I suspect I am not the only person rendered utterly speechless by the quite remarkable Senior Play, Birdsong, which took to the stage a few weeks ago. Was it the maturity and power of the individual and collective performances from a cast so young, indeed not much younger than many of the soldiers who lost their lives in The Great War? Could it have been the timing of this production in the immediate aftermath of our Remembrance commemorations? Or Mr Huntington’s superbly imaginative direction and the innovative set design and production values of Mr Oliver-Duncan? Was there added poignancy in the fact that Sebastian Faulks is himself an Old Wellingtonian? In truth, I suspect it was a combination of all these factors which caused the uniquely raw, visceral emotional response within me.
It was the strongest of reminders – if such a reminder were needed – that, in our increasingly technological age, a world of lap-tops, smart-phones and social media, all driven by increasingly sophisticated AI and associated algorithms, it is those very human experiences which are most powerful. Birdsong is a story of human love and suffering, set against the very real and human experience of war, written from the heart of a remarkable author, and portrayed by a cast young people, who managed to capture very real and human emotional depths in a way which no computer-generated experience will ever be able to match, let alone surpass. The play went straight to my heart and I felt all the more human as a result.
John Henry Newman, theologian, philosopher and cardinal, canonised in 2019, had the Latin words cor ad cor loquitur emblazoned across his coat-of-arms. Whether one takes the literal translation of “heart speaks to heart” or a looser interpretation such as, “what comes from the heart goes to the heart”, this phrase – which plays such an important role within the Catholic faith and religious tradition – is one of immense power. For some, it describes the very personal relationship between human and God achieved through prayer. For me, it describes perfectly the experience, the excruciatingly human experience I had in the Christoper Lee Theatre on Thursday 21 November.
The Performing Arts speak to our hearts. They remind us, reveal for us, and teach us what it means to be human. This is one of the many reasons they will always play a central role within our provision here in Crowthorne. But the world is changing more quickly than ever in so many different ways, and rapid technological advancements, including AI, are only going to expedite this direction of travel.
That is why the Governors, our Executive Leadership Team and I are doing a lot of thinking currently about the future of education and the future of a Wellington Education, supported brilliantly by Sir Anthony Seldon, 13th Master of Wellington College and Founding Director of Wellington College Education, our global network of international schools and educational activities. We have reached no conclusions yet but of two things I am sure: firstly, that it is our duty to educate Wellingtonians how to thrive in this increasingly technological age, and this means teaching them more explicitly in this regard; but, secondly, and more importantly, we must place educating for humanity at the heart of our plans. It is not either / or. It has to be both / and. Human and AI. Heart and technology. That’s the future.