Scrap religious studies from curriculum
May 04, 2008
I read with concern an article in <i>The New Vision</i> of April 29, where the lands commission boss, Mayanja Nkangi, was lamenting over a Cabinet proposal to have religious studies banned from the school curriculum.
By Don Wanyama
I read with concern an article in The New Vision of April 29, where the lands commission boss, Mayanja Nkangi, was lamenting over a Cabinet proposal to have religious studies banned from the school curriculum.
Nkangi reasoned that with an educational system where children spend up to nine months of the year at school, school remained the best place to inculcate morality in them. He also feared that with parents so engrossed in other secular activities (looking for money), they may not have enough time to religiously shape their children.
I disagree with these views. First, we must agree that as a nation, we have no clearly accepted religious dogma. We are neither a Christian nation nor Muslim. To be straight, Uganda is a secular nation. We might have the word “God†on our national motto, but that does not make us deeply religious. I am sure some Muslims, would have loved specifically the title “Allahâ€.
What does that mean, therefore? There are no agreed religious values that can be labelled Ugandan. All we have in the curriculum are a few principles drawn from the Bible and Koran and in a rote-method, pushed down the throats of learners. I remember as a child in primary school cramming the five pillars of Islam in order to pass exams.
Today, considering my Catholic grooming, those pillars make little meaning to me.
Are we also right to reason, like Nkangi, that teaching religious studies shapes morals? Is it right to equate knowledge on religion to morality? If that was the case, how then do we explain continuous riots, strikes, fires, in schools, some of them with a strong religious foundation? Aren’t some of our corrupt officers products of this religious system?
It is true that Christian Religious Studies (CRE) and Islamic Studies insist on aspects like “love your neighbour like you love yourselfâ€, but how many children stop to internalise these concepts seriously?
It reminds me of some things I was taught in mugigi (baptism class) at about six years. One of the commandments I was asked to observe then was “Do not commit adulteryâ€. Surely, what does a six-year-old have to do with adultery? This kind of half-haphazard, inconsequential education should be discouraged.
Are we also right to accuse those who are not religious of lacking in morality? Isn’t morality a definition of space and time?
What is morally acceptable among the Bagisu may actually be distasteful among the Batooro. And what was morally correct in the last century may have lost the appeal in this century.
What Nkangi and those who subscribe to his school of thought should do, if they want religion to become a firm element of our education system, is to call for a dialogue on national values.
We should define what principles, aspirations and values our country should strive for. If religion is listed as one of them, then we can pursue and demand that it becomes part of the curriculum. Otherwise public schools should propagate more civic concerns than religious concerns.
However, this does not mean religion should be discarded. In fact, we can have private institutions, which have the liberty to emphasise religion and its dictates. Therefore, if a parent feels his son should be brought up in proper Catholic tradition, he can take that child to a private Catholic school—maybe a seminary. The same can apply to Muslim, Anglican and born-agains.
Nkangi also feared that parents are too busy to train their children in religion. If the parents are too busy for religious matters, why bother the children?
A few years ago, I enrolled at the Islamic University in Uganda. I learnt that for every course unit, I had to study its Islamic equivalent. Like when doing East African Literature, there was a corresponding course called “Islam and East African Literatureâ€.
Unwilling to stand this arrangement, I walked out of the university. But I raised no finger against the institution because it was clearly spelt out during admission that that was the rite.
When I relocated to Makerere, a public university, there was no such arrangement. In fact, I would have demonstrated if there was.
The writer is a journalist
I read with concern an article in The New Vision of April 29, where the lands commission boss, Mayanja Nkangi, was lamenting over a Cabinet proposal to have religious studies banned from the school curriculum.
Nkangi reasoned that with an educational system where children spend up to nine months of the year at school, school remained the best place to inculcate morality in them. He also feared that with parents so engrossed in other secular activities (looking for money), they may not have enough time to religiously shape their children.
I disagree with these views. First, we must agree that as a nation, we have no clearly accepted religious dogma. We are neither a Christian nation nor Muslim. To be straight, Uganda is a secular nation. We might have the word “God†on our national motto, but that does not make us deeply religious. I am sure some Muslims, would have loved specifically the title “Allahâ€.
What does that mean, therefore? There are no agreed religious values that can be labelled Ugandan. All we have in the curriculum are a few principles drawn from the Bible and Koran and in a rote-method, pushed down the throats of learners. I remember as a child in primary school cramming the five pillars of Islam in order to pass exams.
Today, considering my Catholic grooming, those pillars make little meaning to me.
Are we also right to reason, like Nkangi, that teaching religious studies shapes morals? Is it right to equate knowledge on religion to morality? If that was the case, how then do we explain continuous riots, strikes, fires, in schools, some of them with a strong religious foundation? Aren’t some of our corrupt officers products of this religious system?
It is true that Christian Religious Studies (CRE) and Islamic Studies insist on aspects like “love your neighbour like you love yourselfâ€, but how many children stop to internalise these concepts seriously?
It reminds me of some things I was taught in mugigi (baptism class) at about six years. One of the commandments I was asked to observe then was “Do not commit adulteryâ€. Surely, what does a six-year-old have to do with adultery? This kind of half-haphazard, inconsequential education should be discouraged.
Are we also right to accuse those who are not religious of lacking in morality? Isn’t morality a definition of space and time?
What is morally acceptable among the Bagisu may actually be distasteful among the Batooro. And what was morally correct in the last century may have lost the appeal in this century.
What Nkangi and those who subscribe to his school of thought should do, if they want religion to become a firm element of our education system, is to call for a dialogue on national values.
We should define what principles, aspirations and values our country should strive for. If religion is listed as one of them, then we can pursue and demand that it becomes part of the curriculum. Otherwise public schools should propagate more civic concerns than religious concerns.
However, this does not mean religion should be discarded. In fact, we can have private institutions, which have the liberty to emphasise religion and its dictates. Therefore, if a parent feels his son should be brought up in proper Catholic tradition, he can take that child to a private Catholic school—maybe a seminary. The same can apply to Muslim, Anglican and born-agains.
Nkangi also feared that parents are too busy to train their children in religion. If the parents are too busy for religious matters, why bother the children?
A few years ago, I enrolled at the Islamic University in Uganda. I learnt that for every course unit, I had to study its Islamic equivalent. Like when doing East African Literature, there was a corresponding course called “Islam and East African Literatureâ€.
Unwilling to stand this arrangement, I walked out of the university. But I raised no finger against the institution because it was clearly spelt out during admission that that was the rite.
When I relocated to Makerere, a public university, there was no such arrangement. In fact, I would have demonstrated if there was.
The writer is a journalist