The Popularization of Knowledge: John Dewey on Experts and American Democracy

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The Popularization of Knowledge: John Dewey on Experts and American Democracy Author(s): Laura M. Westhoff Source: History of Education Quarterly, Vol. 35, No. 1 (Spring, 1995), pp. 27-47Published by: History of Education SocietyStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/369690Accessed: 10-03-2015 17:16 UTC

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The Popularization of Knowledge:

John Dewey on Experts and American

Democracy

Laura M. Westhoff

In 1900 John Dewey delivered the presidential address to the American

Psychological Association (APA) urging his colleagues to adopt scientif-

ic methods as the foundation for their work. Psychology, he offered, would "afford [them] insight into the conditions which control the for-

mation and execution of aims, and thus enable human effort to expend itself sanely, rationally, and with assurance." His address proved an apt

greeting to the new century, for it portended the acceptance of social sci-

entific knowledge as the foundation for social reform. But Dewey also

alluded to the limitations of the social science professions and the role of

experts in the years ahead, warning that "psychology will never tell us just what to do ethically, nor just how to do it."1 The question, then, of who

would determine the ethical uses of social scientific knowledge and its

formulation into public policy in a democratic and bureaucratic society

plagued Dewey as the century unfolded. This essay explores Dewey's con-

cerns about the potential threat to democratic community posed by dependence upon experts as policymakers.2

As his address suggested, the growing social sciences promised to make

American society more egalitarian by offering insights into the econom-

Laura M. Westhoff is a doctoral candidate at Washington University. Her dissertation explores the popularization of knowledge as a method of democratic reform among Chica- go social reformers at the turn of the twentieth century. She would like to acknowledge the help of Mary Ann Dzuback, Denys Leighton, Terry Quinn, and William Caspary, who com- mented on early versions of this essay. She would also like to thank Mary Ann Dzuback and Iver Bernstein for their continuing enthusiasm and support for her work.

'John Dewey, Address before the American Psychological Association (1899), Psy- chological Review 7 (1900), in John Dewey: The Middle Works, 1899-1924, ed. Jo Ann Boydston (Carbondale, 111., 1976), 1: 130-50.

2My use of the term knowledge is derived from John Dewey, Democracy and Education: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Education (New York, 1916), 184?91. He distinguished between knowledge as a process?the outcome of an inquiry and a resource for further inquiry? and as information. While Dewey recognized that individuals cannot possess all knowledge themselves, he emphasized the importance of having at hand the information to deal effectively with a problem. Dewey saw that the possession of such "knowledge" is the foundation for democratic decision making. For elaboration of Dewey's other uses ofthe term knowledge, see Lawrence A. Cremin, American Education: The Metropolitan Experience, 1876-1980 (New York, 1988), 406ff.

History of Education Quarterly Vol. 35 No. 1 Spring 1995



28 History of Education Quarterly

ic and social problems that undermined opportunity and freedom and

diminished the quality of life. Many social science practitioners were ini-

tially attracted to reform as the political and economic chaos of the lat-

ter nineteenth century created an environment ripe for alternative economic

and social paths. Labor turmoil, such as the strikes of 1877, the Hay- market riot, and the Pullman strike, coupled with sporadic and serious eco?

nomic downturns, led many social scientists into social reform. Complex, modern society seemed to need the expert management of bureaucrats

and intellectuals, providing justification for their professionalization.3 The trend toward professionalization in academics mirrored other

social developments which were largely a response to industrialization, urban-

ization, and growing interdependency in the late nineteenth century. As

Robert Wiebe has written, the rapid growth of American society led to the

dissolution of isolated island communities and to an interdependent net-

work of businesses, towns, and cities whose rationalization encouraged the rise of a specialized class of professionals. Designed to expand research, control access into the field, and promote professionalization by foster-

ing exclusive communities of inquiry, professional social science organi? zations segregated disciplines and urged unbiased inquiry. In the name

of objectivity, they discouraged social activism, further isolating the expert from the public. Professionalization ensured social science specialists great influence in formulating public policy aimed at creating a more egalitarian society; but, paradoxically, the burgeoning culture of professionalism undermined its democratizing potential by discouraging independent evaluation and encouraging dependence on experts.4

By examining Dewey's position in defining the role of specialized dis?

ciplines and experts in a democratic nation, we can see this paradox in Pro?

gressive Era culture, a paradox that persists today. Moving to Chicago at

the height of the Pullman strike, Dewey saw the importance of using social

science for reform and felt a personal call to social action. But he also

suspected that professionalization in academics hindered the popularization of knowledge and endangered participatory democracy by rendering scientific knowledge less accessible to the public. His beliefs placed him

at odds with many, but by no means all, of his colleagues who defined a

3Robert H. Wiebe, The Search for Order, 1877-1920 (New York, 1967); Burton Bledstein, The Culture of Professionalism: The Middle Class and the Development of High? er Education in America (New York, 1976); Thomas L. Haskell, The Emergence of Professional Social Science: The American Social Science Association and the Nineteenth-Century Cri- sis of Authority (Urbana, 111., 1977); Mary O. Furner, Advocacy and Objectivity: A Crisis in the Professionalization of American Social Science, 1865-1905 (Lexington, Ky., 1975).

4Wiebe, Search for Order; John Higham, "The Matrix of Specialization," Laurence Veysey, "The Plural Organized Worlds ofthe Humanities," and Dorothy Ross, "The Devel? opment of the Social Sciences," in The Organization of Knowledge in Modern America, 1860-1920, ed. Alexandra Oleson and John Voss (Baltimore, Md., 1979); Furner, Advo? cacy and Objectivity, Bledstein, The Culture of Professionalism, xi.



The Popularization of Knowledge 29

formative, though narrow and antiseptic, role of the expert in shaping social science inquiry and political and social policies.

To avoid the misuse of experts, Dewey instead promulgated a vision

of democracy that relied on the popularization of knowledge and the pri-

macy of the community in formulating social policy. Popularization, a

term borrowed from Lawrence Cremin, suggests a wide dissemination of

knowledge, particularly for framing social and political opinion and pol?

icy. Dewey believed that the exercise of such knowledge was the founda?

tion of democratic decision making. Furthermore, he argued that "the idea

of democracy is a wider and fuller idea than can be exemplified in the state

even at its best. To be realized it must affect all modes of human associa?

tion, the family, the school, industry, religion." Community life, then, was

the essence of democracy, and he feared that dependence upon experts would undermine the individual's active participation in the community.5

Historians dealing with Dewey's social thought recognize his desire

to popularize knowledge, as well as his rejection of a society managed by

experts, but most underestimate the tension between his encouragement of the social science disciplines and his theory of democratic community. For example, in discussing his version of American democracy, Dorothy Ross focuses on the contributions of Dewey's pragmatism to the social sci-

ences, but she does not balance this account with an exploration of how

Dewey recognized the pitfalls of standard scientific methodology. In The

Origins of American Social Science, Ross describes Dewey's belief that through

practical use of science, men and women could ward off the uncertainties

of historical time and the disorder of history. She further argues that he

clung to science, democracy, and industrial capitalism, all classic supports of liberal society, but that he recast them as instruments for creating social

harmony. In this way, he downplayed opposition between the individu-

al and society as merely a historical moment on the march toward the

millennium, thus accommodating the American democratic experience to the problem of historical change.6

More importantly for the social sciences, Dewey urged the adop- tion of the scientific method for social inquiry. His pragmatism was a

crucial development in encouraging what Ross calls scientism. As used by Ross, "scientism" aims at predicting and controlling social and econom?

ic forces and using scientific methods for gathering, analyzing, and apply-

ing information. It implies unbiased and professional behavior in pursuing

5John Dewey, The Public and Its Problems (Denver, Colo., 1927), 143. See Cremin, American Education: The Metropolitan Experience, for further discussion of popularization of knowledge in the twentieth century.

6Dorothy Ross, The Origins of American Social Science (New York, 1991), 163-69. There is evidence of a millennialist conception of democracy in Dewey's works, particularly his early writings on democracy. See, for example, John Dewey, "The Ethics of Democ? racy," in John Dewey: The Early Works, 1882-1898 (Carbondale, 111., 1967), ed. Jo Ann Boydston, 1; and "Christianity and Democracy," in ibid., 4.




knowledge. Ross argues that the scientism that developed in the twenti?

eth century has too often isolated the social scientist from social action, in the name of "pure science." But Ellen Condliffe Lagemann has sug-

gested recently that Dewey's scientific methods, at least in the realm of edu?

cation, were different from those of many of his colleagues. Whereas

Dewey was willing to experiment within a naturalistic setting, such as

the Laboratory School at the University of Chicago, using participant- observer techniques, his successors at Chicago and across the country were interested in building a "science of education" based on quantifiable,

objective knowledge, gained from impersonal surveys and tests that would

turn education into an authoritative discipline. Ross's definition and cri-

tique of the social sciences is very similar to Dewey's, yet Ross fails to

underscore Dewey's concern for the popularization and ethical applica- tion of social scientific knowledge.7

Robert Westbrook, in John Dewey and American Democracy, is

more successful in assessing the implications of Dewey's radical democratic

theory for the debate over the role of experts in American society. West?

brook contends that Dewey's "faith in the capacity of human beings for

intelligent judgment and action if proper conditions are furnished" sets him

apart from other liberals who sought to strip democracy of its positive claims

and render it purely procedural and then to maximize the authority of

elites while insulating them from public pressure.8 The book is particularly incisive in its treatment of Dewey's disagreement with democratic realists

like Walter Lippmann, who believed that since most individuals could

not grasp the complexity of modern problems, they were liable to manipulation by politicians. In the realists' view, radical democracy was failing, and the only hope of retaining any of its vestiges lay in a government of

experts, who could uncover, understand, and redress intricate social prob? lems. Westbrook demonstrates clearly Dewey's rejection of this elitist

argument, yet he only hints that Dewey's position represented a larger movement in early twentieth-century American society.

Historical literature documenting battles over the path of social sci?

ences during the late nineteenth century points out roads not taken in the

academic struggle to define American social sciences. In particular, Mary Furner's Advocacy and Objectivity argues that social scientists faced a

tension between reform, which often drew them into the field in the first

place, and their need for recognition as objective scientists who could

provide guidance for social policy. The reconciliation between these ends

7See Ross, The Origins of American Social Science, ch. 10; and Ellen Condliffe Lage- mann, "The Plural Worlds of Educational Research," History of Education Quarterly 29 (Summer 1989): 210-12.

8John Dewey, "Creative Democracy: The Task before Us" (1939), in John Dewey: The Later Works, 1925-1953 (Carbondale, 111,1981), 14: 227, cited in Robert Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democracy (Ithaca, N.Y., 1991), xv.




led to a professionalization that was increasingly suspicious and often

punitive toward academics who were actively involved in controversial social

reform. By the early twentieth century, social scientists had won professional recognition primarily through their claims to scientific objectivity, but at the expense of widespread engagement in social advocacy.9

Yet this was not the only story of professionalization. Robyn Muncy's work on the female reform network reveals a model that challenges easy

interpretations of the history of the social sciences. The network that grew out of Hull House in the late nineteenth century led to powerful reform

institutions not only at the local and state levels, but also at the national

level, in the form of the Children's Bureau. This female dominion was

marked by a high level of professionalization, particularly by association

with the University of Chicago's School of Social Service Administration.

Yet, as Muncy demonstrates, professionalization, democratization, and advo?

cacy were not necessarily in opposition to each other. Often, women's

initial claims to authority grew out of their experiences as social reform-

ers, and the dominion was able to draw many laywomen into its work, as it relied on local participation and support for the success of its pro-

grams. An alternative female professional social science network that val-

ued activism developed alongside the male-dominated academic social

science professions.10

Dewey fits between these two models of professionalization. He

fought for objectivity in the social sciences, particularly through the use

of the scientific method. But he also sought the popularization of spe? cialized knowledge in a manner similar to the successes of Muncy's female

dominion. Perhaps Dewey was influenced by the Hull House roots of the

dominion, for during his years at the University of Chicago, he formulated

ideas about the role of knowledge and experts that informed his arguments with democratic realists later in the 1920s. In tracing the development of his position, this essay first discusses his historicist understanding of the nature of knowledge. This understanding is crucial, for it led him

to espouse the unity of knowledge and social action. It explores why

Dewey opposed the monopoly of knowledge by experts as a threat to

democracy and how he advocated the popularization of knowledge in

the hope of creating a more vital democratic community. Using The Pub?

lic and Its Problemsy the most comprehensive expression of Dewey's polit? ical theory, the essay relates his description of the place of knowledge and experts within democratic community. Although Dewey's efforts to

free the work of experts from ivory towers, secluded offices, and labora-

tories often fell short of his goal, his message is vital precisely because it

9Furner, Advocacy and Objectivity. 10Robyn Muncy, Creating a Female Dominion in American Reform, 1890-1935

(New York, 1991), 160.




remains unrealized; it offers a fresh means for reexamining democracy in

the late twentieth century.

js- a- * * *

Born in 1860, Dewey grew up in a period when American society experienced rapid structural changes that shook Americans' faith in their

exceptionalist tradition. Exceptionalism rested on the belief that the Unit?

ed States could escape the damaging effects of industrialization, urbanization, and class stratification that brought social and political upheavals in

Europe. As God's chosen nation, the United States would naturally usher

in the millennium through a combination of its religious faith, strong work ethic, unique political traditions, fluid class structure, and vast sup-

ply of unsettled land. But by the 1870s, innovations in the natural sciences,

particularly the evolutionary theory articulated in Charles Darwin's Ori-

gin of Species, weakened religious orthodoxy. The problem of slavery also taught Americans that their political system could not prevent polar- ization that was divisive enough to bring the nation to civil war. Rapid industrialization and urbanization, coupled with the emergence of an

apparently permanent working class, undermined republican ideals of

independent yeoman farmers and entrepreneurs rising in a fluid social

structure. These experiences contributed to a growing fear among Amer?

icans that their nation was no longer on a course toward the millennium, that it also had fallen victim to the forces of the historical process.

This recognition of "historicism" led social thinkers at the end of the

nineteenth century to search for ways to eradicate, ameliorate, or, at the

very least, slow down the advancing ill effects of industrial society. His?

toricism also influenced Dewey's understanding of the evolution of knowl?

edge and its uses throughout history. His notion of this evolution rested

on the belief that historical developments had changed conceptions of

knowledge and the individual, endowing the individual with the capaci-

ty to discover knowledge and the right to use it through participation in

government.11

By the end of the nineteenth century, Dewey adopted what James Klop-

penberg has described as a "radical theory of knowledge." This theory ground- ed truth in human experience rather than in notions of eternity and

necessity. Accordingly, knowledge of truth was not abstract and esoter-

ic; it was an unending experiment open to all individuals since its results

were verified by activity rather than by isolated reflection or special train?

ing. Thus, the individual possessed the power to understand and shape soci?

ety and could avoid leaving its management to fate or to the expert

nMy definition of historicism, the recognition of change over time created by mate- rial, political, and cultural experiences, is based on Ross, Origins of American Social Sci? ence, ch. 1 and ch. 2.




(whether philosopher, priest, or bureaucrat). Dewey's conception of the

evolution of knowledge and its uses throughout history was central to

his faith in democracy and his rejection of the isolation of experts from

society.12 One of Dewey's early articles, "The Significance of the Problem of

Knowledge" (1897), illustrates the place of historicism in Dewey's ideas

about knowledge. The essay argues that over the course of history, philoso-

phers had lost sight of why humans pursue knowledge. Consequently,

they became trapped by useless epistemological discussions which prevented them from seeing the social value of knowledge. Beginning with

Plato's works and Aristotle's command to "Know Thyself," Dewey described the birth of philosophy as a discipline. He reported, "in the two

short generations" of Plato and Aristotle, "the divorce of philosophy from

life, the isolation of reflective theory from practical conduct, has com-

pleted itself." By the end of the Middle Ages, he found, "the defining characteristic of medievalism in state and in church, in political and spiritual life, is that truth presents itself to the individual only through the medi-

um of organized authority." To maintain the spiritual welfare of humanity in the face of "barbaric assaults," the claim to knowledge of truth and real-

ity had to be universal, objective, and located far above individual feel-

ing and thought. Such an assertion had bolstered the authority of the

church and, through it, the state.13

Implicit in this medieval system was a recognition of individual will, but the "consciousness knew that the time had not come when these

appetites and impulses [of the individual] could be trusted to work them-

selves out." An individual who asserted him or herself in such a system could only be a source of disorder and disruption. The Renaissance and

Protestant Reformation were the historical moments when the individu?

al claimed the ability to discover knowledge and truth. At this time,

the conception of progress as a ruling idea; the conception of the individual as the source and standard of rights; and the problem of

knowledge, are all born together. Given the freed individual, who feels called upon to create a new heaven and a new earth, and who feels himself gifted with the power to perform the task to which he is called:?and the demand for science, for a method of discovering and verifying truth, becomes imperious. The individual is henceforth to supply control, law, and not simply stimulation and initiation. What does this mean but that instead of any longer receiving or assim-

ilating truth, he is now to search for and create it? Having no longer the truth imposed by authority to rely upon, there is no resource save

,2James T. Kloppenberg, Uncertain Victory: Social Democracy and Progressivism in European and American Thought, 1870-1920 (New York, 1986), 65. See especially chap- ter 2, "The Radical Theory of Knowledge."

nJohn Dewey, "The Significance ofthe Problem of Knowledge," in The Early Works, 5: 8, 10.




to secure the authority of truth. The possibility of getting at and uti-

lizing this truth becomes therefore the underlying and conditioning problem of modern life.

Throughout history, philosophy was on a course leading to "this claim

of the individual to be able to discover and verify truth for himself, and

thereby not only direct his own conduct, but become an influential and

decisive factor in the organization of life itself." By the late nineteenth

century, Dewey believed American democracy provided the context for

its fulfillment.14

Late eighteenth- and nineteenth-century social thinkers before Dewey identified this process leading toward greater democracy, and as Ross

and Kloppenberg illustrate, such a conception was an important influ-

ence on the development of the social sciences and of philosophical and

political thought in the nineteenth century. Thus, Dewey kept company with many social scientists in his understanding of history and knowl?

edge. Of greater significance is Dewey's rejection of the dichotomy between

sensationalist and rationalist theories of knowledge. His developing instru-

mentalism offered a solution to this dualism in suggesting the unity of

knowledge and action. He suggested that "philosophy is henceforth a

method and not an original fountainhead of truth, nor an ultimate stan-

dard of reference." Dewey argued that the discipline must adopt scientific

methods for understanding the world and assume an interest in psychol-

ogy and social ethics as a way to bring philosophy into the purview of the

public.15

Dewey echoed these ideas in a letter to his wife, Alice Chipman

Dewey. Describing a paper he delivered at the Aristotelian Society short-

ly after he moved to Chicago in 1894, he suggested that "philosophy must

become experimental, by submitting itself to the test of action." Here

Dewey called for the philosopher's involvement in the practical problems of life. But his next statement was even more revealing: "The problem of

democracy was the question [of] whether science and philosophy could

become tools of action."16 Here again, Dewey's conception of science

appears. It is a tool, a method with which to build democracy. And as a

tool, it calls upon the scientist to insure its use.

Dewey's description of democracy further called upon experts to

involve themselves in practical issues rather than divorcing themselves

from social problems in the pursuit of "pure" science. His vision of the

role of experts in the democratization of knowledge appeared throughout his career and grew stronger as the trend in professional and academic fields

14Ibid., 12-14. 15Ibid., 22; Ross, Origins of American Social Science, ch. 1; and Kloppenberg, Uncer-

tain Victory, ch. 3. 16John Dewey to Alice Chipman Dewey, 20 Nov. 1894, John Dewey Papers, Collection

#102, Special Collections, Morris Library, Southern Illinois University, Carbondale.




veered away from activism. During the 1890s, Dewey's own university was

the scene of Progressive Era battles over academic advocacy. Economist

Edward Bemis came under attack and was dismissed, ostensibly for his lack

of scholarly success. However, as Furner shows, Bemis was considered rad?

ical and thus a threat to corporate sponsors of the university. While Dewey remains silent in the historical record over the dismissal, he shared many of Bemis's acquaintances and affiliations. Although Dewey maintained

high professional standards as the chairman of the Department of Philosophy and Pedagogy, privately he was active in social reform and popularization of knowledge through his associations with Hull House.17

Publicly, Dewey articulated themes of active popularization through his essays and books. For example, in "The Scholastic and the Specula- tor" (1891), Dewey used business metaphors to show how knowledge, a

commodity to be used and shared, had been appropriated by elite "scholas-

tics." In the first half of the story, Aristotle personified knowledge, and

Dewey related how prior to the Middle Ages, the Scholastic abstracted knowl?

edge from life, not "to get a good look at it, to isolate it from the crowd

of things which hide and confuse it, so that its own nature may stand

out," but to monopolize it. "The Scholastic was not commercial; he did

not give and take, take in order to give, and give in order to take; he took

all he could get, and gave only under compulsion?the compulsion being what we call the Renaissance. The Scholastic was 'abstract'; he was the

miser of philosophy; the man who wanted to save truth lest it should get away. The strong box in which he kept his riches was called 'system.'"18

Here Dewey's critical tone in describing the Scholastic is evident.

This character was selfish, a "miser" who hoarded knowledge to him-

self, locking it in a "strong box." By using quotation marks to describe

the philosopher's method, Dewey called into question its legitimacy.

Dewey's characterization of the Scholastic revealed his attitude about the

role of the expert in modern society. By the late nineteenth century, "the

monastic cell... [had] become a professional lecture hall; an endless mass of 'authorities' have taken the place of Aristotle. . . . monographs, jour- nals without end occupy the void left by the commentators upon Aristo?

tle."19 Here again Dewey revealed his suspicion of the new professions; just as the Scholastic was trapped in a monastic cell with his work locked in a strongbox, late nineteenth-century intellectuals, he suggested, were limited by the nature of their professions.

17Furner, Advocacy and Objectivity, 163-204. Dewey and Bemis both lectured at Hull House, for example. For examples of Dewey's attention to the professional standing of his department, see his letters to William Rainey Harper in the Dewey File, William Rainey Harper MSS, President's Papers, 1889-1925, Special Collections, Regenstein Library, University of Chicago.

18John Dewey, "The Scholastic and the Speculator," in The Early Works, 3: 149. ,9Ibid., 150-51.




Enter the Speculator. Like his counterpart in business, he was will-

ing to spend accumulated knowledge in the hope of finding "profitable" solutions to real problems. He was experimental. Just as the Scholastic had

been gathering the wealth of human intelligence "from the wreckage of

time and hugging the salvage to itself to set out its full meaning," so the

Speculator must throw the fund of intelligence "out again into the stress

of life; [he] must venture [his] savings against the pressure of facts."20

Here was the climax; will these two characters resolve their differences over

the use of knowledge without destroying each other? Can the Scholastic

share his knowledge, and the Speculator use it wisely? Consistent with his rejection of dualism, Dewey called for a recon-

ciliation in the form of "a merchant of thought, who, though he both

saves and spends, yet neither embezzles nor gambles."21 He would use

knowledge intelligently for social ends. In past centuries the Scholastic

sought knowledge for its own sake, rather than for practical purposes, and

hoarded it from the rest of society. Despite the emergence of liberating the-

ories of knowledge after the Renaissance and especially in the late nine?

teenth century, the expert was in danger of continuing this practice, even

more so as knowledge was divided into disciplines, fragmented, special? ized, and professionalized. In criticizing the "professional lecture hall"

and "the endless mass of authorities," Dewey berated his contemporaries who ignored the practical potential of their knowledge. He urged them to

look to the character of the Speculator for lessons in accepting uncer-

tainty in the world around them and accepting the risks of social exper- imentation. The image of the ideal scholar that emerged from this essay is one who recognized the essential connection between knowledge and

action and involved him or herself in practical affairs, not the pursuit of

"pure" science.

As president of the American Philosophical Association, Dewey had

the opportunity to urge his colleagues to adopt his ideas about the nature

of knowledge and inquiry, which were meant to make philosophy more

practical. Dewey's 1905 inaugural address attacked as counterproduc- tive the highly technical epistemological debates raging in the profession. Realist and idealist arguments over the meaning of perception and expe? rience impeded the ability of philosophers to engage real social issues, since such debates represented the attempts of each school to gain ascen-

dancy in the profession. He encouraged his colleagues to take up "the

task of telling present time, with all its urgent implications, that brings home, steadies and enlarges the responsibility for the best possible use of intel?

ligence, the instrument." Throughout the address, Dewey referred to the

common endeavors of philosophers and laypersons, who both seek free-

20Ibid., 152. 21Ibid., 154.




dom of thought and emancipation of belief. The real problem of philos?

ophy (and other specialized disciplines) lay in its "passionless imper-

turbability, absolute detachment, complete subjection to a ready-made and finished reality." According to Dewey, experts in a democracy had a

responsibility to recognize the uncertainty of life but still engage in social

action, while sharing their knowledge to help the populace make informed

decisions.22

Dewey's message became more important as the century unfolded,

particularly in the years after World War I. America's experience in the

Great War disillusioned many progressive social thinkers and reformers, and even Dewey's initial enthusiasm for the war as an opportunity to cre?

ate worldwide peace and democracy was crushed by Woodrow Wilson's

failure to "win the peace" he had promised. Dewey was further appalled

by the manipulation of public opinion, by paranoia, and by the subse-

quent suspension of civil liberties resulting from the national government's mobilization programs and the Red Scare of 1919. The war

experience also accelerated the growth of bureaucratic government and

the reliance on experts at the head of government agencies. A war osten-

sibly about "democracy" made American government less responsive to

the people.25

Dewey abhorred the trends, which World War I hastened, toward

expert management that insulated government from voters' control.

Experts detached from the fabric of social life were unfit to determine

social policy, for, as Dewey suggested, only those who wear the shoes

know where they pinch. Some political and social philosophers had little

difficulty accepting, and even advocating, this transition to a society of experts. For example, Lippman shared similar democratic visions with Dewey in

the 1910s, but Lippman's ideas became more elitist in the years after

1920. Democratic realists, like Lippmann, argued that "the essential fal-

lacy of the democratic creed . . . is the notion that a historic movement which effected an important and desirable release from restrictions is

either a source or a proof of capacity in those thus emancipated to rule, when in fact there is no factor common in the two things. The obvious alter-

native is rule by those intellectually qualified, by expert intellectuals."

Written in 1927, The Public and Its Problems was Dewey's response to

such attacks on radical democracy. While Dewey agreed with Lippmann that the American populace was apathetic about politics, he accepted nei-

22John Dewey, "Beliefs and Existences," in The Middle Works, 3: 98, 85. Westbrook discusses Dewey's address in the context of the philosophical debate raging between realist and idealist schools over epistemology. This interpretation is valid, but for the purposes of this essay, Dewey's underlying motive, to encourage social usefulness of the profession, is more important. Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democracy, 124-25.

"Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democracy, ch. 7 and ch. 8, provide fur? ther insight on Dewey's support for and disillusionment with World War I.




ther the democratic realists' explanations of the causes for the public's

political apathy nor their solutions.24

The book's title suggested Dewey's intent to enumerate public prob? lems and to show how these problems hindered the success of radical

democracy. Dewey defined "public" as a group of individuals with a com?

mon concern for controlling the indirect, extensive, and enduring conse-

quences of behavior or action. Necessity for public action arises in the

first place from the unforeseen and indirect consequences of human action.

To prevent harmful actions, the public, through its representatives, the state

and government, must step in. Dewey recognized the existence of differ?

ent publics, or groups, but these did not resemble our present-day inter?

est groups. He instead urged a sense of community to overcome the social

divisions that the existence of interest groups represents.25 The public's "primary problem," he argued, was "to achieve such

recognition of itself as will give it weight in the selection of official rep? resentatives and in the definition of their responsibilities and rights." But

a variety of factors rendered the American public inchoate, unorganized,

eclipsed. Cheap amusements diverted attention from politics. Mobility made cohesion difficult as Americans moved in and out of communities,

frequently without establishing significant ties to local groups. And, Dewey

added, "the ramification of the issues before the public [is] so wide and

intricate, the technical matters involved [are] so specialized, the details

[are] so many and so shifting, that the public [cannot] for any length of

time identify and hold itself."26

The complexity of modern society resulted in rule by elite experts. But

instead of seeing this as positive, as did democratic realists, Dewey suggested that it led to the alienation of the public from the political process. If the

public was apathetic and confused by the complexity of the issues, per-

haps it was "due to the fact that the real energy of society is now directed

in all non-political matters by trained specialists who manage things, while

politics are carried on with a machinery and ideas formed in the past to deal

with quite another sort of situation." Why should the electorate become

engaged in politics when the whole business appeared so artificial and

offered no real choices or solutions? Until the public could recognize its inter-

ests and build a community, it was futile, Dewey argued, for democratic

realists to consider the type of political machinery that would govern it.27

24Dewey, The Public and Its Problems, 204-5, 207. The discussion of democratic realists and Dewey's debate with Lippmann is based on Westbrook, John Dewey and Amer? ican Democracy, 293-318. My evaluation of Dewey's opposition to Lippmann and the democratic realists differs from Westbrook, however, in that I argue that Dewey's position is characteristic of a larger cultural struggle over the popularization of knowledge.

25Dewey, The Public and Its Problems, 77. 26Ibid., 77, 137. 27Ibid., 123, 147.




The first step toward a solution, then, lay in building a sense of

community. This had been an easier task in a simpler society: "American

democratic polity was developed out of genuine community life, that is, association in local and small centers where industry was mainly agri- cultural and where production was carried on mainly with hand tools_

The forms of association were stable, even though their units were mobile

and migratory. Pioneer conditions put a high premium upon personal work, skill, ingenuity, initiative and adaptability, and upon neighborly

sociability." Dewey's romantic American exceptionalism should not cloud

the importance of his message: the familiarity of personal interaction,

patterns of association, and communication comprised his definition of

community. "Wherever there is conjoint activity whose consequences are

appreciated as good by all singular persons who take part in it, and where

the realization of the good is such as to effect an energetic desire and

effort to sustain it in being just because it is a good shared by all, there is

in so far [sic] a community."28

Community to Dewey meant common moral, intellectual, and emo-

tional goals and conscious efforts to sustain them, and it implied, at least

in the past, local or face-to-face communication. But technological advances

disrupted these patterns, bringing a social revolution. Rapid travel and long- distance communication brought interference from outside the commu?

nity. "The local communities," he reported, "without intent or forecast

found their affairs conditioned by remote and invisible organizations." An

intricate, interdependent society developed, which released individuals'

potentialities that were previously dormant, but which also served to

destroy community. The result of these social changes was the Great Soci?

ety, a term Dewey borrowed from Graham Wallas. To Dewey, this soci?

ety was a national, and even intemational, web of communications and

corporations that touched the individual's life without providing him or

her with the means to influence these institutions.29

The rise of the cult of American individualism coincided with the growth of the Great Society and undermined recognition of the vital interdepen- dence of the individual and the society. In "The Significance of the Prob?

lem of Knowledge," Dewey had explained individualism in terms of the

liberation of knowledge during the Renaissance. As individuals recognized their abilities to shape their own lives, they sought freedom from author?

ity, particularly authority vested in churches and governments. "Since it

was necessary, upon the intellectual side, to find justification for the move-

ments of revolt, and since established authority was upon the side of insti-

tutional life, the natural recourse was appeal to some inalienable sacred

authority resident in the protesting individuals. Thus, 'individualism' was

28Ibid., 111,149. 29Ibid., 98.




born, a theory which endowed singular persons in isolation from any associations, except those which they deliberately formed for their own

ends, with native or natural rights."30 Elevation of individual rights by natural law and its economic partner, laissez-faire, provided and but-

tressed the foundation upon which Americans built their political and

social institutions.

But Dewey attacked "individualism" as an abstraction of men and

women from their natural state of association, as a cultural construct cre-

ated to justify the American experience. "What is not so generally acknowl-

edged," he argued, "is that the underlying and generative conditions of

concrete behavior are social as well as organic." Humans have always been associated in living together, and this association has affected their

relations to one another as individuals. Dewey rejected a liberalism that

pitted individual and community against each other; such liberal indi?

vidualism served to destroy the community by using the construct of "nat?

ural law" to elevate the individual over the community.31 Furthermore, liberal individualism as a defining political principle

mushroomed at precisely the time when historical changes rendered it

useless as a governing principle. The cataclysmic commercial and indus-

trial revolutions brought the growth of large, impersonal organizations that

diminished the importance of individual action in the community, work-

place, and politics. Ironically, Dewey suggested that natural rights theo?

ry and individualism were dangerous from the moment of their

institutionalization in America: "The same forces which have brought about the forms of democratic government, general suffrage, executives

and legislators chosen by majority vote, have also brought about condi?

tions which halt the social and humane ideals that demand the utiliza-

tion of government as the genuine instrumentality of an inclusive and

fraternally associated public." While the conditions of life had changed, ideas had not kept pace; Americans held fast to their traditional, divisive

individualism which prevented them from addressing social ills. "The

Great Society created by steam and electricity may be a society, but it is

no community."32 Thus, the Great Society and liberation of the individual facilitated

by modern technology and concomitant intellectual developments destroyed the sense of community, which formation of a public requires, at pre?

cisely the moment in history when men and women most needed to rec-

ognize their common goals. It is important to stress here Dewey's emphasis on community, for he felt that the only real solution to the public's prob? lems lay in the development of a "Great Community" built on mediated

30Ibid., 86-87. 31Ibid., 103, 97. 32Ibid., 109.




communication with roots in face-to-face interaction. He never was quite clear how a complex society could untangle its massive web of commu?

nication and mobility, but he looked with hope to "community organi? zations" (perhaps like Hull House and the social welfare organizations he

was familiar with in Chicago and New York) to fill the void left by the

disintegration of family, neighborhood, and church. While Dewey was

uncertain how successful these groups would be in establishing commu?

nity spirit, he concluded his treatise by asserting that the immense intel?

ligence of the modern world "is dormant and its communications are

broken, inarticulate and faint until it possesses the local community as its

medium."33

As Dewey reminded his readers over and over again, the road to

community and the road to democracy are identical. For a community to

function democratically, the individual must have "a responsible share

according to capacity in forming and directing the activities of the groups to which one belongs and in participating according to need in the val-

ues which the groups sustain." Consistent with his rejection of strict indi?

vidualism, he did not place the individual apart from or transcendental to

the community. Rather, he underscored the individual's participation in

the life of the group as the key to self-realization. But the community also

had a responsibility to the individual: "From the stand point of the groups, it demands liberation of the potentialities of members of a group in har-

mony with the interests and goods which are common." The type of

democracy he envisioned, therefore, was positive in that it provided the

means necessary for individuals to realize their full potential.34

Dewey's emphasis on community demanded the participation of all

its members, thus rendering the democratic realists' advocacy of society run

by experts an ineffective solution to the public's disorganization. Their

argument rested on faulty logic: the American public, if it was as ignorant, unstable, frivolous, and biased as the democratic realists claimed, would

never allow an aristocracy of intellectuals to develop. But more impor-

tantly, Dewey argued that experts should only influence matters of government administration when policies were already framed. Who should determine

these policies? Not the same experts. They could not act in the genuine interests of society because they were ignorant of the issues: " A class of experts is inevitably so removed from common interests as to become a class with

private interests and private knowledge, which in social matters is not

knowledge at all." Dewey's concern about the development of a class of

intellectual elites is an important point, for it has been tempting in the

"Ibid., 219. 34Ibid., 147, 149. Characteristically, Dewey turned first to education to meet these

needs. The School and Society and Democracy and Education provide the best description of Dewey's plans for educating children in a manner that taps their full potential and thus helps create democratic community.




twentieth century to view intellectuals as disinterested observers outside of

the class structure. He rejected this definition, not only because it ignored the class nature of expert policymakers, but also because it shut them "off

from knowledge of the needs which they are supposed to serve."35

Dewey maintained that the community must be responsible for deter-

mining policy, and he demanded freer social inquiry and greater dissemi-

nation of knowledge as a step toward this end. The absence of legal restrictions

did not ensure free thought and communication. Rather, they required active pursuit. Americans, he suggested, were not open to new ideas; the older,

respected symbols of ideal life inspired loyalty. Here Dewey anticipated Ross's critique of American exceptionalism. Loyalty to American institutions, enshrined as they were in the unchanging rhetoric of "individual rights," "democ?

racy," and "republicanism," made it difficult to realize the effects of historical

change on our society and harder still to alter our institutions. Consequently, the time necessary for new knowledge to seep into public awareness to a level

that spurs social action was quite long. Dewey believed education in scien?

tific ways of thinking could overcome such difficulties because "science

marks the emancipation of the mind from devotion to customary purposes and makes possible the systematic pursuit of new ends."36

Against the backdrop of the 1920s, Dewey's demand for free inquiry and the popularization of knowledge stands as an important cultural critique, for the 1920s experienced a head-on collision between the forces of patriot- ic fervor and academic freedom, of traditional values and modern intellectu?

al thought. The repression of outspoken critics of World War I resulted in the

dismissal and persecution of several academics, including James Cattell,

Dewey's friend and colleague at Columbia, who had been instrumental in

securing Dewey's assignment there. The Scopes trial challenged not only free?

dom of speech and religion, but also the very role of free scientific inquiry in

American life. By criticizing narrow-mindedness in American culture, Dewey also chided his colleagues to move their work out of the shadows of univer?

sities and government offices and into the light of the public realm. In so

doing, he joined other academics, particularly his former colleague at Columbia,

James Harvey Robinson, in calling for the popularization of knowledge.

Prompted by attacks on the teaching of evolution and the larger threat to

academics this represented, Robinson suggested "reordering and restating the incredible accumulations of scientific research so as really to affect pub? lic opinion sufficiently to discourage such reactionary enterprises as that to which

Mr. [William Jennings] Bryan has recently dedicated his oratorical genius."37

35Dewey, The Public and Its Problems, 205-7; Christopher Lasch, The New Radi- calism in America, 1889-1963: The Intellectual as a Social Type (New York, 1965); and Lewis Perry, Intellectual Life in America: A History (New York, 1984).

36Dewey, Democracy and Education, 223; idem, The Public and Its Problems, 142. 37James Harvey Robinson, The Humanizing of Knowledge (New York, 1923), v-vi.




Robinson's The Humanizing of Knowledge encouraged scientists

to unify and democratize knowledge. Science had been stripped of the

"ordinary human craving for usefulness or beauty or spiritual exaltation"

in the pursuit of unbiased knowledge, rendering it uninteresting and use-

less to the lay public. Robinson urged academics to overcome the grand divisions between natural sciences, social sciences, and humanities that served

only to fragment understanding of the human experience. Instead of seg-

menting knowledge, they should resynthesize it and make it understand-

able and accessible to the wider population. It must be "put together anew

with full regard to the ways in which the average person assimilates new

knowledge." While popularization posed problems because the public was in the habit of leaving scientific inquiries to experts and ignoring their results, it could be successful, Robinson suggested, if academics

wrote shorter, less esoteric books that appealed to individuals' concerns

with the world as they knew it.38

Taking up Robinson's crusade, Dewey sought education through the media to overcome the gap in communication among different publics,

experts, and government. But like Robinson, he recognized that present-

ing specialized information in a manner that was comprehensible and

interesting to laypersons was a difficult task. Expanding on Robinson's

demand for books that were more accessible to the public, Dewey urged that "presentation is fundamentally important, and presentation is a question of art." Art was, in fact, as necessary a precondition for creating

public opinion as was the freeing of social inquiry. He argued that "artists

have always been the real purveyors of news, for it is not the outward hap-

pening in itself which is new, but the kindling by it of emotion, perception and appreciation."39 This passage reveals Dewey's faith in the individual

to act ethically, for he assumed that the dissemination of knowledge would

evoke both reasoned and emotional responses that would unite the pub? lic for political action.

But Dewey's prescription had dangers as well as limitations. By sug-

gesting that artists use their skills to evoke emotions and rally the public to action, he nearly advocated propaganda. He should have recognized the

dangers of manipulating public sentiment after the lessons of World War

I. And this was precisely Lippmann's point: public opinion was too eas-

ily swayed. Dewey's rebuttal, that a public properly educated and informed

would not fall victim to this propaganda, does not bring us any closer to

understanding how we overcome the potential danger of misdirected or

38Ibid., 84, 74-75. In a similar vein, the Yale Institute of Human Relations, designed to promote cross-disciplinary studies of human behavior in authentic social settings, opened in 1928. James Angell, Dewey's former colleague and friend at the universities of Michigan and Chicago, supported and helped open the institute. See Lagemann, "The Plural Worlds of Educational Research," 213.

39Dewey, The Public and Its Problems, 183, 184.




malevolent manipulation of opinion. Furthermore, Dewey failed to ask the

same crucial questions about the process of disseminating knowledge which led to his suspicion of an expert class. Who employs these artists, be they painters, sculptors, or authors? How does the public ensure that

inquiry and presentation are free of bias and distortion by those individ?

uals, organizations, or governments paying the expenses, groups that may or may not be free of questionable motives? While arguing that an intel?

lectual elite could easily ally with large economic interests, Dewey ignored the same potential for artists.40

Dewey's failure to wrestle with the problems of disseminating knowl?

edge was even more interesting in light of his experience with Franklin Ford

and the "Thought News" project thirty-five years earlier. Ford, a reporter who had been disillusioned by the power of financial backers to dictate

limitations on news stories, envisioned a paper that would be free of inter-

ference from sponsors. Seeing an opportunity to "inject a little life into phi?

losophy" by testing his own ideas about the social uses of knowledge,

Dewey joined the project. The proposed paper foreshadowed Dewey's work to make science and academics useful. It "shall not go beyond the

fact; [it] shall report thought rather than dress it up in the garments of the

past . . . [it] shall treat questions of science, letters, state, school and

church as parts of the one moving life of man and hence of common inter?

est, and not relegate them to separate departments of merely technical

interest." The project failed for a variety of reasons, but only after Dewey was mocked publicly in the press for his ambitious goals. After this episode, it was surprising that he was not more direct in suggesting how artists

and the public could overcome the specter of the financial sponsor, who

haunted men and women pursuing and publicizing knowledge.41

Despite the weaknesses of The Public and Its Problems, Dewey artic-

ulated forcefully a message to experts that lay at the heart of his radical

democratic theory: the expert must play a crucial role in the populariza? tion of knowledge that would usher in democratic community. This was

the crux of the experts' ethical obligation. He had argued this in "The

Significance of the Problem of Knowledge" and "The Scholastic and the

Speculator," had encouraged his colleagues to adhere to it as president of

the American Philosophical Association, and had attempted to realize it

himself in his journalistic endeavors with the "Thought News." Taking such a stand placed Dewey in an interesting position in the philosophical

40Ibid., 205-6. 41Willinda Savage, "John Dewey and 'Thought News' at the University of Michi-

gan," Michigan Alumnus Quarterly Review 56 (1950): 204. Dewey himself explained that the project was too ambitious for the youth and inexperience of Ford and himself. For fur? ther information on the "Thought News" project, see Savage; Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democracy, 51-58; and Neil Coughlan, Young John Dewey: An Essay in Amer? ican Intellectual History (Chicago, 1973).




and social science professions. As Ross notes, his pragmatism was one of

the most important developments pushing the social sciences toward a

scientific approach.42 And, as his address to the APA stated, he embraced

scientific methods as the most reliable way humans could know about

their world; he demanded that philosophers (as well as other social sci?

entists) adopt these methods. In this respect, Dewey was in the vanguard of the professionalization process Furner describes.

But Dewey's advocacy of scientism did not preclude the active use

of knowledge gained through scientific inquiry, nor did it promote the

strict segregation of academic disciplines. At a time when social scientists

were shunning activism in the name of professionalism, Dewey placed a

moral burden on the expert to popularize and use knowledge ethically. As

he wrote in 1930,

No scientific inquirer can keep what he finds to himself or turn it to

merely private account without losing his scientific standing. Every- thing discovered belongs to the community of workers. Every new idea and theory has to be submitted to this community for confirmation and test. There is an expanding community of cooperative effort and of truth. It is true enough that these traits are now limited to small

groups having a somewhat technical activity. But the existence of such groups reveals a possibility of the present?one of the many possibilities that are a challenge to expansion, and not a ground for retreat and contraction.43

How successful was Dewey in convincing his colleagues to reject the iso?

lation of knowledge and experts from the public and to adopt his vision of

democratic community? His critics attacked as idealistic and naive his faith

in individuals to overcome their differences and to participate responsibly in

democratic government. Men and women who did adopt his proposals, par?

ticularly in education, later saw their efforts perverted into the "progressive education" movement that often retained Dewey's vocabulary for school

reform without maintaining his methods and goals. And social scientists heed-

ed his call to adopt scientific methods perhaps too literally, while ignoring his

message of ethical participation in social life. As Ross argues, social scientists

have generated models and methods to gather and analyze information and

to manipulate "such things as the money supply, consumer choices, votes, and

remedial social therapies." But without Dewey's social conscience, "blind to

what cannot be measured, they are often blind to the human and social con-

sequences of their use."44 Forty years after Dewey's death, with few of his

ideas realized, the charges of idealism and naiveti seem warranted.

42Ross, The Origins of American Social Science, ch. 10. 43Dewey, Individualism, Old and New (New York, 1930), 154-55. Examples in

Ross, Origins of American Social Science-, and Furner, Advocacy and Objectivity illustrate the decline of activism by social scientists in the early twentieth century.

44Ross, The Origins of American Social Science, 472.




Dewey himself was partially to blame for his failure, since his pro-

posals appeared utopian, ignoring the very real social and political divi-

sions in American society. On the surface, they seemed to minimize the

complexity of the individual's experience in society. Recognizing the indi?

vidual as a member of many groups, Dewey called upon these groups to

interact flexibly and fully with each other. But this did not help the indi?

vidual or the public to prioritize interests, nor did it preclude confronta-

tions among different groups and their members. He had faith that all

could find common goals through communication and careful delibera-

tion. Echoing Alexis de Toqueville, Dewey pointed out that the value of

radical democracy was that "it forces a recognition that there are com?

mon interests, even though the recognition of what they are is confused; and the need it enforces of discussion and publicity brings about some

clarification of what they are." So the essential problem of the public was

"the improvement of the methods and conditions of debate, discussion and

persuasion." And that improvement first depended upon a populariza? tion of knowledge to provide the foundation for real communication.45

Perhaps Dewey's call for communication and deliberation underes-

timated the strength of individualism and "natural" rights traditions that

created a false opposition between the individual and the community and

impeded social reform. Although his destination of a Great Community was the logical outcome of his social psychology and philosophy, his road

map for getting there failed to provide real directions and landmarks for

Americans familiar with the path of individualism. Kloppenberg argues

insightfully that Dewey sought nothing less than a transformation in

morality to overcome these social divisions and secure his democratic

community. This is undoubtedly the case. But even to early twentieth-

century Americans, who were not subjected to the degree of cynicism per-

vading our current discourse on social problems, Dewey's ideas lacked a

sense of reality and concreteness. Kloppenberg points out that this stemmed

from Dewey's recognition that no plan could ever be certain since it relied

on human decision and action, which is continually changing and reshap-

ing policy. Still, we must recognize Dewey's faith in radical democracy and

education. His unfailing belief that education could ultimately bring a

change in morality on a universal level allowed him to accept the uncer-

tainty of his ideas, even if this left him wide open to criticism.46

Despite the shortcomings of Dewey's thought, the ideal of democratic

community has attracted many Americans both before and after Dewey's

45Dewey, The Public and Its Problems, 207, 208, 147; idem, Human Nature and Conduct, in The Middle Works, 14: ch. 16. Dewey himself participated in an experiment to overcome cultural barriers in Philadelphia's Polish community. See Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democracy, 212-22.

46Kloppenberg, Uncertain Victory, ch. 10, particularly 401-10.




lifetime. Republican principles emphasizing reciprocity between the indi?

vidual and the community shaped the American nation at its founding. Since

that time the rhetoric of harmonious community life has captured the

imagination of such diverse groups as antebellum artisans, union lead?

ers, Populists, utopians, educators, feminists, and many social reformers.

Most recently, the student movements ofthe 1960s embodied the optimism that American democracy could ensure an inclusive and ethical commu?

nity life. The exceptionalist tradition that informed so much of America's

understanding of its history crept into Dewey's work as well, as he strug-

gled to reconcile community ideals with liberal, individual values.47

But Dewey's demand for the popularization of knowledge repre? sented a new method for achieving the Great Community that challenged the shape American culture was taking in the early twentieth century. As

Lawrence Cremin astutely points out, popularization raises issues about

values: What knowledge is of most worth? Who determines what knowl?

edge should be distributed? Dewey, in espousing democratization, believed

that the individual, through his or her participation in the community, was

best suited to answer these questions. In this sense, Dewey represented a

voice of radical democracy that creatively attempted to reconcile the need

for expertise with widespread political participation.

Teaching that the misconceptions pitting the individual against the

society were socially constructed, Dewey believed they could be eradi-

cated through the popularization of knowledge and communication. In this

way, he was able to overcome the democratic realists' pessimism about

American democracy. Sharing knowledge would not demean or vulgar- ize it; instead, it would elevate the quality of individual and community life. This was in large measure the purpose of free social inquiry and the

mission of social scientists. As a philosopher, psychologist, and educa-

tor, Dewey must have recognized the enormity of the task he demanded

from intellectuals. Perhaps his most important message to experts was

that they generate critical self-awareness, question existing institutions, and

put their knowledge to work building a national community that would

be worthy of the exceptionalist reputation Americans have claimed.

Through his works and activities, Dewey beseeched his colleagues in all

disciplines to put knowledge?the instrument necessary for democracy? into the hands of all.

47Sean Wilentz, Chants Democratic: New York City and the Rise ofthe American Work? ing Class, 1788-1950 (New York, 1984); John Thomas, Alternative America: Henry George, Edward Bellamy, Henry Demarest Lloyd and the Adversary Tradition (Cambridge, Mass., 1983); Lawrence Goodwyn, The Populist Moment: A Short History ofthe Agrarian Revolt in America (New York, 1978); Carl F. Kaestle, Pillars of the Republic: Common Schools and American Society, 1780-1860 (New York, 1983); Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years ofHope, Days ofRage (New York, 1987).



The Popularization of Knowledge: John Dewey on Experts and American Democracy

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