Differences Between Madrasah and School (Medrese and Mektep)

The value of the Madrasahs ("medrese"), which hold an exceptional place in our tradition, has not been fully appreciated when viewed through the lens of the present day. Some of their superior aspects have been overlooked, and they have fallen further out of favor with the adoption of Western educational institutions. The following text will compare the "Madrasah and School" ("medrese and mektep") and will, to some extent, change our perspective on the Madrasah.

“… Just as it is wrong for a person who sees the melancholic state of a city, or even a garden, in autumn, noting the faded flowers and the disarray of the beds, to say, ‘This city or this garden has always been this dreadful,’ it is contrary to justice to pass judgment on an institution (especially the Madrasah institution) without making such classifications (perfection and weakness), that is, spring and autumn…”

“… While all Turkish institutions, military, naval, financial, literary, technical, and political, have, more or less, a curtailed or even summarized history, why is there no history of the Madrasahs? Why are there no individuals or works that show us, leaf by leaf, era by era, corner by corner, the life of these institutions—these hearths of knowledge that were so beneficial but ultimately perished? This is truly a matter of curiosity. In the opinion of the poor one [the author], the reasons are as follows:

Ninety-nine percent of those who write are educated in the School (Mektep). I have already stated the often-cruel judgment that Schools pass on the Madrasah. A subject that is collectively sidelined in this way cannot be appealing. And I believe that for this reason, the Madrasah has not been considered a subject worthy of examination.

Especially during the zenith of the Turkish Madrasahs, high services were rendered not only to all Islamic sciences but also to Turkish literature and sciences, history, mathematics, natural sciences, and medicine. The greatest Turkish mathematicians and doctors were educated in Madrasahs.

They invariably wrote Turkish versions of the most important Islamic works of the Turks. And those who wrote them were the Madrasah students. Those who translated the Holy Quran centuries ago were also Madrasah students.

The Madrasah did not erase the Turkish consciousness; hand-in-hand with the Dervish lodges (tekke), it sheltered the very language of the Turks within its breast. The richest and most colorful Turkish poems were mostly recited by the spiritual figures (clergy).

Islam has absolutely never inflicted the hardships and the accusation of “infidel” that Catholicism inflicted on the sciences and arts until 1800. And while not a single engineer or natural scientist emerged among the Catholic clergy over a period of twelve hundred years, the most famous mathematicians, natural scientists, and doctors among the pious and clergy in the East, including the Turks, were educated in those same hearths; that is, in the Madrasahs.

All the legitimate laws that Europe’s modern jurists have sought to introduce for women and for individuals in general vis-à-vis the government over the past century were codified, article by article, by Islam thirteen centuries ago.

Even when Arab and Persian literature began to unduly invade the Turkish language, the scribes trained in the Madrasah tradition were the ones who kept the simplest form of the Turkish language alive in government offices. And the tens of thousands of documents preserved in the Imperial Council (Dîvân-ı Hümâyûn) are living witnesses to this.

It was mostly the refugees and Iranian fugitives who brought the Turkish language closer to the well-known, official, and convoluted style.

Those who wrote the best histories of the Turks were the Madrasah students. I am ready to present these points, each supported by numerous documents and witnesses, in a verbal presentation or a separate, specialized work, Sir.

The Issue of Adaptation to Life: Madrasah vs. School Graduates

Why did we need such a lengthy introduction when this is our main topic? The reason is obvious.

Unless the attitude of the educated classes towards the Madrasah and the unknown services of the old Madrasahs are summarized, it would be strange to claim that the Madrasah is superior to the School in terms of its suitability for life. Let us now turn to this issue.

Especially for the last fifty years, Western pedagogy has sought to establish this foundation in all matters of education and teaching: Young students should be raised to endure the hardships and deprivations of life. Very well. Since the day the Madrasah was established, our Madrasah students cooked their own food; they heated their own rooms; they cleaned their own clothes; they would travel to the Madrasahs, often walking, traversing mountains and plains, slowly but surely, covering long distances, visiting cities, and accustoming their bodies to the intensity of the snow, the effects of the heat, and the distance of the journeys. And they would return to their hometowns in the same manner from the Madrasahs. This would be repeated every year during the three-month period in the form of a vast, moving army.

Since the establishment of the Schools, this Eastern and Western principle has been abandoned. And the mountain, hill, and sea journeys reserved only for boy scouts for only the last five years are often contrary to the instructions of European science. They are marred by ostentation, false imitation, extravagant expenses, and unnatural movements. The guiding principle of the Madrasah students, however, is natural. It is far from extravagance. And it encompasses all students, not just a select few. What is the difference? Are the Madrasah students more prepared for life and its hardships, or are the School students?

Western pedagogy says, “The young student should be accustomed to organizing everything necessary for their needs by themselves. And they should be kept away from the need for servants in these tasks.” This is what self-government is. Excellent. Who has adapted to life: the one who cooks their own food, makes their own bed, sews their own clothes, and lights their own stove? Or are they the gentlemen who, as is still the case in Schools, especially in boys’ and girls’ teacher-training colleges, have all these tasks performed by servants? And is it the Turkish mind that maintains this system? That is, the Madrasah or the School?

I, the humble author, worked in a Teacher Training College for sixteen years. I could not teach the final year students how to mend a sock, cook a simple soup, fold and gather the towel properly after a meal, or straighten the sheets and blanket upon getting out of bed. Because, due to the School system they were accustomed to, they all said, “All these tasks are not fit for a master; they are the work of a servant.”

Western pedagogy says, “The young student in future schools should only begin their studies with the subject and science they love; gradually, they should gather other things around that love.” That is good. In which of our Schools' classes can a student who says, “I do not like that subject” avoid entering? Scolding, cursing, and punishment are all ready.

That is, the School says: “I do not consider your love or curiosity. I have established a system; whether it suits life or not, I do not care. You are obliged to operate once you are caught in this machine.”

The Madrasah, however, did not say that. It said: “Enter the course you want; leave the ones you don’t want for later. If you love a course very much, then continue with it; do not waste your attention and effort. If you have the ability, enter the scheduled courses in the Madrasah; these are light. If you are more eager, enter the extra-curricular courses given on Tuesdays and for a few days in the afternoon. If you are even more curious, enter the courses reserved for the final years. If you cannot attend all of these regularly, enter the public lectures (ders-i amm) that are open and completely free to everyone.”

I ask: Has the School ever seen such a flexible system, suitable for the needs of life, anywhere in the world? Do you know a single teacher or principal who would approve the action of a student who wishes to follow this sacred principle, which is called the Madrasah principle, and is considered the European principle today? Therefore, which one considers life and the needs of life, the student and the student’s diverse abilities: the Madrasah or the School?

Western pedagogy says, “The elements of study: the lessons, the systems, the programs, the tasks, must be organized in such a way that they absolutely do not cause aversion in the young student.” Excellent. Now we ask: Does the one who goes to the Madrasah of their own free will love their lessons, books, and teachers more, or the one who goes to the School because it is the custom, and is forced to attend all the lessons, and has to listen to subjects they do not like from morning till night, all year long? Does the Madrasah student rejoice if the teacher does not come to class, or the School student? Do those who burn their notebooks and books arise from the Schools or the Madrasahs?

Western pedagogy says, “Young students should be prepared to accept life as it is, not to criticize it.” Excellent. As I said above, is it the Madrasah student who organizes all their work with their own hands, or is the School student, who has every task done by a servant, among those who criticize life?

Western pedagogy says, “The young student must be accustomed to an art and a profession through which they will earn a living by the sweat of their brow.” This is also good. We ask: Which system turns a poor young man into a beggar of the government after eleven years: the School, which takes him into the gears of its machine, crushing his bones, keeping him away from life, family, and the industrial, agricultural, and commercial professions of his parents for eleven years, on the condition of being there every day until evening, or the Madrasah?

If you can find five School graduates who, relying on their knowledge, have given up their government salary, gone to a village, and succeeded in enlightening the villagers and satisfying their own souls, I will find you a thousand Madrasah graduates who have achieved this success. In that case, which system is more conducive and suitable for liberating a person from the clutches of the government? The Madrasah or the School?

The pedagogy born after the World War says, “The young student needs a school and education such that during that period of education, they are not deprived of both knowledge and moral development, and earning money for their livelihood.” This is the best of all. We ask: Did the Madrasah students, who mostly taught their lessons until noon, set aside two full days a week for rest, left their students free for three months during the most active agricultural and commercial months of the year, gave afternoon lessons to those who had the time and means, and opened only morning classes and public lectures (ders-i amm) for those whose lives did not permit it, organize a better life program and reach the mindset of economic education? Or have the School students, who kept thousands of young people in school from morning till night for eleven years and deprived them of opportunity, caused harm to young students, families, and the national economy? Which one has grasped life and the affairs of life: the Madrasah, which allows its students to engage in grocering in the marketplace, farming, tailoring, or blacksmithing outside of class, or the Schools?

… We ask again: Are European universities within the Madrasahs, or are ours? Do our Schools, which see the entirety of life as consisting of school walls and textbooks, have the merit to open their mouths against the principles of the Madrasahs? In that case, who has explored life more deeply and correctly: the turbanned founders of the Madrasahs or the school advocates? And which one has kept alive the modern European principle: the Madrasahs or the Schools? And likewise, which one is the denier of European principles: the Madrasahs or the Schools?

Western pedagogy says, “The student must have many means and documents to prepare a lesson necessarily before the teacher. And the amount of all weekly lessons must be organized so masterfully that the opportunity for preparation is not taken away from them.”

We are ready to prove that at this point, the old Madrasah programmers demonstrated a perfection that would put all of today's European and American high schools to shame. Because the Madrasahs, in addition to ensuring the elasticity we have written about repeatedly, confined education to the most essential things, and for this, they left ample time for the student. All the pedagogues of the West are vehemently discussing the excessiveness of the lessons taught in today's high schools, the extreme inadequacy of preparation time, the fact that the students' minds are mostly afflicted, and that much of the school instruction is doomed to be forgotten in life and is therefore superfluous. The Madrasahs, however, absolutely did not pile up a mass of lessons that would cause mental stagnation. The student had enough time to study. Let us look at the School student. What should the poor souls focus on among thirty hours and ten types of lessons per week? How can they not be fed up with life under this burden? It is certain that those who enter the Schools healthy will invariably leave with some health deficiency. This means that the spirit of the Madrasah defeats and embarrasses the organizers of the School in this matter as well.

Western pedagogy says, “All parts of the education to be given to the young student over five or ten years should be parts of a whole, and there should be a connection between all parts.” I explained this very important point comparatively in a supplementary article, taking examples from Madrasah and School instruction. And I showed that the old Turks, who were the organizers of the Madrasah, believed in this principle—which Europe is now embracing with great enthusiasm—much earlier and perfectly applied it in Madrasah education. I can present it if necessary, Sir.

… Western pedagogy says, “From the initial phase, all lessons should proceed circularly, from easy to difficult and from the environment to the center.” This issue is lengthy. I explained it in the article. In this too, the Schools are defeated; the Madrasahs are victorious. You cannot find any lesson in the Schools that progressively expands and maintains a connection from the beginning to the end of the education. All sections suffer from unnaturalness, inflation, exaggeration, and waste. The most essential and important things are always sacrificed for details. The Madrasah books, however, are organized in such an orderly, gradual, and sequential manner that they possess separate books for beginners, intermediate students, final-year students, teachers, and researchers and critics above them. You cannot show a single School or School course that has a separate and detailed guide, for example, for the teachers. I can show you hundreds of Madrasah books that have different forms for the students and the teachers. My God! What a hit! … However, the Madrasah has taken nothing from European civilization. Everything it did was the product of common sense (aḳl-ı selîm) and experience. The Schools, on the other hand, are supposedly the direct offspring of European civilization. Even with so many European books available, our Schools, unfortunately, live so far from Western principles. Why is this misfortune, this blindness? This is a bitter point that should make a thinker, especially a citizen, ponder.

Western pedagogy says, “Education must be suitable for all the youth’s needs, and especially end with a pure faith, free from exaggeration and fanaticism regarding divinity.” What a perfect principle! The Madrasah organized all its lessons according to this very principle.

Firstly, none of the lessons are subject to any anomaly that would contradict each other in their judgments, and none of the Madrasah teachers say anything in their lessons that would undermine the value of another lesson, especially the traces of a sound religious concept. In the Schools, however, in addition to the material lack of connection between the lessons, there is no such spiritual bond. Especially religious education and its teachers are in a very low position. And transgressions are sometimes seen in natural science lessons that undermine the divine feelings that the young soul needs. As a result, School students often grow up having lost their faith in the Creator (Ḫāliq) of nature. Madrasah students, on the other hand, grow up spiritually happy and gaining extra resistance to the hardships of life thanks to this deep faith. What a great difference this is. One raises those defeated by life, the other raises the victorious. If one percent of the religious people commit suicide, ninety-nine percent are those who have received an education devoid of the religious feeling. In the West, where religion is separated from science and worldly affairs, the philosophy course in all secular high schools has been introduced to remedy this deficiency of secular and material education. In our country, however, even this course is given to the incompetent and mostly to young people who have lost their spirituality. Philosophy, in our Schools, is far from being a means to satisfy the ultimate need of the soul.

Western pedagogy says, “Education should not separate the youth from the public.” Excellent. In our country, the School has separated the youth from life, from the public strata, and even from their families. The Madrasahs have no such fault. Every year during the three-month period, two thousand or more students would disperse to various parts of Anatolia, Rumelia, Syria, the Caucasus, Bulgaria, and Bosnia.

Has the Engineering School, the Medical School, or the high schools ever made such a consistent, regular exodus and journey? Even if they did, the majority of the students would flee the village and the villagers after three days. Therefore, which one goes to the public: the Madrasahs and Madrasah students, or the Schools and School students?

Conclusion: … The Madrasahs are superior to the Schools in all educational and humanitarian principles. And the current principles of the West, far from surpassing the Madrasah principles, are doing nothing but implementing them. However, when the West started to apply the experimental and inductive method to all instruction, it surpassed the Madrasahs only in this method. The explanation of this and the faults related to the Madrasahs' period of decline require a separate discussion, Sir.

This text is excerpted from Muallim Cevdet's book Mektep ve Medrese (School and Madrasah) (pp. 25-40). Erdoğan Erüz, who prepared the work, suggests that this article might have been written in 1929-1930. This period coincides with a time when the Madrasahs were struggling and unable to meet educational needs. The author, however, bases his explanation not on the contemporary state of the Madrasahs but on their historical trajectory.

Ozan Dur