The One-Track Mind

U.S. educators have long been warning that the U.S.S.R. is turning out scientists and engineers at an alarming rate. But what is the Soviet educational system like as a whole? Last week, in a special report published by the National Science Foundation. Nicholas DeWitt of Harvard's Russian Research Center gave as definitive an answer as anyone has given thus far. From Soviet statistics and publications, and from tales of refugees and foreign observers. Expert DeWitt has pieced together a bleak picture of a onesided education that is wholly in the service of the state.

The Big Difference. Though the Russians boast loudly of providing education for all. their school system is not as democratic as it sounds. The regular ten-year elementary and secondary program is merciless: in 1954. less than 126 out of every 1,000 pupils who had started it managed to survive for graduation. But the big difference between U.S. and Soviet education is a matter of emphasis. Foreign languages and geography get far more attention in the U.S.S.R., and 41% of the entire upper-grade curriculum is devoted to mathematics and science. This, says Expert DeWitt, is a "distinctive feature of Soviet secondary education."

Once a pupil has graduated at 17. he is ready to try for one of Russia's 33 universities, 800 technical institutes, or the various extension and correspondence courses offered. If he passes the necessary examinations, he immediately embarks on a course of study that soon narrows down to a tiny specialty. The five broad branches of study in Soviet professional education consist of 24 fields which are broken down into 295 specialties. These are further fragmented into 450 specializations which in turn are broken up into 510 subspecializations. There are no optional courses and no electives; nor does a student spend much time in any form of general education. A science major, for instance, spends 27% of his time in general science and 67% in his special field. The remaining 6% goes into a form of political science that is largely party-line indoctrination.

Astounding Mediocrity. Within five days after the student graduates (about six in ten get through), the government assigns him a job which he usually keeps for at least three years. Once this ordeal is over, a few students are allowed to take advanced work leading to a candidate degree or eventually to a doctorate. As in his undergraduate days, each student must defend his thesis in public, and many of these theses, says Expert DeWitt, are of high caliber. But the quality varies, largely because of pressure from the government for practical and applied research. "A dissertation for the doctor of science degree on the design of depth pumps for oil wells is of questionable scientific value, and the mediocrity of a candidate degree dissertation on mobile machine-repair shops in agriculture is astounding."

Quality aside, the big trouble with Soviet education is that in overemphasizing specialization, it is turning out a generation almost wholly ignorant of the sort of liberal arts education known in the West. In the past 25 years, only 8% of the specialists graduated have majored in the social sciences. Of every four candidate degrees, three have been in science. Thus, though the 1954 graduating class was 40% smaller than that in the U.S., the Soviet is turning out twice as many engineers, 80% more agricultural specialists, three times as many physicians. In the long run, this may be bad education, but it is giving Russia just the immediate advantage it seems to want. Its supply of trained manpower in science and engineering is now either equal to that of the U.S., or in some fields slightly better. "The Soviet effort," says Expert DeWitt, "continues. Our own policies in the field of education and in regard to specialized manpower resources will decide whether within the next decade or so the scales will be tipped off balance."

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