For those of us of a certain age with a penchant for social justice, the Cuban Revolution was our beacon of hope for a better future. Although our belief may have blinded us to the problems and excesses of the regime, the fact that a small island could stand up to the might of the US was our major cause célèbre.
More pragmatic eyes may have replaced the idealism of youth, but it is worth revisiting some of the successes of the revolution. In particular, the Cuban Literacy Campaign is an example of what one lone country can achieve in the field of educational improvement.
From disastrous beginnings with a handful of men in the mountains of the Sierra Maestra, it only took two years for Fidel Castro and his well-disciplined and motivated guerrilla army to overthrow the vicious military dictator Fulgencio Batista and install a revolutionary (though not yet communist) government on the island of Cuba in January 1959.
The guerrillas were well aware of their poverty and the lack of schooling for them and their families. Of its total population of 7 million, more than one million adults were illiterate and less than half of all Cuban children had access to school. Rural illiteracy was 42 per cent.
Speaking at the United Nations assembly in New York in September 1960 Castro promised to wipe out illiteracy by the end of the following year and declared that: “Cuba will be the first country of America which will be able to say it does not have one person who is illiterate.” Thousands were mobilised to ensure this declaration became reality. Schools were suspended; anyone who could read - from teachers to factory workers - was recruited into a force of more than 300,000 sent into the countryside to teach others how to read and write. More than 100,000 of the volunteers were school-aged children. The youngest was aged 8.
After two weeks’ intensive training, volunteers were deployed with their basic equipment - a standard grey uniform, a blanket and hammock, two textbooks (called We Shall Read and We Shall Conquer) and a gas-powered lantern. Living conditions were harsh; volunteers worked alongside their hosts; cutting sugar cane during the day; eating a minimal diet of rice and beans and teaching lantern-lit two-hour lessons for up to four people each evening.
Eradicating illiteracy
But, by December 1961, the hardships all seemed worthwhile. The adult illiteracy rate was slashed from a national average of 25 per cent to less than 4 per cent and the concentration on education has also been credited with the thirst for knowledge that almost all Cubans now possess. Educational standards remain high with small class sizes, long school days and primary classes in everything from dance to gardening as well as the obvious academic subjects and, less surprisingly, a concentration on revolutionary history. Cuba’s world-renowned healthcare system, exported to many developing countries around the world, came on the back of its educational reforms and, in 2006, Unesco acknowledged and celebrated Cuba for having one of the most effective programmes to raise literacy that the world has ever seen.
So, if the Cuban literacy programme was such a success, why has it not been lauded more by governments in western countries? Undoubtedly, politics plays a major part. UK governments, but more especially those of the US, have always been unwilling to recognise the successes of an ideology so opposed to their own. If these political differences had been put aside, it is conceivable that other countries could have seen similar gains in attainment and, as is the current focus, in closing the gap in attainment between the rich and the poor. There are lessons that we could apply today.
The mass participation of volunteer teachers could perhaps be replicated by our schools. Sending our youth out to disadvantaged areas to teach both young and old is an admirable proposition and has been tried by many schools and universities as part of community involvement programmes. I would advocate going further, however. Part of the long-term success of the Cuban programme was social cohesion as city dwellers came to realise the hardships faced by their rural compatriots. Town and country were brought together and things were never the same again.
How it could work
Sending posh kids to work in poor primaries is therefore not enough. Periods of immersion with the families in the communities where they would teach literacy and numeracy could have longer-lasting effects on their ideas of social justice. Adults and children would gain the knowledge to be literate and numerate. As in Cuba, instructions would be given to be non-judgemental, to avoid condescension and arrogance and, perhaps, our volunteers would develop the same genuine affection for and affinity with the people they were teaching.
Relevant resources were key to the success of the Cuban campaign. While the political nature of much of the reading material would perhaps best be left out, a system that uses pictures to depict everyday scenes proved a winner. Biff and Chip for adults as well as children, please.
Investment in the programme is imperative. Cuba spends around 14 per cent of its budget on education (compared with 6 per cent in the UK and 5 per cent in the US). Crucially, suspending other activities - closing schools and factories for periods of time, for instance - highlighted the overriding importance of the programme.
And maybe here lies the rub. Successive British governments and politicians have lacked the vision to implement any project with such a capacity for radical improvement. Tinkering around the edges, implementing half-hearted plans and then changing them for something else have been the cornerstones of our education systems for many years. In the non-democratic country of Cuba, however, a vision was outlined, people saw its worth, believed in the good it would do and put the effort into carrying it through.
Our own political leaders would do well to establish such a widely accepted and effective vision based on social justice.
John Rutter is headteacher of Inverness High School. He tweets @invernesshigh
