Texts:1969 The End of an Order: Difference between revisions

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A gentleman in stiff-starched collar and rimless glasses stepped from the crowd, jovially waved his hand, observed that here the President was for all to see, and asked if he might say a few words when the speaker was finished. Immediately, rhetoric was deflated; the humor of the situation relaxed the growing tension; and what might have issued in polarization began an effort at cooperation. The youth admitted that the President's face was not wholly unfamiliar and that the administration was perhaps not as bad as he had made out. Yet he stuck to his point that the College could and should be improved. President Fischer agreed, observing that for several years the College had been pursuing reforms. In the past, student apathy had, among other things, slowed progress, and the present concern could have beneficial results if the students, faculty, and administration could avoid polarization and could cooperatively work out and implement constructive changes. With these remarks the Teachers College community received a clear mandate, and now, a year later, we all might pause to reflect on our progress.

It would be pleasant here to describe simply the many changes we have introduced and to congratulate ourselves for the progress these reveal. Thus we have a new Student Senate; monthly meetings of the full faculty that conduct much business; student representatives on almost every committee of the College; wider, more democratic faculty representation on committees; an open flow of detailed minutes to every meeting; all manner of departmental sub-committees, student committees, and student-faculty committees. Participation and democracy of sorts we have; but the question here is the significance and value of it all. Teachers College exists in a world of real substance, with serious problems as well as passing fashions. The value of what we have done during the past year depends in the long-run on what is happening in the world around us; it depends particularly on the nature of the educational crisis that has set things in motion not only at Columbia, but at universities around the world. In the end, the value of the innovations we make depends on whether these increase or decrease our ability to flourish in a changing world. Hence, in order to evaluate the alterations we have introduced, we need to make some judgments about the current unrest. ?Que pasa en el mundo, hombre?

It would be pleasant here to describe simply the many changes we have introduced and to congratulate ourselves for the progress these reveal. Thus we have a new Student Senate; monthly meetings of the full faculty that conduct much business; student representatives on almost every committee of the College; wider, more democratic faculty representation on committees; an open flow of detailed minutes to every meeting; all manner of departmental sub-committees, student committees, and student-faculty committees. Participation and democracy of sorts we have; but the question here is the significance and value of it all. Teachers College exists in a world of real substance, with serious problems as well as passing fashions. The value of what we have done during the past year depends in the long-run on what is happening in the world around us; it depends particularly on the nature of the educational crisis that has set things in motion not only at Columbia, but at universities around the world. In the end, the value of the innovations we make depends on whether these increase or decrease our ability to flourish in a changing world. Hence, in order to evaluate the alterations we have introduced, we need to make some judgments about the current unrest. ?Que pasa en el mundo, hombre?</div>

<h4>The End of an Order<ref>Published in Perspectives on Education (vol. II, no. 3, Spring 1969, pp. 1-5), with this introduction. "A guest editorial, written by a prominent spokesman in the field of education, expressing his or her views on a timely subject, appears in each issue. It is with great pleasure that Perspectives on Education presents this editorial by Robert McClintock, Assistant Professor of History and Education, and Research Associate in the Institute of Philosophy and Politics of Education at Teachers College."</ref></h4>

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Heraclitus</blockquote>

Our educational institutions are clearly in crisis; but the precise character of that crisis is still unclear. The aggressions of radical students and badgeless police, both of which have now violated even venerable Harvard, are glaring symptoms. But more fundamentally, in various ways and on every level, terrible frustrations are building up in those seeking stasis and those seeking change, frustrations out of which atrocious conflicts can issue.

<div class="nums">Our educational institutions are clearly in crisis; but the precise character of that crisis is still unclear. The aggressions of radical students and badgeless police, both of which have now violated even venerable Harvard, are glaring symptoms. But more fundamentally, in various ways and on every level, terrible frustrations are building up in those seeking stasis and those seeking change, frustrations out of which atrocious conflicts can issue.

To understand the crisis of our educational institutions, consider what one means by an institution. Hearing the word, most think of a formal organization with an established purpose and a hierarchy of offices. Educational institutions are thus schools and universities with students, teachers, administrators, and trustees fitted into a system for instructing the young, advancing knowledge, and providing needed talents to society. Such institutions seem to be out there in the real world, built of stone and steel, enclosed in well-fed files, and populated by an ever-living parade of people; persons work in and for these institutions, finding them to be a good or a bad place. In the institution, people move through its hierarchy of offices, protect their places in the progression, and increase the power, security, or status of their particular part; for the institution they perform their assigned functions at least adequately, sometimes masterfully, while dedicated individuals even perfect the functions they perform.

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Our recent history shows how the principle that has been guiding pedagogical effort is no longer accepted by many on every instructional level. The familiar institution, the established idée directrice, no longer harmonizes our different endeavors, and despite excellence of the parts, these do not cohere spontaneously into a humming whole. As our institution ceases to form the whole, the parts increasingly work at cross purposes. The crisis will remain, not until we perfect each part through institutional change, but until we change our institution to regain our sense of the whole and to re-form our common concerns. To understand the scale of this task, let us trace how the old order became obsolete.

<hr>

Americans never really relaxed the long discipline of the Depression and World War II. After a brief demobilization, Congress passed several National Security Acts, a Selective Service Act, the Marshall Plan, the North Atlantic Treaty, and a large Military Assistance Program. The Cold War was on, if not declared. Educational leaders responded to the Communist challenge with the Cold War institution of American education, which formed our diverse instructional programs well into the 1960's.

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With Sputnik, the enemy seemed to outdistance us through relatively more rapid technical, economic, and educational advances. The Cold War institution became a national mania. Every magazine called for higher academic standards, and Admiral Rickover became a pedagogical authority with his admonition "Education Is Our First Line of Defense—Make It Strong." Long sought federal aid to education passed easily as a National Defense Education Act. The highest, widest possible achievement in productive skills became the end of the system, for most believed that such achievement was essential both to regaining technological leadership and to personal success in a society that would need indefinitely to mobilize all energies in the production of power. This individual incentive, the carrot of federal funds, and the stick of nation-wide testing programs made the system respond: enrollment in higher education has climbed steadily and the number of highly qualified workers has markedly increased. Suddenly critics find the American way of life is a mandarin system dominated by a scientific-educational estate.

<hr>

<hr>

To be sure, much room for further intellectual improvement remains; but it will not occur under the aegis of the Cold War institution, for this guiding principle has ceased to work. Large groups do not believe that the raison d'être of their pedagogical efforts should be raison d'état. People doubt that it is either desirable or prudent to continue to link educational effort, however indirectly, to Cold War priorities; and they assert that it is time to remedy the social injustices perpetuated as long as intellectual achievement for the sake of national power was the guiding pedagogical principle. Two developments have exposed the educational crisis by showing the Cold War institution to be obsolete.

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While signaling a desirable end, the crisis is not itself desirable, for the clashes it occasions destroy much of enduring value. Alienated students whose experience is only with the Cold War institution do not distinguish between a pernicious guiding principle and the valuable parts that the principle shapes into an undesirable whole. Hence, their negations through direct action are undiscriminating and may destroy the remnants of autonomous intellect that will be the source of any alternative institution. Mere negation leads logically to suicide. Instead we should go beyond the crisis to affirm a new institution.

We can do so only by articulating a new idée directrice, another guiding principle, which will effectively integrate anew our vast common energies; and this will not be easily done. To make a new institution in the intangible sense, one does not proclaim a plan and command others to put it into operation. A guiding principle becomes operative as it diffuses freely through public opinion under the gentle pressure of cogent discourse. To occasion such discussion, let us close by putting the question. Over the coming decades, what institution, what principle, can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? What thought, thus, will steer all things through all things?

We can do so only by articulating a new idée directrice, another guiding principle, which will effectively integrate anew our vast common energies; and this will not be easily done. To make a new institution in the intangible sense, one does not proclaim a plan and command others to put it into operation. A guiding principle becomes operative as it diffuses freely through public opinion under the gentle pressure of cogent discourse. To occasion such discussion, let us close by putting the question. Over the coming decades, what institution, what principle, can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? What thought, thus, will steer all things through all things?</div>

<h4>Untimely Observations</h4>

<h4>Untimely Observations<ref>The published part of the essay ended and the unpublished part, more directly addressed to a Teachers College audience, continued here.</ref></h4>

For Teachers College, the Cold War period has been one of transition; but the precise destination of that transition is still to be determined. We will help develop a new idée directrice for American education as we put our house in order and begin to move in a definite direction. Hence, we need a historic sense of where we are, not to pass judgment on ourselves, but to see where we might go and how we might get there.

<div class="nums">For Teachers College, the Cold War period has been one of transition; but the precise destination of that transition is still to be determined. We will help develop a new idée directrice for American education as we put our house in order and begin to move in a definite direction. Hence, we need a historic sense of where we are, not to pass judgment on ourselves, but to see where we might go and how we might get there.

With traditions of internationalism, radicalism, and social idealism, Teachers College did not adapt easily to the Cold War institution of American education. During the 1950's, two criticisms of professional educationists became fashionable in large sectors of the public: many believed that the typical schoolman was soft on Communism and even more were certain he was enamored of an anti-intellectual pedagogy. To refresh your memory, reflect on the rhetoric of the radical right from the Gross affair<ref>For a thorough account see "Donnybrook at Duke: The Gross-Edens Affair of 1960" by Robert F. Durden (Part I: The North Carolina Historical Review, Vol. 71, No. 3 [JULY 1994], pp. 331-357, and Part II: Ibid., Vol. 71, No. 4 [OCTOBER 1994], pp. 451-471.) I must confess that 55 years later, I have no inkling what I knew about the "Gross affair" at the time of writing this.</ref> through the floridness of Rafferty<ref>[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Rafferty Max Rafferty] (1917-1982), a conservative educator, then a widely-read critic of progressive tendencies, particularly in pedagogy.</ref> and run down that long list of books castigating the intellectual quality of the public schools. As Americans became more concerned about educational efficiency in the Cold War context, they became more suspicious of an educational establishment that was identified with previous pedagogical orders.

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No one knows the precise direction, if any, that American education will take during the coming decades. It is fairly certain that the direction will not be the familiar one of the Cold War: maximum intellectual efficiency for the sake of national power regardless of the social costs thus incurred at home and abroad. It seems probable, moreover, that the new institution will form as educators learn to link real efforts to deal with problems such as racial reconciliation and international cooperation, hunger and poverty, overpopulation and underdevelopment, conservation and pollution, urban concentration and technological depersonalization, demilitarization and world law. Furthermore, the scale and complexity of these problems makes it inconceivable that educators will be able to approach them effectively by reversing the present intellectualist trends, for de-emphasizing basic skills in favor of terminal techniques and dogmas will simply raise expectations while diminishing the powers by means of which these hopes may be satisfied. Surely any new institution will have to remedy the present egregious inequities in intellectual opportunity; but the real substantiality of the problems before men and women, before all of us, makes it undesirable that instruction aimed merely at reforming social attitudes replace efforts to nurture a variety of fundamental competencies.

We will leaven the future order neither by mouthing fashionable doctrines in our meetings nor by aping every style of the modish moment in our programs; we will leaven the future by concentrating on our real abilities and imparting these to diverse persons who will multiply the abilities as they work, not merely discourse, on tomorrow's problems. At no time has diligent, day-~~today~~ application to our duties in the classroom and the study been more crucial to the quality of our endeavor; yet at this time we have been compounding our distractions, creating all sorts of extraneous concerns that turn us away from our strengths and highlight our weaknesses. Let us consider the possibility that in stress filled moments we all—professors, students, and administrators—missed our real opportunities and embarked on undesirable innovations. At Teachers College, our response to the educational crisis has had two salient features: we have succeeded in increasing the quantity, if not the quality, of faculty and student participation in running the College, and we have failed to articulate effectively the widespread but latent concern for examining and perfecting our public mission. These two developments, the one positive and the other negative, emanate from a mistake we made under the pressure of time: we forgot to distinguish between the power of office and the power of mind.

We will leaven the future order neither by mouthing fashionable doctrines in our meetings nor by aping every style of the modish moment in our programs; we will leaven the future by concentrating on our real abilities and imparting these to diverse persons who will multiply the abilities as they work, not merely discourse, on tomorrow's problems. At no time has diligent, day-to-day application to our duties in the classroom and the study been more crucial to the quality of our endeavor; yet at this time we have been compounding our distractions, creating all sorts of extraneous concerns that turn us away from our strengths and highlight our weaknesses. Let us consider the possibility that in stress filled moments we all—professors, students, and administrators—missed our real opportunities and embarked on undesirable innovations. At Teachers College, our response to the educational crisis has had two salient features: we have succeeded in increasing the quantity, if not the quality, of faculty and student participation in running the College, and we have failed to articulate effectively the widespread but latent concern for examining and perfecting our public mission. These two developments, the one positive and the other negative, emanate from a mistake we made under the pressure of time: we forgot to distinguish between the power of office and the power of mind.

Faculty members, students, and administrators all made the same error: we confused the agencies for making definite decisions and implementing particular actions with those for considering basic problems and forming general policies. Professors qua professors and students qua students will neither gain nor contribute by active involvement in the chores of daily administration; the potential power of both groups lies in their ability to shape with reason and imagination the general policies from which responsible administrators derive direction as they dispatch the endless details. We did not make this distinction, and blindly took the way of least resistance. As a result, we pell-mell provided, to the detriment of all, for wider participation in resolving the day-to-day dilemmas that must be resolved if an organization is to function and flourish; and we failed to provide what would be in the interest of all, namely wider participation in examining continuously our common concerns and in working out a tacit conception of our general will, our sense of direction in a changing world.

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In the present climate, many will fear that creating The President's Seminars would simply establish another channel through which extremists could foment disruption. This danger will be minimal if the basic character of the seminars is not obscured. They are to be part of the instructional, not the administrative apparatus of the university. A basic ground rule should be that the seminars make no recommendations that particular actions be taken, for the job of the seminars is not to direct the organization, but to stimulate, inform, and educate its members. Hence, the seminar reports should be written to enlighten and persuade, not to coerce; and the university community should judge the reports by academic, not ideological, standards. In both form and content, the seminars should be educational; and only insofar as they are educational will they meet the deficiency the crisis has revealed in university organization.

Without an academic means for promoting the continuous, rational revision of intellectual policy, our educational institutions will remain susceptible to political intrusions from the right, from the left, and from the mammoth middle. The university should not be politicized; it should be the tool of neither the righteous radicals nor the complacent establishment. An autonomous university should be primarily a place for teaching and learning, for study and research; but if these activities are to be primary, we need to find a means within them by which academic initiative can be asserted over intellectual policy. Otherwise we will abdicate control over our mission and turn it over to the group that mounts the strongest political putsch on campus; we will dissipate our internal cohesion and our substantive abilities in a useless jockeying for influence. Time is running short; let us close by completing our earlier question. Over the coming decades, what means will enable us as scholars to study and shape the principles by which we can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? How might we discover and enunciate, without ceasing to be professors and students, the thought that will steer all things through all things?

Without an academic means for promoting the continuous, rational revision of intellectual policy, our educational institutions will remain susceptible to political intrusions from the right, from the left, and from the mammoth middle. The university should not be politicized; it should be the tool of neither the righteous radicals nor the complacent establishment. An autonomous university should be primarily a place for teaching and learning, for study and research; but if these activities are to be primary, we need to find a means within them by which academic initiative can be asserted over intellectual policy. Otherwise we will abdicate control over our mission and turn it over to the group that mounts the strongest political putsch on campus; we will dissipate our internal cohesion and our substantive abilities in a useless jockeying for influence. Time is running short; let us close by completing our earlier question. Over the coming decades, what means will enable us as scholars to study and shape the principles by which we can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? How might we discover and enunciate, without ceasing to be professors and students, the thought that will steer all things through all things?</div>

@@ Line 29: / Line 29: @@
 <p>A gentleman in stiff-starched collar and rimless glasses stepped from the crowd, jovially waved his hand, observed that here the President was for all to see, and asked if he might say a few words when the speaker was finished. Immediately, rhetoric was deflated; the humor of the situation relaxed the growing tension; and what might have issued in polarization began an effort at cooperation. The youth admitted that the President's face was not wholly unfamiliar and that the administration was perhaps not as bad as he had made out. Yet he stuck to his point that the College could and should be improved. President Fischer agreed, observing that for several years the College had been pursuing reforms. In the past, student apathy had, among other things, slowed progress, and the present concern could have beneficial results if the students, faculty, and administration could avoid polarization and could cooperatively work out and implement constructive changes. With these remarks the Teachers College community received a clear mandate, and now, a year later, we all might pause to reflect on our progress.</p>
-<p>It would be pleasant here to describe simply the many changes we have introduced and to congratulate ourselves for the progress these reveal. Thus we have a new Student Senate; monthly meetings of the full faculty that conduct much business; student representatives on almost every committee of the College; wider, more democratic faculty representation on committees; an open flow of detailed minutes to every meeting; all manner of departmental sub-committees, student committees, and student-faculty committees. Participation and democracy of sorts we have; but the question here is the significance and value of it all. Teachers College exists in a world of real substance, with serious problems as well as passing fashions. The value of what we have done during the past year depends in the long-run on what is happening in the world around us; it depends particularly on the nature of the educational crisis that has set things in motion not only at Columbia, but at universities around the world. In the end, the value of the innovations we make depends on whether these increase or decrease our ability to flourish in a changing world. Hence, in order to evaluate the alterations we have introduced, we need to make some judgments about the current unrest. <i>?Que pasa en el mundo, hombre?</i></p>
+<p>It would be pleasant here to describe simply the many changes we have introduced and to congratulate ourselves for the progress these reveal. Thus we have a new Student Senate; monthly meetings of the full faculty that conduct much business; student representatives on almost every committee of the College; wider, more democratic faculty representation on committees; an open flow of detailed minutes to every meeting; all manner of departmental sub-committees, student committees, and student-faculty committees. Participation and democracy of sorts we have; but the question here is the significance and value of it all. Teachers College exists in a world of real substance, with serious problems as well as passing fashions. The value of what we have done during the past year depends in the long-run on what is happening in the world around us; it depends particularly on the nature of the educational crisis that has set things in motion not only at Columbia, but at universities around the world. In the end, the value of the innovations we make depends on whether these increase or decrease our ability to flourish in a changing world. Hence, in order to evaluate the alterations we have introduced, we need to make some judgments about the current unrest. <i>?Que pasa en el mundo, hombre?</i></p></div>
 <h4>The End of an Order<ref>Published in <i>Perspectives on Education</i> (vol. II, no. 3, Spring 1969, pp. 1-5), with this introduction. "A guest editorial, written by a prominent spokesman in the field of education, expressing his or her views on a timely subject, appears in each issue. It is with great pleasure that <i>Perspectives on Education</i> presents this editorial by Robert McClintock, Assistant Professor of History and Education, and Research Associate in the Institute of Philosophy and Politics of Education at Teachers College."</ref></h4>
@@ Line 36: / Line 36: @@
 <p class="s1 doit">Heraclitus</p></blockquote>
-<p>Our educational institutions are clearly in crisis; but the precise character of that crisis is still unclear. The aggressions of radical students and badgeless police, both of which have now violated even venerable Harvard, are glaring symptoms. But more fundamentally, in various ways and on every level, terrible frustrations are building up in those seeking stasis and those seeking change, frustrations out of which atrocious conflicts can issue.</p>
+<div class="nums"><p>Our educational institutions are clearly in crisis; but the precise character of that crisis is still unclear. The aggressions of radical students and badgeless police, both of which have now violated even venerable Harvard, are glaring symptoms. But more fundamentally, in various ways and on every level, terrible frustrations are building up in those seeking stasis and those seeking change, frustrations out of which atrocious conflicts can issue.</p>
 <p>To understand the crisis of our educational institutions, consider what one means by an institution. Hearing the word, most think of a formal organization with an established purpose and a hierarchy of offices. Educational institutions are thus schools and universities with students, teachers, administrators, and trustees fitted into a system for instructing the young, advancing knowledge, and providing needed talents to society. Such institutions seem to be out there in the real world, built of stone and steel, enclosed in well-fed files, and populated by an ever-living parade of people; persons work in and for these institutions, finding them to be a good or a bad place. In the institution, people move through its hierarchy of offices, protect their places in the progression, and increase the power, security, or status of their particular part; <i>for </i>the institution they perform their assigned functions at least adequately, sometimes masterfully, while dedicated individuals even perfect the functions they perform.</p>
@@ Line 49: / Line 49: @@
 <p>Our recent history shows how the principle that has been guiding pedagogical effort is no longer accepted by many on every instructional level. The familiar institution, the established <i>idée directrice, </i>no longer harmonizes our different endeavors, and despite excellence of the parts, these do not cohere spontaneously into a humming whole. As our institution ceases to form the whole, the parts increasingly work at cross purposes. The crisis will remain, not until we perfect each part through institutional change, but until we change our institution to regain our sense of the whole and to re-<i>form</i> our common concerns. To understand the scale of this task, let us trace how the old order became obsolete.</p>
 <hr>
 <p>Americans never really relaxed the long discipline of the Depression and World War II. After a brief demobilization, Congress passed several National Security Acts, a Selective Service Act, the Marshall Plan, the North Atlantic Treaty, and a large Military Assistance Program. The Cold War was on, if not declared. Educational leaders responded to the Communist challenge with the Cold War institution of American education, which formed our diverse instructional programs well into the 1960's.</p>
@@ Line 61: / Line 59: @@
 <p>With Sputnik, the enemy seemed to outdistance us through relatively more rapid technical, economic, and educational advances. The Cold War institution became a national mania. Every magazine called for higher academic standards, and Admiral Rickover became a pedagogical authority with his admonition "Education Is Our First Line of Defense—Make It Strong." Long sought federal aid to education passed easily as a National Defense Education Act. The highest, widest possible achievement in productive skills became the end of the system, for most believed that such achievement was essential both to regaining technological leadership and to personal success in a society that would need indefinitely to mobilize all energies in the production of power. This individual incentive, the carrot of federal funds, and the stick of nation-wide testing programs made the system respond: enrollment in higher education has climbed steadily and the number of highly qualified workers has markedly increased. Suddenly critics find the American way of life is a mandarin system dominated by a scientific-educational estate.</p>
-<span id="b2"></span>
+<span id="b2"></span><hr>
-<hr>
 <p>To be sure, much room for further intellectual improvement remains; but it will not occur under the aegis of the Cold War institution, for this guiding principle has ceased to work. Large groups do not believe that the <i>raison d'être</i> of their pedagogical efforts should be <i>raison d'état</i>. People doubt that it is either desirable or prudent to continue to link educational effort, however indirectly, to Cold War priorities; and they assert that it is time to remedy the social injustices perpetuated as long as intellectual achievement for the sake of national power was the guiding pedagogical principle. Two developments have exposed the educational crisis by showing the Cold War institution to be obsolete.</p>
@@ Line 82: / Line 78: @@
 <p>While signaling a desirable end, the crisis is not itself desirable, for the clashes it occasions destroy much of enduring value. Alienated students whose experience is only with the Cold War institution do not distinguish between a pernicious guiding principle and the valuable parts that the principle shapes into an undesirable whole. Hence, their negations through direct action are undiscriminating and may destroy the remnants of autonomous intellect that will be the source of any alternative institution. Mere negation leads logically to suicide. Instead we should go beyond the crisis to affirm a new institution.</p>
-<p>We can do so only by articulating a new <i>idée directrice</i>, another guiding principle, which will effectively integrate anew our vast common energies; and this will not be easily done. To make a new institution in the intangible sense, one does not proclaim a plan and command others to put it into operation. A guiding principle becomes operative as it diffuses freely through public opinion under the gentle pressure of cogent discourse. To occasion such discussion, let us close by putting the question. Over the coming decades, what institution, what principle, can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? What thought, thus, will steer all things through all things?</p>
+<p>We can do so only by articulating a new <i>idée directrice</i>, another guiding principle, which will effectively integrate anew our vast common energies; and this will not be easily done. To make a new institution in the intangible sense, one does not proclaim a plan and command others to put it into operation. A guiding principle becomes operative as it diffuses freely through public opinion under the gentle pressure of cogent discourse. To occasion such discussion, let us close by putting the question. Over the coming decades, what institution, what principle, can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? What thought, thus, will steer all things through all things?</p></div>
-<h4>Untimely Observations</h4>
+<h4>Untimely Observations<ref>The published part of the essay ended and the unpublished part, more directly addressed to a Teachers College audience, continued here.</ref></h4>
-<p>For Teachers College, the Cold War period has been one of transition; but the precise destination of that transition is still to be determined. We will help develop a new <i>idée directrice</i> for American education as we put our house in order and begin to move in a definite direction. Hence, we need a historic sense of where we are, not to pass judgment on ourselves, but to see where we might go and how we might get there.</p>
+<div class="nums"><p>For Teachers College, the Cold War period has been one of transition; but the precise destination of that transition is still to be determined. We will help develop a new <i>idée directrice</i> for American education as we put our house in order and begin to move in a definite direction. Hence, we need a historic sense of where we are, not to pass judgment on ourselves, but to see where we might go and how we might get there.</p>
 <p>With traditions of internationalism, radicalism, and social idealism, Teachers College did not adapt easily to the Cold War institution of American education. During the 1950's, two criticisms of professional educationists became fashionable in large sectors of the public: many believed that the typical schoolman was soft on Communism and even more were certain he was enamored of an anti-intellectual pedagogy. To refresh your memory, reflect on the rhetoric of the radical right from the Gross affair<ref>For a thorough account see "Donnybrook at Duke: The Gross-Edens Affair of 1960" by Robert F. Durden (Part I: <i>The North Carolina Historical Review</i>, Vol. 71, No. 3 [JULY 1994], pp. 331-357, and Part II: <i>Ibid.,</i> Vol. 71, No. 4 [OCTOBER 1994], pp. 451-471.) I must confess that 55 years later, I have no inkling what I knew about the "Gross affair" at the time of writing this.</ref> through the floridness of Rafferty<ref>[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Rafferty Max Rafferty] (1917-1982), a conservative educator, then a widely-read critic of progressive tendencies, particularly in pedagogy.</ref> and run down that long list of books castigating the intellectual quality of the public schools. As Americans became more concerned about educational efficiency in the Cold War context, they became more suspicious of an educational establishment that was identified with previous pedagogical orders.</p>
@@ Line 106: / Line 102: @@
 <p>No one knows the precise direction, if any, that American education will take during the coming decades. It is fairly certain that the direction will not be the familiar one of the Cold War: maximum intellectual efficiency for the sake of national power regardless of the social costs thus incurred at home and abroad. It seems probable, moreover, that the new institution will form as educators learn to link real efforts to deal with problems such as racial reconciliation and international cooperation, hunger and poverty, overpopulation and underdevelopment, conservation and pollution, urban concentration and technological depersonalization, demilitarization and world law. Furthermore, the scale and complexity of these problems makes it inconceivable that educators will be able to approach them effectively by reversing the present intellectualist trends, for de-emphasizing basic skills in favor of terminal techniques and dogmas will simply raise expectations while diminishing the powers by means of which these hopes may be satisfied. Surely any new institution will have to remedy the present egregious inequities in intellectual opportunity; but the real substantiality of the problems before men and women, before all of us, makes it undesirable that instruction aimed merely at reforming social attitudes replace efforts to nurture a variety of fundamental competencies.</p>
-<p>We will leaven the future order neither by mouthing fashionable doctrines in our meetings nor by aping every style of the modish moment in our programs; we will leaven the future by concentrating on our real abilities and imparting these to diverse persons who will multiply the abilities as they work, not merely discourse, on tomorrow's problems. At no time has diligent, day-today application to our duties in the classroom and the study been more crucial to the quality of our endeavor; yet at this time we have been compounding our distractions, creating all sorts of extraneous concerns that turn us away from our strengths and highlight our weaknesses. Let us consider the possibility that in stress filled moments we all—professors, students, and administrators—missed our real opportunities and embarked on undesirable innovations. At Teachers College, our response to the educational crisis has had two salient features: we have succeeded in increasing the quantity, if not the quality, of faculty and student participation in running the College, and we have failed to articulate effectively the widespread but latent concern for examining and perfecting our public mission. These two developments, the  one positive and the other negative, emanate from a mistake we made under the pressure of time: we forgot to distinguish between the power of office and the power of mind.</p>
+<p>We will leaven the future order neither by mouthing fashionable doctrines in our meetings nor by aping every style of the modish moment in our programs; we will leaven the future by concentrating on our real abilities and imparting these to diverse persons who will multiply the abilities as they work, not merely discourse, on tomorrow's problems. At no time has diligent, day-to-day application to our duties in the classroom and the study been more crucial to the quality of our endeavor; yet at this time we have been compounding our distractions, creating all sorts of extraneous concerns that turn us away from our strengths and highlight our weaknesses. Let us consider the possibility that in stress filled moments we all—professors, students, and administrators—missed our real opportunities and embarked on undesirable innovations. At Teachers College, our response to the educational crisis has had two salient features: we have succeeded in increasing the quantity, if not the quality, of faculty and student participation in running the College, and we have failed to articulate effectively the widespread but latent concern for examining and perfecting our public mission. These two developments, the  one positive and the other negative, emanate from a mistake we made under the pressure of time: we forgot to distinguish between the power of office and the power of mind.</p>
 <p>Faculty members, students, and administrators all made the same error: we confused the agencies for making definite decisions and implementing particular actions with those for considering basic problems and forming general policies. Professors <i>qua</i> professors and students <i>qua</i> students will neither gain nor contribute by active involvement in the chores of daily administration; the potential power of both groups lies in their ability to shape with reason and imagination the general policies from which responsible administrators derive direction as they dispatch the endless details. We did not make this distinction, and blindly took the way of least resistance. As a result, we pell-mell provided, to the detriment of all, for wider participation in resolving the day-to-day dilemmas that must be resolved if an organization is to function and flourish; and we failed to provide what would be in the interest of all, namely wider participation in examining continuously our common concerns and in working out a tacit conception of our general will, our sense of direction in a changing world.</p>
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 <p>In the present climate, many will fear that creating <i>The President's Seminars</i> would simply establish another channel through which extremists could foment disruption. This danger will be minimal if the basic character of the seminars is not obscured. They are to be part of the instructional, not the administrative apparatus of the university. A basic ground rule should be that the seminars make no recommendations that particular actions be taken, for the job of the seminars is not to direct the organization, but to stimulate, inform, and educate its members. Hence, the seminar reports should be written to enlighten and persuade, not to coerce; and the university community should judge the reports by academic, not ideological, standards. In both form and content, the seminars should be educational; and only insofar as they are educational will they meet the deficiency the crisis has revealed in university organization.</p>
-<p>Without an academic means for promoting the continuous, rational revision of intellectual policy, our educational institutions will remain susceptible to political intrusions from the right, from the left, and from the mammoth middle.  The university should not be politicized; it should be the tool of neither the righteous radicals nor the complacent establishment. An autonomous university should be primarily a place for teaching and learning, for study and research; but if these activities are to be primary, we need to find a means <i>within them</i> by which academic initiative can be asserted over intellectual policy. Otherwise we will abdicate control over our mission and turn it over to the group that mounts the strongest political <i>putsch</i> on campus; we will dissipate our internal cohesion and our substantive abilities in a useless jockeying for influence. Time is running short; let us close by completing our earlier question. Over the coming decades, what means will enable us as scholars to study and shape the principles by which we can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? How might we discover and enunciate, without ceasing to be professors and students, the thought that will steer all things through all things?</p>
+<p>Without an academic means for promoting the continuous, rational revision of intellectual policy, our educational institutions will remain susceptible to political intrusions from the right, from the left, and from the mammoth middle.  The university should not be politicized; it should be the tool of neither the righteous radicals nor the complacent establishment. An autonomous university should be primarily a place for teaching and learning, for study and research; but if these activities are to be primary, we need to find a means <i>within them</i> by which academic initiative can be asserted over intellectual policy. Otherwise we will abdicate control over our mission and turn it over to the group that mounts the strongest political <i>putsch</i> on campus; we will dissipate our internal cohesion and our substantive abilities in a useless jockeying for influence. Time is running short; let us close by completing our earlier question. Over the coming decades, what means will enable us as scholars to study and shape the principles by which we can give a humane, productive order to the full range of our educational concerns? How might we discover and enunciate, without ceasing to be professors and students, the thought that will steer all things through all things?</p></div>