To My Uncle Screwtape: Concerning the Enemy’s Schools

We publish here, unedited, an intercepted letter from the novice devil Wormwood to his mentor Screwtape. 

My dear Uncle Screwtape,

It is with considerable excitement—and no small measure of pride—that I bring news of our latest tactical success in the subtle art of institutional erosion. The humans, in their habitual eagerness for respectability, have once again proven remarkably susceptible to our guidance. The issue, dear uncle, pertains to those responsible for their schools.

I find it delightfully ironic that the Enemy’s forces, who for centuries have foolishly insisted on selecting their educators and leaders based solely on tiresome virtues such as wisdom, competence, humility, and faith, have now so willingly embraced our suggestions. You see, we have convinced them that what matters most is not the intangibles of character or zeal for the Enemy’s cause, nor proven ability in the craft, but rather a crisp piece of parchment, preferably from institutions thoroughly sterilized of any metaphysical or anthropological coherence.

They now insist upon state-approved credentials, uncle, as though the state, with its blessed secularism and finely-tuned bureaucratic indifference, could ever properly equip the Enemy’s minions. Imagine their glee when hiring officials receive an applicant whose credentials bear the secular stamp of approval, having learned every trendy educational philosophy yet blissfully ignorant of the Enemy’s dreadfully effective techniques of shaping souls.

Indeed, I must share a recent triumph that perfectly illustrates our progress. A certain chancery prevented a local parish from hiring a remarkably promising candidate for headmaster. The candidate, nauseatingly well-qualified by the Enemy’s outdated standards, was educated at Thomas Aquinas College—an institution irritatingly devoted to those eternal truths—and held an additional degree in education, with coursework in business administration, marketing, and even macroeconomics. Worse still, she had spent over a decade teaching and had even founded and led a thriving classical school for many years. Yet the chancery, in a wonderful display of bureaucratic brilliance, deemed her “unqualified” simply because she lacked that bastion of banality, a master’s degree in education administration—a credential utterly irrelevant to the distinctive Catholic liberal education model the parish would have required her to lead.  

By rigidly adhering to these delightfully outdated criteria, the chancery effectively barred an individual whose deep practical experience and precise pedagogical knowledge threatened to invigorate the Enemy’s cause. They have, most gratifyingly, clung desperately to the very methods and philosophies that have previously led to a loss of distinctively Catholic education, confirming our maxim that humans are at their most helpful when operating under the guise of a narrow understanding of prudence and an ersatz professionalism.

This credentialing creates, as you might expect, a glorious contradiction: The very individuals most eager to immerse themselves in the Enemy’s nauseatingly sincere worldview—those who might infect students with dangerous enthusiasm—are precisely those most likely to be turned away. Their credentials, after all, are so often contrary to the prevailing secular dogma.

Furthermore, those already in the Enemy’s employ, possessing a genuinely disturbing devotion, are now forced into endless, demoralizing hours of state-required training. Here they imbibe deeply of secular ideologies, to the point that many find their zeal softened or neatly compartmentalized. Our bureaucratic finesse ensures they remain in a perpetual state of distraction, forever burdened by form-filling and credential-renewing, and blissfully diverted from any genuinely threatening spiritual pursuits.

Best of all, this mania for credentialing encourages a pernicious form of pride. Educators and administrators grow to relish their titles, certificates, and degrees, taking quiet, satisfying pleasure in the superiority these credentials suggest. They easily lose sight of their real task—the Enemy’s appalling work of intellectual, moral, aesthetic, and spiritual formation—and instead pursue respectability and status. Soon enough, the school itself resembles nothing more than a brightly painted facade, secular in substance, whose form hides the conceit.  

Yet caution is warranted, my dear uncle. Should some tiresome officials begin to question the utility of this credentialing craze, I shall swiftly remind them of the dangers of deviation from accepted norms. I will whisper gently about “standards,” “quality,” and, above all, “professionalism.” You remarked often how these catchwords have a reliably paralyzing effect, neatly suppressing any inconvenient voices of conscience or common sense. You always taught me well.

In summary, uncle, our work proceeds most satisfactorily. The Enemy’s schools, once dangerous bastions of moral clarity and spiritual enthusiasm, have steadily transformed into respectable institutions indistinguishable from their secular counterparts in the souls they produce. And all thanks to the worship of a little piece of paper.

With prideful regards, your affectionate nephew,
Wormwood