Do we want our children to stand up for their principles? Or just for their Principals?

Philosopher Bertrand Russell, standing up against Conscription; Boxer Mohammad Ali, accepting a jail-term (plus being stripped of his Heavyweight Champion title) rather than joining an unjust war in Vietnam; Nathan Krystall (see my last post: 'Another Inspiring Refusal') preferring arrest to serving the IDF - possibly inspiring other young Israelis, today, who are refusing to fight against Palestinians, while serving in the Israeli Army. Such principled stands make headlines and earn respect for the courage shown.

In less legal circumstances (but not with lesser risks, especially under authoritarian regimes), when heroes or popular figures return or refuse to accept National or International Awards, because of their differences with the policies of the awarding bodies, they make news, too, and are praised for their honesty.

Even when clear 'risks' may not exist, such as in the instances highlighted in my earlier post ('Two Inspiring Refusals'), such acts are considered worthy of respect, because they serve - in no small way - to inspire the ability to stand up for one's views or, at the very least, help people understand the issues leading to such refusals.

I often wonder how teachers can inculcate this wonderful and noble quality among youth, given that many are strict disciplinarians, themselves, or have been forced into being so, because of a range of issues: from classroom management in overcrowded spaces, to the dastardly societal demands of instilling respect in the young for all authority, right or wrong.

Of course, this is not the responsibility of teachers, alone. In fact, the primary responsibility for ensuring that children develop a proper sense of values must rest with parents. But, in a society, where parental authority, too, is easily taken to be a licence for an almost dictatorial approach, the problem is even greater.

Is it possible that, while paying lip-service to such lofty ideals, we really do not want our children to imbibe them, lest they become misfits in an increasingly materialistic and hypocritical world? Even in this society's most repeated story, that of Karabala, the emphasis in its re-telling is subtly being changed over time. The stress is no longer upon the 'fighting for truth' that I recall hearing as a child. It is now more about the passion play and the wailing and the poetry-readings (which, more and more, celebrate the person - and his 'superior', almost supernatural, position - rather than what he is believed to have stood for).