By Arie Kizel
Education at its core is an act of intimacy and vulnerability. When an individual enters a space of learning, they place their entire consciousness, their non-knowing, and their emerging identity on trial and subject to transformation. However, throughout the history of educational institutions, alongside this intimate act, an embedded and sophisticated mechanism of surveillance, control, and anxiety has been established. Fear is not an accidental condition or a systemic error within the school environment; it is a genuine architectural component that shapes the boundaries of thought, the legitimacy of self-expression, and the power dynamic between educator and learner.
A sharp distinction must be drawn between physiological-survival
fear and pedagogical-existential fear. Survival fear acts as an immediate
defense mechanism against a concrete threat. In contrast, fear embedded in
pedagogy is implicit, continuous, and habitual. It manifests as anxiety over
evaluation, fear of social ostracization, anxiety about failing to meet
required standards, and the terror of losing belonging. This fear operates
directly against the process of the learner's humanization. Unfortunately, in
many systems around the world, education serves as a lever for self-discovery,
broadening horizons, and giving presence to the human agent's subjectivity;
however, in the country, fear-based pedagogy (Kizel, 2023) reduces the learner
to an obedient, disciplined object, disconnected from their inner desires.
In this sense, when fear becomes the organizing foundation of the
school, it paralyzes humanity. The learner resides in a constant state of
defense, in which cognitive and emotional energy is directed toward preventing
mistakes and ensuring compliance rather than toward inquiry, boldness, and
compassion.
Fear of the
Child's Voice
Traditional schooling is built on a paternalistic view of the child
as an object to be 'civilized,' 'refined,' or 'completed.' This perception
deprives the child of their epistemic autonomy—that is, their right and
capacity to be perceived as a possessor of knowledge, insight, and a valid
perspective on the world.
Fear is deployed here as a covert mechanism of silencing through
two primary channels: First, fear of non-knowing—the system sanctifies the
'correct answer,' thereby instilling in children a profound dread of thinking
out loud, asking unconventional questions, or admitting ignorance. Second, fear
of disrupting order—attempts to challenge the teacher's statements or the text
are frequently interpreted as disciplinary infractions rather than expressions
of critical thinking. The child learns that maintaining their safe standing
within the system is conditional upon relinquishing their unique voice.
Analyzing identities within the educational space also raises an
important point about learners' existential anxiety regarding belonging and
allegiance. In spaces that are ostensibly multicultural or in situations of
social conflict, learners are frequently required to maneuver between their
authentic, home, and cultural identity and the dominant institutional identity
demanded by the system.
The anxiety of operating within this divided terrain acts as a
paralyzing factor of humanity: the learner fears that bringing their full
identity into the classroom will lead to judgment, isolation, or silencing. The
fear of losing recognition forces the child to wear a mask, adopt narratives
that are not their own, and suppress vital parts of their human existence.
In contrast to a frozen, ossified pedagogy grounded in fear and
compliance, the education system must adopt the concept of 'Mobile Pedagogy.'
Mobile Pedagogy assumes continuous movement—intellectual, identity-based, and
pedagogical. Fear, on the other hand, is the primary force producing
stagnation: a cognitive stagnation wherein the learner avoids intellectual
risk-taking and remains within the safe, familiar boundaries, and an emotional
stagnation wherein the analysis of reality becomes superficial out of dread of
engaging with complexities, contradictions, and identity conflicts.
One of the most destructive characteristics of the pedagogy of fear
(Kizel, 2024) is not manifested merely in low grades or a lack of discipline,
but in the depth of its damage to the learner's personality structure. When
fear governs the educational environment—whether actively and overtly or as a
transparent, institutionalized anxiety—it exerts a mechanism of shrinkage upon
human consciousness. Fear systematically paralyzes those very psychological and
spiritual qualities that define a human being as an autonomous, creative, and
reflective agent.
Natural curiosity requires a state of consciousness grounded in
psychological safety. For a child or adult to dare to step into the unknown,
ask questions that challenge the obvious, or propose an original hypothesis,
they must feel that the ground beneath their feet is stable.
This pedagogy leads to cognitive shrinkage: fear triggers a
cognitive defense mechanism aimed solely at self-preservation. When the learner
is hyper-focused on avoiding sanctions, shame, or rejection, the brain
redirects most conscious resources toward identifying threats and preserving
the status quo. Furthermore, creativity is suppressed—an act of risk-taking
that demands a willingness to make mistakes, deconstruct existing structures,
and connect them in unconventional ways. In a system driven by anxiety, any
departure from the standard path is perceived as a potential threat, suppressing
curiosity in its infancy. The learner prefers to repeat memorized answers
rather than articulate original thought.
As Paulo Freire demonstrated in 'Pedagogy of the Oppressed,' an
authoritarian educational system based on fear transforms education into a
process of 'banking education.' In this model, the student is not a thinking,
creative subject, but an empty vessel designed to deposit pre-packaged
knowledge.
This objectification is reflected in self-alienation, wherein the
student severs their inner world—their opinions, emotions, and lived
experiences—from classroom learning, rendering education an external ritual
devoid of personal meaning. It is also reflected in the teacher's role as a
censor, in which the educator ceases to serve as a companion or partner in
epistemic dialogue, becoming instead an inspector who measures and judges.
Dialogue is replaced by a one-way monologue, and the student loses their voice
and the ability to define their identity within the learning process.
One of the most destructive byproducts of fear in the education
system is the fear of failure. In a system where an error is not viewed as a
natural, essential part of the learning process, but rather as a flaw requiring
punishment or stigmatization, survival strategies inevitably develop within the
learner:
●
Absolute
Conformism: The learner refrains from
expressing complex or unconventional views, aligning completely with system
expectations and prevailing social norms.
●
Relinquishing
Autonomy: Instead of developing an internal
conscience and an independent value system, the learner relies exclusively on
external authority to define what is right, permissible, and forbidden.
If fear perpetuates stagnation, silencing, and objectification, the
pedagogical response to it cannot settle for technical reforms or tweaks to
structural examinations. It demands a deep epistemological and existential
shift: moving from a pedagogy of control to a pedagogy of liberation, empathy,
and dialogue. At the center of this transition stands the creation of a Safe
Space—not a space shielded from complex thought or conflict, but a space
protected from paralyzing judgment, humiliation, and identity-based sanctions.
Community of
Philosophical Inquiry as a Pedagogy of Sovereignty
Particularly in an era where 'Artificial Intelligence' is taking
over a failing educational system, evoking endless enthusiasm on one hand and
unbridled panic on the other, a pedagogy of liberating sovereignty is urgently
required. This pedagogy finds expression in developing human intelligence
through the model of the 'Community of Philosophical Inquiry' in educational
and community settings. This model, drawing from the tradition of Philosophy
for Children (P4C) founded by the American philosopher Matthew Lipman,
fundamentally reshapes classroom power dynamics: within the circular and
horizontal structure, children and the teacher sit in an egalitarian circle
free of computers or artificial intelligence. The physical arrangement
deconstructs traditional hierarchy ('teacher at the front') and shifts the
focus to peer dialogue. Simultaneously, the teacher serves as a facilitator
rather than a censor: the facilitator does not possess predetermined 'correct'
answers, but guides the inquiry process while taking care not to become a
colonizer of the educational process. They offer philosophical stimuli and,
only when necessary, ask clarifying questions and encourage reflection, but
under no circumstances judge positions. Additionally, the community agrees on
shared rules of inquiry that ensure active listening, mutual respect, the
avoidance of harmful statements, and the inclusion of weaker voices. In this
model, an error ceases to be a threat; it becomes an investigative
opportunity—a foundation for reflective thought through which the entire
community advances toward deeper understanding. The foundation for intellectual
thinking, which the pedagogy of fear believes belongs solely to adults,
actually develops at a young age and must be allowed to soar without fear.
To liberate the learner from the survival defense mechanism
generated by fear, liberating pedagogy posits active listening as an essential
prerequisite for dialogue:
This process requires Suspension of Judgment (Epoché)—teachers and
learners must practice temporarily suspending prior beliefs and immediate
evaluations. Listening is not merely waiting for one's turn to interrupt, but
an operative attempt to understand the internal logic of the other's position.
Furthermore, validating the silenced voice is required: genuine pedagogical
listening demands special sensitivity to unheard voices—introverted children,
members of minority groups, or those whose social and cultural identity lies at
the margins of the institutional center. Giving presence to the silenced voice
re-anchors them within the community as legitimate epistemic authorities.
In the social and educational landscape of Israel, fear often fuels
the dehumanization of the 'other' and a retreat into defensive tribalism or an
all-consuming conformism. A liberating pedagogy does not ignore social conflict
or the fear it evokes; rather, it transforms conflict into a subject of inquiry.
First, shifting from polarizing anxiety to engaging with complexity: the
pedagogy of fear tends to divide the world into black-and-white, 'us' versus
'them.' The philosophical inquiry community enables the dismantling of dogmatic
perceptions, the identification of nuances, and the examination of mutual fears
through a critical yet compassionate lens. Second, transforming violence into
dialogic discourse: when learners realize that their identity and positions
will not be dismissed or prejudged, the need for violent defensiveness recedes.
Conflict transitions from a source of paralyzing anxiety into an opportunity
for authentic human encounter.
The journey through the architectural and psychological structures
of the pedagogy of fear reveals a grim yet alterable reality: when educational
systems rely on anxiety, obedience, and structural blindness, they do not
educate—they train, even if they ostensibly maintain friendly relations between
teachers and students and a form of familiarity between teachers and parents.
They produce subjects tailored to fit existing molds, but in fact lose the
development of their capacity to resist, inquire courageously, and be fully
present in the human sphere.
The struggle against fear cannot remain a matter of administrative
reforms such as those proposed by the education system over the past twenty
years under superficial branding. Rather, it demands intellectual radicalism
that restores the human being—in all their complexity, vulnerability, and
striving for freedom—to the center of educational practice, while avoiding the
creation of a superficial competitive culture based on the false assumption
that such preparation prepares one for real life.
Compassion as
an Epistemic Act
Compassion in education is not passive sentimentality or a lowering
of standards, but a courageous recognition that every learner carries a world
of experiences, doubts, and identities. A compassionate pedagogy identifies
signs of distress and alienation characterizing system students, offering them
a space where it is permissible to make mistakes, stumble, and try again
without emotional sanctions.
This compassion renounces the paternalistic model and positions
teacher and student as equal partners in the journey of intellectual inquiry.
This partnership dismantles fear of dogmatic authority and invites the learner
to take responsibility for their consciousness and learning process.
The global and local realities of the 21st century confront
humanity with ongoing crises, deep social polarization, and existential
uncertainty. In such a reality, attempting to combat uncertainty by tightening
control and intensifying fear produces the opposite result: it exacerbates
stagnation and fosters intellectual fundamentalism.
Education grounded in freedom—as demonstrated by the work of
critical pedagogues such as Freire, Neill, and Holt—equips learners with the
tools to withstand conformist pressure, critically examine negative and tribal
narratives, and cultivate a unique voice that does not shy away from
complexity.
Transitioning to spaces of philosophical and community dialogue
builds social resilience. When children and adults learn to dwell together amid
disagreement, listen without prejudice, and cultivate curiosity rather than
suspicion, they build a robust human infrastructure against division and
violence.
Restoring humanity in education requires us to dare to reimagine
the school—or its dissolution into communities of learners. No longer a
training camp for competitive survival, but a living, breathing, and liberating
space—a space where fear gives way to courage, silencing yields to a clear and
unique voice, and the obedient object returns to discover their subjectivity.
Only then can we ensure that education fulfills its highest calling: serving as
a lever for the expansion of mind, the establishment of a more just society,
and genuine human freedom.
References:
Kizel,
A. (2023). Philosophy, Inquiry and Children: Community of Thinkers
in Education. Berlin: LIT Verlag.
Kizel, A. (2024). Enabling Students' Voices and Identities: Philosophical Inquiry in a Time of Discord. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books
