When Adult Education Stood for Democracy
Thomas Heaney
Highlander: No Ordinary School 1932-1962 by John M. Glen Lexington, Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 1988. 309 pp. $30.00.
The Highlander Folk School: A History of Its Major Programs, 1932-1961 by Aimee Isgrig Horton Brooklyn: Carlson Publishing, Inc., 1989. 334 pp. $35.00.
The Long Haul: an Autobiography by Myles Horton with Judith Kohl and Herbert Kohl New York: Doubleday, 1990. 231 pp. $21.95.
In December 1991, colleagues and friends of Paulo Freire-all advocates for a more democratic and just social order-met in New York to celebrate Paulo's seventieth birthday and assess his contribution to adult education in the United States. Out of more than four hundred invited guests, less than six would be self-identified as "adult educators." How is it, we may ask, that a field of study which now celebrates Freire as one of its own is so underrepresented among his friends.
From the distant eyrie of the historian, a shift in adult education practice over the past fifty years could hardly be more dramatic or disquieting. Voices which inspired what was thought to be a movement-John Dewey, Theodore Brameld, Alexander Meiklejohn, Eduard Lindeman, Myles Horton and others-are now silent. A few lament their absence and the consequent waning of social purpose among the modern-day, entrepreneurial, and gray-suited ranks of adult educators. Others more hopefully observe that the spirit of that almost movement lingers still in the work of grass-roots, popular educators and organizers. Unfortunately for mainstream adult educators, these latter have been marginalized, defined "out" of the profession, and supplanted by their more stably employed and institution-based counterparts.
As we move farther apart from formerly dominant psychological and functionalist paradigms which depoliticized research in order to create a purpose-free, neutral methodology, questions of social purpose are again being raised in academic circles. But in the job-oriented pursuit of credentials students, keeping their eye on the prize, can hardly be expected to take more than speculative interest in practices which threaten to topple the career ladders upon which they clamor for status. Any practical applications of renewed interest in popular education for democratic social change can, at present, scarcely be imagined. But nonetheless, the interest is there and has opened a window on those few programs of adult learning which have withstood the tide of bureaucratic schooling-among them programs such as Highlander in New Market, Tennessee.
It is difficult to believe that several years ago most adult educators, graduate students among them, would not have known of Highlander or its half century of rich and maverick history. That has changed now, in part because of the publication of three recent books: Highlander: No Ordinary School by John Glen, The Highlander Folk School by Aimee Horton, and The Long Haul an autobiography of Myles Horton written with Judith and Herbert Kohl.
For many, Highlander is unquestionably among the most remarkable adult education institutions of the century-all the more remarkable because of its survival with vision intact for more than sixty years. Its history has been inexorably linked with the history of the South and specifically with the struggles of Southern workers and African-americans for equality, civil rights and justice. Highlander has, from its beginning, been well known-famous, in fact-, enduring a prominence it seldom sought since the enemies of this mountain school have been many and powerful. The most vocal of these, of course, have been those whose special privileges have been threatened by the demands of the labor or the civil rights movements. It was on the tide of such movements that Highlander passed by other bearers of the "adult education movement," leaving behind those who pursued academic and professional respectability, grew prosperous, but lost their social vision. For most adult educators the lateral movement for social justice and democracy ceased, as they scurried vertically in pursuit of professional career and status. But Highlander held the course.
Highlander is a difficult institution to understand for U.S. educators who are accustomed to reducing adult education to technique and method. Highlander can only be understood historically, not merely as an historical fact with its relationships to other independent historical facts, but as a factor of history-as a critical actor in the unfolding drama of historical change. Aimee Horton best reflects this view-that "education is a function not primarily of formal learning activities, but of the total social environment" (A.Horton, p. 37). Both Aimee and John Glen organize their historical studies of Highlander in relation to major movements and historical events and cover periods from 1931 until the early `60s when the State of Tennessee padlocked the Highlander Folk School and revoked its license. This latter period marks both the waning of the civil rights movement and new beginnings for Highlander, now resurrected and renamed the Highlander Research and Education Center. As Myles Horton observed, "You can't padlock an idea" (M.Horton, p. 237).
Aimee Horton's study was first written in 1971 as her doctoral dissertation at the University of Chicago and has served as a critical resource for most subsequent research, including the work of John Glen. Aimee's background in social theory, together with her commitment to and day-to-day involvement with the work of Highlander during its civil rights period combine well in a thoughtful and compelling analysis of the "Highlander approach" to the development of people for action. While both Aimee Horton and Glen cover similar ground, the former's consolidation of material into five periods helps the reader to focus on the continuity of process and long term planning which has characterized this mountain school's uniqueness. The relationships and interconnections are mapped retrospectively from the school's point of reference.
On the other hand, John Glen gives greater emphasis to the historical flow and the decisions by which the school navigated the turbulent waters of movements fractured by a variety of political agendas. His division of the material into nine periods helps the reader focus on the historical discontinuities and contradictions to which Highlander responded.
The voice of Myles Horton, founder of Highlander and, for many years its director, echoes in both Glen's and Aimee Horton's historical studies, but resounds even more forcefully in his autobiography which provides essential background and an insider's insight into the political commitments and vision which make Highlander a living institution still. The autobiography makes no attempt to be historically inclusive (or precise), but vividly portrays the analytic framework and ethical commitments by which Highlander has shaped and been shaped by history. From often repeated antidotes to profoundly simple reflections on the "Highlander idea," The Long Haul restores a sense of purpose and social relevance to adult education and provides an alternative for those educators who contemplate returning to less prosperous, but more hopeful times: when adult education had something to do with democracy and social transformation.
Living Long and True
The real story of Highlander is not about its past, but about its present and future. The secret of Highlander's longevity which emerges from these three books lies in its unwillingness to get bogged down in concern for its own survival or preoccupied with institutional well-being. Its staff and board consistently asked the hard questions about what they were doing and where they were headed. Rather than crystallize around a single issue, the school has responded to the winds of change in the South and throughout the world by constantly "reshaping policies and programs" (Glen, p. 149).
Highlander's relationship with social movements is the key to understanding both the strength and limitations of its adult education program. Neither Highlander nor any education program alone could foment a social movement. Nor could it achieve significant change without one. Myles explains this as a fundamental principle of the Highlander approach:
It is only in a movement that an idea is often made simple enough and direct enough that it can spread rapidly... We cannot create movements, so if we want to be part of a movement when it comes, we have to get ourselves into a position-by working with organizations that deal with structural change-to be on the inside of that movement when it comes, instead of on the outside trying to get accepted (M.Horton, p. 114).
Highlander has always aligned its program with the larger goals of social movements, while at the same time maintaining a critical and challenging voice within. It has never simply been a provider of services to others who are about the business of change. The school's board of directors, drawn from people of the communities directly involved in and affected by current programming, and its staff constantly regenerated the guiding vision of Highlander. Its workshops and field work incorporate a creative tension and dialectic between where people are and Highlander's vision: where things ought to be (M.Horton, p. 131). When the tension between the directions of a movement and Highlander's vision would force the school to compromise its vision (as frequently happened, for example, toward the end of Highlander's involvement in the labor movement), the school took its own separate path in search of the seeds of a movement for democratic change more consistent with the vision.
These two elements lie at the core of adult education for social change as envisioned by Highlander. First, such education must be grounded in the real and realizable struggles of people for democratic control over their lives. Its programs are both a product of those struggles and a critical factor in defining and giving shape to the strategies by which the struggles are advanced. Education for change is always education with people, not for people; it builds upon and reinforces the experiences, goals and concerns of those who participate in it.
Second, it never simply reaffirms present experience, goals and concerns, but always challenges participants to move forward, to experience in new ways, rethink goals and concerns. This "challenge" of education for change emanates from the convictions of the educator and requires political clarity about the vision upon which the program is built. In Freire's term, "no education is neutral" (Freire, 1970a). Education's contribution to social change is in direct proportion to the clarity with which a political agenda is envisioned and the commitment with which that agenda is acted upon.
Myles said this of Highlander:
To get something like this going in the first place you have to have a goal. That goal shouldn't be one that inhibits the people you're working with, but it should be beyond the goal you expect them to strive for. If your goal isn't way out there somewhere and isn't challenging and daring enough, then it is going to get in your way and it will also stand in the way of other people. Since my goal happened to be a goal of having a revolutionary change in this country and all over the world, its unlikely to get in the way in the near future (M.Horton, p. 108).
The work of adult education derives its significance and value from the quality and depth of the vision which sustains it. Daniel Burnam's words, "Make no little plans," could well have served as the motto for Highlander throughout its history. Its vision has always looked beyond the immediate, at-hand goals of the community, while generally remaining consistent with those goals. For example, unlike the more recent, widely touted, but under-funded, National Literacy Initiative, the Citizenship Schools, organized by Highlander in 1953-61, were not specialized, narrowly defined classes on reading. Along with becoming literate, residents of the Sea Islands of South Carolina-and later people throughout the South-learned to protest, to demand their rights. They "learned that you couldn't read and write yourself into freedom. You had to fight for that and you had to do it as part of a group, not as an individual" (M.Horton, p. 104). The Citizenship Schools stand in sharp contrast to now dominant literacy and adult vocational education programs which, without political analysis or commitment, seek simple solutions to the massive social disorders of racism, inequality, poverty and joblessness. Highlander has survived because its plans and its vision have been broad enough both to reach into the future and to encompass genuine, grass-roots movements for democratic social change.
Uniquely Independent and Free
Why, it may be asked, has Highlander so seldom been imitated--and when it has been imitated, so seldom with success. Clearly there has been a long history of adult educators who have sought to improve social conditions for poor and oppressed groups. While Highlander lies within this tradition, Myles Horton had early on rejected meliorist approaches exemplified in the work of Jane Addams or the Campbell Folk School (Glen, p. 13). He recognized that while education could play a critical role in social change it was never the one decisive factor which would bring it about. Adult education was not the solution, but could strengthen and support people who sought solutions to their problems through direct and coordinated action. As the work of Freire later confirmed (Freire, 1970b), Highlander exemplified the principle that learning cannot be separated from doing-education is a process which includes both reflection and action. This activist stance has been more frequently admired than imitated. As Aimee Horton points out, these ideas were not unique, but Highlander's uniqueness was in the "living out" of these ideas (p. 265)-actually putting them into practice. Most educators, even those concerned about the social relevance of their work, would prefer that the action follow at another time and another place-far from the sanctuary of privilege which now enshrines most adult education practice.
Aimee Horton (more clearly than Glen) de-emphasizes the pedagogical methods of Highlander, focusing rather on this reflection-action process by which Highlander's programs developed out of social movements (A.Horton, p. 257). The staff works with communities seeking solutions to problems and identifies local leaders-a task consuming months or even years of informal interaction. This "learning stance"-a period during which no assumptions are made that anyone at Highlander has solutions to local problems-is the prerequisite of an educational partnership of peers seeking answers from each other and within their own experience. Educators don't have to know the answers. "The answers come from the people," as Myles frequently said (M.Horton, p. 23). And when people don't have the answers, the educator can help to find appropriate resources-e.g. peers who have experienced similar problems and developed their own solutions. "The best teachers of poor and working people are the people themselves. They are the experts on their own experiences and problems" (M.Horton, p. 152). Following the development of solutions is the implementation of agreed-upon strategies back home. Field work in which Highlander staff continue their support on the picket line, in demonstrations or the jail house is an essential follow-up to a Highlander workshop.
It is not this involvement in social action alone, however, which has led more traditional educators to resist the Highlander approach and made the school unique. The process obviously yields programs which derive their shape and content from the social context out of which they emerge, but at the same time, frequently provide an unwelcomed unveiling of embedded contradictions to powerful social and political institutions. As a result, Highlander has endured first-hand the best and the worst the South has to offer. It has been recipient of unsolicited generosity and unprovoked violence, supported and harassed, admired and betrayed, the object of praise and vilification. Highlander is a uniquely Southern institution which has evolved over half a century in the context of uniquely Southern movements.
However, despite being of the South and for the South, much of Highlander's support, especially in times of crisis, came from outside the South (Glen, pp. 33, 65, 68, 185, 206)-in terms of both money and influence. As with the civil rights movement, in which Highlander played so critical a part, Northerners have been far more ready to encourage a revolution anyplace other than in their own backyards. The civil rights movement, after all, left most Northern cities segregated and bastions of institutionalized racism, despite its limited but significant transformation of the South. Highlander then, as now, looked North for friends.
This is not to suggest that Highlander was (or is) without friends in the South, but rather to suggest that if there needs to be a war, most people would rather see it fought elsewhere. Adult educators, even progressive adult educators are not an exception. Hence the reticence of many educators to follow the lead of Highlander and jump into the fray at home. In the late `60s, Highlander's staff attempted to create a Highlander West in Albuquerque and to establish yet another Highlander in support of a fledgling movement of Puerto Rican and Appalachian youth groups in Chicago (Glen, p. 217). The former spurred a number of protests and projects over a period of two years and then died. The latter received little response from the start. In fact, attempts to recreate Highlander, even when initiated by Highlander staff, have seldom met with success.
Highlander, as prophet and critic, is more easily honored from an academic distance than emulated in practice. It is at base a "Third World idea" (M. Horton, p. 213), more likely to find counterparts in developing and specifically revolutionary countries. Myles Horton spent the last decade of his life traveling extensively around the world and building bridges between the mountain school and global movements and struggles for change. In a broader international perspective, Highlander loses some of its uniqueness, but regains its prominence in the progressive strand of adult education history. Meanwhile, adult educators in the United States continue their rhythmic march to a decidedly different and comparatively monotonous drummer.
The Limits of Education for Change
It is an indication of the enormity of the gap between the theory and practice of democracy in the U.S. and the problems faced by disenfranchised people of color, by women and other workers that the history of Highlander has not been a succession of success stories. The accomplishments-unquestionably many-have been regularly punctuated with failures. From the Works Progress Administration (WPA) Unions during the Great Depression (Glen, pp. 50-52), through a tumultuous break with the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO) in the late `40s (Glen, pp. 119-20), to the gradual disintegration of the Tennessee Farmer's Union in the mid-'50s (A. Horton, p. 265), the school gradually lost its influence within the labor movement which, by 1960, had moved far apart from the rank and file democracy which had been the focus of Highlander's efforts for three decades. Action for democratic social change does not always succeed; strikes were frequently disasters-the textile strike in Cleveland, a hosiery mill in Rockwood, Tennessee, the Wilder strike of the United Packinghouse Workers (Glen, pp. 43, 38, 124-6). But more importantly, a movement itself can be lost. The Highlander staff came to recognize early on that unions were often "more interested in controlling members than in developing a spirit of independence and initiative among them" and that organizing was not necessarily educating (Glen, p. 77).
Similarly, the civil rights movement stalled with the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1957, far short of Highlander's (and Martin Luther King's) vision of economic democracy. Glen points to these limitations, but in the context of Highlander's real contribution:
To be sure, in the long run the overall progress made by the labor and civil rights movements was not determined by the Highlander Folk School staff's work. Southern industry has remained basically nonunionized and antiunion, and despite important, tangible gains, the full promise of the civil rights revolution has yet to be realized. Nevertheless, Highlander's education programs made both movements different and stronger than they might otherwise have been (p. 220).
While the ultimate aim of Highlander's work has been consistent with Myles Horton's goal of "revolutionary change in this country and all over the world," educators for democratic social change at Highlander and elsewhere must learn to adjust to something less-until the revolution comes.
The history of Highlander serves to point out essential limits of education for change and, in so doing, helps us to focus on areas of strength and achievement. Foremost among the lessons of Highlander is that adult education is critical, but never the decisive factor in achieving social and political goals. Essential to successful action is the presence of a dynamic political apparatus-a collective, a union, a people's organization through which collective energy can be channeled and focused. Movements are such an apparatus-a dynamic fabric of interdependent nodes of action moving toward an emerging and shared vision of what can be. While movements are not controlled, they nurture within themselves organizations which, in turn, can control and eventually stifle and still the movement (Piven & Cloward, 1977). Education for change is fueled by movements and by the within-reach, possibilities for action which movements create. "Intellectuals need movements to make their efforts count," said Myles Horton in 1931 (A.Horton, p. 27). When the fluid and progressive motion of a movement becomes clotted with the internecine battles of competing organizational strategies, education for change can do little to restore the dynamism of a narrowing vision.
The underlying conclusion here is that education for change is always part of something larger, always defined and shaped in a social and political context which it, in turn, helps to define but never controls. Even on a smaller, local scale the Highlander staff has been limited by variables beyond their control. They could help to build and give form to people's organizations, but once established and empowered with purpose and resources, local leaders could and did make decisions alien to the democratic principles upon which their organizations were built. There are no guarantees. The exercise of leadership, even when developed at Highlander workshops, produces mixed and not always welcome outcomes. And in the absence of a social movement, Highlander waits-not inactive, but patiently building and strengthening a natural relationship between the school and the community.
The real work begins when a crisis occurs (A.Horton, p. 47; Glen, p. 156), when people feel pushed into action. People had talked about taking action against segregation in Montgomery, Alabama, for years; it was only when Rosa Parks provoked a crisis in public transit that a local movement began which spread throughout the South and beyond. It is the experience of crisis which opens minds to alternatives and pushes bodies into action. This principle of social action became, in microcosm, an underlying principle of Highlander's educational philosophy-what Myles Horton called the "method of natural exposure" (M.Horton, 16). When Highlander staff hoped to change the way people thought about something, they didn't try to convince them with intellectual arguments. They got people into situations where they would have to act on the basis of new ideas. This was Highlander's primary means of dealing with racism-not to talk people out of their racist attitudes, but to put them in an integrated setting at the school where they had to come up with a new way of thinking about people in order to legitimize their experience. As Myles said, "People were forced to adjust their minds to what they had to do. And their hearts came poking along later" (M.Horton, p. 129).
American history is broken with periodic and discrete crises. Each has produced tremors of discontent, resulted in limited remediation, and an eventual restoration of acquiescence and political ennui. Efforts to link social disfunctions into coordinated political issues have generally failed in part because of the inherent complexity of our political and economic system, in part because of the hegemony of mass media which (like television) offers a monocular view of the world, and in part because of our individualist and narcissistic tendencies to look only to our own interests. Education cannot change this situation alone, except in the context of a social movement and in the presence of a political apparatus broadly enough drawn to encompass a wide range of interconnected issues. Martin Luther King attempted to do this within the civil rights movement when he linked racism with poverty and American aggression in Vietnam, but he failed to convince even his own leadership. Highlander has always seen the connections. This has been its strength and a secret of its survival. The school has been able to redefine itself according to wherever the action is, because all democratic social action is rooted in the same interdependent vision.
The only major limits placed on Highlander's accomplishments have been in consequence of the fracturing of America's impetus for change into dichotomous and often competing movements. "Revolutionary change in this country and all over the world"-again, the refrain from Myles-is not an educational task. It is a political task to which Highlander has remained committed for over sixty years. One can scarcely imagine the state of the world and the condition of humankind had all adult educators held the course with Lindeman and others. But surely the world would be better off.
References
Freire, P. (1970a). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York: Continuum.
Freire, P. (1970b). Cultural action for freedom. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard Educational Review.
Piven, F.F., & Cloward, R.A. (1977). Poor people's movements: why they succeed and how they fail. New York: Pantheon.
Adult Education Quarterly
Contact: thea@chicago1.nl.edu
Entered: 20 Jun 95.
