When and Where Does Critique Enter into Education? : A Dialogue with Saeed Ghapanvari, Distinguished Scholar
Chahardoli:
In my view, critique is inseparable from dynamic and living education, because real education, without the cultivation of critical literacy and the ability to analyse the hidden presuppositions within knowledge, is reduced to the mechanical transmission of information and the passive review of material. Nevertheless, the manifestation of critique in educational institutions—due to differences in mission and social contract—appears differently in schools and universities: in schools, where the aim is primary socialisation and the creation of cultural consensus, critique emerges indirectly, in a skill-oriented manner, and is mainly directed at strengthening "how to think," whereas in universities, as institutions for the production and rethinking of knowledge, critique can be direct, explicit, and aimed at the very foundations of knowledge and even social structures. Ultimately, it is possible in practice to set aside critique, but this comes at the heavy cost of turning education into a neutral instrument and emptying it of its emancipatory and dialogic mission.
Critique is an effort to understand, not merely to break and reject. This key proposition can serve as a bridge over the deep divide we discussed. When we speak of critiquing a poem, a sociological theory, a philosophical idea, or a historical event, we are, in truth, speaking of the deepest mode of encountering and engaging in dialogue with that work. Critique removes the student from the passive position of a "receiver of information" and grants them the active position of an "explorer of meaning-making." It is in this process that the abstract concepts of textbooks—which sometimes weigh like a lifeless burden on the student's mind—come alive and become tools for thinking about the surrounding world.
Teaching sociology—or any other subject in the humanities—without accompanying critique is like showing a map that indicates the travel route but never permits the actual journey and the discovery of the path. When we teach a student how a theory can simultaneously be understood and critiqued, we give them the power to make that theory their own; to see where in real life it is applicable, where it breaks down, and where it needs to be completed. Critique transforms that high, forbidding wall between "the textbook" and "life" into a transparent and traversable bridge. Here, the student no longer memorises concepts to later regurgitate them; rather, they live with them, debate them, and turn them into tools for interpreting their complex world—from family relationships and social networks to phenomena such as inequality or the environmental crisis. Therefore, critique is not a luxurious add-on, but the very breath of the process of understanding in a living and dynamic education.
Ghapanvari:
The discourse of critique is one of the most emphatic tendencies of modern hermeneutics and implicit meaning. The thematic foundations of a critical dialogue must be accompanied by a scholarly background in the conventional sciences. It is always through spoken and written analyses that education can guide the student toward pathways of meaning, expand polyphony within a constructive pluralism, and avoid domination and dogmatism. A critical mindset uproots blind acceptances at every stage. It finds the gaps precisely, and from these gaps pours light into the windows of the novice learner's mind. If the aesthetic dimensions of a good work are carefully considered, a prism of broad perceptions can be clearly seen in a rainbow spectrum. The classroom transforms from monologue to multi-logue, and to a sharing in subjective endeavours. Objects emerge from concepts, and the production of meaning becomes a boundless horizon. Perhaps one of the applications of the unconscious occurs precisely at these moments, because a collective inheritance emerges from concealment and, in a metaphorical form, rises into consciousness, and with a forward-moving fluidity, finds its life as symbol and ultimately as myth. Here, everything is meant to emerge from under the umbrella of repeated readings, and critique is to occur from within, so that, as Foucault would say, we arrive at the autonomous subject.
Chahardoli:
Greetings to you. I am a sociologist, and my feet are planted on the ground! I will continue this dialogue on dialogic critique in education by focusing on the concept of "conflict" as an example for my discussion from high school sociology textbooks, where one can proceed by critically reviewing the foundational theories and designing a practical framework. The concept of conflict in modern sociology is often understandable under two grand frameworks: conflict theory (which sees it as the engine of social change), and structural functionalism (which emphasises its role in maintaining social equilibrium and cohesion). However, a deep-seated critique applies to both approaches: conflict theory, by reducing conflict to objective (e.g., class-based) antagonism, often neglects its subjective, symbolic, and identity-based dimensions—precisely the dimensions that are highly prominent in the conflicts of students' everyday lives (in the family, on social networks). On the other hand, functionalism, with an instrumental and one-sided view, may overlook the fact that conflict can be destructive and unabsorbable within existing structures, rather than merely a factor for their adjustment. This theoretical gap between macro-level explanations and micro-level experiences is a valuable starting point for a dialogic lesson.
To bridge this gap in practice, a 90-minute session can be designed in four stages. The goal is to move beyond dry textbook definitions and arrive at a complex understanding connected to life. The session begins with a provocative activity (analysing an ambiguous scenario of conflict) to activate prior understandings. Then, through a critical reading of the textbook, the question is raised as to which theoretical tradition the official definition leans towards, and which dimensions (such as emotions or identity aspects) it omits. In the third stage, by connecting the concept to life, students are asked to analyse their own concrete examples using both the conflict and functionalist frameworks—as well as the critiques levelled against them. Finally, a dialogic wrap-up takes the question to a broader level: does our society need more "conflict management" (a functionalist view), or the "identification of its structural roots" (a conflict perspective)?
In this teaching method, the teacher's role shifts to that of a knowledgeable guide who knows both the theories and their weaknesses. But this very new role raises a fundamental question: might this mode of teaching itself inadvertently cause students to overlook the large, deep-rooted issues of society? For instance, if we focus solely on "small everyday conflicts," does attention drift away from structural inequalities? Or, if we insist too much on macro-analyses, are students' personal experiences and emotions ignored? This delicate balance defines the teacher's principal task: not the imposition of a particular theory, but the creation of a space for critique and examination in which even the theories themselves are questioned. Reaching this point takes the discussion beyond "how to teach" and turns it into a critical reconsideration of the educational process itself.
Ghapanvari:
No human being is an entity enclosed within themselves; they certainly have a path to what lies beyond them. If this connection were closed, there would no longer be any bearer of meaning. If connection is explained in both its conflictual and functional aspects, it strategises a synthesis of contradictions for the learner, in which the "self" plays a fundamental role. Jung believes that the "I" is a part of the self that can complement meaning-making approaches from both the conscious and the unconscious mind. Meaning-generating contradictions arise from this very connection. Communicative functions require a kind of mutual understanding that either equips us further with presuppositions or renders us free of them. However, this very shared understanding causes a part of the "self" to be dissolved in consensus, and individuality undergoes a kind of transmutation. Collectivism and group functioning, in their proper place, provide grounds for transcendence, but for the student they sometimes cripple and mutilate creativity. It is in contradictions that competition—distanced, of course, from hostility—can bring many latent things to the surface. The learning community must avoid becoming instrumentalised within the group for the sake of a kind of general understanding and the imposition of collective rational tools, and must be able to participate in a shared existence without conflict with contradictions. Time and place of situatedness are highly important. From the classroom—which is the second stage of socialisation and demands its own specific age—to the working world and beyond, all can serve as an exercise in living with conflicts that are simultaneously progressive.
Chahardoli:
Very well. What I gather from our conversation is this: dialogic critique is the essence of dynamic and emancipatory education. On the one hand, as a practical method, by moving beyond dry textbook definitions and connecting concepts to everyday life, critique transforms the student from a passive receiver into an active explorer. On the other hand, critique is a philosophical and meaning-making process that, by opening up a polyphonic space, countering dogmatism, and activating the mind, leads to the cultivation of an independent, creative, and autonomous subject. Critical education is, therefore, a necessary synthesis of practical understanding and intellectual transformation, in which the teacher's role is that of a guide who must strike a delicate balance between theory and experience, the collective and the individual, and structure and agency.