On the Peculiar Importance of Teaching “Useless” Knowledge

Think that a classical education imparts a great deal of knowledge that is neither useful nor practical? Believe that it often consists of subjects that are neither relevant to present concerns nor designed to accomplish tangible results? This view is not entirely mistaken—but as Roger Scruton observed, a lofty “irrelevance” is the indispensable feature of an excellent education, not a bug:

Traditionally a large part of learning was devoted to subjects that are wilfully 'irrelevant'—such as Latin, Greek, ancient history, higher mathematics, philosophy and literary criticism. The syllabus recommended by ancient thinkers consisted almost entirely of such subjects. And the ancient instinct was wise. The more irrelevant the subject, the more lasting is the benefit that it confers. Irrelevant subjects bring understanding of the human condition, by forcing the student to stand back from it. They also enhance the appetite for life, by providing material for thought and conversation. This is the secret which civilization has guarded: that power and influence come through the acquisition of useless knowledge.

The alternative—i.e., an education that seeks incessantly to be contemporary and up-to-date, functional and relevant—“keeps the student’s mind so narrowly focused on his random and transient…convictions that, when he ceases to be obsessed with them, he will lack the education through which to discover what to put in their place.” In the end, as Allan Bloom saw firsthand, “[t]hey may become competent specialists, but they are flat-souled. The world is for them what it presents itself to the senses to be; it is unadorned by imagination and devoid of ideals.”

But do not mistake an education in “useless” knowledge for a useless education. “A person with a classical or literary education...inhabits a transformed world and sees meaning where others see facts. He is equipped not just to change the world but to interpret it” (Roger Scruton, "The Virtue of Irrelevance", The Times, 1983).