culture. Wisdom cannot be taught. Wisdom is something that is hidden in the folds of a subject. Some manage to acquire it and some do not.

I doubt whether we ought to go overboard for subjects that are suddenly declared to be specially relevant to today's problems. When the League of Nations was founded after the First World War, chairs and departments of public international law were created: for was it not self-evident that what had happened in 1914 had been the breakdown of international law? Similarly, after 1945 when the atom bomb was dropped, high-minded people argued that we need to understand more about the nature of science and the problems that it raises, so departments of the history and philosophy of science were established in astonishing numbers at universities. Very few of those chairs in public international law exist today. They have been turned into chairs in other branches of the law. I wonder how many of the departments of the history and philosophy of science will be found to be flourishing in the year 2010.

But I am not entirely negative about the Motion. I do believe that universities can train their students to consider evidence dispassionately. I do believe in slightly less specialisation. I think that scientists should be introduced to the ethical problems that they will encounter as scientists. I want economists to be introduced to sociology. I want sociologists to be introduced to old fashioned political theory, and I want modern linguists to study the institutions of the country whose language they are studying.

I remember a course which the philosopher the late Susan Stebbing used to give on "Straight and Crooked Thinking". A course on the straight and crooked use of statistics would be especially welcome today to expose the answers that civil servants give to their Ministers for answering Parliamentary Questions.

The noble Viscount wants universities to make their students understand why people are swayed by emotion as well as by reason. One of Britain's internationally most famous intellectuals, Sir Isaiah Berlin, has devoted his life to doing that. He has reminded us in a series of books and lectures that the German and Russian thinkers of the 19th century wrote in defiance of the rationalism of Locke and Hume and the 18th century French philosophes of the Enlightenment. Those German thinkers, said Berlin, said that human beings are moved more by their culture than by reason—by the language they spoke, their laws, their religion, their sense of belonging to a community or nation. Marx, said Berlin, was wrong: national self-consciousness was more powerful than class solidarity. And can we not see: today that that is true all over the world?

I agree with the noble Viscount that all university teachers ought to offer up the prayer that Aristophanes put into the mouth of Euripides in The Frogs: When ranged in argument may I reason aright". At the end of last year I made a somewhat astringent speech in the House criticising the over-bureaucratic method of monitoring teaching in universities, but I do not question the need to monitor university teaching. Last summer I attended a vast international conference in Jerusalem about the need to promote democracy in a multi-racial society. I was appalled by the incoherent mutterings and mumblings of some of the British contingent from our newest universities. I was appalled also when one professor began by denouncing as a capitalist ploy the need to make pupils at school or students at university more fit to get jobs.

So I thank the noble Viscount for tabling this Motion, but I think that there is a danger in thinking that one can empty political problems of emotion. As was said by the noble Earl, Lord Longford, the name of Bertrand Russell—the late father of the noble Earl, Lord Russell —will be for ever immortal as the man who changed logic and the thinking about logic at the turn of the last century. But when he turned to politics, his views were less convincing. What stands in the way, he asked, of stopping war, controlling the birth rate, and improving living standards? "Only the evil passions of human minds", he answered. Or again, he advocated that whenever disputes between nations occurred, we should substitute for the names of those nations the symbols x, y and z. That algebraic formula would remove, he thought, the vulgar emotional prejudices in the dispute in question. I wish we could do that. I wish it was as easy as that. But we can't and it isn't.

3.45 p.m.

Lord Bruce of Donington

My Lords, I participate in this afternoon's debate with a good deal of trepidation. A number of extremely distinguished academics are taking part in the debate. We have already heard from the noble Lord, Lord Beloff, my noble friend Lord Longford and the noble Lord, Lord Annan. I am bound to say that I was extremely nervous about the whole project until I learnt that the noble Lord, Lord Annan, had only recently read the work of E. P. Thompson on the poverty of theory, in which I became immersed some three weeks ago and to the effectiveness of which I should like to pay some small testimony.

I would not wish to approach the Motion solely from the aspect of university teachers and university students. There is a good reason for that: if I am to draw on my personal experience—and I am encouraged to do so to a modest degree by my noble friend Lord Longford—I never went to a university; I went to a grammar school. Indeed, many of your Lordships have not had the advantage of going to university, so, if I may, I prefer to use the words "teacher" and "student" in their widest sense.

The noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, ventured to make a judgment between logic and emotion. I think that it is a little dangerous to set one against the other because ultimately each is part of the other if only in terms of memory and the impact of human experience upon the human mind.

I am a bit discouraged about the use of logic. Your Lordships will recall that during the course of a debate on the Maastricht Treaty, to which I shall not refer again, I endeavoured in a series of lengthy arguments, using the most impeccable logic that I could command, to get your Lordships to reject the concept that had been advanced by both Front Benches. I failed in that, except perhaps in the case of one noble Lord (whose name I shall not isolate for fear of embarrassing him) who was converted by the argument.

I discuss logic on its own and for good reason. There is a story said to be recounted by Chesterton which your Lordships will immediately recall. It is of three learned gentlemen, all academics, who met to see whether they could find the causes of drunkenness. On the first night they drank whisky and water and they got drunk. On the second night they drank gin and water and they got dunk. On the third night they drank vodka and water and they got drunk. They came to the logical conclusions that, as water was the only common factor in all three instances, water caused drunkenness. So logic in that sense can be a little deceptive.

Perhaps I may also refer your Lordships to the holocaust. Once the Nazi leadership during the war came to the conclusion—for good or ill, for whatever reason, as a result of whatever instinct and for whatever sense of values it possessed—that the Jews were the basic cause of all the evils which were apparently inflicted on the Aryan race and on Nazi Germany, the steps to the holocaust were completely logical. If one believed that the Jews should not exist, the holocaust and the extermination camps were a logical consequence.

Finally, in the field of economics, in which my noble friends Lord Peston and Lord Desai are prominent, a computer on the basis of data fed into it will produce a completely logical response. That is inevitable because if one feeds the same data into a computer it will come out with the inevitable logic. That somewhat depresses me. The results of computerised economics in the shape of computer models, all reasoning logically have, to say the least, been slightly depressing during the past 10 years. Instinct has often proved to be a far better guide to what is likely to happen to the economy.

I turn now to the role of the senses. We all have seven senses and we all suffer pain and pleasure. Aside from the reasoning that we employ and the tuition that we are given, experiences affect us most profoundly. It is often said particularly by people of a Conservative philosophy: human nature being what it is, what can one expect? The inevitable assumption is that human nature is essentially weak and there is something slightly defective about it. Human nature being what it is, one can expect only whatever evil is already there. That is a fundamental misconception. Surely it is basic human nature to react to the environment and to change it and in the process of changing it to become changed oneself. That is the essence of the philosophy of E. P. Thompson, that we are all the product of an accumulated experience. We all judge on the basis of values that we have formed not only as a result of the introspection in which we from time to time engage when trying to reason things out but of the experiences to which our entire bodies have been subjected.

Once one considers that it becomes clear that one cannot isolate logic from emotion. The noble Earl, Lord Longford, was slightly autobiographical; perhaps your Lordships will forgive me if briefly I follow the same course. When I was at a grammar school in Lincolnshire I had a formidable history and literature teacher, a middle-aged lady. To this day I remember her describing the rise of the British Empire and the amount of the globe that it then occupied. She illustrated it graphically by reference to a map shown on a slide projector, with the areas highlighted in red. She spoke with pride and indeed passion. She was not going to make a mere academic exercise of teaching us how the Empire had grown; she was vibrant to the point where her hair almost shook. She was proud of the growth of the British Empire and the part that the British people had played in it.

Being an impressionable person I was most convinced by that. I thought, "Well, you are not merely a teacher by rote; you really believe in what you are saying". So I ventured to study the British Empire, as it was then called, and inevitably landed up in the Conservative Party in the Junior Imperial League in North Paddington. I regret to say that there a mixture of both logic and emotion finally caused me to leave that pleasant experience behind me and to take on almost the opposite philosophy. But one thing I am certain of: had it been left to logic alone—had no sense of values being involved—the result would have been very different.

From time to time we must wonder where we obtain a sense of values from. The noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, gave us a clue. We search back into our lives to discover where we obtained our concepts of justice, honour and integrity and a conviction of the necessity for compassion. Surely the answer is that we did not get them purely from logic; we acquired them from a combination of experiences in our lives which every day leave us different from what we were the previous day. In changing our environment—and I use "environment" in its widest sense as being everything external to oneself—the genius of the human race is that it becomes changed in the process.

That makes me believe that one should never insert in a Motion of this kind, "logic rather than emotion", because emotions are very important indeed. Emotions make us rethink and in the process of doing so we can once again become emotional. Who can doubt, for example, the history as it will emerge of the Balkan States? It would not have been quite the same had not the human senses been assailed visually by the television pictures of the misery in Sarajevo. If that had been conveyed to us merely in print, would the reaction of the population have been the same? Therefore, emotions must play their part.

Teachers have been referred to frequently in the debate. We need to regard teachers much more highly than we do at present. We should reflect on what we all owe to those who taught us, sometimes under conditions of great difficulty. Those of us who have had a modest degree of success, or otherwise, should ask ourselves where we would have been had not a sense of values been inculcated into us and had we not been taught systems of logic. If we reflect on that we must surely see that the teaching profession should be elevated to a far higher level than appears to be politically feasible or convenient at the present time.

Above all, the function of a teacher is to inculcate in students—whether university or grammar, secondary or primary school—a. love of learning. That is the vital factor for the teaching profession. In this country we should be extreme. y proud that our teaching profession generally has succeeded in that to a great degree.

4.1 p.m.

The Lord Bishop of Exeter

My Lords, a contribution from these Benches might have been expected on the Motion brought forward by the noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, although in this case it will not proceed out of any expertise or experience in teaching, but will be based on general principles.

In judging any issue, one starts to make a judgment at some point on a line. No doubt that is a different point for each of us, but it is on a line. At one end of that line logic is more predominant; at the other end, emotion is more predominant As with other speakers in the debate so far, I am bound to incline to the view that this matter must be a "both/and" rather than an "either/or". But that said, logic must in a sense be primary. Anybody who has been at a public meeting where there is a lack of accurate information, the lack of an ability to think clearly and the lack of ability by the leadership of the meeting to help people to think clearly, will know the utter frustration which results for everybody and for individuals. Therefore, in a sense, logic must be primary in the judging of issues.

One of the essential ingredients is the provision of information for decision making. That means that there is a great responsibility upon the suppliers of information so that they do not abuse that responsibility by partiality or by selectivity in their presentation of information. That applies whether it is the academic historian writing a work of history or whether it is those in the profession of journalism, through whatever medium.

Experience seems to show in our present times that through the medium of television, harrowing pictures can be shown of parts of the world where there is hunger and deprivation to an extreme degree. Those pictures bring forth a great response because of the emotions that are aroused. I make no valued judgment about that because it is surely not to be regarded as anything but good. But is prime time also given —I do not believe that it is in the same proportion—to presenting the historical and economic factors so that people may learn why those things are as they are? In that example, in our public life through public communications, emotion seems to have precedence over logical thinking.

On the other hand, in making decisions as a whole—the whole process rather than merely the start where logic must be primary—emotion has its proper place. Would William Wilberforce have committed his political life to the great cause which he did unless he was deeply moved by human suffering over a long period and would he have done so in the face of enormous difficulties and opposition? There is a proper place for emotion.

Nearly a decade ago in my present capacity as the visitor of one of the Oxford colleges, I was looking from the high table towards the undergraduates and l asked my neighbour, a fellow of the college, what they would be doing next in their lives. Now at that focal point, that place of history and culture, a place which for centuries has been a preparation for service, my neighbour named a certain occupation in which the financial rewards are very great. He said that 25 per cent. would he going into that occupation. Perhaps he exaggerated, but his feelings about it were very clear to me.

A young person of ability assessing how he will spend his life might, by logic, conclude that the amassing of personal fortune is by far the most logical way, given his ability, to spend that life. Surely the element of emotion is needed to play a part in that vital life decision which people of ability need to make for the benefit of everyone else. Other less self-regarding factors need to be taken into account in the making of such a decision.

Therefore, as other noble Lords have said, truth is many-sided. There needs to be room for the intuitive because the intuitive is built in as part of our human nature. It seems to me that the evidence from our life today is that managing personal relationships is being found, in the conditions of today, to be an extremely difficult matter, especially by young people, as we heard earlier today during Question Time. Therefore, in the teaching of students, I submit that there needs to be not only that essential emphasis on logical thinking, but also that to which, perhaps, not so much attention is being given in a formal sense; namely, training in how to handle the emotional side of our natures.

4.10 p.m.

Lord Dixon-Smith

My Lords, like the noble Lord, Lord Bruce of Donington, I enter the debate with some trepidation. Quite the favourite Christmas card that my wife and I received last year showed that wonderful Christian concept of a lion and a lamb lying down together. It is a wonderful concept, but entirely illogical. Having fallen among academic lions, I am bound to say that I feel some sympathy this afternoon with that lamb, although I am encouraged while standing here because, be it academic, politician or churchman, it seems to me that we have a common purpose in life which is the carrying forward of society and, if possible, its improvement.

I once owned a black labrador dog who was an incurable romantic. Members of the House who have kept such a dog will recognise both the type and the impossibility of describing him within the bounds of language which is permitted in this Chamber. Despite all reasonable precautions, the dog succeeded one night in doing his vanishing dog act. It was a dark winter's evening and, unfortunately, he forgot his Highway Code: a passing car smashed his hind legs quite badly. Logic dictated that the sensible course of action was to have the dog put down. That would save the vet and myself much trouble and my family a deal of worry and agitation; and, indeed, would also save my neighbours considerable worry and agitation. Emotion suggested expensive surgery and treatment, immense trouble for the vet and great trouble for myself and my family, followed by a long convalescence. The outcome of that sorry tale does not matter here, but the dilemma that it illustrates is very relevant. Again, I am encouraged by the fact that Benjamin Disraeli, at the height of his authority, advanced the view that Britain is not governed by logic.

Coming to this House, as I do, without any parliamentary background and being unused to the practice of debating the most minute points, I must confess that it is still a great pleasure, as well as an honour, to sit in this Chamber and both watch and listen to the cut and thrust of debate. How often one hears a speech of sparkling clarity (and impeccable logic from the point of view of the speaker) only to find it followed by another speech of brilliant lucidity (and impeccable logic from the point of view of the responder) which is the reciprocal of the first speech and entirely refutes the position taken. There are rare occasions when there appears to be a third strand of logic at work, although that is not so easy to detect. Of course, there are the wonderful non-partisan debates, which do not happen quite so often, where the speeches glitter with as many facets as a sparkling diamond.

We sit here with a flourishing diversity of view and we are asked to consider, the case for teaching students the importance of reaching decisions on political and other issues on [the basis] of logic". Where would this House or Parliament be if human affairs could be entirely regulated by cold logic? I have given limited thought to the question of whether a logical society exists, but my knowledge leads me to the conclusion that there is no such thing so far as concerns mankind. A hive of bees might, perhaps, be considered an entirely logical society, but I fear that we shall never see that Utopian state as long as mankind is around. I am thankful for that fact.

If I am correct—and experience teaches me that it is dangerous to hold any views too positively and too inflexibly—then, on the question of educating students, we are thrust back to the problem that we face here each day in rather a different way. How can students learn to undertake their business when there are often as many views present as there are people to express them? How do they learn to respect and take into account the views of the many who might disagree with them? How do they learn to consider wider perspectives and views other than those of their immediate circle? I know of only one sure route: learning from hard experience and, even more importantly, from one's own mistakes.

We were all students at one time. We need to remember that by far and away the greater number of students in this country do not attend universities, even if you consider the new classification which has brought the old polytechnic sector into universities. In many ways, I sometimes feel that I am still a student. How many of us can stand up and say that today we hold the same views as we held when we were young, and that harsh experience and hard knocks have not had their effect? I certainly cannot. I believe that students are exceedingly fortunate. We should not expect them to be brought together to conform with what we immediately think. Let them enjoy their freedom and their own ways. Harsh reality will catch up with them quite soon enough.

4.17 p.m.

Lord Desai

My Lords, I should like, first, to thank the noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, for giving us the opportunity to debate the matter. In the short time that I have been here—namely, about three years or so—I do not recall speaking on such a splendid and abstract subject. Having been an academic all my life, I prefer speaking on splendid and abstract subjects about which I know more than about practical affairs.

I believe that the noble Viscount wants us not merely to contrast logic with emotion. As the noble Lord, Lord Annan, said, when the late Bertrand Russell revolutionised logic at the end of the last century he reduced it to a very dry and axiomatic subject. That logic is not often of very much use to statesmen or philosophers. The noble Viscount would like us to rely more on reason than unreason. He would like people to be taught to come to decisions on the basis of reasoned arguments —that is, if I may put it this way, the balancing of costs and benefits rather than merely being driven by unreason or irrationalities.

I am sure that the noble Viscount would agree with my noble friend Lord Bruce of Donington that, so far as concerns emotion, there is noble emotion which he would not want to exclude from anyone's upbringing or system of values. What the noble Viscount fears more than emotion is unreason. When unreason drives people to take certain decisions, he is probably quite right to worry that we may all go astray.

Economists have a very simple answer to such problems. We assume that people behave rationally and that that is the end of the matter. We assume that people behave as if they do not take into account irrational sentiments and emotions. However, if they do take irrational sentiments and emotions into account, we proceed to analyse their unreason in a rational way. If someone is a drug addict, we find out precisely what is irrational in his behaviour. When nations impose tariffs we claim that is an irrational thing to do, but we analyse it and say it is done because it gives one group an advantage against another group.

Of course this is a splendid way of arriving at conclusions if one can analyse matters in that way. There is a famous story of an economist named William Stanley Jevons who received a splendid and rather generous offer to go to Australia to teach. He was teaching in Manchester when he received the offer. He carefully analysed the costs and benefits of such a move and realised that he should go to Australia. He calculated all the costs and benefits of the move in great detail. He arrived at the conclusion that the ratio of benefits to costs was in favour of his going to Australia. However, he suddenly realised that he had failed to take one factor into account; namely, that he did not want to go to Australia. When he took that factor into account, the cost/benefit ratio favoured not going to Australia. Clearly, when making a decision one has to take into account one's irrational or primitive preferences and emotions and later proceed to a rational analysis.

I believe the noble Viscount has raised two issues in this debate. One is how we should be taught to reach decisions on the basis of reason and logic rather than unreason. The noble Viscount would like universities to go further down that road with their students. I agreed with the noble Lord, Lord Annan, when he said that universities try to do exactly that. A student may hear cogent arguments from two, three or four people who, however, may be saying completely contradictory things. The noble Lord, Lord Dixon-Smith, referred to that point. However, we hope that sooner or later students will learn what decision to arrive at having heard cogent but contradictory arguments. That is what we try to teach students to do. It is a mistake to believe that universities teach students anything useful or practical. Universities are not good places in which to learn anything useful or practical. Useful and practical subjects can be taught much quicker outside universities. However, universities teach people how to think for themselves and how to arrive at decisions by themselves. The ability to think for oneself is an extremely rare talent and one that is often lacking in people.

Rather than teaching students to arrive at the correct conclusion, I would rather teach my students scepticism. I should like to teach them not to accept any argument that is put before them at its face value but to think it out for themselves. If people can think for themselves they are much more likely to arrive at the correct conclusion, especially if they have been taught how to think for themselves rather than relying on authority or someone else's say-so. It would be a great mistake to reach a conclusion because it is a popular conclusion. It would also be wrong to reach a conclusion because it is what one has always believed in. One sometimes has to change one's ideas.

Secondly, the noble Viscount also wants us to be able to analyse why people commit irrational acts. That covers the much wider area of history and social sciences. Historians and social scientists try to analyse irrational actions night and day. Perhaps they do not do that very well, and perhaps they have not succeeded in arriving at answers to the deeper questions of life—for example, why there is conflict. People used to think rather crudely that somehow conflicts exist because of poverty. People used to assume there was a simple economic reason for conflict. People used to declare that if only there was less poverty and more prosperity, people would stop fighting each other.

People also used to think that with the growth of knowledge and enlightenment, belief in religion would decline and people would become more rational. I believe we have now reached the conclusion that we do not quite know why conflict exists despite the existence of prosperity. Why is there such trouble in Yugoslavia, for example? In the early 1980s we used to hold Yugoslavia up as a rare example of a society which had avoided both capitalism and Stalinism; as a society which had achieved co-operation among its workers and a good federal system, and had given tremendous autonomy to its regions. Yugoslavia was considered to be an ideal place and a prosperous and friendly country where multiculturalism was recognised. But suddenly it exploded into the grimmest picture of irrationality that has occurred, certainly in post-war Europe.

I do not believe we understand why people behave the way they do when one can perfectly reasonably' point out to them that it is not in their interest, and they will not achieve what they want to achieve, by behaving in that way. That remains a challenge because one thing we have learnt is that we no longer hold the faith the 19th century philosophers held that somehow people are rational or will become more and more rational as time passes. I believe we take the slightly broader intellectual view that somehow reason and unreason are strangely mixed in people's characters, and it is hard to disentangle them and analyse why people behave the way that they do.

My next remark may reveal a slightly partisan view. Society has devoted much money to splitting the atom or to developing accelerators which may cost £500 million or £700 million to enable atoms to collide with one other at great speed. Society has also spent much money on sending people into space and on researching the general theory of matter. In comparison, we spend little money on finding out why people behave irrationally or why societies are in such difficulties. I am not referring to any particular government. I believe that by and large as regards the more important and bloodier questions of life, society devotes far too few resources to finding out why we behave the way we do.

We devote enormous resources to studying inanimate, controllable matter, or even animate matter as that can sometimes be controlled as in the field of biology. However, we always obtain good results from that. We do not devote enormous resources to the social sciences because we tend to question whether we will discover anything at all from that research. However, I believe that in many ways, if we are to minimise further bloodshed in the future—I do not know how successful we will be in that—we need to think through the matter that the noble Viscount has raised much more seriously. Why is it that despite knowing that reason is better than unreason, or that logic is definitely better than base emotion, people continue behaving not only unreasonably but often, unfortunately, they find that only unreason succeeds in obtaining for them what they want? If they are reasonable, they do not achieve what they want.

The noble Viscount has pointed out a paradox. I can think about this matter as hard as I can, but I still do not know why people behave as they do. I hope that I teach my students to behave if not reasonably at least to be able to think straight and to arrive at conclusions by balancing costs and benefits. However, it is hard to predict what they will do in the future and how they will develop in the future. After all, we must recall that the majority of post-war Prime Ministers were Oxford graduates.

4.29 p.m.

Lord Peston

My Lords, we are indebted to the noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, for introducing this debate. I am bound to say that it has turned out to be rather more interesting than I expected. I must tell my noble friend Lord Longford that he was entirely correct to say that there is no party line on these matters. Indeed, I would go further and say I am not even sure that I shall agree with my own speech by the time I reach the end of it.

I can say about the debate in general that if all that is being asserted is that it is desirable for young people to be taught to think logically and even to have some acquaintance with formal logic, none of us would disagree. I would go further and support the view of my noble friend Lord Glenamara, who argued some years ago that the earlier that happens, the better. For example, it was one of the many merits of what was then called the "new maths" that it tried to teach children the concepts of elementary logic rather than the rote learning of tables, the significance of which was beyond them.

More specifically on the subject before us, the point that I must make is that most of the students I have taught over the years have had little or no interest in politics. This may seem surprising, given that most of them have specialised in one or other of the social sciences. But, surprising or not, I cannot say that I regard it as a bad thing. Indeed I must confess that when I was a student I had virtually no interest in politics, in the sense of current affairs. I knew I was a Labour supporter and certainly not a Tory, but that was that. There were much better things to do as an undergraduate than to get involved with the students' union or the main political societies. I think that is still the case, even though 18 year-olds now have the vote. Incidentally, I was most interested in hearing several noble Lords say over time they have changed their political views. I have stuck steadfastly to two views. No matter how black the day or how bad the score, I support Labour and I support the Arsenal Football Club.

My attitude as an undergraduate is, I think, germane to the present debate. I am sympathetic to the cause of rationality; but I have to say that I do not believe that what side one is on or one's moral beliefs are determined in quite such a cold-blooded way. It is more a matter of emotion and of gut feeling; and in my judgment it is none the worse for that. To give an obvious example, it is clear to me that it is wrong to pursue policies which make the poor poorer. I may try to persuade you of that, my Lords, but if you cannot see it clear, so to speak, I do not see how logic can help.

More generally, although I was brought up in the utilitarian tradition, I find utilitarianism a most unattractive philosophy. To put it at its mildest, to justify doing what is right on the grounds that it is useful or that it generates a net positive social or economic benefit perverts what is meant by doing right. It is wrong to behave badly towards others, because behaving badly is wrong, not because behaving well is useful. The same goes for other precepts of good behaviour.

This does not mean that rational analysis does not matter. The investigation of the probable consequences of one's actions is important, but rational analysis is not all that matters. In my opinion, the rational or utilitarian life is both personally boring and destructive of our finest values. Of course there are practical difficulties, and we have all studied them as students. Killing people is wrong; but there are countless works of philosophy and theology which set out, frequently in terms of the greater good, when it is perfectly permissible to kill the enemy in wartime. Bribery is wrong, but should British industry oil the wheels of commerce when others are doing it and there is no other way of landing a contract?

In teaching, my view has been above all that one has a loyalty to the subject. There is an academic discipline to be understood and one's job is to help the student to understand it. It has always seemed to me—I think other noble Lords would agree—that one wishes to help the student to learn rather than to teach him or her per se. I would go further. I have always said that I can teach macro-economics in about one term, or two at the most; but that does not lead to the conclusion that degree courses are too long: quite the contrary, because understanding takes much longer than gaining the ability to produce a decent set of exam answers. Education is there to facilitate understanding, and that takes time. I, for one, still find myself suddenly appreciating the significance of what I was taught 40 years ago, not least in the fields of political theory and philosophy. The great philosopher Karl Popper taught us that what was most important was the critical attitude, the sceptism that my noble friend Lord Desai referred to.

As to my interpretation of the present debate, I wish my students to ask questions and to query what they are reading. But that too leads to a paradox, because they have to master enough of their subject before criticism is worthwhile. I do not believe in what may be called the "democracy of the intellect". Criticism which is based on ignorance is tedious and unhelpful. Your Lordships know how much I enjoy being a Member of your Lordships' House When the time comes, of course, I shall have to vote for reform or even abolition; but in the meantime I make the most of it. When I am asked what I most like about your Lordships' House, I say what the noble Lord, Lord Annan, has said: that good manners in argument are primary. That is what your Lordships' House excels at.

On a more technical matter, I should like to refer to a particular problem encountered in economics. There is a wide tendency to misunderstand the nature of correlation. That two variables are closely correlated —for example, the change in MO and in GDP at current prices—does not tell you which of them causes the other or even whether there is a causal relationship between them. Furthermore, if two variables appear to be uncorrelated that does not imply a lack of causation. I sometimes think that if I were allowed one wish to improve rational discourse it would be that everybody would understand this simple proposition that I have just enunciated.

It is important to recognise that there are many forms of discourse. Academic disciplines have their own styles, and we ought to show some sympathy for the way our colleagues approach problems, no matter how much their way may differ from our own. Many years ago, as a young lecturer I taught simple economics to scientists and engineers at Imperial College, London. I hasten to add that I did that not out of a sense of public responsibility but strictly for the money. They had been instructed in what I may call "Newtonian mechanics", and they believed there was a method which could be applied to solve e very problem. It was all a matter of knowing what the method was and then applying it. They were extremely irritated by a subject—my own —in which for many questions there were no answers while for others there were too many answers. They found it difficult to cope with an alleged academic discipline in which it was quite usual to say "I do not know" or "I am not sure".

I must add, to my regret, that although a few of them were interested in the arts, I could never persuade them to abandon the view that the study of literature was very much easier than the study of physics, and that to consider all this in terms of a hierarchy of difficulty was to show a profound misunderstanding of all things intellectual. I regret to say that there are still natural scientists who hold such opinions. This is germane to today's debate, because there is a danger of going from the desirabiliity of being logical to the error of assuming that all problems are solvable and that all ignorance is wilful or could be removed by more logical effort. There is also the danger of under-valuing all sorts of human discourse; the style of taste and of understanding. To put it bluntly—here I am following a point made by my noble friend Lord Bruce of Donington—one may be logical, but starting from premises which are nonsensical one will arrive at conclusions which are at least equally so.

My conclusion is that I do not advocate irrationality, but I do believe that our emotions are central to our existence. They are not incompatible with logic but in a sense they define the universe to which logic may be applied. What I am opposed to is a narrow logicality which seeks to replace good sense. Here I echo some remarks made by the noble Lord, Lord Dixon-Smith. All of us in your Lordships' House hear our colleagues make some excellent logical arguments but deep down we know they are mistaken, even though at the time we are not sure why. I hope we continue to use our judgment and can convey to young people how important that is.

4.40 p.m.

Viscount St. Davids

My Lords, I am most grateful to the noble Viscount, Lord Hanworth, for the opportunity to debate such a fascinating and challenging Motion. It has taken us into areas of philosophical abstraction where, if the Government had an interest, they have no domain. I hope that that allows me to make some personal observations without placing my occupation in your Lordships' House in jeopardy.

The Motion in the name of the noble Viscount has an air of pessimism; I believe that most of the debate this afternoon has had an opposite expression: one of optimism. What we are talking about is the teaching and education of young people, and in that we must be always optimistic—for what else can we be?

The noble Lord, Lord Beloff, reminded us that hooliganism in political debate was no new occurrence, and he related an instance with himself, the noble Earl, Lord Longford, and my noble friend Lord Blake. However, he makes the serious point that logic is exercised within a commitment of values and beliefs. If teachers can indeed bring their students to understand how others can feel deep commitment, they will have performed an invaluable and important service. I envy my noble friend in that he was with Janá č ek last night while we were in the Chamber debating Sunday trading. But, unfortunately, the story of Katya Kabanova would have changed had she lived today. She would have had a raft of services provided by local authorities; she would have divorced her appalling husband; she would have moved out of the house of her equally appalling mother-in-law; and she would have remarried and lived happily ever after.

The noble Earl, Lord Longford, produced another of his most enjoyable speeches. I believe that at some stage we have to cease believing in Father Christmas. We have to cease believing in a golden age. However, the noble Earl, Lord Longford, certainly had a golden age, an Arcadia, in his youth. He taught us that with logic and emotion other matters have to be taken into consideration. There is humanity and there is also faith and religion. To those I add insight and vision. I would hope that any generation would take pains to ensure that the next generation was well equipped with those qualities.

The noble Lord, Lord Annan, reminded us that some of the best teachers have combined logic with emotion to put across the need for analysis in a passionate and committed way. He also reminded us that teachers should also help to nurture wisdom if it cannot be directly taught.

I never thought that the noble Lord, Lord Bruce of Donington, would admit to coming to speak in your Lordships' House with any feelings of insecurity. I was most interested to hear his discourse on the limitations of logic used on its own. He convincingly argued that human beings must surely bring into play many other aspects of human nature when reaching conclusions and decisions. He also sensibly reminded us that we are not only concerned with higher education but also with schools.

The right reverend Prelate the Bishop of Exeter reminded us that we need both logic and emotion, but he stressed the primacy of logic. At a very young age I became fascinated by natural history. I was a compulsive collector, whether with the butterfly net, the moth trap or wandering on the beach collecting birds' eggs as one was allowed to do in those golden days. It soon came to me that the existence of God was self-evident; and it is a view which I have held ever since. But is that a matter of logic or did I need to believe in a being superior to myself? The right reverend Prelate also reminded us that truth is many sided.

The noble Lord, Lord Dixon-Smith, reminded us that we have a rich diversity of human experience and that many individuals can use impeccable logic yet reach very different conclusions. I am sure we all agree that our students should not be too constrained when young into fixed ways of thinking.

The noble Lord, Lord Desai, made a most useful contribution by suggesting that we should look at decision-making in terms of reason and unreason; and that the greatest service our teachers can render to students is to teach them to think for themselves. He also posed a vital question which it is difficult to answer: why is it that most people behave with unreason when it is all too clear that it will not bring them their desires?

The noble Lord, Lord Peston, and I share one factor in common. We have remained with a single political party. Most of my friends, and certainly all my enemies, believe that I may have had a liberal view at some stage when I entered my teen years. It soon disappeared and I have remained a member of the Conservative Party ever since. But the noble Lord also expressed more important views on the precepts of morality. It is an important subject.

When we read today of financial frauds which have been perpetrated, we should look back to the morality of a generation or so ago and ask ourselves what has gone wrong. My private view is that we have moved away from partnerships and firms which ran themselves in a partnership mould in which there was individual moral responsibility. The worth of the firm was its integrity and those who gained the fees and made the income and those who ran the management had an interest in common. I do not claim that they were all totally moral by nature but they were certainly moral by interest. When we have broken that mould up into other forms of organisation, with the fee earners and commission earners at one end, with their annual salaries depending on what they produce, and management at the other, I believe that we have a vacuum in the middle. It is a matter that at some stage we shall have to address.

This Motion goes right to the heart of how we educate our young people, and indeed adults, for the opportunities and challenges they will face throughout their lives. This includes all aspects of their lives—social, cultural, domestic, leisure and work-related.

What are we trying to achieve in providing a sound education? I have no wish to become too philosophical. We have heard much philosophy today. But I would describe the basic objectives as enabling people to develop knowledge, understanding and skills in a wide range of subjects and at a depth appropriate to the type and level of education which they are pursuing, to encourage and stimulate them to learn more about those and other subjects and to develop the skills of literacy, numeracy and so on which they will need for such further study and in order to make an effective contribution as citizens and as workers; and as they move up the educational ladder to develop a constructively critical approach to the world at large.

What this means is that we should help our students, of whatever age, to learn and to think for themselves. We should help them to develop inquiring minds which are prepared to seek out and consider the facts of a situation before coming to conclusions; and those conclusions should follow from a rational appraisal rather than from chance or prejudice. It is also important to recognise that different people may legitimately draw different conclusions from the same situation—a valuable point made by a number of noble Lords.

We must not only encourage our students to think; we must also encourage tolerance of the views of others should they not be in line with their own. What a government must aim to do is to put in place an education system that actively promotes the desirable views of rational thought and assists students to develop into balanced citizens. I believe that our education reforms over the past years have been very much in this direction.

In the schools we have, of course, introduced the national curriculum. We have identified 10 foundation subjects which schools must teach. Of those 10, three subjects—English, mathematics and science (and of course in Wales, Welsh)—are designated as core subjects. The other foundation subjects are art, geography, history, music, physical education, technology and a modern foreign language. Those subjects provide a sound basis for a broad general education which will prepare young people for their future lives and careers.

The Education Reform Act also seeks to ensure that the whole of the curriculum promotes the spiritual, moral, cultural, mental and physical development of pupils at school and of society generally and prepares pupils for the opportunities, responsibilities and experiences of adult life.

In the Motion put by the noble Viscount there was mention of politics and political thought. My grandfather sat in your Lordships' House on the Liberal Benches. My father for the greater part of his time sat as a member of the Labour Party before moving to the Cross-Benches. I sit on the Conservative Benches, as did my grandmother. My late kinsman Lord Milford was the only Communist Member of your Lordships' House and last week his son took his place on the Cross-Benches. We all come from a common socio-economic background, as sociologists would tell us; we all come from a common thread of family life. Yet we have all made very different value judgments.

There are societies in this world who believe that the only logical course of politics is to have a single political party, because how logically can you argue that two should exist? However, we believe in a plural system and therefore I would find it difficult to visualise an education system in which political thought could be made. How to make political judgments is one thing, but political thought is another. The Government are, of course, very much opposed to political bias or indoctrination of my kind in schools.

We have 'taken powers to forbid the promotion of partisan political views in teaching and to require a balanced presentation of opposing views when political issues are dealt with in the classroom. Anyone who has grounds for believing that a school has acted otherwise has formal machinery through which to pursue a complaint, with ultimate recourse to the Secretary of State.

The Secretary of State has no power to forbid the use of particular teaching materials. That is a matter for the professional judgment of teachers. Neither have the Government powers to impose particular teaching methods in schools.

We are aiming to improve the quality and professionalism of teaching by reforming teacher training. Our reforms should help to ensure that new teachers can teach difficult and sensitive subjects in an appropriate and well-informed way.

Nobody should be admitted to a teacher training course unless they have the necessary personal and intellectual qualities for teaching young people. Courses are now expected to focus on the knowledge and practical skills necessary for effective classroom teaching. By the end of their training, we expect teachers to have the subject knowledge they need, and to use a range of teaching techniques and judge when and how to deploy them.

The policies we have adopted for schools have led to more pupils being motivated towards and qualified for higher education. In 1979, the participation rate was one in eight. It is now almost one in three, the target we set for ourselves by the end of this decade. But alongside the growth in numbers of the traditional 18 year-old with GCE A-levels, the university population is growing in other ways. Nowadays more mature students than young people start HE courses; and there has been a marked increase in the number of applicants accepted with qualifications other than A-levels.

Many noble Lords will be familiar with this description of increased and wider participation in higher education, but I remind the House of it to emphasise the diversity of provision that now exists. Academic staff need to adapt their teaching methods to accommodate to a broader range of students and backgrounds.

It is even truer in higher education than at other levels that the Government have no role in determining what shall be taught and how it shall be taught. Your Lordships have argued long and eloquently in this House to protect academic freedom whenever it appeared to you that it might be under the slightest threat. Your Lordships will recall that in connection with the exercise of the functions of the university commissioners in relation to academic tenure, Section 202(2) of the Education Reform Act 1988 provides that the commissioners shall have regard, to the need … to ensure that academic staff have freedom within the law to question and test received wisdom, and to put forward new ideas and controversial or unpopular opinions, without placing themselves in jeopardy of losing their jobs or privileges they may have at their institutions". Nevertheless, it is just as important in higher education as it is elsewhere that teaching is of high quality, that it promotes rational thought and that it does not pander to prejudice and political bias.

The safeguards in higher education are the diversity of provision and the informed consumer. Naturally, I include as consumers the students themselves, but also employers and society generally. The good name and reputation of a higher education institution as a seat of learning and creative thought are vital to an institution of higher education. Those institutions, I am glad to say, are creating ever closer links with employers and with the wider community. As they do so, there is greater recognition that the community needs to know more about how these institutions discharge their responsibilities.

The Government recognise that with increased participation and greater diversity in higher education comes a need to ensure that satisfactory quality assurance systems are in place. Following the policies outlined in our May 1991 White Paper, we have encouraged the representative bodies of the higher education institutions to establish the Higher Education Quality Council, and the higher education funding councils have established quality assessment committees.

The HEQC undertakes academic audits of an institution's quality assurance systems. The funding councils undertake assessments of the quality of the actual teaching and learning that takes place i n institutions.

I am, of course, aware that some noble Lords—and this was a valuable point raised by the noble Lord, Lord Annan—are of the view that the combination of audit and assessment imposes too great a burden on the institutions. The Government have no wish to see an undue burden on institutions, and have encouraged both the HEQC and the funding councils to consider how this can be minimised, while meeting the objectives of audit and assessment. Those bodies are now co-operating closely and have commissioned reviews of their activities to date.

Higher education institutions also need to satisfy other constituencies about the quality of their courses —the professional bodies and employers. There is close engagement between those bodies and institutions on the nature of courses and the value to employers of graduates.

British higher education is renowned for its high quality and academic standards. The Government are determined to see that reputation maintained and enhanced. I am heartened by reports that the process of addressing the issues raised by audit and assessment has been helpful to institutions in ensuring that they remain institutions of the highest quality whose standards remain at the highest levels.

The noble Earl, Lord Longford, gave me notice that he wished me to say a word on how I made a success of my personal life in business. I have no idea what this will add to the value of the debate, but as he asked for it, I shall continue. I have to say that logic had little to do with it, or at least at the start. I can only believe that some divine hand ordered my life, for how else does a man find a wife—a wife who is always as supportive as mine? I was working for an organisation through nepotism, which was not a success. The firm was a success, but I was not. I chose, or rather my wife advised me, to start afresh on my own. From then on, fortune smiled. While I cannot confess to the use of logic in the matter, I put forward the theory that the exchange of nepotism for self-sufficiency released an energy that carried success with it.

Viscount Hanworth

My Lords, first I must thank all noble Lords who have spoken. As I said at the start of my speech, I had some doubts about putting forward the Motion at all. Thanks to your Lordships, I am now satisfied that I was right in doing so. The debate has been useful. There is one thing that I regret; namely, that I never said that emotion should not form part of a decision. What I was trying to say is that if one can persuade people, one should ask them what that emotion is. To say that logic governs everything is nonsense. That was really my message. It is very, very difficult for people to analyse their motives. But there it is. I am sorry that I could not make that clear. I did send round about 15 papers on what I was trying to say. But in a way I blame this House. It would clearly have been simple for me to alter the Motion to explain just that. But no, the Clerks cut it out; and in the end I was not strong enough, this time, to insist. I beg leave to withdraw the Motion for Papers.

Motion for Papers, by leave, withdrawn.