There has been a steady decline in
the level of Egyptian school teachers and university professors since they have
become state employees. Once a member of an elite corps of scientists and
learned men, a professor today is just one of thousands of government employees.
The drop in teaching standards parallels the general decline in the level of
public services in Egypt, a phenomenon that has grown out of the frightful
imbalance between people's growing sense of rights and their diminishing sense
of duties. This phenomenon is common in socialist countries. Things cannot be
otherwise in an environment where workers are cushioned by a plethora of
promises and freed from the constraints of such basic economic laws as that
linking salary to production and the law of rewarding excellence and punishing
error, and where labor laws encourage slothfulness and idleness while
discouraging initiative, creativity, competition and motivation.
I am confident that if we were to liberate teachers and
university professors from the fetters of the civil service, we would break the
heavy bonds that tie them to the present situation of education in our country
and allow them to concentrate on improving the quality of their work rather
than their chances for promotion.
There has also been an alarming decline in
our cultural life since it came under the thumb of politics. Education and
culture are two sides of the same coin: if one declines, the other will follow.
To understand what politics have done to culture in Egypt, it is enough to see
the works of artists and writers in the 60s, or radio and television programs
of the time, when politicization was at its peak.
Last is the indiscriminate expansion of the
system. Education in Egypt is like a train: once a child reaches the age of six
he or she can hop on board and remain there until the very last stop—the
university degree. Not one country, either in the socialist or the capitalist
worlds, provides education free of charge to every citizen wishing to benefit
from that constitutional right. The fact is that no state, whatever its
political orientation, can afford to provide free education from primary school
through university. The only difference between socialist and capitalist
countries in this respect is that while outstanding students enjoy this right
in both cases, in the latter students who can afford to pay are allowed to
continue studying even when they are not exceptional.
With such an indiscriminate expansion of education as that
which took place in Egypt, it becomes impossible to maintain a balance between
quality and quantity. Education is, after all, a service like any other, and
the largesse of the Egyptian state in extending this service unreservedly to
its citizens was, inevitably, at the expense of quality. The damage could have
been minimized with proper planning. However, the state did not prepare for
increasing the number of public, technical and commercial schools, nor for the
necessary boost in the number of teachers needed, nor for ways to generate
productive and useful employment for the flood of future graduates. In fact,
the expansion of education, like so many other things in Egypt, was a haphazard
process born of a vague slogan about education being “the right of every
citizen”. But noble slogans and good intentions never have and never will
achieve success at any level.
To make matters worse, several factors combined to make
Egyptians come to regard university degrees, and the government jobs that could
be secured with them, with excessive respect, even reverence. At the same time,
people began looking with disdain at technical and specialized vocational degrees,
which limits the social standing of its bearer. In addition to a shrinking
private sector and the fact that most citizens are civil servants, and since
all high public positions are held by university graduates, not to obtain a
degree puts one in a category of social inferiority.
There was a time when a professor was the symbol of society's
respect for itself. Venerated for his wisdom and his mission to society, a
professor was someone who dedicated his life to teaching and educating the
young. In return, society gave him the appropriate material and moral
appreciation to enable him to pursue his mission. When the university and
academic life in general was made subservient to political considerations, the
professor's chair became just another form of government employment. The
vocation of professor lost its essence and mystique. The situation was even
worse for school teachers, who were tossed around by the storms of political
expediency on the one hand, and those of economic need, on the other, since
the state could not afford to pay them salaries that met the increasingly heavy
burdens of daily life. Teachers also suffered from the intellectual vacuum that
affected their profession, as it did all other aspects of life in Egypt. It was
no longer possible to expect a teacher to be a symbol of self-respect and
knowledge, and to be a conduit for knowledge. The values and the status of the
professor and teacher had been shaken, and with them the very foundations of
education in Egypt.
Is there a cure?
Before probing ways and means of reforming education in
Egypt, we should be aware that the success of any attempts at reform hinges on
the readiness of Egyptians in general and the authorities in particular to
admit that the problem of education has reached crisis proportions and that
radical reform is a must.
Part IV will examine recommendations for educational reform.
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