The Critical, Conflicted, and Elitist Liberalism of Richard Hofstadter—And Why It Matters (Part 3)

It is in Hofstadter’s writings on education, and on John Dewey, that one sees the former’s elitism and anti-radical (critical) liberalism. I have not mastered Hofstadter’s entire corpus of work on K-12 education. But I have done some checking, and it appears most of his thought on that specific educational realm, and especially high schools (grades 9-12), is woven into Anti-Intellectualism in American Life.

A large portion of that book’s section on education is dedicated to undermining the Progressive Education impulse. Hofstadter especially eviscerates what is known as “life adjustment” education. The last, to him, is the beating heart of anti-intellectualism in education. While there may be a case there, in a certain sense, Hofstadter uses a series of false dichotomies to build his argument. Those dichotomies are accompanied by such scorn and invective that the reader may feel boxed into seeing a nostalgia, in Hofstadter, for anti-democratic educational ideals. If Hofstadter is not an elitist in the realm of education—and I think he is—he has no conception of, or desire for, a democratic theory or practice in that realm. His liberalism on this topic is critical—nostalgic at best, but definitely not forward-looking or contextual for his times.

What Hofstadter calls “the road to life adjustment”—“an influential anti-intellectualist movement” at midcentury—begins when high school is rejected as a site of college preparation. That rejection corresponded, Hofstadter laments, with a desertion of “the selective European idea” and embracing of high school as a “mass institution” or “people’s college” (p. 324, 326, 332).

This transition began with contradictory impulses exhibited by the National Education Association’s “Committee of Ten,” formed in 1893 (p. 330). That committee at once respected “mind culture” and “academic training,” while also stating that the main function of high schools was preparing students for “duties of life” instead of college (pp. 329-331). That last function dominated the NEA’s Committee of Nine, which met in 1911, and pushed against high school specialization in specific subjects and argued for vocational education. The movement culminated in 1918 NEA statement, the Cardinal Principles of Secondary Education, which was endorsed by the U.S. Department of Education’s precursor agency, the Bureau of Education (pp. 333-334).

The Cardinal Principles rejected intellectual discipline and embraced citizenship, new teaching methods, and addressing individual student differences via instructional differentiation. It also held up as new ideals “health,” “command of fundamental processes,” “worthy home membership,” “vocation,” the “worthy use of leisure,” and “ethical character” (pp 334-335). As mass institutions focused on building up democracy, the Cardinal Principles encouraged higher education institutions to focus on these ideals (pp. 335-336). The anti-intellectual aspects of these ideals became a large-scale problem, for Hofstadter, when high school was made compulsory for those sixteen years old and under, during the 1920s. This turned high schools into “custodial institutions” that measured success via “the holding power of the school. That meant accepting all students and introducing a more variable curriculum to maintain students’ attention (pp. 327-328).

The tone with which Hofstadter relays these changes in educational ideology is somewhere between matter-of-fact and negative. It’s clearly a narrative of decline given the larger arc of the book, and the fact that these ideals are relayed in a chapter that builds a specific case against life adjustment—as an off-the-rails aspect of Progressive Education. Worse, though, is that all of Hofstadter’s negative changes implicate democracy and democratic culture. He leaves you feeling as if late nineteenth-century Anglo-American high schools—sites, mind you, of discipline and rote memorization—were the best humans could do in terms of organized education for adolescents. The false choice Hofstadter presents is between life adjustment education and those older high schools.

As the narrative progresses beyond the Cardinal Principles, Hofstadter takes his argument too far. His narrative becomes elitist when analyzing the Progressive impulse to turn education into a hard science (i.e. education based on the newest and rawest research in psychology and technique). It starts off in legitimate terrain, but then moves into mocking and dripping sarcasm.

He starts by lamenting the overspecialization of the education profession. He castigates the overconfidence in IQ tests and the misuse of tests—both points still relevant in 2017. Then, however, in a flourish that involves alternate interpretations of test data (i.e. do we do more for the less able, or marshal resources for best for efficiency’s sake), Hofstadter’s own elitism shows, ironically, in the emotional weight of language used around a discussion of elitism. Take this passage (italics mine):

Of course, the credence given to the low view of human intelligence that some people derived from the tests could lead to quite different conclusions. To those not enchanted by the American democratic credo…the effect of mental testing was to encourage elitist views. But for those whose commitment to “democratic” values was imperturbable, the supposed discovery of the mental limitations of the masses only encouraged a search for methods and content in education that would suit the needs of the intellectually mediocre or unmotivated. Paraphrasing Lincoln, the educators-for-democracy might have said that God must love the slow learners because he made so many of them. Elitists might coldly turn their backs on these large numbers, but democratic educators, embracing them as a fond mother embraces her handicapped child, would attempt to build the curriculum upon their supposed needs. (p. 339)

When the relevant passages are put under the microscope, Hofstadter’s attempt at both-sides-ism is weak.  And it only gets worse.  The scorn continues (italics mine):

It is impossible here to stress too much the impetus given to the new educational creed by the moral atmosphere of Progressivism, for this creed was developed in an atmosphere of warm philanthropy and breathless idealism in which the needs of the less gifted and the underprivileged commanded a generous response. (p. 340)

More frequently than ever, the rallying cries of this creed were heard in the land: education for democracy, education for citizenship, the needs and interests of the child, education for all youth. This is an element of moral overstrain and a curious lack of humor among American educationists which will perhaps always remain a mystery to those more worldly minds that are locked out of their mental universe. The more humdrum the task the educationists have to undertake, the nobler and more exalted their music grows. (p. 340)

And then there’s this (italics mine):

When they feel they are about to establish the school janitor’s right to be treated with respect, they grow starry-eyed and increase their tempo. And when they are trying to assure that the location of the school toilets will be so clearly marked that the dullest child can find them, they grow dizzy with exaltation and launch into wild cadenzas about democracy and self-realization. (p. 340)

But, Hofstadter’s sympathizers will say, he was doing as all good writers do. He made eloquent overstatements about Progressive educators to heighten the contradictions—to increase the focus on their absurdities, inefficiencies, and prioritization of familial caring over the proper role of education (i.e. mental and academic development). To be up in arms, his defenders will say, about effective writing is to miss the point. Schools had lost their focus, and good students were left behind. These passages of overstatement, moreover, cover just two pages a 93-page section. It’s not elitism to underscore the foibles of Dewey’s followers and the Progressive Education ideology. That’s what criticism is about.

Sure. But when the provocations mock slow learners, school janitors, mothers of handicapped children, and philanthropists, can you expect much sympathy from your opposition? If your explicit ableism isn’t exactly elitism, you’re certainly enabling elitist tendencies. Finally, contextualizing Hofstadter’s intent and  lament does not diminish the fact that he offered no alternatives for those left-behind in nineteenth-century educational practices. All that’s left is an elitist, critical liberalism. – TL