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.