Dewey: Stalin's Propagandist, the World's TeacherBy Daren Jonescu
Joseph Stalin had been General Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party for six years in 1928, when John Dewey, "the father of modern education," toured Russia with a group of educators. Later that year, The New Republic published Dewey's Impressions of Soviet Russia and the revolutionary world. This polemic stands as a remarkable testament to progressivism's disdain for mankind, reason, and truth. It is also Dewey's most honest and concise primer on the principles of his progressive education method. Anyone prepared to defend the idea of government-controlled schooling after reading this work is perhaps beyond reach of rational argument.
Dewey's general assessment of the Stalinist Russia he claims to have encountered is unabashedly positive, not to say romantic. Here is a very typical example:
Note the peculiar effect of combining the most understated, non-judgmental language to describe a murderous dictatorship ("the Bolshevik scheme") with the most unobjective hyperbole ("overwhelming," "unprecedented," "incalculable") to describe something as abstract and speculative as "the release of human powers" under communism. This passage, and indeed the entire document, written by a sixty-nine year old eminent intellectual, reads like the silly postcard effusions of a ten-year-old girl on her first trip to Disneyland.
Furthermore, notice Dewey's expression of surprise at the disparity between the Russia he claims to have encountered and the one he supposedly expected to find. Knowing that he is writing for American readers inclined to disapprove of the Soviet dictatorship, Dewey carefully peppers his reminiscences with expressions of shock. The pretense that he never expected to find Russia so wonderfully transformed by communism is this lifelong leftist's cynical reversal of Socratic irony -- his feigned wide-eyed innocence is intended to entrap the unsuspecting reader in naïve acquiescence to irrationalism. The technique is used frequently to punctuate his most outrageous declarations of admiration for Soviet tyranny. Two more examples:
Is it possible to be "shocked" by one's own abstract interpretation? Did one of the West's leading socialists really "learn," in 1928, to be "suspicious of all generalized views about Russia"? Or is his "shock" really just part of a predictable leftist apology for the brutality of Soviet communism, a sympathetic assessment that was never in doubt? You be the judge of passages such as this one:
This charming notion of youthful "ardor," "hope," and "confidence," mere "legend" when applied to America, is, according to Dewey, "very much more" truly said of Stalin's Russia.
Or consider this description of a totalitarian police state:
The general judgment, then, is not only that Russians under Stalin are happier and more hopeful than they have ever been -- than any people have ever been -- but that the regime desires the people's happiness, that conditions under Stalin indicate the regime's devotion to the well-being of the "masses." Dewey makes this point explicit, telling us that the new government "is one as interested in giving them access to sources of happiness as the only other government with which they have any acquaintance was to keep them in misery." [67-8]
Consider the dishonesty of recasting the Marxist-Leninist program of forcibly undoing the traditions and religion of a nation as the glorious achievement of a people "creating a new world" after having been "freed from the load of subjection to the past." And lest anyone question the destructive means of "freeing" a nation from its past, Dewey insists that this alleged destructiveness is part of the West's false narrative about Stalinism.
No, you are not reading a clever updating of Swift's Modest Proposal. This is the most influential American philosopher of the twentieth century, and the single most influential man in the history of public education, whitewashing the Soviet crushing of religion as mere "atheistic tendencies," and admiring the violent confiscation of churches and art works on the grounds that the buildings and "their contents of artistic worth" are "intact," "taken care of," and "converted into museums." And take a moment to appreciate Dewey's dismissive swipe at persecuted believers as "would-be worshippers." He carries on, noting with stomach-turning delight that "The collections of ikons in museums in Leningrad and Moscow are an experience which repays the lover of art for a voyage to these cities." And how, we might ask, were the previous owners of these artifacts "repaid" for their involuntary contributions to Dewey's cultural voyage?
Thus far we have established only that the mature Dewey loved communism, and was prepared to say anything, no matter how vile or absurd, to defend the post-revolutionary Russia by which he so unconvincingly claims to have been delightfully surprised.
But what of the primary purpose of his visit, namely the examination of Stalinist Russia's educational establishment? Here, Dewey's enthusiastic rhetoric carries him into rhapsodies of self-revelation that shed the light of frankness on his often disingenuous and manipulative philosophical writings.
One cannot miss the personal pride with which Dewey admires Soviet education. Far from being a disinterested observer, Dewey had a vested interest in providing a favorable review of both the methods and the results of Soviet schools, for they were fundamentally his methods, and the results, therefore, evidence for or against Deweyism. He is therefore predisposed to see noble intentions and great success in every use of public schools for purposes of social control, government indoctrination, and the propagandistic undermining of mankind's moral, political, and rational heritage -- purposes that he himself advocates. Thus we get flourishes such as these:
And how does Dewey define "the work they are attempting," which he finds so praiseworthy? Much of his polemic rides on what he calls the "aesthetic" element of the post-revolutionary period, and which he regards as more important than Marxist economic theory. This aesthetic element has to do with the production of a new emotional sensibility which, in turn, will engender a "new mentality," one suited to totalitarian collectivism -- although Dewey is careful to avoid describing the social system so directly, preferring, for obvious reasons, to define it only negatively, as the antithesis of "the egoistic and private ideals and methods inculcated by the institution of private property, profit and acquisitive possession." In other words, the primary function of Soviet education, of which Dewey thoroughly approves, is the undoing of the "mentality" of individual liberty, free will, and self-determination.
Essential to achieving this new mentality is omnipresent communist propaganda -- which Dewey not only defends, but identifies as the heart of progressive education.
Once again, Dewey demands that we acknowledge the noble intentions of the Communist Party, which he specifies as "the universal good of universal humanity" . And from this premise, the "sincere" faith in "universal" communism, John Dewey -- the most important theorist behind all public education throughout the civilized world -- draws the following conclusion:
In consequence, propaganda is education and education is propaganda. They are more than confounded; they are identified. 
The purpose of this propaganda/education is to inculcate a change in "the mental and moral disposition of a people" , in favor of identifying oneself essentially with the collective, while regarding one's own private interests as gratuitous and worthless. However, the progressive educator's efforts are persistently "undone by the educative -- or miseducative -- formation of disposition and mental habit proceeding from the environment" , which is to say by natural impulses and social circumstances contrary to the teachings of communist self-immolation. The greatest enemy of communist education -- the condition that inculcates belief in private property, and promotes the natural impulses to self-preservation and self-reliance, which Marxism reductively calls "profit" -- is the private family. The elimination of the family, therefore, is the most necessary means to the propagandistic purity of the progressive school.
Here, Dewey defends the practice of having children spy on their parents, and report their parents' "diseased" (i.e., individualistic) behavior and attitudes, so that the state may undermine them more effectively. He regards this "social behaviorism" as "much more promising intellectually" than physiological behaviorism, as it "will enable schools to react favorably upon the undesirable conditions discovered, and to reinforce such desirable agencies as exist" . This is Dewey's case for public schools as Marxist re-education camps.
He lingers over this all-important task of destroying the family, and bringing the child under the exclusive mental and moral control of the government. Nothing ever written, by the present author or others, to persuade parents of the folly of imagining they can undo the damage of public education at home, can make the point as clearly as Dewey himself, speaking as a general in the opposing army.
Unfortunately, it seems that once this universal and compulsory "ideal" has been achieved, its effect on family life ceases to be so "evident" to parents whose children are currently being hollowed out by it, scoop by scoop. In the earlier stages of the spiritual enslaving of man, the perpetrators knew exactly what and whom they had to defeat, and saw the task as formidable. Their intellectual heirs of today have merely to complete the final clean-up of Satan's workshop -- the hard work has already been done by Dewey and other pioneers of compulsory public education.
Dewey, in identifying the hurdles on the path to complete collectivist social control, helps us to understand exactly what government educators are aiming at today, as they complete the progressive annihilation of mankind.
In short, progressive schools, if they are to produce the desired collectivist mentality, will do so most effectively within the broader societal context of communism. Hence:
That is, the theoretical foundation of all compulsory schooling in the developed world is most "organically" suited to implementation in a communist dictatorship. Lest anyone -- probably a graduate of teacher's college -- object here that Dewey was an ardent democrat, and in no way inclined towards authoritarianism, I conclude with this:
For John Dewey -- your teacher, your children's teacher, the world's teacher -- Stalinist Russia was history's purest, noblest example of the democratic ideal. (That Dewey, like Stalin's other propagandizing apologists, suddenly became a Trotskyite when the dam of progressive lies burst, only reinforces his disingenuousness.) Soviet education, most "organically" suited to communist "democracy," was the highest achievement in world schooling, and a great source of pride for Dewey, as it was his own system, carried out more completely than social conditions in the West permitted at that time.
Times have changed, however. Dewey has won. Ethical individualism is, in general, dead. Collectivist self-immolation and Dewey's superficial kaleidoscope of infantile "individuality" are the social norm. Private property and family are on their last legs. The West has largely been "freed from the load of subjection to the past." The "aesthetic" revolution of government education (aka propaganda) has borne its deformed, inedible fruit.
Earlier progressives had faith that political enslavement would pave the way to educational revolution. Their intellectual heirs have learned from history that the opposite nexus, pursued gradually, may result at last in a more firmly rooted universal authoritarianism.
We are almost there.
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