I share your concern. I value the melting pot as one of the most important priorities of our country and I worry about damaging the institution that is its last best support. Moynihan has an interesting take on it.
washingtonpost.com
A Promise Long Deferred
Voucher verdict decides an issue as old as King George.
By Daniel Patrick Moynihan
Monday, July 1, 2002; Page A17
The Supreme Court decision that it is constitutional for public funds to be used to support students in nonpublic schools brings a kind of closure to an issue that has been with us from the beginning. (Among the tyrannical acts of George III, the Declaration of Independence charges him with "abolishing the free System of English Law in a neighboring Province" -- which is to say the granting of religious tolerance to Catholics in Quebec.)
As regards public education, the issue also was present at the creation or soon thereafter. New York led the way with aid to religious schools -- there were no public schools -- from early in the 19th century. In 1840 the Whig governor William H. Seward, who was to be Lincoln's secretary of state, put the matter plain in a message to the legislature.
"The children of foreigners, found in great numbers in our populous cities and towns, and in the vicinity of our public works, are too often deprived of the advantages of our system of public education, in consequence of prejudices arising from the difference of language or religion. It ought never to be forgotten that the public welfare is as deeply concerned in their education as in that of our own children. I do not hesitate, therefore, to recommend the establishment of schools in which they may be instructed by teachers speaking the same language with themselves and professing the same faith." (As regards differences of language, as many as a third of the "Canal Irish" spoke Gaelic.)
The argument for Seward's proposal was further advanced in 1841 when New York Secretary of State John C. Spencer, ex officio superintendent of public schools, laid out the case in a state paper. It was, first of all, good policy: Schools would compete for students by teaching them better. And it was also common sense, as was plain to any Whig of that time: "No books can be found, no reading lessons can be selected, which do not contain more or less of some principles of religious faith, either directly avowed or indirectly assumed."
That view failed; not least because of the Catholics they meant to help. The cardinal in New York took the matter into politics. The issue grew radioactive and stayed that way for a century.
Then came the baby boom following World War II. "Federal aid to education" became a national issue. Save for occupational education and some other odd bits, education had always been a matter for state and local governments. But in the aftermath of the New Deal and the war, it seemed not only pressing but logical that the federal government should pitch in.
Almost everyone agreed, not least the Catholic bishops, who had been running the schools for a century and a half. But with one condition: They wished those schools to take part in any federal program.
Stalemate. The 1950s came and went. JFK was elected. Nothing happened. Then in 1963 Nathan Glazer and I published "Beyond the Melting Pot," in which the early New York experience was recounted. A history long forgotten returned somewhat. As a member of the subcabinet I was asked if I could work out some language for the 1964 Democratic Party platform. I was joined by the inventive commissioner of education, Francis Keppel, and the irrepressible Msgr. Francis T. Hurley, later bishop of Alaska. Our text went into the platform unchanged:
"We believe that education is the surest and most profitable investment a nation can make. Regardless of family financial status, therefore, education should be open to every boy or girl in America up to the highest level which he or she is able to master. . . . New methods of financial aid must be explored, including the channeling of federally collected revenues to all levels of education and, to the extent permitted by the Constitution, to all schools."
The Elementary and Secondary Education Act was signed by Lyndon B. Johnson on April 9, 1965. Federal funds began to flow. But Catholics in Catholic schools got nothing but an occasional trailer for St. Agnes or whatever, where students could learn physics without papal meddling. But little else. We broke our word.
But that is behind us! Ahead are troubles, to be sure. Our country has all manner of religions; Arlington Cemetery has 33 denominational headstones. But at least the Democratic Party can claim to be prophetic and support school vouchers.
The writer, a former Democratic senator from New York, is a professor at the Maxwell School of Syracuse University.
© 2002 The Washington Post Company washingtonpost.com
A Promise Long Deferred
Voucher verdict decides an issue as old as King George.
By Daniel Patrick Moynihan
Monday, July 1, 2002; Page A17
The Supreme Court decision that it is constitutional for public funds to be used to support students in nonpublic schools brings a kind of closure to an issue that has been with us from the beginning. (Among the tyrannical acts of George III, the Declaration of Independence charges him with "abolishing the free System of English Law in a neighboring Province" -- which is to say the granting of religious tolerance to Catholics in Quebec.)
As regards public education, the issue also was present at the creation or soon thereafter. New York led the way with aid to religious schools -- there were no public schools -- from early in the 19th century. In 1840 the Whig governor William H. Seward, who was to be Lincoln's secretary of state, put the matter plain in a message to the legislature.
"The children of foreigners, found in great numbers in our populous cities and towns, and in the vicinity of our public works, are too often deprived of the advantages of our system of public education, in consequence of prejudices arising from the difference of language or religion. It ought never to be forgotten that the public welfare is as deeply concerned in their education as in that of our own children. I do not hesitate, therefore, to recommend the establishment of schools in which they may be instructed by teachers speaking the same language with themselves and professing the same faith." (As regards differences of language, as many as a third of the "Canal Irish" spoke Gaelic.)
The argument for Seward's proposal was further advanced in 1841 when New York Secretary of State John C. Spencer, ex officio superintendent of public schools, laid out the case in a state paper. It was, first of all, good policy: Schools would compete for students by teaching them better. And it was also common sense, as was plain to any Whig of that time: "No books can be found, no reading lessons can be selected, which do not contain more or less of some principles of religious faith, either directly avowed or indirectly assumed."
That view failed; not least because of the Catholics they meant to help. The cardinal in New York took the matter into politics. The issue grew radioactive and stayed that way for a century.
Then came the baby boom following World War II. "Federal aid to education" became a national issue. Save for occupational education and some other odd bits, education had always been a matter for state and local governments. But in the aftermath of the New Deal and the war, it seemed not only pressing but logical that the federal government should pitch in.
Almost everyone agreed, not least the Catholic bishops, who had been running the schools for a century and a half. But with one condition: They wished those schools to take part in any federal program.
Stalemate. The 1950s came and went. JFK was elected. Nothing happened. Then in 1963 Nathan Glazer and I published "Beyond the Melting Pot," in which the early New York experience was recounted. A history long forgotten returned somewhat. As a member of the subcabinet I was asked if I could work out some language for the 1964 Democratic Party platform. I was joined by the inventive commissioner of education, Francis Keppel, and the irrepressible Msgr. Francis T. Hurley, later bishop of Alaska. Our text went into the platform unchanged:
"We believe that education is the surest and most profitable investment a nation can make. Regardless of family financial status, therefore, education should be open to every boy or girl in America up to the highest level which he or she is able to master. . . . New methods of financial aid must be explored, including the channeling of federally collected revenues to all levels of education and, to the extent permitted by the Constitution, to all schools."
The Elementary and Secondary Education Act was signed by Lyndon B. Johnson on April 9, 1965. Federal funds began to flow. But Catholics in Catholic schools got nothing but an occasional trailer for St. Agnes or whatever, where students could learn physics without papal meddling. But little else. We broke our word.
But that is behind us! Ahead are troubles, to be sure. Our country has all manner of religions; Arlington Cemetery has 33 denominational headstones. But at least the Democratic Party can claim to be prophetic and support school vouchers.
The writer, a former Democratic senator from New York, is a professor at the Maxwell School of Syracuse University.
© 2002 The Washington Post Company |
