With Public Schools Under Attack, What Would Martin Say?
ByYohuru Williams
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'King
saw the goal of education as more than performance on high-stakes tests
or the acquisition of job skills or career competencies. He saw it as
the cornerstone of free thought and the use of knowledge in the public
interest.'
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This
year marked the fiftieth anniversary of Mississippi Freedom Summer and
the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, one of the most important
pieces of civil rights legislation in US history. It also has marked a
renewed push by the proponents of corporate education reform to
dismantle public education in what they persist in referring to as the
great "civil rights issue of our time." The leaders of this effort,
including US Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, are fond of
appropriating the language of the civil rights movement to justify their
anti-union, anti-teacher, pro-testing privatization agenda. But they
are not social justice advocates. And Arne Duncan is no Reverend King.
In
a 2010 speech observing the forty-fifth anniversary of the Selma to
Montgomery March, Duncan boldly invoked the words of John Kennedy:
"Simple justice requires that public funds . . . not be spent in any
fashion which encourages, subsidizes, or results in racial
discrimination." Duncan enjoined those in attendance, "Let me repeat
that, President Kennedy said that no taxpayer dollars should be spent if
they subsidize or result in racial discrimination." Yet Duncan and the
Obama Administration-through Race to the Top, a program similar to the
Bush Administration's No Child Left Behind-have pursued policies that
exacerbate segregation and racial inequality.
In
a 2010 interview with then-chancellor of the New York City Department
of Education Joel Klein, Duncan went even further, invoking the name of
Martin Luther King to justify attacks on public schools. Dr. King
"explained in his powerful Letter from Birmingham Jail why the civil
rights movement could not wait," said Duncan. "America today cannot wait
to transform education. We've been far too complacent and too passive.
We have perpetuated poverty and social failure for far too long. The
need is urgent and the time for change is now."
But
there is plenty of evidence that King would never have endorsed
corporate education reform or privatization. Consider how King defined
the role of education.
While still an
undergraduate at Morehouse College in Atlanta in 1947, King said: "I too
often find that most college men have a misconception of the purpose of
education." They "think that education should equip them with the
proper instruments of exploitation so that they can forever trample over
the masses." He continued: "Still others think that education should
furnish them with noble ends rather than means to an end."
Here,
King plainly laid out two visions of education that continue to war
against each other. While he acknowledged the importance of an education
in preparing persons for the workforce, enabling "man to become more
efficient, to achieve with increasing facility the legitimate goals of
his life," he also saw a much deeper purpose.
"We
must remember," King warned, "that intelligence is not enough . . .
Intelligence plus character-that is the goal of true education." He
asserted, "The complete education gives one not only power of
concentration, but worthy objectives upon which to concentrate."
King
saw the goal of education as more than performance on high-stakes tests
or the acquisition of job skills or career competencies. He saw it as
the cornerstone of free thought and the use of knowledge in the public
interest. For King, the lofty goal of education was not just to make a
living but also to make the world a better place by using that
production of knowledge for good. "To save man from the morass of
propaganda," King opined, "is one of the chief aims of education.
Education must enable one to sift and weigh evidence, to discern the
true from the false, the real from the unreal, and the facts from the
fiction." The notion that privatization can foster equality is fiction.

King
was born into a world in which privatization was the enemy of equality.
In the 1930s, for instance, the NAACP struggled against agents of the
Democratic Party in many southern states that tried to define it as a
private club; they cut off avenues to full political participation
through vehicles like the white primary. Poll taxes and literacy tests
were also still employed in many locations to deny African Americans
political participation. It is hard to imagine King under any
circumstances endorsing either testing or privatization as the means of
ensuring equality.
In fact, King by
implication strongly rebuked the privatizers in his observations
regarding Senator Eugene Talmadge, the notorious segregationist governor
of his home state of Georgia.
Talmadge, King
observed, "possessed one of the better minds of Georgia, or even
America," and "wore the Phi Beta Kappa key." King reflected, "By all
measuring rods, Mr. Talmadge could think critically and intensively; yet
he contends that I am an inferior being. Are those the types of men we
call educated?"
The same could be said at
present for the cadre of corporate education reformers touting Ivy
League degrees and billion-dollar bank accounts without an ounce of
empathy for those harmed by their efforts. Like Talmadge, they fail to
see beyond the narrow confines of their own self-interest the inherently
dangerous and corrosive impact their policies are having not only on
the nation's youth but also the foundations of American democracy. When
Arne Duncan suggests, for instance, as he did in a speech at a Brooklyn
charter school in 2009, that based on high-stakes testing, "we should be
able to look every second grader in the eye and say, 'You're on track,
you're going to be able to go to a good college, or you're not,' " there
is a serious problem. In neglecting to address how the nation would
deal with the so-called failures on these high-stakes tests, he is not
only betraying the movement but the very function of education as King
imagined it.
King would never have endorsed
high-stakes testing. "The function of education," he explained in 1947,
"is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically."
Furthermore, he never would have supported any individual or group that
promoted a view of education simply as a means of ensuring job
efficiency without human compassion. Education that "stops with
efficiency," he warned, "may prove the greatest menace to society. The
most dangerous criminal may be the man gifted with reason, but with no
morals."
King saw how school privatization
was used to maintain segregation in Georgia. He witnessed the insidious
efforts of Eugene Talmadge's son, Herman, a distinguished lawyer, who
succeeded his father in the governor's office. Herman Talmadge created
what became known as the "private-school plan." In 1953, before the
Supreme Court's ruling in Brown v. Board of Education, Talmadge proposed
an amendment to the Georgia Constitution to empower the general
assembly to privatize the state's public education system. "We can
maintain separate schools regardless of the US Supreme Court," Talmadge
advised his colleagues, "by reverting to a private system, subsidizing
the child rather than the political subdivision." The plan was simple.
If the Supreme Court decided, as it eventually did in Brown, to mandate
desegregation, the state would close the schools and issue vouchers to
allowing students to enroll in segregated private schools.

What
we are seeing in the name of "reform" today is the same plan with
slight modifications: brand schools as low-performing factories of
failure, encourage privatization, and leave the vast majority of
students in underfunded, highly stigmatized public schools.
This
effort will create an America that looks more like the 1967 Kerner
Commission's forecast, two societies separate and unequal, than Martin
Luther King's Beloved Community.
For King,
the Beloved Community was a global vision of human cooperation and
understanding where all peoples could share in the abundant resources of
the planet. He believed that universal standards of human decency could
be used to challenge the existence of poverty, famine, and economic
displacement in all of its forms. A celebration of achievement and an
appreciation of fraternity would blot out racism, discrimination, and
distinctions of any kind that sought to divide rather than elevate
people-no matter what race, religion, or test score. The Beloved
Community promoted international cooperation over competition. The goal
of education should be not to measure our progress against the world but
to harness our combined intelligence to triumph over the great social,
scientific, humanistic, and environmental issues of our time.
While
it seeks to claim the mantle of the movement and Dr. King's legacy,
corporate education reform is rooted in fear, fired by competition and
driven by division. It seeks to undermine community rather than build it
and, for this reason, it is the ultimate betrayal of the goals and
values of the movement.
Real
triumph over educational inequalities can only come from a deeper
investment in our schools and communities and a true commitment to
tackling poverty, segregation, and issues affecting students with
special needs and bilingual education. The Beloved Community is to be
found not in the segregated citadels of private schools but in a
well-funded system of public education, free and open to all-affirming
our commitment to democracy and justice and our commitment to the
dignity and worth of our greatest resource, our youth.
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Yohuru Williams is
an education activist and professor of history at Fairfield University
in Fairfield, Connecticut. He is the author, editor, or co-editor of
several books, including Black Politics/White Power: Civil Rights Black Power and Black Panthers in New Haven(Blackwell, 2006), Teaching Beyond the Textbook: Six Investigative Strategies (Corwin Press, 2008), and Liberated Territory: Toward a Local History of the Black Panther Party (Duke,
2008). He also served as general editor for the Association for the
Study of African American Life and History's 2002 and 2003 Black History
Month publications, The Color Line Revisited (Tapestry Press, 2002) and
The Souls of Black Folks: Centennial Reflections (Africa World Press,
2003).