||10 THE TWO HORIZONS values, and this raises the real issue, which is not education versus no education, or education versus something else, but the relation of all available means, including education, to our total ends â€" in my terms, the two horizons. What do we want? What kind of education do we need? How far can it help us? Let us take the last question first. Obviously, work and play, family and community, the whole world beyond the schoolhouse doors, are the larger part of experience and therefore, broadly, of education; the crash of '29, the depression, and the two world wars were among the great extracurricular lessons of our time, however much or little we have profited by them. But respect for such teaching may lead us to undervalue formal education. For some, its value is zero. It is, they say, "casting false pearls before real swine." Others deny to the little red schoolhouse any function beyond stuffing the young with the "three R's" and perhaps a few graces ("frills" if they are thinking as taxpayers). For them, the little red schoolhouse stands firm in the body politic, and any talk of its influencing society is nonsense. The boat drifts; the school is on the boat. At the other extreme are those who speak as if the 'schoolhouse were a kind of extramundane donkey engine and snubbing post on a celestial bank, from which society at the end of its educational towline can be checked and guided. I think that the truth is between and that it applies both to the little red schoolhouse and the big white college on the hill. Society is not one boat; it is a whole flotilla, of which some vessels drift â€" or are propelled â€" faster than others. The school is a tug, which can and should supply force and direction. But the convoy is vast, and battered by wind and wave; some of the ships seem manned by lunatics, and on others the crews are asleep, or fishing. Sometimes there are submarines. Still, the convoy has a destination, and the place of the school is ahead, pulling. Education, that is, works within the limits and values of a given society, which is a function of human nature, which is various. The school can and should embody our "best self," the conscience and the intelligence of mankind. Alone, education â€" no matter what its trademark â€" will not save us, but we will not be saved without it. If so much is granted, there is still the question of time. "Soap and education," Mark Twain observes, "are not as sudden as a massacre, but they are more deadly in the long run." The near horizon draws nearer; is there a long enough run? Nobody knows. The only answer is to try and see. As Wells said, "The time may be much longer than our hopes and much shorter than our fears." Whatever there is we have; if we want more we shall have to make it. People like to think that fortune is on their side; but fortune is not an entirely irrational creature and, as Pasteur says, favors the well prepared.5 In its simplest terms, our need is enough of the right kind of men and women. In 1808, Du Pont de Nemours wrote to Jefferson, "When one wishes to have citizens, one must make them." I see two ways to do this; one is by what Haldane calls "that experimental inquiry into the human mind which offers the only serious hope of improving it." 5 "Le hasard ne favorise que les esprits prepares." This and the quotation from Du Pont de Nemours are taken from Alfred E. Cohn, Minerva's Progress (New York: Harcourt Brace, c. 1946), pp. 51, 64.