
About the author: Rev. Andria Sarias, hailing from Tbilisi, Georgia, is a scholar whose journey began at Tbilisi Theological Seminary and culminated at the University of Georgia (PhD). He specializes in church history and theology, most recently obtaining a ThM at Columbia Theological Seminary. He has had notable roles in both academic and spiritual institutions. Passionate about advancing knowledge, Andria has authored numerous publications, reflecting his dedication to scholarly discourse.
A child’s psychological development begins during their school years, a reality Augustine keenly observed in his Confessions. Reflecting on his formative experiences, he noted:
The program for right living presented to me as a boy was that I must obey my mentors so that I might get on in this world and excel in the skills of the tongue, which lead to high repute and deceitful riches.1
This candid observation highlights the societal pressures on children to conform, achieve, and excel. The institution of education has compelled generations of students for the purpose of controlling the minds of the youth. This crisis of Education has historical roots but continues to this day as formulated in Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall:”
We don't need no education.
We don't need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.
Teacher, leave those kids alone.
For Augustine, these expectations pertaining to conformity have created deep inner conflict and external suffering. His reluctance to study led to harsh physical punishments and a sense of isolation. He felt misunderstood, even by God, and resorted to questionable behaviors, including plagiarizing assignments from classmates to escape severe reprimands.2 His experiences reflect a collective struggle of many students, as he observed: “We boys suffered…”3
Augustine’s disdain for studying extended to specific subjects, mainly Greek.4 This aversion resonates with many students today who prioritize survival over passion in academic settings. Augustine’s willingness to bend moral standards, including possible plagiarism, reveals the desperation to meet societal expectations while preserving personal dignity.
This struggle remains relevant, as I have experienced the ethical dilemmas Augustine describes. Once, during my seminary years, a peer approached me and requested that I take their oral exam in their place. Despite my initial hesitation, I regretfully agreed. The act was wrong, and though it was the only instance of such behavior, it remains a vivid reminder of how easily one can justify compromising integrity under pressure.
In Confessions (Book II), Augustine recounts a childhood theft of pears, a seemingly trivial act with profound moral implications:
I was under no compulsion of need unless a lack of moral sense can count as need... I simply wanted to enjoy the theft for its own sake and the sin.5
At 43, Augustine reflects on the incident, interpreting it as a symbolic act of pride and rebellion against the moral order. The theft was not about the pears but about emulating divine freedom, an attempt to transcend human constraints. This perspective offers a lens for evaluating modern ethical dilemmas, such as plagiarism. Just as Augustine’s theft represented a rejection of communal morality, plagiarism reflects a misuse of intellectual freedom and a disregard for the ethical principles that sustain academic integrity.
Augustine’s narrative demonstrates how pride and greed can distort freedom, leading to actions that harm self and community. While some might rationalize plagiarism to achieve higher purposes, such as articulating ideas more effectively, this justification fails to address the collective ethical framework necessary for intellectual growth. Much like Augustine’s youthful theft, plagiarism embodies not freedom but pride—a violation of trust and moral order.
From a Kantian perspective, plagiarism violates the categorical imperative, which demands that one’s actions be universally applicable. If plagiarism were widely practiced, it would erode the foundations of education and intellectual honesty. Thus, Kantian ethics unequivocally condemns such behavior, emphasizing the importance of moral consistency in preserving communal integrity.
Augustine’s reflections extend beyond personal morality, addressing the tension between necessity and justice. For instance, helping a friend by allowing them to copy an assignment may seem compassionate, but it ultimately perpetuates dependency and undermines the value of education. A more ethical response involves offering genuine support while upholding principles of fairness and integrity. This nuanced approach aligns with Augustine’s later philosophy of love and justice, encapsulated in his famous phrase: Love and do what you will.
Augustine believed that true love, aligned with God’s will, ensures moral integrity. Actions rooted in divine love harmonize with ethical principles, transforming even challenging decisions into expressions of justice.
The dangers of unfounded accusations parallel those of moral compromise. For example, claims that Martin Luther King Jr. plagiarized his academic work, as posited by Jared Taylor,6 lack substantiation and amount to character defamation. Taylor’s assertions reflect his own biases and undermine the ethical discourse surrounding intellectual integrity. When unsupported, such allegations constitute moral theft—harm as profound as plagiarism.
Augustine’s reflections in Confessions reveal the complexity of human motivations and the interplay between freedom, morality, and communal ethics. Whether grappling with a childhood theft, academic pressures, or the temptation to compromise integrity, Augustine’s insights offer timeless guidance. His story challenges us to prioritize love and justice, ensuring that our actions, no matter how small, contribute to the collective good and uphold the values that sustain human flourishing.
The dangers of moral compromise and intellectual dishonesty, as exemplified in Augustine’s Confessions, can be seen in the broader context of plagiarism and academic integrity. It is rare, but occasionally, a person may possess a photographic memory, allowing them to memorize books word for word and later paraphrase them as though the ideas were their own—often without realizing they’ve read or heard them elsewhere. Plagiarism takes many forms, and some ideas are unknowingly borrowed from God. This phenomenon is illustrated by Abbé Migne, whose vast collection of writings from the Church Fathers sometimes resulted in work so closely mirroring the originals that it was almost indistinguishable. This intriguing case, where the boundaries between personal thought and borrowed wisdom blur, is explored in God’s Plagiarist;7 Just as Augustine wrestled with the tension between moral actions and societal pressures, Migne’s work challenges our understanding of originality and intellectual ownership.
Augustine of Hippo, The Confessions, trans. Maria Boulding (New City Press, 1997), 48.
Augustine, The Confessions, 48–9.
Augustine, The Confessions, 49.
Augustine, The Confessions, 52, 54.
Augustine, The Confessions, 67–8.
Jared Taylor, “Houdini of Time,” in Theologies & Moral Concern, ed. Paul Gottfried (Routledge, 1995), 114–6.