CARE

I would like to focus on the constructed ideas of “care” evident in the parallel discourses guiding the Indian schooling system, and the schooling system Wiggins and Guiffrida cite. In both cases, care becomes an insidious, disciplining force that works to construct and protect systems of power.

As I discussed in my last post, the care the African American students refer to exhibited by the faculty who they felt they had important relationships with, was distinguished by their going “above and beyond” to take care of their students lives on a holistic level. This care, is perhaps a way of reinscribing the oppressive power structure of a school system which, at the same time subjects them to various mediums of institutional discrimination and racism, attempts to “liberate” them, use school—the good—as a way of instilling them with mainstream values. The school, or the oppressive structure becomes easier to swallow in internalize when sugar coated by caring faculty. Does it matter if Faculty care if the result is that students are being disciplined to submit to their role within the power structure?

In the same vein, Margaret Connell Szasz and Carmelita Ryan note that historically, “The Presbyterian missionaries had faith in the ‘character transforming power of education.’” Indian education was a manifestation of the white man’s, the civilizer’s, “care” for the salvation of the Indian peoples. They goal of the Indian educational programs was to instill in them the civilized morality that would protect their souls and elevate their people to a more developed, civilized state. The educational and civilizing goals of the Peace Policy was: “to demolish the Indians communal life, to wreck tribal identity and values, and the implant a different individualist ideology.”

Here, we must question what is the “good” being constructed, and what that construction potentially conceals. School is “good.” Individual is “good.” Peace is “good.” These concepts are framed within an idea of care—we educate the youth because we care about them, want them to become capable individuals, want to secure the “peace.” However, to deconstruct the concept of care, we can see an inherent dichotomy. Care is a linear relationship; one cares for another. The person administering the care both places the other in the public space, within the realm of discourse, and positions themselves as being able to dictate what is good for the other and what is not.

This construction of care is evident in the presence of the Man on the Bandstand at the Carlisle school. The presence of the MOTBS is marked in one respect, by his energy (indefatigably “upbeat”)—he for sure “goes above and beyond” in looking out for the well being of his students. In the same way that the faculty member at a PWI might reward an African American student for “speaking well,” the MOTBS admonishes his students for “talking Indian.” In both instances, concealed through interpretations of care, students are learning to be disciplined, conditioned along mainstream values that reinforce their subordinate position. The Man on the Bandstand has a grandfatherly presence, translating the Christian paradigms of guilt and salvation that had proved so successful in controlling the activity of its followers, into a language that can be decipherable and internalized by the Indian students. While perhaps not always effective—“The man on the bandstand condemned the girls, insisting they had a bad record before they came and have been stubborn and ugly ever since they arrived, no amount of kindness shown them having any effect”—his omnipresence serves to reinforce the dichotomy established between the one who cares and the ones who are cared for.

Perhaps we can also see the more contemporary expression of care, in reaction to our modern condemnation of tactics used in the Carlisle school, in the popular trends towards multiculturalism. Multiculturalism, can be a form of “care” concealing the assimilating forces under the guise of cultural sensitivity—when that sensitivity works off constructed assumptions regarding the “innocent and pure” nature of the Indians, or Africans (AID AFRICA COMPLEX), it cultivates a subtle discourse that reinforces power structures.

Machiavelli asserted that it is better to be loved than feared. Is the constructing of a caring authority a force that combines both love and fear—the love for that care, and the fear of disappointment and according “justified” repercussions, made in the offender’s best interest? Can we see this balance of love and fear, married through the construction of care, represented in authoritative political, social figures? In teachers?