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Education [is] of, by, and for experience. No one of these words, of, by, and for, names anything which is self-evident. Each of them is a challenge to discover and put into operation a principle of order and organization which follows from understanding what educative experience signifies. [p. 29—Experience and Education, 1938]
But “educative experience” is something which we, as citizens, philosophers, educators, psychologists, sociologists, policemen, and politicians, are trying to learn something about. In terms of this endeavor, re-reading Dewey (as per Hawkins’s request), might accomplish three things:
- Direct us to become morally and professionally involved in problems of education. But it is highly unlikely that we need a moral imperative from Dewey to persuade us to engage in educational problems if we were not already so inclined.
- Provide us with insights concerning child development and growth instincts. But with the amount of substantial work that has been done in developmental psychology, there is no excuse for anyone to rely on Dewey’s sparse insights concerning child development.
- Provide us with a method for grappling with educational problems. But Dewey’s method was one derived from industrial problems as applied to social problems, a dubious method operating today in behavioristic psychology and which, like Dewey, promises much and provides little of sustained worth. (Cf. Noam Chomsky’s well-known review of B. F. Skinner’s Verbal Behavior for a devastating analysis of behavioristic method; this review is reprinted in Readings in the Psychology of Language, edited by Jakobovits and Miron. In relation to Skinner himself, Dewey and Arthur Bentley showed a real appreciation for Skinner’s “devastating criticism” of “definition in operational analysis.” Cf. John Dewey and Arthur F. Bentley; A Philosophical Correspondence. 1932-1951. p. 490, p. 565.)
Dewey, as we all know, was hung up on method. Indeed, as R. B. Perry wrote (in The Thought and Character of William James), “Dewey’s preoccupation with method amounts in effect to a naturalistic panlogism, in which content is method.” (p. 515, Volume II). What makes this indictment particularly damning is that Dewey did not see himself as a specialist in method. He was “practical” in his interests—he was concerned with method primarily in so far as it would help him and others to solve real problems. In spite of this practical intent, he did not practice what he preached, that is, he did not see that his espoused methods were not self-justifying and needed to be tested against the problems they were designd to solve. If he had, he might have overcome his easy dogmatism and naïveté concerning those problems, his solutions, and his methods. The last thing we need today in dealing with educational problems is some more dogmatism and naïveté.
David Hawkins replies:
I think Mr. Rohrberg is right in supposing that he does not have much to learn from Dewey. In warning us of Dewey’s besetting sins of naïveté, dogmatism, preoccupation with method (and approval of Skinner about anything at all), he does us a service. Indeed this almost implies some agreement, after all, with my recommendation that Dewey be widely reread. For surely neither of us, as well-meaning critics, would wish to spend much time telling people why they should continue to ignore a once-influential philosopher. Suitably advised by the two of us, may many readers go forth to library and bookshop! As I indicated my list starts with Art and Experience and Experience and Nature. They don’t talk about schools. But they do talk about human nature and human experience, and such talk may just have something to do with education. Finally the readers who think they have learned from Dewey might go on to Experience and Education. It is thin in comparison with the other two, but they would provide some context to put it in.