Lunacharsky’s Blackboard: Narkompros and Likbez

Episode Narrative

In the tumultuous year of 1917, the winds of change swept through Russia, marking the dawn of a new era. The Bolsheviks, under the leadership of figures like Vladimir Lenin, seized power, propelled by the desire to transform a society mired in inequality and ignorance. Among their first actions was the prioritization of education reform, a radical step aimed at securing a brighter future for the Russian people. Anatoly Lunacharsky, an ardent advocate for education and culture, was appointed as the first People’s Commissar for Education, or Narkompros. His vision was to create an educational system that would not merely teach reading and writing but would empower citizens to think critically and act actively in their new society.

The backdrop against which these reforms unfolded was one of widespread illiteracy. Before the revolution, more than 70 percent of adults could not read or write, a staggering statistic that underscored the urgency of change. In 1918, Lunacharsky and his team launched the Likbez, the campaign aimed explicitly at eliminating this widespread ignorance. The name, short for Likvidatsiya Bezgramotnosti, or Liquidation of Illiteracy, reflected the ambition of this movement. The Bolsheviks understood that the key to building their vision of socialism lay in freeing the minds of the people. Education was integral to that liberation.

By 1918, the success of Likbez was determined by its scope and reach. The government set ambitious goals: by 1925, they aspired to reduce adult illiteracy from more than 70 percent to less than 10 percent. This was a lofty dream, yet in the revolutionary fervor of the times, it ignited hope across the population. With the issuance of the Decree on the Organization of the Unified Labor School that same year, the foundation was laid for free, secular, co-educational schooling for all children aged 8 to 17.

As the Civil War raged on, the task of eradicating illiteracy became even more daunting. But Lunacharsky and Narkompros established a Central Committee for the Liquidation of Illiteracy in 1920, bringing order to a chaotic landscape. Local committees mobilized volunteers and teachers to spearhead mass literacy drives throughout the vast reaches of the USSR. The ideological battle being fought on countless fronts was mirrored in the struggle to educate the populace, and with the help of volunteers, this dream began to take shape.

One of the most innovative aspects of the campaign was the use of agit-trains. These were mobile classrooms, libraries, and even film projection units that traversed the rural expanses of the country. They brought education and propaganda directly to remote villages. These trains were not merely tools of instruction; they were symbols of hope and possibility in a landscape scarred by conflict. The trains roared to life, echoing the sound of ambition and aspiration through barren fields.

In 1921, the Soviet Union took another daring step by establishing Goskino, the first Soviet film studio. Its mission was clear: to produce educational films that could be utilized in schools and aboard agit-trains. Visual storytelling became a potent force for change, drawing in audiences and bringing complex ideas to the masses in an engaging way. Education was not simply an endeavor confined to the walls of schools; it became a living, breathing element of the very fabric of society.

The efforts of Lunacharsky's Narkompros bore fruit. By 1923, over 100,000 volunteer teachers were engaged in the Likbez campaign. Night schools flourished in factories and barracks, as workers sought to better themselves amid the backdrop of revolutionary fervor. The initiative encapsulated a spirit of communal growth and self-improvement. Each classroom held within it the dreams of a generation eager to escape the shadows of ignorance.

Nadezhda Krupskaya, Lenin's wife and a remarkable education reformer in her own right, played an instrumental role in this evolution. In 1924, she spearheaded the creation of a nationwide network of public libraries designed to provide access to books for both workers and peasants. Under her watchful eye, the number of public libraries skyrocketed from 1,500 in 1917 to over 10,000 by 1925. These libraries became sanctuaries of knowledge, each one a testament to the belief that empowerment lay in the written word.

While a larger narrative of social justice unfolded, organizations like Proletkult provided essential support. Active from 1917 to 1925, they staged experimental theater and published educational materials to instill socialist values among the working class. Illiteracy was not just a lack of technical skill; it was a barrier to full participation in the society the Bolsheviks were trying to construct. The arts played a crucial role in bridging that divide.

By 1926, Radio Moscow came onto the scene, broadcasting educational programs to millions, further embodying the effort to enlighten the population. As the world changed around them, the Soviets were busy creating new ways to disseminate knowledge and culture. They were fighting a war against ignorance, and every tool at their disposal was thrown into this battle.

Progress continued, and by 1927, the USSR had established over 200,000 literacy groups. More than 10 million people were enrolled in night schools and literacy courses, evidence of a burgeoning public eager to learn. The awakening of the masses reflected the indefatigable spirit that defined the Soviet people. They were not content to remain passive recipients of information; they sought actively to reclaim their agency.

As the years rolled on, education in the USSR underwent significant transformations. In 1928, the government introduced the first standardized Soviet textbooks, a reflection of their commitment to instill Marxist ideology alongside scientific knowledge. By 1930, the adult illiteracy rate had dropped to around 25 percent, a marked improvement from the pre-revolutionary era, yet still short of their ambitious goals.

The government launched a “Five-Year Plan for Education” in 1931, aiming to universalize primary education and expand secondary and higher education opportunities. This plan was ambitious, but the time had come to fully realize the dream of an educated populace. By 1934, the number of students enrolled in Soviet schools had risen from 7 million in 1917 to over 20 million, a staggering increase that signified the success and reach of Narkompros’s endeavor.

Compulsory education was introduced for children aged 8 to 15 in 1935, placing a strong emphasis on technical and vocational training. With each new child entering a classroom, the foundation was laid for a new generation that would not only inherit the ideals of socialism but would be equipped to expand upon them. The efforts to combat illiteracy had crystallized into a comprehensive educational framework that wove together traditional learning with the practical skills needed for a rapidly industrializing society.

By 1939, the success of the Likbez campaign became strikingly clear. The illiteracy rate among adults had fallen to less than 10 percent. This marked a monumental achievement, one that not only demonstrated the tireless work of countless individuals but also ushered in a new chapter for the USSR, one where education was recognized as a fundamental right and necessity.

As World War II unfolded from 1941 to 1945, the landscape of education again shifted, but the commitment to learning endured. Mobile schools and libraries served the displaced populations and soldiers, adapting to the dire circumstances while keeping the flame of knowledge alive. The legacy of Narkompros and the Likbez campaign was not merely a passing phase; it was a testament to the transformative power of education, a constant, unyielding even in the face of adversity.

In this history of ambition and resilience, we see more than just a campaign to eradicate illiteracy. We witness the birth of a nation that placed knowledge at the center of its identity, that embraced the power of learning as a means of empowerment. The question lingers: what if the world today followed the footsteps of Lunacharsky and his contemporaries? What if education became a universal right, a fundamental pillar of society? The echoes of their endeavors remind us that the pursuit of knowledge is a journey worth undertaking — a journey that can define not only individual lives but the very fabric of a nation.