Directing Oneself to Learn
When Malcolm S. Knowles, Elwood F. Holton, and Richard A. Swanson wrote The Adult Learner: The Definitive Classic in Adult Education and Human Resource Development, they did not merely produce a technical manual on how adults learn. They opened a new horizon about what it means to be a human in process—showing that learning is not simply about adding knowledge, but about preserving one’s freedom in a world that is constantly changing. They formulated six principles that became the foundation of modern andragogy: the need to know, the self-concept of the learner, prior experience, readiness, life-centered orientation, and intrinsic motivation. From these principles arises a larger thesis: adult learning is not a matter of method, but an existential encounter between meaning and experience. It is no longer a classroom but life itself, continuously restructured by the reflective consciousness of the learner.
Beneath the simplicity of these principles lies a profound epistemological revolution. Knowles and his colleagues distanced themselves from traditional pedagogy, which sees learners as empty vessels to be filled. They inverted that logic: the adult is not a vessel but a source. He or she brings experiences, values, and needs that guide the direction of learning. In this view, learning is not the transmission of knowledge but the transformation of meaning. This paradigm resonates deeply with John Dewey’s idea of experience and education. Dewey emphasized that experience is the raw material of learning; knowledge does not emerge from theory detached from reality but from reflection upon lived experience. Thus, andragogy becomes an extension of pedagogical pragmatism: an orientation toward living experience, not rigid curriculum.
Yet Knowles’s vision extends beyond pragmatism. He emphasizes the moral autonomy of the learner—a notion closely related to Carl Rogers’s Freedom to Learn. Rogers asserted that meaningful learning only occurs when individuals are fully engaged in the process, when the teacher ceases to be a controller and becomes a facilitator. Autonomy here is not isolation but confidence in self-direction. Knowles made this the central principle: the learner’s self-concept. In the realm of adult education, autonomy becomes the essence of human dignity. It is not merely an effective method but an ethical acknowledgment of intellectual freedom.
At this point, andragogy intersects with existentialist philosophy, particularly as developed by Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. Both viewed human beings as creatures who continuously shape themselves through choices and actions. Learning, in their sense, is an existential project of becoming something not yet realized. Knowles’s theory can therefore be read as a practical articulation of existentialism in the domain of education. Adults learn not because they are told to but because they wish to understand their own existence. They seek meaning within their experiences, constructing identity from fragments of life.
If Knowles focuses on experience, Jack Mezirow goes further with the concept of transformative learning. He showed that genuine learning is not merely the accumulation of information but the transformation of one’s frame of reference. When people reflect on the assumptions inherited from the past—when they dare to question their own beliefs—transformation takes place. In this light, Knowles’s six principles gain deeper resonance: the need to know is not just a cognitive desire but a call to reexamine life’s meaning; intrinsic motivation is not just psychological drive but the will to become a more complete human being.
Mezirow demonstrates that meaning transformation often arises through disorienting dilemmas. Adults learn when their old experiences can no longer explain new realities. In the workplace, such crises appear when technology changes the means of production; in private life, when old values no longer align with circumstance. Andragogy, with its flexibility, provides an ethical framework for facing such crises. It does not demand obedience to systems but instead offers a space for critical reflection. Here andragogy meets Paulo Freire’s vision in Pedagogy of the Oppressed.
Freire rejected the “banking” model of education that treats learners as repositories of information. For him, learning is dialogue, not deposit. It is a process of liberation through which humans become aware of their historical position and act to transform it. Knowles may not use Freire’s political language, yet his humanistic core aligns with it: adult learning as a project of freedom. The difference lies in emphasis—Knowles stresses personal freedom, Freire social freedom. Combining the two yields a fuller vision: adult learning as freedom rooted in social responsibility.
In practice, Knowles never denied that social motivation influences learning; he simply refused to make it the sole objective. Andragogy allows for multiple contexts: one may learn for career, for community, or for spiritual meaning. The essence is choice. Yet this theory carries risk. When applied within corporations or modern institutions, individual autonomy can be co-opted as an instrument of productivity. Andragogical training programs may turn into managerial tools demanding endless “self-development.” This is precisely what Stephen Brookfield and bell hooks warn against—they remind us that adult education is never neutral in relation to power.
Hooks teaches that the classroom is a political space: who speaks, who listens, who remains silent—all are power structures. In this light, the principles of self-concept and motivation to learn can become paradoxical. On one hand, they liberate; on the other, they can force individuals to bear responsibilities that should belong to the system. Thus, andragogy must be accompanied by critical awareness of its social context. If Freire teaches dialogue, hooks adds love and emotional presence. Teaching adults means being fully present, not only as facilitator but as a fellow learner.
On the epistemological level, The Adult Learner offers balance between theory and practice. It rejects the dichotomy between education and training, between philosophy and skill. This is what makes it profoundly relevant in the twenty-first century. In the digital society, the boundaries between learning, working, and living have blurred. Adults must adapt constantly, not as a moral duty but as a condition of existence. Read alongside Etienne Wenger and Jean Lave, Knowles’s theory gains new dimension: learning is not an individual act but participation in a community of practice. Professional identity is formed through interaction, collaboration, and the sharing of meaning among peers.
Here the principles of experience and life-centered orientation find concrete form. Learning occurs when individuals engage in real projects, when work experience becomes a laboratory of reflection. David Kolb explained this through his experiential learning cycle: concrete experience, reflective observation, abstract conceptualization, and active experimentation. When integrated into andragogy, the cycle produces a dynamic, self-directed process. Adults do not merely listen; they interpret, experiment, and evaluate their own results.
Yet with increasing digitalization, new questions arise: can andragogical principles survive in a fast, shallow virtual environment? In online learning and micro-courses, autonomy often feels like isolation. Intrinsic motivation erodes amid information overload and distraction. Here Lev Vygotsky’s theory of the zone of proximal development and scaffolding becomes crucial. Adults may be autonomous, but autonomy does not thrive in solitude. It requires social structures that challenge and support simultaneously. In digital contexts, the facilitator’s role shifts toward designing environments for collaboration and reflection, not merely delivering content.
Beyond the social dimension lies the emotional dimension, often overlooked in adult learning. Knud Illeris reminds us that learning involves three dimensions: cognitive, emotional, and social. Without balance among them, transformation cannot occur. Adults do not learn only with their minds but also with their hearts. When emotion is ignored, experience becomes cold data; when emotion is nurtured, experience becomes transformative energy. In this sense, Knowles’s intrinsic motivation takes shape as emotional awareness.
Andragogy also holds strategic significance for organizations. Chris Argyris and Donald Schön explained that individual learning has meaning only when integrated into organizational learning systems. They distinguished between single-loop learning—correcting errors without questioning underlying assumptions—and double-loop learning—reflecting upon the paradigms that guide action. When employees learn andragogically, organizations must learn to listen. Otherwise, individual learning will be absorbed by rigid structures. Peter Senge’s notion of the learning organization follows this path: an institution that cultivates dialogue, reflection, and shared vision. Andragogy can serve as its cultural foundation, as long as it is not divorced from systemic ethics that value authentic participation.
Beyond all practical applications, the essence of Knowles’s idea remains philosophical. He places the human being as the subject of learning, not its object. In this sense, andragogy is not merely a theory of education but a declaration of faith in the human capacity for change. It stands against determinism that views individuals as products of social or economic conditions. It restores faith in free will—in humanity’s ability to choose even within constraints. This is why The Adult Learner endures across institutions and eras. It speaks to the universal desire to understand oneself through conscious action.
Yet like all great theories, andragogy requires critique. Feminist and postcolonial perspectives argue that the concept of a universal “adult learner” often ignores the diversity of human experience. What does autonomy mean for women in patriarchal societies, for migrant workers in neoliberal economies, or for indigenous peoples learning under the pressure of modernization? In such contexts, andragogy must be culturally reinterpreted. Its principles remain valuable but must be applied with awareness that adulthood itself is lived differently across the world.
This development calls for a pluralistic approach, as Knud Illeris and Stephen Brookfield suggest. No single theory can explain the complexity of adult learning. Andragogy must converse with others, not to dissolve itself but to expand perspective. For instance, when applied to leadership training, the principle of self-concept can be integrated with Edward Deci and Richard Ryan’s self-determination theory, which highlights three basic human needs: autonomy, competence, and relatedness. Learning then becomes a holistic experience uniting personal will, professional mastery, and social connection.
In practice, andragogical design requires balance between freedom and structure. The facilitator must navigate between guidance and space. The principle of “the learner’s need to know” becomes the first compass: every program must answer three basic questions—why, what, and how. Without this clarity, adults lose motivation. The self-concept principle demands flexibility: learners should choose their path, pace, and format. Past experience must be valued as resource yet examined critically so it does not become bias. Readiness must align with developmental stages or social demands. Problem-centered orientation calls for real-world projects, while intrinsic motivation ensures continuity beyond the course.
Within modern organizations, these principles not only enhance competence but also build reflective culture. When individuals interpret their experiences, the organization learns about itself. Adult learning thus becomes a social mechanism renewing collective values and thought patterns. This explains why Knowles’s theory remains relevant in an age of disruption. While formal education remains fixated on quantitative assessment, andragogy proposes a human-centered, contextual model.
However, in a world where algorithms increasingly dictate learning paths, Knowles’s ideas face new ethical dilemmas. Online learning platforms that prize efficiency may replace human facilitators with artificial intelligence. The question then arises: can autonomy built by automated systems still be called human autonomy? Here lies a moral tension demanding new reflection. Andragogy can survive only if it preserves its dialogical core even amid technological mediation. Perhaps it is time to read Knowles alongside contemporary thinkers like Byung-Chul Han, who warns against the cult of transparency and over-productivity. Learning must never be reduced to performance; it must remain a space of quiet dialogue with the self.
Looking over more than half a century of its influence, it is clear that The Adult Learner is not merely a theory of education but a meditation on human freedom within modern systems. It endures because it speaks to something deeper than economic necessity: the desire to understand and renew oneself. Its principles are simple, yet their strength lies in flexibility and timeless humanism. In a world obsessed with specialization, andragogy reminds us that true knowledge is the ability to relearn—to reinterpret old experiences in new contexts.
Ultimately, the adult learner embodies the condition of modern humanity itself: a being never complete, constantly balancing stability and change, freedom and responsibility. Knowles, Holton, and Swanson wrote not to teach technique but to instill faith in the limitless capacity of every human to learn, provided they are allowed to choose, reflect, and participate. In a world obsessed with measurable outcomes, they remind us that process itself is value.
To direct oneself to learn is to recognize that knowledge cannot be forced. It grows from within, from the encounter between experience and reflection. That is the essence of adulthood—not age, but willingness to keep changing. Andragogy, ultimately, is not merely a theory of education but a statement about human dignity: that every individual has the right to understand life, to rewrite their own story, and to make learning the highest form of freedom.