Critical thinking in a time of clowns
I have always loved mathematics. I loved working through its building blocks, the pencil pushing, the grind of proofs, and the intricacy of graphs. It was a field that eventually helped me understand chemistry at the atomic and molecular levels, that allowed me to design experiments, that helped me navigate multivariate statistics.
Math works for a patterned, predictable universe: its most basic steps always lead to more complex operations; its most basic tenets appear in our daily lives. Most people will laugh, for example, at how they literally never use the Pythagorean theorem, but they actually use principles of geometry to estimate height and distance for work in everything from camera angles to event planning to building construction.
Constant engagement with math trains the brain to work with abstract ideas. This process of abstraction also trained me to examine evidence, recognize and describe patterns, and criticize processes.
This was something echoed last week, when math educators released statements protesting the proposed General Education (GE) program by the Commission on Higher Education. Visibly absent from the proposal was a specific mathematics course, which prompted the Philippine Council of Mathematics Teacher Educators, the Mathematics Teachers Association of the Philippines—Tertiary Level, and the Mathematical Society of the Philippines to write jointly: “Citizens must possess the quantitative literacy to critically evaluate information and discern credible evidence from misinformation.”
Creating a broad subject in lieu of a foundational course would defeat this goal. Students need a place to exercise depth and rigor in mathematics to “learn how to reason with evidence, communicate quantitatively, critique misinformation, explore new ground, make informed judgements across diverse domains, and bridge cultural divides.”
The GE program seems to assume that math is merely a technical skill. However, as the statement says, it is an entire discipline that trains students in critical analysis that can be used to “examine policies, social problems, and environmental issues.”
Nearly all the foundational subjects (including history, literature, and communication) have been reduced to mere skills and memorization. They have been subsumed into larger themes and have been framed as puzzle pieces forced together. All this, without prior training to define what each puzzle piece is for, without knowing how to describe the nature of each piece, and without training to help students see each piece as a field of knowledge that must first be understood on its own.
Math doesn’t merely teach numbers. Literature isn’t just about stories. History isn’t just about dates. Communication isn’t just spouting pretty words strung together. Each field teaches a form of empathy, abstract reasoning, and critical thinking. Without deep engagement with each one, we might end up with citizens who cannot think through processes or connect disparate concepts to make decisions.
Who cannot appreciate where humor and anger merge–and who cannot abstract them to a need for outrage.
Last week, we saw Sen. Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa suddenly sprout in the Senate to initiate drastic, pathetic leadership changes. His presence spawned two days’ worth of a B-movie as he ran through stairwells like a desperate, balance-challenged rat; randomly sang his school hymn in a formal interview like a hairless, drunken parrot; and whined about being questioned like an entitled schoolboy.
The backlash online was entertaining at first. People calculated the speed at which he should have run so that he didn’t trip on the stairs. They laid photos of the trip on the stairwell against the spiral of the golden ratio. There were numbers and memes, literature and pop culture references, even well-documented history as people remembered the bravado of his initial vow to face the warrant for his arrest when it came.
It would take a wide breadth of knowledge to get the jokes, abstract their meaning, and make the leap toward righteous anger.
Math is knowing how to calculate speed and step height to create the path of least resistance. Abstraction is realizing that focusing so hard on the fleeing image of Dela Rosa should only be the beginning of national anger.
Math is knowing that he garnered millions of votes; history is knowing that he did nothing as a senator. Abstraction is realizing that politicians like him should never see the inside of a Senate hall.
Math is knowing the length of the routes Dela Rosa ran. Abstraction is realizing that the efforts of a grandstanding few allowed him freedom–and that we need to find a way to close the distance between him and The Hague.
Math might be awareness of popularity. Abstraction should make us realize that we, the people, hold the vote, and therefore the power to unseat the useless. We, the people, have the voice to tell the government that the next generation of students should be better than the fugitive-enabling drama queens of the Senate majority.
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iponcedeleon@ateneo.edu
