Sir Michael Barber shares fascinating insights of his many visits to Russia to help build a network of education reformers and he says, we must now spare a thought for the country's teachers and what they have to endure.

The heirs of Vygotsky

In the first decade of this century, I travelled twice a year to Russia, helping to build across that vast country a network of progressive education reformers. The Russians I met on those visits were among the most impressive education reformers I’ve ever met. From system strategy to the details of pedagogy, they were inspired. Russia was, after all, the home of Lev Vygotsky, the pioneering education psychologist. 

On one occasion in winter, when the roads were impassable, some teachers drove overnight on the ice of one of Siberia’s great rivers, so committed were they to attend a professional development session. I saw primary school children learning language through rhyme and song. I saw the chessboards set out ready for the lunch hour in the basement of a secondary school near the city of Vladivostok. Everyone talked with passion about the great works of Russian literature and classical music. Many of the leaders of reform were physicists, a subject in which, in Communist times, it had been possible to rely on evidence and thrive on merit, unlike the social sciences. 

No going back 

I can’t and don’t want to go to Russia any longer – my last visit was more than a decade ago – but many of the people I met back then are still there. Life is very different now. In many ways, it has returned to Soviet days. “We keep trying to build new institutions,” said former Russian prime minister, Viktor Chernomyrdin, in the heady post-Soviet days of the 1990s, “but they all turn out to be the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.” He was more prophetic than he could possibly have known. 

Except in the big cities, teachers, like everyone else, depend for their news purely on the state-run media. As one colleague described it, this leads to ‘zombification’. 

Each Monday, teachers are expected to explain to their pupils how well the war in Ukraine is going – many know only what they hear in the media and simply reinforce those messages; others, who know more, through global social media for example, face a dilemma. Do they want to put their heads above the parapet? And put themselves or their family at risk? Or should they stay silent? 

After all, teachers are expected to report on any students who show signs of dissent so no doubt the reverse is true, too: if a teacher questions the orthodoxy, maybe they will be reported? Perhaps by a student or parent or a card-carrying supporter of the government on the staff, for example. And when elections come round, teachers are involved not just in running the process, but also in ensuring the right result. They are in effect functionaries, not just of the state but of the present government itself. As in the Soviet days, maths is less of a challenge in this context than literature, history or the social sciences. 

Meanwhile, if leading education academics or administrators (among whom are some of the most brilliant anywhere in the world) question government policy, they are hounded. University leaders and professors have been locked up and only released when they plead guilty to unspecified charges. Fictional photo-shopped videos are created and circulated to family and friends showing these people in compromising circumstances. Others have left the country. You can understand why. 

Nationalists and patriots 

The author John le Carré once said, “Nationalism (is) quite different from patriotism. For nationalism you need enemies.” Russian nationalism is dominant these days and the West is the enemy. But there are also many good Russian patriots. They believe in Russia and its culture; they don’t need or want enemies in Ukraine or the West. But they don’t want to leave the country they love either. 

After all, many Russians my age (I’m 67) were brought up by parents who survived Stalinism. Survival skills and dark humour are embedded in the culture. 

While many great artists really did leave Russia in the 1920s and 1930s, Anna Akhmatova, one of the 20th century’s greatest poets, stayed. She stayed because Russia was her home. She survived two world wars and Stalin’s purges, the murder of her husband and the imprisonment of her son. “I’m not of those who left their country, for wolves to tear it limb from limb,” she wrote. 

Are today’s good and bold Russian patriots who are staying anxious? “No,” one told me, “I live here and I’m not worried about the risks anymore.” The spirit of Anna Akhmatova still lives. 

As 2023 begins, spare an empathetic thought for the patriotic Russian teachers living daily with these dilemmas of our time. They are, after all, the heirs of Vygotsky. It’s not easy to speak out. And, with a touch less empathy, spare a thought too for the ‘zombified’ – they are victims of a system, too. 

AMBITIOUS AND CHALLENGING: 

An ardent educationist, Sir Michael is also the author of Accomplishment: How to achieve ambitious and challenging things

Sir Michael Barber
Founder and Chairman of Delivery Associates
www.deliveryassociates.com

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