1945: An Epochal Year for Research and Education in the United States

Mention the year 1945 to an historically-knowledgeable person—it’s likely immediately to evoke thoughts of “war” as well as “peace”. On May 8, 1945, following a successful bombing and ground assault on German-occupied lands, the Axis powers surrendered to the Allies. Then, months later, on September 2, 1945, following the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Japanese leadership surrendered and Emperor Hirohito renounced his political and military authorities.

Much of the history of the next eight decades can be conceptualized in terms of various sequelae to those events: and despite considerable turbulence, our world has avoided a third world war—so far! Whether the post-war period has ended is widely discussed.

I contend that much of the current educational landscape, particularly in the West, was also a product of that fateful year. Here I foreground the publication of two highly influential documents both published in 1945. Though not usually yoked together, they jointly wielded a great deal of power—so much that it’s difficult for many of us to imagine a world in which they no longer exert influence. As it happens, both were influenced by persons and events in Cambridge, Massachusetts—my home since 1961—scarcely a generation later.

Not to keep you in suspense: the documents are Science: The Endless Frontier (written by Vannevar Bush) and General Education In A Free Society (curated by James Bryant Conant).

Some Background

Until the outbreak of the Second World War at the end of 1941, the American governmental involvement in science and technology was quite limited to investment in science, technology, and other forms of research (e.g., propaganda, espionage) was spurred by the Nazi overtake of much of Europe, the Japanese takeover of much of East Asia, and the concomitant heavy involvement of the United States (through scientific and engineering research) as it sought to wage and win key battles.

Indeed, once the War on two fronts had been launched, the United States joined Great Britain in targeted investments in science and research—leading the way in radar, aviation, espionage, and, of course, the covert creation, testing, and eventual detonation of two atomic weapons. And because of hostility toward Jews and other populations deemed undesirable at the time, many scientists and other scholars fled to the United States or other countries not dominated by belligerent nations—and joined the battle as best they could.

O. S. A. C. Campus Original Collection: Gerald W. Williams Collection, 1855-2007 Item Number: WilliamsG: Wvpeoplestreet Taken circa 1930

As for the realm of higher education: at the start of the 20th century, only a small proportion of the American youth completed high school. Even by the start of the WWII, college education still involved only a small proportion of the youth population—overwhelmingly white, overwhelmingly male, and—even in the wake of an economic depression—capable of covering the costs of tuition, meals, and housing (though the costs then were modest, compared to 75 years later).

During World War II, much of the young male population went to war—paradoxically, opening up spaces on campus for immigrants, women, as well as others who for one reason or another were not eligible to join the armed forces. Once the War had been successfully concluded, colleges and universities welcomed those who had served and had survived—and the “GI Bill” covered much of the costs for matriculation at the post- secondary level.

A Firm Conviction

While not always stated explicitly, the leaders of the United States—including the so-called “wise men” (Isaacson and Thomas, 2013)—had reached strong conclusions: a World War must not be allowed to happen again! Science and research must continue; and all citizens should be prepared to live and to thrive in democratic societies.

Enter Bush and Conant

Vannevar Bush was an electrical engineer who had received his degrees at MIT and subsequently held various leadership roles there. Frequently consulted on military and technological matters, he was a leading figure in America’s “military-industrial complex” (a phrase popularized by President Dwight David Eisenhower in his final message to the American citizenry). As a key administrator of leading technological institutions—e.g., the first administrator of the Manhattan Project and the President of the Washington-based Carnegie Institute—Bush was understandably on the lookout for funding for individuals and institutions that could aid in current war efforts. But he also was committed to training scientists for succeeding decades and delineating missions that they could pursue and realize.

Bush attending a meeting at the University of California, Berkeley in 1940. From left to right: Ernest O. Lawrence, Arthur H. Compton, Bush, James B. Conant, Karl T. Compton, and Alfred L. Loomis

In Science: The Endless Frontier Bush and colleagues laid out a plan for identifying individuals with scientific interests and aptitudes. Of particular importance were bench scientists, engineers, and medical personnel. To accomplish this goal, their report described agencies and procedures that could identify, support and sustain research endeavors over the long haul. The report led to the creation of the National Science Foundation, and, eventually, other agencies and entities that enabled first-rate scientific work in this country.

James Bryant Conant, born in the outskirts of Boston, came from family of modest means. He was nonetheless admitted to Harvard College, where he blossomed as a budding scientist. Appointed to the presidency of Harvard at a young age, Conant was determined to make it the leading university in the country (which it had not been heretofore). Relatedly, he sought to open it up to the most promising secondary school graduates (he was instrumental in creating The Education Testing Service, with its famous, or infamous, Scholastic Aptitude Test).

Like Bush, Conant laid out a broad vision. He felt that Harvard College should have clear academic aspirations for the student body. It should carefully steer a path between considerable choice of curriculum (as had been the penchant of his predecessor Charles W. Eliot)—on the one hand… and a largely prescribed curriculum, as was the case at other Ivy League and “peer” institutions.

Bringing together intellectual leaders from across the campus and across the curriculum, Conant gave his appointees a mandate to create a curriculum that would span the best of both worlds. Having spent two years considering various options, Conant’s team eventually laid out General Education In A Free Society, also known as “The Harvard Red Book”, a nearly 300 page report on the committee’s recommendations. Focusing on secondary school as well as college, the authors contended that all students should be required to take courses in three broad areas: Humanities (e.g., English, a foreign language, an art form): Natural Sciences (e.g., physics, chemistry, biology); and Social Sciences (e.g., history, area studies, an exposure to psychology and sociology). Some choice but also clear requirements…

Should this plan be adopted, all students who grew up and attended secondary school and possibly college would have gained some familiarity with the broad range of knowledge. Pointedly and importantly, they would have the requisite knowledge, the intellectual discipline, as well as the oral and writing skills to participate competently in a democratic society. Those who matriculated in college should also acquire considerable expertise in one “area of concentration” (Harvard’s term for “major”.)

There’s little doubt that, as leading figures of two major American universities, located a few miles apart on the Charles River, Vannevar Bush and James Conant knew of one another’s efforts—indeed, they may well have worked in concert, at least some of the time (Harvard Square is just a short bus or subway ride from Tech Square). And it’s also likely that each of them hoped that the efforts that they led, and the verbiage that they created or catalyzed, would have enduring impact and value in this country and perhaps more widely.

Still, unless they had unusual powers of clairvoyance, it’s unlikely that either could have anticipated the events in science and higher education in the following eight decades, computer science, artificial intelligence, silicon chips, DNA and RNA, genomics, quantum mechanics, chemical syntheses in the sciences—as well as online courses, a population oriented increasingly toward higher education, relatively lavish public funding of the arts and the humanities, hundreds of junior and community colleges and, now, online institutions, offering a plethora of programs, pursuits, and degrees. While the Bush and Conant reports could justifiably be criticized because of the makeup of the authorial groups—almost entirely male, almost entirely white, almost entirely Protestant—they became—for a time—the ‘conventional wisdom’ of American society, with considerable influence abroad as well.

It's not possible to know whether Bush and Conant might have anticipated a dystopic future—one that, alas, is clearly in view after eight relatively comfortable and consensual decades in the United States. For Bush, it would be the cessation—or, at the very least, the perversion—of governmental support for science that is relatively pure, unfettered, exploratory. For Conant, it would be the cessation of a broad liberal arts education—under the aegis of a president who has declared, “I love the poorly educated,” and a vice president who has proclaimed, “The universities are the enemy.”

Living in the shadow of two earlier giants, I can only hope that the words, and the vision of Bush and Conant will prevail—for my grandchildren, and, indeed, for all children and grandchildren on the planet.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For their helpful comments on an earlier draft, I thank Derek Bok and Sissela Bok, Kirsten McHugh, Annie Stachura, and Ellen Winner.

REFERENCES

Bush. V. (1945). Science: The Endless Frontier. United States Government Printing Office.

Conant, J. (1945). (Ed.) General Education In A Free Society: Report Of The Harvard Committee. Harvard University Press.

Isaacson, W. and Thomas, E. (2013). The Wise Men: Six Friends And The World They Made. Simon and Schuster.