Review: Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire

Decades-old highly-influential books are typically difficult to assess because their reach dulls the brilliance of their original argument. With 130,000 citations on Google Scholar, Pedagogy of the Oppressed is one of the most cited works from the 20th century. Most educators who have shaped me likely encountered Freire’s ideas during their own training, or as practicing teachers. But this work stands apart from other oft-quoted magnum opuses whose astute remarks now seem obvious: this book is so radical in its advocacy and instruction in revolution that its reach seems surprising. Rather than being dulled by time and spread, its polemic blazes brightly.

Perhaps most people who encounter his work don’t read the book in full? Chapter 2 compares the status-quo, oppressor model of education (the “banking model of education”) to liberatory, dialogue-based education (“problem-posing” education). The banking model of education teaches students to be passive components in an existing world, to adapt themselves to its tyrannies rather than try to change it:

In the banking concept of education, knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who consider themselves knowledgeable upon those whom they consider to know nothing. … The more students work at storing the deposits entrusted to them, the less they develop the critical consciousness which would result from their intervention in the world as transformers of that world. The more completely they accept the passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is and to the fragmented view of reality deposited in them.

Students may encounter Freire’s ideas summarized in textbooks, stripped of some of the polemic arguments for the need for revolution (Chapter 1) and the instructions for revolutionaries on how to organize the people and anticipate their foe’s blows (Chapter 4). Freire’s fire might also be diluted by his obfuscatory language: terms like “oppressor” and “oppressed” are vague enough that they can easily apply to any group that restricts you, without clearly delineating many of its readers as part of the oppressor class.

In many ways, this book is a repackaging of ideas found elsewhere for Freire’s own context of Latin American peasants. There’s nothing wrong with that — in fact I think it is essential work that requires considerable skill. But it makes for a more challenging read as someone in the West in the 21st century. Freire’s political persuasion was Christian Socialist, and his Christian influences shine through, particularly in some of the language he uses around love and the relationship between the leaders and the masses. Christianity is far less dominant here — at least in terms of faith given that its value system is endemic. Freire’s influences include some of the Frankfurt School of thought, and read somewhat dated 57 years later. He writes from a humanist angle, and his beliefs about what separates humans and animals are not born out by what we know about animal psychology. Freire presents ideas found in Mao, Fanon, Lenin and Hegel, but often without the same careful and thorough development (and often without clear attribution). His most unique contribution is indeed the one he is most cited for — the banking versus problem-posing modes of education (or perhaps I simply haven’t read his sources…). As a result, I think it’s a valuable read but not an essential read. Both in terms of content and in terms of form, the most important lesson to pick up from this book is how to communicate big, complex ideas to the people you want to organize with.

Postscript: On a personal note, I discovered my father really enjoyed this work when he read it in the late sixties or early seventies. Liberation theology has been an lifetime interest for my father. It was fun to share this book together.