Democracy and Education (Barnes & Noble Library of Essential Reading)

By John Dewey and Gerald L. Gutek

Since its publication in 1916, John Deweys Democracy and Education has been a classic in the philosophy of education. Democracy and Educations enduring strength lies in Deweys extraordinary ability to instill the dynamics of a changing nation and world into his Experimentalist philosophy. Not only did the book examine education in a changing world, but it analyzed the relationships between society and education.

As America shifted from an agricultural nation to a technological society, Dewey seized on this transformation as a challenging opportunity to bridge and integrate the larger world context with the smaller setting of changing communities, neighborhoods, and schools. Democracy, for Dewey, as a pragmatic way of life was free of the often-proclaimed eternal verities and absolutes that impeded open-ended experimental inquiry. No subject, custom, or value was so sacrosanct that it could not be reconstructed, if necessary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barnes & Noble
• Release date: Sep 1, 2009
• ISBN: 9781411431416

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

SINCE its publication in 1916, John Dewey’s Democracy and Education has been a classic in the philosophy of education. Democracy and Education’s enduring strength lies in Dewey’s extraordinary ability to instill the dynamics of a changing nation and world into his Experimentalist philosophy. Not only did the book examine education in a changing world but it analyzed the relationships between society and education. During the span of John Dewey’s long life, from 1859 to 1952, American politics, economics, and education experienced a cultural revolution as the United States was transformed from a rural and agricultural nation into an industrial and technological society. Dewey seized on this transformation as a challenging opportunity to bridge and integrate the larger world context with the smaller setting of changing communities, neighborhoods, and schools. Dewey’s title, Democracy and Education, proclaims his abiding commitment to democratic processes. While undoubtedly shaped by his life and education in the United States, Dewey’s concept of democracy was broader than American political institutions. Democracy, for him, as a pragmatic way of life was free of the often-proclaimed eternal verities and absolutes that impeded open-ended experimental inquiry. No subject, custom, or value was so sacrosanct that it could not be thought about, reflected on, and reconstructed, if necessary. ¹

John Dewey (1859-1952) remains one of America’s most influential philosophers and educators. The ninety-three years of Dewey’s life spanned a series of momentous events that shaped modern thought. Darwin’s Origin of Species was published in 1859, the year of Dewey’s birth, and shaped his view of life as the transaction of the human organism with an ever-changing environment. The human organism, Dewey reasoned, was not locked into a predestined fate but instead could conjecture the consequences of a projected action and create plans for future life-enhancing activities. Born on the eve of the Civil War, Dewey would later experience his nation’s involvement in two world wars. Consistently a liberal, he was an active participant and commentator on the major events that took place during his lifetime—the progressive movement, the Great Depression, the New Deal, and the war against Fascism and Nazism. Near the end of his life, the United States and the Soviet Union confronted each other in the Cold War and humankind entered the age of nuclear weapons and energy and space exploration. The themes of life as a transactive process, of human beings in an ever-changing reality, and of the problems of building community in a technological society resonate throughout Dewey’s Democracy and Education.

Democracy and Education can be interpreted not only in terms of the larger international and national events and movements that had an impact on Dewey but also through the microcosmic events of his life and career. Born in Burlington, Vermont, on October 20, 1859, John Dewey was the son of Archibald Sprague and Lucina Artemisia Rich Dewey, proprietors of a local, family-owned grocery store. As a social theorist, Dewey cherished a vision of the close-knit New England community of his childhood. However, his concept of community was not a sentimental nostalgia for a gone yesterday. For Dewey, a renascent democratic community would arise as its members solved their mutual problems by using a shared, experimentally based, social intelligence. Although industrialization, technology, urbanization and other irresistible forces of modernization had eroded the older version of small-town American neighborhoods, Dewey sought to fashion a revitalized sense of community that would function in the context of an interdependent technological society. For him, the school, as a miniature society, would be the catalyst for generating the revitalized democratic community.

Democracy and Education, the book Dewey believed most fully expounded his philosophy, appeared midpoint in his long career as a professor of philosophy. His own education shaped his ideas about philosophy of education. Dewey had attended Burlington’s public elementary and secondary schools and received his bachelor’s degree from the University of Vermont in 1879. After teaching high school for two years, he returned to the University of Vermont and was awarded his masters degree in philosophy in 1881. In 1882, Dewey entered Johns Hopkins University, a new institution based on the German research model, for doctoral study in philosophy. Dewey worked under the direction of Professor George Sylvester Morris, a recognized interpreter of the German Idealist philosopher, Georg Wilhelm Hegel. Dewey would later abandon Hegel’s abstract Idealist metaphysics and become a major contributor to the emerging American philosophy known as Pragmatism. Among Dewey’s other professors were G. Stanley Hall, a leading pioneer in child and adolescent psychology and Charles S. Peirce, whose new method of philosophy called Pragmaticism emphasized the role of probability in framing hypotheses of action. Democracy and Education as well as many of Dewey’s other books featured the integration of philosophy and psychology, two disciplines he had studied at Johns Hopkins.

Philosophically, Dewey, with Charles S. Peirce, William James, and George H. Mead, was a founder of Pragmatism. Abandoning metaphysical speculation, the Pragmatists argued that philosophy’s genuine concern was to solve human problems in the real world of experience. Rather than grounded in metaphysical certainty, the Pragmatists saw truth as a tentative warranted assertion that arose in ongoing human experience. For them, ideas needed to be tested and verified by acting on them and determining if their consequences resolved a particular problem or satisfied a particular need. Paralleling the progressive historian Frederick Jackson Turner’s thesis of the frontier’s impact on American character, the Pragmatists saw human experience as arising from ongoing interaction with changing environmental conditions. Just as experience was constantly being reshaped, truth, too, was relative to life’s changing conditions, contexts, and circumstances.

In 1884, Dewey’s academic career began as a member of the philosophy department at the University of Michigan. At Ann Arbor, Dewey courted and, in 1886, married Harriet Alice Chipman, a student, who shared his interests in education and philosophy. Like other ambitious young professors, Dewey moved frequently in his early career. In 1888, Dewey went to the University of Minnesota as Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy and then, in 1889, returned to the University of Michigan to chair its philosophy department. In 1894, Dewey accepted an appointment as Chairman of the Department of Philosophy, Psychology, and Pedagogy at the University of Chicago. Dewey’s Chicago decade, from 1894 to 1904, was an exciting and powerful formative period in his professional and intellectual life. The three disciplines—philosophy, psychology, and pedagogy—found in Dewey’s academic department would provide the content of Democracy and Education. In Chicago, Dewey lectured at Hull House and worked with its founder, Jane Addams. He cooperated with Francis Parker, one of the country’s leading progressive educators, at the Cook County Normal School.

A highly formative influence on Dewey’s philosophy of education was his experience at the University of Chicago Laboratory School, an experimental school he founded that enrolled children from ages six to sixteen. Opposed to separating educational theory from practice, Dewey conceived of the Laboratory School as an experimental school to test his educational ideas. If validated in the actual experience of teaching and learning, his theories then would be disseminated to a larger educational audience. Dewey described his school as a miniature society and an embryonic community in which children learned by working together to solve problems. Dewey’s school gained national attention of educators during the years of its operation, from 1896 to 1904, and his work there continues to intrigue educational historians, philosophers, and educators. Disagreements between Dewey and William Rainey Harper, the University of Chicago’s President, about the Laboratory School’s administration led to Dewey’s resignation in 1904.

In 1905, Dewey became a professor of philosophy at Columbia University, a position he held until retiring in 1930. At Columbia, Dewey was closely associated with such professors of education as William Heard Kilpatrick, George S. Counts, and Harold Rugg, who were leading progressive educators. Throughout his career but especially during the economic depression of the 1930s, Dewey challenged what he regarded as the myth of rugged individualism. In his work Individualism: Old and New (1929) he argued that the myth of rugged individualism was used by special interests to block needed reform. He called for a socially responsible version of individualism that was compatible with the reality of an interdependent industrial and technological society.

When Dewey wrote Democracy and Education he had made his break with Idealism and was recognized as a pioneering figure in developing his own variety of Pragmatism, known as Instrumentalism or Experimentalism. He had tested his ideas at the Laboratory School and had reached the point where he would bring his philosophy and educational ideas together in a single volume.

Dewey’s development as a philosopher and educator coincided with the early twentieth century progressive movement. Democracy and Education expressed the progressive mood and purpose in philosophical and educational terms. The progressive impulse took the form of a general movement for educational as well as political, social, and economic reform. Progressive politicians, journalists, and educators sought to generate a popular consciousness and activism for reform. Progressive procedures, like those Dewey devised for education, affirmed a belief that informed and enlightened citizens were capable of reforming and regulating their lives. While retaining their personal freedom, the progressives envisioned individuals who were eager to cooperate in social, economic, and educational reform for the common good. From these reforms would come a new sense of the American community, no longer defined by geography, but based on an ever-expanding network of human social interrelationships.

Dewey’s Democracy and Education expanded upon themes developed at the Laboratory School and accentuated in his book, The School and Society (1899). Dewey reaffirmed his rejection of dualisms that separated the human being into categories such as mind and body and bifurcated education into theory and practice. In The Child and the Curriculum (1902) and How We Think (1910), Dewey attacked dualisms that separated the school from society, curriculum from community, and content of education from method. He strongly rejected the doctrine of preparation that defines education as preparing for something in the future, such as the next stage in schooling or a job. For Dewey, childhood is a phase of human life in which a child is to live as a child and not as a premature adult. Working to integrate social life and education in the unifying concept of experience, Dewey saw the school as a setting in which students, actively engaged in solving problems, added to their ongoing experience.

Dewey defined thinking as the solving of problems according to the scientific method. His Complete Act of Thought, developed in his earlier works, and reiterated in Democracy and Education, argued that intelligent educational method, like intelligent thinking, uses the scientific method to solve problems. Experimental problem-solving took the thinker and the student through a sequence of steps that went from being involved in a problematic situation, to defining the problem, to researching and surveying, to constructing tentative hypotheses of action, and to testing the selected hypothesis by acting upon and validating it through its consequences. This method of empirically reflective intelligence, Dewey believed, connected the child’s interests and needs with the cultural heritage, the accumulated knowledge of adults. Importantly, it provided the method of testing experience in terms of its personal and social consequences.

Dewey’s analysis of his title’s terms Democracy and Education illuminates his concerted effort to explore the relationships between society and education. Democracy, for Dewey, arises from human association based on commonly shared experiences, communication about these shared experiences, and the sense of community that results from this. In a genuinely democratic society, shared beliefs and values do not produce conformity but are the means by which individuals participate in a socially and culturally enriching diversity and pluralism. The educational, social, and political processes of Dewey’s version of democracy are experimental in that they are free from impediments to inquiry, especially those resulting from antecedent absolutist or a priori assumptions. Such a democratic society rests on a public consensus to use open-ended, inquiry-based processes to resolve disputes within a communitarian framework. Valuing the culturally enriching milieu of democratic association, Dewey rejected impediments to group interaction and any form of exploitation that makes the society exclusive rather than inclusive. A democracy is a society that is rich in shared activity, mutuality of interests, and willingness to engage in experimentation. Dewey’s ideal of democracy resonates well with contemporary multiculturalism, the revival of the communitarian ideal, and with education that is inclusive of groups—such as African Americans or persons with handicaps—who were excluded in the past.

Education, for Dewey, refers, in the broad sense, to experiences that shape, transform, and broaden human beliefs and attitudes. In a more specific institutional sense, it refers to schooling, where more particular educative experiences take place in the school’s specialized environment. Education and schooling exercise both a conservative and reconstructive function in society. The conservative role occurs as the group reproduces itself culturally by transmitting skills, knowledge, and values from its socially and culturally mature members, adults, to its immature members, children and youth. However, for Dewey, schooling involves more than cultural transmission. The experience-based school, operating on experimental processes, is an agency that develops the social intelligence that makes it possible to direct the course of personal and social change. In an ever-changing world, the school encourages children and youth to learn how to solve problems and reconstruct their experience. A democratic education leads to growth, that reconstruction of experience that adds to the meaning of and directs the course of future experience.

Dewey integrated democracy and education in his discussion of how individuals construct a community. He believed that a genuine sense of community arises through three interrelated stages: a common sharing, communication, and community itself. In the first stage, the group’s sharing of common objects, engagement in common activities, and use of common instruments generate a sense of we feeling or group identification. Because they use shared instruments to attain common goals, the group’s members develop ways of communicating about their common endeavors. This sense of mutuality and of reciprocity in sharing activities and solving problems leads to community itself. The mutually shared activity of group problem solving reduces the isolation of the individual from others and generates an enriched form of social intelligence. The development of the larger sense of community could be replicated in the school’s smaller and more intimate setting and then diffused throughout the larger society.

Dewey’s conception of the school curriculum integrated both the experimental qualities of the scientific method and the educative role of the social group. Unlike the conventional curriculum organized around tool skills such as reading, writing, and arithmetic and academic subject matter disciplines such as history, mathematics, and chemistry, Dewey structured the school’s program around three broad focusing sets of activities: making and doing, history and geography, and science. Making and doing referred to activities in children’s early years of schooling, the primary grades. So as not to break continuity in the child’s experience between the home and the school, children engaged in activities that grew out of familiar home experiences and then led to the larger society’s activities and occupations. Making and doing was followed by history and geography, not taught as conventional school subjects, but designed to expand children’s perspectives into time and space. The curriculum’s third stage, science, broadly meant the investigation of the various subject matter disciplines, not in isolation from each other, but for their instrumental use in solving problems.

By having students solve problems using the scientific method in collaborative group settings, Dewey believed they would develop the skills of reflective inquiry and practical intelligence. In addition to these skills, Dewey’s Experimentalism carried the values that would underlie the new but still undefined reconstructed American community. Those who experienced an Experimentalist education would be flexible in their attitudes and dispositions, willing to experiment and disposed to question inherited traditions and values. Socially involved and tolerant of others, they would be active participants in formulating a broad, progressive, and democratic social consensus.

In the years after Democracy and Education’s publication, Dewey enjoyed an international reputation as a distinguished philosopher and educator. From 1919 to 1921, he lectured in Japan and China. In 1928, he visited the former Soviet Union where his ideas were then popular among Soviet educators seeking new patterns of education. When he spoke out against Stalinism, Dewey’s books were banned in the Soviet Union. For twenty-two years, after his retirement from Columbia University until his death in 1952, Dewey continued to be a voice for social and educational reform and renewal.

John Dewey’s Experimentalism has had a pervasive influence on American society and education. His philosophy contributed to a sense of inquiry that examined institutions and values in terms of their response to the changing circumstances of American life. In education and in schools, Dewey’s impact was broad and significant. Especially in teacher education, Dewey’s followers informed teachers about the social significance of collaborative group projects and inquiry-based, experimental methods. Dewey had successfully argued that education was so powerful and so potent a force that it could not be limited to the school’s four walls. As a great cultural force, it had the possibility of creating a revitalized paideia, the great society of American democracy.

Gerald L. Gutek is a professor emeritus of education at Loyola University, Chicago. The author of twenty books in the history and philosophy of education, his most recent publications are Philosophical and Ideological Voices in Education (2003) and Historical and Philosophical Foundations of Education: A Biographical Introduction (2005).

PREFACE

THE following pages embody an endeavor to detect and state the ideas implied in a democratic society and to apply these ideas to the problems of the enterprise of education. The discussion includes an indication of the constructive aims and methods of public education as seen from this point of view, and a critical estimate of the theories of knowing and moral development which were formulated in earlier social conditions, but which still operate, in societies nominally democratic, to hamper the adequate realization of the democratic ideal. As will appear from the book itself, the philosophy stated in this book connects the growth of democracy with the development of the experimental method in the sciences, evolutionary ideas in the biological sciences, and the industrial reorganization, and is concerned to point out the changes in subject matter and method of education indicated by these developments.

Hearty acknowledgments are due to Dr. Goodsell of Teachers College for criticisms; to Professor Kilpatrick of the same institution for criticisms, and for suggestions regarding the order of topics, of which I have freely availed myself, and to Miss Elsie Ripley Clapp for many criticisms and suggestions. The two firstnamed have also been kind enough to read the proofsheets. I am also greatly indebted to a long line of students whose successive classes span more years than I care to enumerate.

J. D.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, NEW YORK CITY,

August, 1915.

CHAPTER I

EDUCATION AS A NECESSITY OF LIFE

1. RENEWAL of Life by Transmission.—The most notable distinction between living and inanimate beings is that the former maintain themselves by renewal. A stone when struck resists. If its resistance is greater than the force of the blow struck, it remains outwardly unchanged. Otherwise, it is shattered into smaller bits. Never does the stone attempt to react in such a way that it may maintain itself against the blow, much less so as to render the blow a contributing factor to its own continued action. While the living thing may easily be crushed by superior force, it none the less tries to turn the energies which act upon it into means of its own further existence. If it cannot do so, it does not just split into smaller pieces (at least in the higher forms of life), but loses its identity as a living thing.

As long as it endures, it struggles to use surrounding energies in its own behalf. It uses light, air, moisture, and the material of soil. To say that it uses them is to say that it turns them into means of its own conservation. As long as it is growing, the energy it expends in thus turning the environment to account is more than compensated for by the return it gets: it grows. Understanding the word ‘control’ in this sense, it may be said that a living being is one that subjugates and controls for its own continued activity the energies that would otherwise use it up. Life is a self-renewing process through action upon the environment.

In all the higher forms this process cannot be kept up indefinitely. After a while they succumb; they die. The creature is not equal to the task of indefinite self-renewal. But continuity of the life process is not dependent upon the prolongation of the existence of any one individual. Reproduction of other forms of life goes on in continuous sequence. And though, as the geological record shows, not merely individuals but also species die out, the life process continues in increasingly complex forms. As some species die out, forms better adapted to utilize the obstacles against which they struggled in vain come into being. Continuity of life means continual readaptation of the environment to the needs of living organisms.

We have been speaking of life in its lowest terms—as a physical thing. But we use the word ‘life’ to denote the whole range of experience, individual and racial. When we see a book called the Life of Lincoln we do not expect to find within its covers a treatise on physiology. We look for an account of social antecedents; a description of early surroundings, of the conditions and occupation of the family; of the chief episodes in the development of character; of signal struggles and achievements; of the individual’s hopes, tastes, joys and sufferings. In precisely similar fashion we speak of the life of a savage tribe, of the Athenian people, of the American nation. Life covers customs, institutions, beliefs, victories and defeats, recreations and occupations.

We employ the word ‘experience’ in the same pregnant sense. And to it, as well as to life in the bare physiological sense, the principle of continuity through renewal applies. With the renewal of physical existence goes, in the case of human beings, the re-creation of beliefs, ideals, hopes, happiness, misery, and practices. The continuity of any experience, through renewing of the social group, is a literal fact. Education, in its broadest sense, is the means of this social continuity of life. Every one of the constituent elements of a social group, in a modern city as in a savage tribe, is born immature, helpless, without language, beliefs, ideas, or social standards. Each individual, each unit who is the carrier of the life-experience of his group, in time passes away. Yet the life of the group goes on.

The primary ineluctable facts of the birth and death of each one of the constituent members in a social group determine the necessity of education. On one hand, there is the contrast between the immaturity of the new-born members of the group—its future sole representatives—and the maturity of the adult members who possess the knowledge and customs of the group. On the other hand, there is the necessity that these immature members be not merely physically preserved in adequate numbers, but that they be initiated into the interests, purposes, information, skill, and practices of the mature members: otherwise the group will cease its characteristic life. Even in a savage tribe, the achievements of adults are far beyond what the immature members would be capable of if left to themselves. With the growth of civilization, the gap between the original capacities of the immature and the standards and customs of the elders increases. Mere physical growing up, mere mastery of the bare necessities of subsistence will not suffice to reproduce the life of the group. Deliberate effort and the taking of thoughtful pains are required. Beings who are born not only unaware of, but quite indifferent to, the aims and habits of the social group have to be rendered cognizant of them and actively interested. Education, and education alone, spans the gap.

Society exists through a process of transmission quite as much as biological life. This transmission occurs by means of communication of habits of doing, thinking, and feeling from the older to the younger. Without this communication of ideals, hopes, expectations, standards, opinions, from those members of society who are passing out of the group life to those who are coming into it, social life could not survive. If the members who compose a society lived on continuously, they might educate the new-born members, but it would be a task directed by personal interest rather than social need. Now it is a work of necessity.

If a plague carried off the members of a society all at once, it is obvious that the group would be permanently done for. Yet the death of each of its constituent members is as certain as if an epidemic took them all at once. But the graded difference in age, the fact that some are born as some die, makes possible through transmission of ideas and practices the constant reweaving of the social fabric. Yet this renewal is not automatic. Unless pains are taken to see that genuine and thorough transmission takes place, the most civilized group will relapse into barbarism and then into savagery. In fact, the human young are so immature that if they were left to themselves without the guidance and succor of others, they could not even acquire the rudimentary abilities necessary for physical existence. The young of human beings compare so poorly in original efficiency with the young of many of the lower animals, that even the powers needed for physical sustentation have to be acquired under tuition. How much more, then, is this the case with respect to all the technological, artistic, scientific, and moral achievements of humanity!

2. Education and Communication.—So obvious, indeed, is the necessity of teaching and learning for the continued existence of a society that we may seem to be dwelling unduly on a truism. But justification is found in the fact that such emphasis is a means of getting us away from an unduly scholastic and formal notion of education. Schools are, indeed, one important method of the transmission which forms the dispositions of the immature; but it is only one means, and, compared with other agencies, a relatively superficial means. Only as we have grasped the necessity of more fundamental and persistent modes of tuition can we make sure of placing the scholastic methods in their true context.

Society not only continues to exist by transmission, by communication, but it may fairly be said to exist in transmission, in communication. There is more than a verbal tie between the words common, community, and communication. Men live in a community in virtue of the things which they have in common; and communication is the way in which they come to possess things in common. What they must have in common in order to form a community or society are aims, beliefs, aspirations, knowledge—a common understanding—like-mindedness as the sociologists say. Such things cannot be passed physically from one to another, like bricks; they cannot be shared as persons would share a pie by dividing it into physical pieces. The communication which insures participation in a common understanding is one which secures similar emotional and intellectual dispositions—like ways of responding to expectations and requirements.

Persons do not become a society by living in physical proximity, any more than a man ceases to be socially influenced by being so many feet or miles removed from others. A book or a letter may institute a more intimate association between human beings separated thousands of miles from each other than exists between dwellers under the same roof. Individuals do not even compose a social group because they all work for a common end. The parts of a machine work with a maximum of coöperativeness for a common result, but they do not form a community. If, however, they were all cognizant of the common end and all interested in it so that they regulated their specific activity in view of it, then they would form a community. But this would involve communication. Each would have to know what the other was about and would have to have some way of keeping the other informed as to his own purpose and progress. Consensus demands communication.

We are thus compelled to recognize that within even the most social group there are many relations which are not as yet social. A large number of human relationships in any social group are still upon the machine-like plane. Individuals use one another so as to get desired results, without reference to the emotional and intellectual disposition and consent of those used. Such uses express physical superiority, or superiority of position, skill, technical ability, and command of tools, mechanical or fiscal. So far as the relations of parent and child, teacher and pupil, employer and employee, governor and governed, remain upon this level, they form no true social group, no matter how closely their respective activities touch one another. Giving and taking of orders modifies action and results, but does not of itself effect a sharing of purposes, a communication of interests.

Not only is social life identical with communication, but all communication (and hence all genuine social life) is educative. To be a recipient of a communication is to have an enlarged and changed experience. One shares in what another has thought and felt and in so far, meagerly or amply, has his own attitude modified. Nor is the one who communicates left unaffected. Try the experiment of communicating, with fullness and accuracy, some experience to another, especially if it be somewhat complicated, and you will find your own attitude toward your experience changing; otherwise you resort to expletives and ejaculations. The experience has to be formulated in order to be communicated. To formulate requires getting outside of it, seeing it as another would see it, considering what points of contact it has with the life of another so that it may be got into such form that he can appreciate its meaning. Except in dealing with commonplaces and catch phrases one has to assimilate, imaginatively, something of another’s experience in order to tell him intelligently of one’s own experience. All communication is like art. It may fairly be said, therefore, that any social arrangement that remains vitally social, or vitally shared, is educative to those who participate in it. Only when it becomes cast in a mold and runs in a routine way does it lose its educative power.

In final account, then, not only does social life demand teaching and learning for its own permanence, but the very process of living together educates. It enlarges and enlightens experience; it stimulates and enriches imagination; it creates responsibility for accuracy and vividness of statement and thought. A man really living alone (alone mentally as well as physically) would have little or no occasion to reflect upon his past experience to extract its net meaning. The inequality of achievement between the mature and the immature not only necessitates teaching the young, but the necessity of this teaching gives an immense stimulus to reducing experience to that order and form which will render it most easily communicable and hence most usable.

3. The Place of Formal Education.—There is, accordingly, a marked difference between the education which every one gets from living with others, as long as he really lives instead of just continuing to subsist, and the deliberate educating of the young. In the former case the education is incidental; it is natural and important, but it is not the express reason of the association. While it may be said, without exaggeration, that the measure of the worth of any social institution, economic, domestic, political, legal, religious, is its effect in enlarging and improving experience; yet this effect is not a part of its original motive, which is limited and more immediately practical. Religious associations began, for example, in the desire to secure the favor of overruling powers and to ward off evil influences; family life in the desire to gratify appetites and secure family perpetuity; systematic labor, for the most part, because of enslavement to others, etc. Only gradually was the by-product of the institution, its effect upon the quality and extent of conscious life, noted, and only more gradually still was this effect considered as a directive factor in the conduct of the institution. Even to-day, in our industrial life, apart from certain values of industriousness and thrift, the intellectual and emotional reaction of the forms of human association under which the world’s work is carried on receives little attention as compared with physical output.

But in dealing with the young, the fact of association itself as an immediate human fact, gains in importance. While it is easy to ignore in our contact with them the effect of our acts upon their disposition, or to subordinate that educative effect to some external and tangible result, it is not so easy as in dealing with adults. The need of training is too evident; the pressure to accomplish a change in their attitude and habits is too urgent to leave these consequences wholly out of account. Since our chief business with them is to enable them to share in a common life we cannot help considering whether or no we are forming the powers which will secure this ability. If humanity has made some headway in realizing that the ultimate value of every institution is its distinctively human effect—its effect upon conscious experience—we may well believe that this lesson has been learned largely through dealings with the young.

We are thus led to distinguish, within the broad educational process which we have been so far considering, a more formal kind of education—that of direct tuition or schooling. In undeveloped social groups, we find very little formal teaching and training. Savage groups mainly rely for instilling needed dispositions into the young upon the same sort of association which keeps adults loyal to their group. They have no special devices, material, or institutions for teaching save in connection with initiation ceremonies by which the youth are inducted into full social membership. For the most part, they depend upon children learning the customs of the adults, acquiring their emotional set and stock of ideas, by sharing in what the elders are doing. In part, this sharing is direct, taking part in the occupations of adults and thus serving an apprenticeship; in part, it is indirect, through the dramatic plays in which children reproduce the actions of grown-ups and thus learn to know what they are like. To savages it would seem preposterous to seek out a place where nothing but learning was going on in order that one might learn.

But as civilization advances, the gap between the capacities of the young and the concerns of adults widens. Learning by direct sharing in the pursuits of grown-ups becomes increasingly difficult except in the case of the less advanced occupations. Much of what adults do is so remote in space and in meaning that playful imitation is less and less adequate to reproduce its spirit. Ability to share effectively in adult activities thus depends upon a prior training given with this end in view. Intentional agencies—schools—and explicit material—studies—are devised. The task of teaching certain things is delegated to a special group of persons.

Without such formal education, it is not possible to transmit all the resources and achievements of a complex society. It also opens a way to a kind of experience which would not be accessible to the young, if they were left to pick up their training in informal association with others, since books and the symbols of knowledge are mastered.

But there are conspicuous dangers attendant upon the transition from indirect to formal education. Sharing in actual pursuit, whether directly or vicariously in play, is at least personal and vital. These qualities compensate, in some measure, for the narrowness of available opportunities. Formal instruction, on the contrary, easily becomes remote and dead—abstract and bookish, to use the ordinary words of depreciation. What accumulated knowledge exists in low grade societies is at least put into practice; it is transmuted into character; it exists with the depth of meaning that attaches to its coming within urgent daily interests.

But in an advanced culture much which has to be learned is stored in symbols. It is far from translation into familiar acts and objects. Such material is relatively technical and superficial. Taking the ordinary standard of reality as a measure, it is artificial. For this measure is connection with practical concerns. Such material exists in a world by itself, unassimilated to ordinary customs of thought and expression. There is the standing danger that the material of formal instruction will be merely the subject matter of the schools, isolated from the subject matter of life-experience. The permanent social interests are likely to be lost from view. Those which have not been carried over into the structure of social life, but which remain largely matters of technical information expressed in symbols, are made conspicuous in schools. Thus we reach the ordinary notion of education: the notion which ignores its social necessity and its identity with all human association that affects conscious life, and which identifies it with imparting information about remote matters and the conveying of learning through verbal signs: the acquisition of literacy.

Hence one of the weightiest problems with which the philosophy of education has to cope is the method of keeping a proper balance between the informal and the formal, the incidental and the intentional, modes of education. When the acquiring of information and of technical intellectual skill do not influence the formation of a social disposition, ordinary vital experience fails to gain in meaning, while schooling, in so far, creates only ‘sharps’ in learning—that is, egoistic specialists. To avoid a split between what men consciously know because they are aware of having learned it by a specific job of learning, and what they unconsciously know because they have absorbed it in the formation of their characters by intercourse with others, becomes an increasingly delicate task with every development of special schooling.

Summary.—It is the very nature of life to strive to continue in being. Since this continuance can be secured only by constant renewals, life is a self-renewing process. What nutrition and reproduction are to physiological life, education is to social life. This education consists primarily in transmission through communication. Communication is a process of sharing experience till it becomes a common possession. It modifies the disposition of both the parties who partake in it. That the ulterior significance of every mode of human association lies in the contribution which it makes to the improvement of the quality of experience is a fact most easily recognized in dealing with the immature. That is to say, while every social arrangement is educative in effect, the educative effect first becomes an important part of the purpose of the association in connection with the association of the older with the younger. As societies become more complex in structure and resources, the need of formal or intentional teaching and learning increases. As formal teaching and training grow in extent, there is the danger of creating an undesirable split between the experience gained in more direct associations and what is acquired in school. This danger was never greater than at the present time, on account of the rapid growth in the last few centuries of knowledge and technical modes of skill.

CHAPTER II

EDUCATION AS A SOCIAL FUNCTION

1. THE Nature and Meaning of Environment.—We have seen that a community or social group sustains itself through continuous self-renewal, and that this renewal takes place by means of the educational growth of the immature members of the group. By various agencies, unintentional and designed, a society transforms uninitiated and seemingly alien beings into robust trustees of its own resources and ideals. Education is thus a fostering, a nurturing, a cultivating, process. All of these words mean that it implies attention to the conditions of growth. We also speak of rearing, raising, bringing up—words which express the difference of level which education aims to cover. Etymologically, the word education means just a process of leading or bringing up. When we have the outcome of the process in mind, we speak of education as shaping, forming, molding activity—that is, a shaping into the standard form of social activity. In this chapter we are concerned with the general features of the way in which a social group brings up its immature members into its own social form.

Since what is required is a transformation of the quality of experience till it partakes in the interests, purposes, and ideas current in the social group, the problem is evidently not one of mere physical forming. Things can be physically transported in space; they may be bodily conveyed. Beliefs and aspirations cannot be physically extracted and inserted. How then are they communicated? Given the impossibility of direct contagion or literal inculcation, our problem is to discover the method by which the young assimilate the point of view of the old, or the older bring the young into likemindedness with themselves.

The answer, in general formulation, is: By means of the action of the environment in calling out certain responses. The required beliefs cannot be hammered in; the needed attitudes cannot be plastered on. But the particular medium in which an individual exists leads him to see and feel one thing rather than another; it leads him to have certain plans in order that he may act successfully with others; it strengthens some beliefs and weakens others as a condition of winning the approval of others. Thus it gradually produces in him a certain system of behavior, a certain disposition of action. The words ‘environment,’ ‘medium’ denote something more than surroundings which encompass an individual. They denote the specific continuity of the surroundings with his own active tendencies. An inanimate being is, of course, continuous with its surroundings; but the environing circumstances do not, save metaphorically, constitute an environment. For the inorganic being is not concerned in the influences which affect it. On the other hand, some things which are remote in space and time from a living creature, especially a human creature, may form his environment even more truly than some of the things close to him. The things with which a man varies are his genuine environment. Thus the activities of the astronomer vary with the stars at which he gazes or about which he calculates. Of his immediate surroundings, his telescope is most intimately his environment. The environment of an antiquarian, as an antiquarian, consists of the remote epoch of human life with which he is concerned, and the relics, inscriptions, etc., by which he establishes connections with that period.

In brief, the environment consists of those conditions that promote or hinder, stimulate or inhibit, the characteristic activities of a living being. Water is the environment of a fish because it is necessary to the fish’s activities—to its life. The north pole is a significant element in the environment of an arctic explorer, whether he succeeds in reaching it or not, because it defines his activities, makes them what they distinctively are. Just because life signifies not bare passive existence (supposing there is such a thing), but a way of acting, environment or medium signifies what enters into this activity as a sustaining or frustrating condition.

2. The Social Environment.—A being whose activities are associated with