That there is a close relationship between one's favored epistemology and educational practice is not a new idea. In some cases, epistemology seems to determine to a large degree the person's educational philosophy. For example, Plato's Republic can be understood as an attempt to work out an educational system that will best equip students to achieve Plato's specific epistemological goals; these are the understanding of the general ideas or "Forms" necessary for intelligent judgment in both theoretical and practical matters. To this end, Plato structures the early education of his students in an attempt to attune their souls to the rhythm of reasoned argument. Through the study of carefully chosen works of art, music, and poetry, they will be inclined to respond positively to well-reasoned arguments and negatively to bad reasoning or sophistry. The more able students continue with rigorous studies in math, geometry, music, and astronomy. Such training is to prepare them for careful inquiry into the nature of the most abstract, but pragmatically necessary, ideas or "Forms." For Plato's "Philosopher Kings," this was the Form of Justice, without knowledge of which one could not create and maintain "a just state?"

Plato's epistemology also determines his preferred pedagogy: dialectics. If the Forms are the first principles of any discipline, then a dialectical inquiry is more appropriate than lectures or demonstrations. This is because the discovery of first principles cannot be achieved through lectures nor deduced for other principles. A lecture assumes the lecturer already knows the principles and involves no discovery on the part of students. A logical deduction of first principles is impossible. because deductive demonstrations assume the truth of other more basic principles, i. e., the premises in the deductive proof. Plato's dialectical method is a proper manner of teaching because it asks students to draw upon their own experiences, postulate general principles as hypotheses and then test them through a search for counter-examples or unacceptable logical consequences. For Plato, then, epistemology determines both how education is structured and his pedagogy.

Other instances from the history of philosophy indicate that a person's own educational experiences may dictate the development of an epistemological position. For example, in his Discourse on Method, Descartes tells how his education convinced him that he needed a methodology that would help him solve the problems he encountered there. Early on, he discovered that teachers said different things about important issues. The problem was exacerbated when he traveled to different cultures and found that competent and well-educated people held quite different positions than people in his own culture. Given such experiences, he concluded that a general method was needed to help him decide what was reasonable to believe and what should be rejected. Descartes saw that if the experts disagree, then students are forced either to decide for themselves, become skeptics, or, for quite capricious reasons, decide to believe one person over all others. He saw that if the decision was not to be based on mere personal taste or cultural bias, then students must be empowered with the methodological tools that allowed them to sort out what was reasonable to believe from what was not. As a result, we ended up with the four-stage Cartesian method: careful analysis, assent only to what was understood "clearly and distinctly," deducing whatever consequences followed from these foundational truths, and then continually checking the logic of the steps of inference to make sure nothing was omitted. Being faced with competing claims and alternative points of view forced Descartes to develop a methodology to escape the relativism or skepticism that seemed to follow.

More recent authors have also pointed out how changes in their epistemological positions have resulted in altering their teaching pedagogies. Grant Cornwall, for example, tells us in his article "Postmodernism and Teaching: Confessions of an Ex-Realist" that from "what one believes about knowledge, certain things follow about the nature and goals of education." If one believes that knowledge consists of a group of facts which professors have and students need, then the primary mode of educational pedagogy should be to teach students these facts. The well-formed lecture is an efficient way to transmit such knowledge from a learned person to lowly student. Sounding a good deal like Richard Rorty, Cornwall goes on to say that if one adopts a postmodern anti- realist epistemology, that is, that knowledge is created rather than discovered, then "the epistemological bedrock is not some linkage with objective reality, but solidarity within a community. Truth is socially constructed, a matter of community agreement. A belief is true, a value correct, because it is deemed such by a group who subscribe to a certain way of seeing."

Assuming that the community of educators lets Cornwall and company subscribe to this way of seeing, then, according to him, specific pedagogical changes naturally follow. That is, the goal of education will be to show students how different interpretations can be held with respect to any subject matter and that what we are seeking is not `truth' but those interpretations or "ways of seeing" which best serve our human purposes. As Cornwall, again echoing Rorty, says, "The project of the arts and sciences, it now seems to me, is not to reveal or discover reality and mirror it in representations and propositions, but to create interpretations and configurations that are productive for certain purposes." He concludes that "It seems prudent to me to ally our imaginations to the project of living as nominalists, that is, as persons who believe there are no such things as intrinsic natures, or real essences, or objective truths, and as historicists, as persons who recognize that a person's beliefs and values begin as the products of, and are contingent on, their (sic) particular history."

II Because Cornwall's claims have important consequences for educational practice, there are a number of issues here that need to be discussed. First, we should ask whether epistemological realism entails the sort of pedantic pedagogy Cornwall assumes. I shall argue that it does not. Second, in the spirit of Popper's Fallibilism, we need to evaluate Cornwall's anti-realist epistemology for both consistency and the acceptability of its consequences. In so doing, I shall argue that it is unacceptable. And finally, we should look closely at his claim that anti-realism entails the sort of pedagogy he recommends. I shall argue that it can not support such teaching practices.

Cornwall claims that he has given up his realist epistemology. What is epistemological realism? Realism is the position that the world exists independently of our consciousness and that there are some facts that exist whether anyone knows them or not. Epistemological realism claims that there are facts and it is also possible for humans to discover them. Facts, in other words, are not mind dependent. For example, a realist might hold that it is a fact that her mother is older than she whether she or anyone else knew or believed this or not. Or, a realist might believe that whether or not the earth orbits the sun is quite independent of there being humans who know or believe one way or another. Realists also believe, as Plato did, that the purpose of education is to help students to discover the truth about such things. That is why Plato's "Philosopher Kings" spend the last fifteen years of their education studying the art of dialectics--the art of seeking the truth through language or discussion.

Anti-realists, as Cornwall points out, believe that facts are mind-dependent because they are "created" rather than "discovered." In addition, unlike some Kantian who might say that in some sense what is present to the mind is mind-dependent, but that each mind imposes the same conceptual frame on experience, Cornwall endorses the historicist position that what the mind creates is always a function of, and so relative to, its culture, its history, or its language.

While the anti-realist position is indeed popular, having what Rorty calls "a deliciously naughty appeal," teachers who remain realists should always ask whether a commitment to realism entails that education should primarily be the imparting of facts to students? Does epistemological realism entail a didactic pedagogy, such as Cornwall suggests? Surely the answer is no. If one were a scientist of realist stripes charged with training others in the practice of science, it seems that the primary tools one would want students to possess are the tools of inquiry and criticism, not facts. A scientist would want to empower future scientists with the analytic tools to engage in scientific research and the critical tools to evaluate their findings. If one were an artist and wanted to educate students in the art of painting, surely the teacher would not spend a great deal of time going over the "facts of art history." Surely the teacher would empower the student with the skills necessary to paint and, just as importantly, the critical judgment to evaluate his or her own work. The value of such judgment seems obvious given that all recognize that not all created works are of equal merit. (If they were, why would we go to school to learn to be artists?)

Likewise, if a history professor--perhaps the one field that views teaching as imparting "facts" to students through the lecture method--were a realist training students to be historians or how to recognize the effect that history has on our way of thinking, surely the professor would focus on teaching students methods of historical research, or how to evaluate competing accounts of the same historical event, or how to recognize the psychological effects of growing up in specific culture, that is, how values and assumptions affect how we think and feel. Given these examples, it seems obvious that there is no necessary correlation between realism and an antiquated view that education is "the passing on of facts to students who need to know." Cornwall's criticism of the realists' didactic pedagogy is a "strawperson argument." Other pedagogical consequences seem far more likely.

But what about anti-realism? Can anti-realism support the sort of pedagogy Cornwall endorses? Cornwall claims his new postmodern epistemology will entail pedagogical changes that "enable students to gain a critical distance on their socialization, to recognize the contingency of their beliefs and values." He is concerned, as was Plato, that students recognize that their ideas and values are to a large extent a product of social conditioning or indoctrination rather than being chosen after careful deliberation. Students who are unaware of the socialization process become enslaved by the practices, goals, and values given to them by their culture-- especially their education. In this respect they are like the "prisoners in Plato's cave." Cornwall concludes "Thus the primary goal of higher education is not about transmitting or discovering truth, but about fostering intellectual autonomy. And we accomplish this by inciting doubt and stimulating imagination, empowering students to challenge the prevailing consensus."

According to Cornwall, the means by which students obtain such autonomy is through being introduced to many alternative accounts of the way things are or "alternative ways to configure the world." By showing students these alternatives, they will, as did Descartes in the 17th Century, develop "their critical sensibilities" and begin to think for themselves. As Cornwall says, "Reconstructing a self, a world, out of the rubble, figuring out what to believe and value, how to judge and act, without the security of a realist epistemology, is the basic project of our time for individuals and communities."

It would be hard to deny that this sort of intellectual autonomy and judgment were not the primary goals of education. We should ask, however, whether such autonomy and the critical judgment necessary to figure out "what to believe and value" are possible if one adopts an anti-realist epistemology. Can an anti- realist epistemology support such educational goals? As the story of Descartes' own education indicated, being confronted with alternative values and ways of organizing the world can jar students out of their dogmatic slumbers and their natural tendency to accept whatever is as correct. The problem is with critical judgment. How can one pass reasoned judgment on the alternatives if one gives up the realists' notion of the possibility of objective truth and inquiry? That is to say, without the possibility of objective truth, how can one interpretation or position be "better than" another? When we (and Rorty and Cornwall) say it is "better" to be autonomous and authentic as opposed to being a slave to the dominant ideas and values of our time and culture, what do we mean? Better with respect to what? When we say it as better to be autonomous, surely we believe that it is better in some "objective" sense, the sort that epistemological realists talk about. When we say one account of an historical event is "better" than another, don't we mean it is closer to "what really happened," that it better approximates the truth? When we say that it is better to provide our students with critical thinking skills which allow them to judge alternative claims intelligently rather than to indoctrinate them, we do not mean better "for our historical period" or only for our point of view; we mean "better" in the objective sense--that is, really better. We mean, "It is better to evaluate honestly alternative positions, than swallow blindly as true whatever position comes floating down the river of education."

Given such examples, how can one reasonably deny realism? Would the anti-realists consider any evidence against realism objectively sound evidence? Or would the evidence also be relative to some historical period or specific point of view? Even anti-realists believe that their account of the way things are, i. e. with no essences, no objective truths, and no intrinsic natures, is true, not relatively true, but really true. And, they must believe that the evidence for anti- realism is good sound evidence, otherwise the doctrine becomes a mere ideology. Even the nominalist Richard Rorty seems to be trying to describe "the essence" of how language is "really" used when he substitutes his theory for traditional realist theories.

Realism and anti-realism provide us with two alternative points of view with respect to how things really are. But if critical judgment of alternative points of view is an important educational goal, then anti-realists must assume that at least some claims are candidates for being objectively true, i. e., those claims that describe and provide evidence for anti-realism. They must also believe that those claims that describe and defend epistemological realism are false. If they continue to deny objective truth, claiming that truth is always relative to one's context, then the anti-realists' doctrine must be seen as a mere point of view whose rationality is relative to a specific time or context. Hence, their own doctrine that all claims are true or false depending on the perspective or historical context is itself either trivial or false: Trivial if it is merely one point of view among others; false if it claims to be telling us how things really are.

III Where have Cornwall and other anti-realists gone wrong? The problem is they confuse realism with the absolute certainty sought in Cartesian foundationalism. Realists need not be dogmatists or absolutists. They need only to hold that it is possible to know the truth and it is possible to evaluate alternative positions from an objective perspective. They are not committed to the belief that any of their current beliefs are true or their methods of critical evaluation are the only ones possible. Realists can be fallibilists who recognize that many of the theories and claims believed to be true have turned out to be false. That is the great lesson of the history of science. So, realists can assume that many of their own beliefs may end up being false. But fallibilism, however, need not deny the possibility of objective truth or that some of our current beliefs may be true.

Because fallibilists and anti-realists both deny the possibility of absolute certainty, it might look as if there is no disagreement between anti-realists and realists who are fallibilists. This is not so. Fallibilists believe that humans are fallible; that is, they make mistakes. The problem is that it becomes difficult to make sense out of "making mistakes" if one does not believe there are facts and some are true and some are false. Mistakes are false judgments, and false judgments are possible only if we assume that some judgments are true. It follows then that a fallibilist, believing that mistakes or errors in human judgment are indeed possible (if not likely), must be a realist with respect to truth. Hence, if anti-realists want to contend that they too are fallibilists and that the realists hold a false position, then ironically anti-realists are really committed to a realist epistemology. This is because, false judgments are possible only if on believes in truth.

IV Given these difficulties, I do not believe that the anti-realism espoused by many postmodern thinkers as an educational ideal should be the guiding epistemology of educational practice. In the spirit of Karl Popper, I would suggest a fallibilist approach to knowledge and inquiry. That is to say, we want our students to be introduced to alternative points of view, what Popper calls "the clash of cultures," but we also want them to hold two positions the anti-realism forbids: First, that there are objective truths, and that these truths can be discovered. To this end, we want our students to become active players in the human struggle to discover the truth and so solve human problems through such understanding. Second, we want to equip students with the analytic and logical tools necessary to evaluate the alternative positions fairly. Without such methodological tools, students will end up in despair like the young Descartes over  400 years ago. Anti-realism, in whatever form, must be rejected because it undermines the pursuit of truth as a reasonable goal for educated people and has the possibility of turning students into Cartesian skeptics, befuddled by disagreements, yet void of a method.

ENDNOTES

Plato, Republic, tr. Grube, (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1974), 401d-402a, "Are these not the reasons, Glaucon, I said, why nurture in the arts is most important, because their rhythm and harmony permeate the inner part of the soul, bring graciousness to it, and make the strongest impression, making a man gracious if he has the right kind of upbringing; if he has not, the opposite is true. The man who has been properly nurtured in this are will be keenly aware of things which are neglected, things not beautifully made by art or nature. He will rightly resent them, he will praise beautiful things, rejoice in them, receive them into his soul, be nurtured by them and become both good and beautiful in character. He will rightly object to what is ugly and hate it while still young before he can grasp the reason, and when reason comes he who has been reared thus will welcome it and easily recognize it because of its kinship with himself.--Yes, he said, I agree those are the reasons for education in the arts." Plato, Bk. VII. Plato, Bk. VIII, 531-535. Rene Descartes, Discourse on the Method of Rightly Directing Ones Reason and of Seeking Truth in the Sciences, tr. Elizabeth Anscombe and Peter Geach, in Descartes Philosophical Writings. (New York: Bobbs- Merrill, 1971), pp. 7-23. Grant Cornwall, "Postmodernism and Teaching: Confessions of an Ex-Realist," Proteus, Vol. 8, Number 1, Spring 1991, pp. 33-36. Cornwall, p. 34. Ibid. Ibid. Karl Popper, "The Myth of the Framework," The Abdication of Philosophy: Philosophy and the Public Good (La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1976), pp. 45-46. Cornwall, p. 35. Ibid. Cornwall, p. 36.