vii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The ideas presented in this book are based on work I have done over the past decade
on the relationships between education, lifelong learning, citizenship and democracy.
The book focuses mainly on theoretical and policy dimensions. Empirical research
which has been informed by these ideas and which, in turn, has informed the development
of these ideas has been published elsewhere. The chapters in this book are
informed by work that has been published before, but have been thoroughly revised
for the purpose of this publication. As with all writing, this book is the outcome of
many conversations and discussions I have had with friends and colleagues around
the world, and is also strongly informed by conference presentations, seminars and
courses I have given on these topics and on the input from many of those who have
attended them. I am very grateful for these interactions. I would particularly like
to thank Robert Lawy, Claudia Ruitenberg, Tyson Lewis, Maarten Simons, Mark
Priestley and Charles Bingham for providing me with opportunities for developing my
ideas and for constructive feedback on my work. I have also benefited tremendously
from visiting professorships at Örebro University and Mälardalen University, Sweden,
and would like to thank Tomas Englund and Carl Anders Säfström for making this
possible and for many fruitful conversations. I would also like to thank Peter de
Liefde for his support and his willingness to publish this book.
Stirling, November 2010.
5
1
From Teaching Citizenship to Learning
Democracy
Over the past decades there has been a world-wide resurgence of interest in questions
about education and democratic citizenship, both from the side of educators and
educationalists and from the side of policy makers and politicians (for an overview
see, for example, Osler & Starkey, 2006). In new and emerging democracies the focus
has been on how education can contribute to the formation of democratic citizens
and the promotion of a democratic culture, while in established democracies the focus
has been on how to nurture and maintain interest in and engagement with democratic
processes and practices. At stake in these discussions are not only technical questions
about the proper shape and form of education for democratic citizenship but also
more philosophical questions about the nature of democracy and the possible configurations
of citizenship within democratic societies.
In discussions about the state of democracy two trends can be discerned (see
McLaughlin, 2000). On the one hand there are worries about the level of political
participation and political understanding, while on the other there are wider concerns
about social cohesion and integration. In England the final report by the Advisory
Group on Education for Citizenship and the Teaching of Democracy in Schools –
known as the Crick Report after its chairman Bernard Crick – not only claimed that
there were “worrying levels of apathy, ignorance and cynicism about public life”
(Crick, 1998, p. 8) and that the current situation was “inexcusably and damagingly
bad” (ibid., p. 16). The report also argued that this situation “could and should be
remedied” (ibid., p. 16).
Within these discussions there are particular anxieties about the role and position
of young people. The notion that young people have lower levels of political interest,
knowledge and behaviour than adults has been well documented. While some argue
that this is a normal phenomenon of the life cycle and that political interest increases
with age, there is evidence which suggests a decline in political interest and engagement
among young people compared to previous generations – at least, that is, with
respect to official politics. In response to this some have argued that young people
have a different and very distinct political agenda so that a decline in engagement
with official politics does not necessarily imply disengagement with social and
political issues more generally. Others maintain, however, that young people do
not have a distinctive new political agenda of their own.
Although the evidence about levels of political interest and participation is
inconclusive, young people, seen as “citizens in the making” (Marshall, 1950, p. 25),
have become a principal target of government initiatives aimed at countering the
CHAPTER 1
6
perceived trend of political and social alienation. Citizenship education has become
the cornerstone of these initiatives. In England citizenship education was incorporated
into the National Curriculum in 1988 as one of the five cross-curricular themes and
became a compulsory National Curriculum subject at secondary level for students at
Key Stages 3 and 4 (aged 11–16) in 2002. This was complemented by non-statutory
guidelines for citizenship education alongside Personal, Social and Health Education
(PSHE) at Key Stages 1 and 2 (aged 5–11). In Scotland “responsible citizenship” was
listed as one of the four capacities all education should aim to promote and develop
in the context of the new national Curriculum for Excellence, launched in 2004 and
implemented from 2010 onwards.
While I do not wish to downplay the significance of citizenship education – not
in the least because young people themselves have indicated a lack of knowledge
and understanding in this area (see, for example, White, Bruce & Ritchie, 2000) –
the inclusion of citizenship in the formal curriculum runs the risk of masking a
deeper problem concerning young people’s citizenship. The point I wish to make in
this chapter is that the teaching of citizenship represents at most a partial response
to an alleged ‘crisis’ in democracy. This is why I argue that there is a need to shift the
focus of research, policy and practice from the teaching of citizenship towards
the different ways in which young people ‘learn democracy’ through their participation
in the contexts and practices that make up their everyday lives, in school, college
and university, and in society at large.
The shift from teaching citizenship to learning democracy makes it possible to
overcome the individualistic conception of citizenship that underpins much recent
thinking in the area of citizenship education. The focus on learning democracy makes
it possible to reveal the ways in which such learning is situated in the unfolding
lives of young people and how these lives, in turn, are implicated in wider cultural,
social, political and economic orders. It ultimately is this wider context which provides
opportunities for young people to be democratic citizens – that is to enact their
citizenship – and to learn from this. The shift from teaching citizenship to learning
democracy emphasises, in other words, that democratic citizenship should not be
understood as an attribute of the individual, but invariably has to do with individualsin-context
and individuals-in-relationship. From a research point of view this means
that it is only by following young people as they participate in different formal and
non-formal practices and settings, and by listening to their voices, that their learning
can be adequately understood. This, in turn, makes it possible to acknowledge that
the educational responsibility for citizenship learning is not and cannot be confined
to schools and teachers but extends to society at large.
I begin this chapter with a reconstruction of the discussion about citizenship and
its development in Britain since the Second World War. This reconstruction reveals a
shift away from a more comprehensive conception of citizenship that was prominent
after the Second World War towards a much more individualistic approach from
the 1980s onwards. As a result of this shift, it has become increasingly difficult to
acknowledge the situatedness of citizenship. I argue that this trend is also evident in
recent developments in citizenship education, most notably in the premise that the
alleged crisis in democracy can be adequately addressed by (re)educating individuals.
FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
7
I outline the problems associated with such an individualistic approach where the
emphasis is on the individual per se rather than on the individual-in-context and inrelationship.
Against this background I argue for an approach to citizenship education
that takes its point of departure in the learning that takes place in the real lives of
young people – in school and in society at large. In the concluding section I sketch the
implications of this view for research and policy and for the practice of citizenship
education.
CITIZENSHIP IN BRITAIN AFTER THE SECOND WORLD WAR
Writing in the aftermath of the Second World War, T.H. Marshall in his essay
“Citizenship and Social Class” (Marshall, 1950) delineated a view of citizenship
which was to inform the social liberal consensus of the post-war period up to the
1970s. According to Roche (1992, pp. 16–17), Marshall’s theoretical framework
represents the “dominant paradigm” in citizenship theory in Britain and has continued
to represent the touchstone for discussions about citizenship. Mann (1987, p. 34) has
even suggested that in relation to Britain Marshall’s view of citizenship is “essentially
true.”
Marshall defined citizenship as “a status bestowed on all those who are full
members of a community,” and argued that “(a)ll those who possess the status
are equal with respect to the rights and duties with which the status is endowed”
(Marshall, 1950, pp. 28–29). Marshall took an historical approach which focused on
the development of citizenship rights in modern societies. His main thesis was that
modern citizenship includes three different kinds of rights: civil, political and social
rights. Civil rights, that is the rights necessary for individual freedom, such as “liberty
of the person, freedom of speech, thought and faith, the right to own property and
to conclude valid contracts, and the right to justice” (ibid., p. 74), developed largely in
the eighteenth century. Political rights, including the right to vote and to stand for
political office, followed in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Social rights,
which mainly developed in the twentieth century, include “the whole range from
the right to a modicum of economic welfare and security to the right to share to the
full in the social heritage and to live the life of a civilised being according to the
standards prevailing in the society” (ibid., p. 74). According to Marshall each of these
kinds of rights corresponds to a particular set of institutions. Civil rights are protected
by the court system; political rights correspond to institutions of local government
and parliament; while social rights are associated with the welfare state.
Although Marshall’s analysis can be read as a description of the development of
citizenship rights in Britain, his main concern was with solving the problem of
how citizenship and capitalism could be reconciled. The growth in wealth created
by capitalism had created the conditions for increasing social rights. Yet, at the
very same time these rights posed a threat to the capitalist system since they were
collectivist by nature and required increased public expenditure and taxation. For
this reason Marshall argued that “in the twentieth century citizenship and the capitalist
class system [were] at war” (Marshall, 1950, p. 87). Marshall believed, however,
that social rights, institutionalised within the framework of the welfare state, could
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8
ultimately mitigate the worst excesses of the market. In line with the functional
analysis he was advocating, he introduced the notion of the ‘hyphenated society’, the
constellation of democratic-welfare-capitalism where “the parts are meaningless
except in their relationship with one another” (Marshall, 1981, p. 128). Social rights
thus rendered citizenship compatible with capitalism by ‘civilising’ the impact of
the market. Fundamentally, he believed that the expansion of social rights would
irrevocably ameliorate and cut across class differences and inequalities. Although there
was conflict and controversy in the post-war period over the type of policies that
were needed to achieve the expansion of citizenship, Marshall’s ideas secured
“a continued commitment to social justice and social integration through the growth
of social rights” (France, 1998, p. 98). Marshall held that with the post-war construction
of the welfare state, the progress of citizenship as a rounded and meaningful
status was complete.
Notwithstanding the importance of Marshall’s work for the understanding and
advancement of citizenship in post-war Britain, his ideas have over the past decades
been criticised for a number of reasons (for a detailed overview see Faulks, 1998,
pp. 42–52). One of the issues Marshall did not explore, was the possibility that the
state may work in the interest of one class or group of elites, rather than function as
a neutral referee – an assumption which was “naïve even in the context of 1950s
Britain” (ibid., p. 44). Faulks concludes, therefore, that although Marshall argued that
citizenship requires a social dimension to make it meaningful for most individuals,
ultimately the social rights he advocated are “paternalistic and dependent upon the
condition of the market economy” (ibid., p. 51). Marshall did not see, in other words,
“that meaningful citizenship demands active participation by citizens who possess the
necessary resources to facilitate participation” (ibid., p. 51). By failing to transcend
the agency-based approach to citizenship, Marshall did not consider “the structural
constraints which the market and coercive state place upon the distribution of the
resources necessary for citizenship” (ibid., p. 51).
FROM THE WELFARE STATE TO NEO-LIBERALISM
It was, however, not the theoretical weakness of Marshall’s arguments that led to a
decline in the impact of his thinking. Much more importantly, his optimistic belief
in the welfare state as the impartial guarantor of social justice was overtaken by
actual transformations in the industrialised world, such as the decline in autonomy
of the nation state and the globalisation of production and consumption, and by related
social and cultural changes. These developments have radically altered the way in
which citizenship is comprehended by individuals and groups in both privileged
and marginalised positions.
In Britain, the challenge to the post-war consensus primarily came from the ‘New
Right’ from the mid-1970s onwards. It followed a sustained period of economic
and political unrest and was championed by Margaret Thatcher who insisted that a
culture of ‘welfare dependency’ had become endemic in society. Here Thatcher was
intuitively following neo-liberal thinkers such as Frederick Hayek, in arguing that
social rights and welfare state provision more generally undermine rather than support
FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
9
individual freedom because they weaken personal responsibility and civic virtue.
For neo-liberalism “the only way to engender good citizenship is to see as its basis
the individual freely choosing to act in a responsible way” (Faulks, 1998, p. 68). This
helps to explain why Thatcher sought to counter and reverse the development of social
citizenship by returning to the traditional liberal idea of free markets and limited
government. She did so, however, within a neo-liberal rather than a classical liberal
framework. The difference between the two ideologies is very well captured by
Olssen.
Whereas classical liberalism represents a negative conception of state power
in that the individual was to be taken as an object to be freed from the interventions
of the state, neoliberalism has come to represent a positive conception
of the state’s role in creating the appropriate market by providing the conditions,
laws and institutions necessary for its operation. In classical liberalism, the
individual is characterized as having an autonomous human nature and can
practice freedom. In neoliberalism the state seeks to create an individual who
is an enterprising and competitive entrepreneur. (Olssen, 1996, p. 340)
The idea of ‘limited government’ does not mean weak government. The state has to
be strong to police and safeguard the market order. Gilmour summarises the apparently
contradictory logic of Thatcherite ‘authoritarian liberalism’ as follows.
There was no paradox in rhetoric about ‘liberty’ and the rolling back of the
state being combined in practice with centralisation and the expansion of the
state’s frontiers. The establishment of individualism and a free-market state is an
unbending if not dictatorial venture which demands the prevention of collective
action and the submission of dissenting institutions and individuals. (Gilmour,
1992, p. 223)
Although the explicit individualistic rhetoric with its “valorization of the individual
entrepreneur” (Hall et al., 2000, p. 464) was softened under John Major in the early
1990s, the emphasis on personal responsibility and individual choice was retained.
In important areas such as civil service and government reform, the Thatcherite
agenda was in fact speeded up under Major.
FROM SOCIAL RIGHTS TO MARKET RIGHTS: THE ACTIVE CITIZEN
The foregoing makes clear that one of the most central aspects of the Conservative
governments of Thatcher and Major was the redefinition of the relationship between
individuals and the state and hence the redefinition of the very idea of citizenship.
Faulks (1998, p. 124) describes the redefinition of citizenship as a shift from social
rights to ‘market rights,’ which comprise “the freedom to choose, the freedom to
own property and have property protected, the freedom to spend money as one sees
fit, and the right to be unequal.” At the centre of this vision stands the active citizen,
a ‘dynamic individual’ who is self-reliant and takes responsibility for his or her own
actions, rather than depending upon government intervention and support, and yet
possesses ‘a sense of civic virtue and pride in both country and local community’
CHAPTER 1
10
(ibid., p. 128). This particular form of active citizenship comprised “a mixture of
self-help and voluntarism whereby competition and rigour of market relations
would supposedly be ‘civilised’ by concern for one’s community and country” (ibid.,
p. 128). Although it was underpinned by a perceived need for shared values and
reciprocal obligations and loyalties, active citizenship was in effect more concerned
with the individual as an autonomous chooser and individual economic consumer
in the market place, than with the promotion of community values. Thatcherism, with
its individualistic emphasis, only succeeded in increasing social division, rather
than creating the basis for community spirit to emerge.
By focusing on the need for individuals to take responsibility for their own
actions, the call for active citizenship was based on a particular diagnosis of society’s
ills, in that it was assumed that what was lacking in society were active and
committed individuals. The explanation for society’s problems was thus couched in
individualistic, psychological and moralistic terms – the result of a lack of individual
responsibility, rather than an outcome of more structural causes such as under-funding
of welfare state provisions or the loss of political control resulting from privatisation
of public services. In this way active citizenship followed the strategy of blaming
individuals rather than paying attention to and focusing on the structures that provide
the context in which individuals act. Ironically, therefore, active citizenship exemplified
a de-politicisation and privatisation of the very idea of citizenship.
CITIZENSHIP AND CAPITALISM
Many analysts see the emergence of the New Right as a radical break with the past,
particularly with the social liberal consensus that existed in the first decades after
the Second World War. They mainly hold Thatcher responsible for the breakdown of
the welfare state and the erosion of social rights. While it is clear that Thatcher had
a huge impact on British society – even though she claimed that ‘such a thing’ did
not exist – and while it is also clear that successive Conservative governments had
been highly effective in reshaping the political agenda, the demise of the welfare
state cannot be exclusively accounted for by a change in political ideology and
rhetoric forged by Conservative governments. Faulks suggests that the development
of the post-war consensus that gave rise to increased and improved welfare provision
and expanded social rights should not simply be understood as a victory of the
working class over the ruling class. The development of social rights was also the
product of the needs of the ruling class to maintain modern production. The expansion
of social citizenship was, in other words, due “to the mutual benefits it secured for
capital and labour” (Faulks, 1998, p. 108).
From this point of view, it is hardly surprising that social rights came under pressure
when the needs of capitalism changed in the 1970s as a result of the increasing
globalisation of production. The relatively brief period of managed capitalism in
which production and consumption were mainly confined to the borders of the nation
state gave way to a much more anarchic form of global capitalism in which governments
were under pressure to offer suitable conditions to global capital in order to
remain a player in the global economy. Unlike Marshall’s expectations, this created
FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
11
a situation in which the ‘war’ between citizenship and capitalism returned. Social
citizenship, as it had developed in the post-war era, was increasingly seen as an impediment
to Britain’s competitiveness in the world economy. Viewed from this perspective
the Thatcherite agenda of the 1980s can be understood as “an attempt to
adjust to the new realities of capitalism by reducing impediments to capitalist investment,
such as trade union and social rights, and opening up Britain’s economy
to increasing globalisation” (Faulks, 1998, p. 121). The neo-liberal ideology of
individualism, choice and market rights suited this situation much better than the
old ideology of collectivism, solidarity and social rights.
When Labour came to power in May 1997 there were high hopes for a radical
change, including the expectation that the welfare state would be rebuilt. These
expectations, which were fuelled by the Labour Party itself, have, however, not fully
materialised. With respect to citizenship, Labour mainly sought to ameliorate the
New Right position by using communitarian ideas to emphasise the importance of
social values and social responsibilities. But in key areas such as education and health
care – the main pillars of the welfare state – Labour has simply continued with the
rhetoric and practice of choice, delivery and accountability, thereby positioning
citizens as consumers of ‘high quality’ social services, rather than as those who
participate in democratic decision making about the fair distribution of collective
resources (see Biesta, 2004[a]; 2010[a]). In this respect the Labour government
continued the individualistic neo-liberal line of thinking that was a prominent feature
of preceding Conservative governments.
THE IDEA OF CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION
The foregoing discussion of the development of citizenship in post-war Britain
not only provides the factual background for my discussion of the idea of citizenship
education. It also serves as a framework for understanding and evaluating recent
developments in this field. What it allows me to show is that developments in citizenship
education have stayed quite close to the individualistic conception of citizenship
that emerged in Britain in the 1980s. Since this is only one of the ways in which the
‘problem of citizenship’ can be understood, it becomes possible to argue – as I will do
below – that the idea of citizenship education as a process of making young people
‘ready’ for democracy, is only one of the ways in which democratic learning can be
promoted and organised, and not necessarily the best way.
Although citizenship education is not a recent invention (see, for example,
Batho, 1990), there can be no doubt that in the English context a major impetus
for recent initiatives has come from Advisory Group on Education for Citizenship
and the Teaching of Democracy in Schools. The brief of this group, set up by the
then Secretary of State for Education and Employment, David Blunkett, was “(t)o
provide advice on effective education for citizenship in schools – to include the
nature and practices of participation in democracy; the duties, responsibilities and
rights on individuals as citizens, and the value to individuals and society of community
activity” (Crick, 1998, p. 4). The group was also expected to produce “a statement
of the aims and purposes of citizenship education in schools” and “a broad framework
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for what good citizenship in schools might look like, and how it can be successfully
delivered’ (ibid., p. 4).
The Advisory Group, which consisted of representatives from a very broad political
spectrum, argued that effective education for citizenship should consist of three
strands. Firstly, social and moral responsibility: “children learning from the very
beginning self-confidence and socially and morally responsible behaviour both
in and beyond the classroom, both towards those in authority and towards each
other” (Crick, 1998, p. 11; emphasis in original). Secondly, community involvement:
“learning about and becoming helpfully involved in the life and concerns of their
communities, including learning through community involvement and service to the
community” (ibid., p. 12; emphasis in original). Thirdly, political literacy: “pupils
learning about and how to make themselves effective in public life through knowledge,
skills and values” (ibid., p. 13; emphasis in original). Along all three lines
the Advisory Group emphasised that citizenship education “is not just knowledge
of citizenship and civic society; it also implies developing values, skills and understanding”
(ibid., p. 13).
According to Kerr (1999, p. 79), the Advisory Group placed “considerable stress
on the outcomes of effective citizenship education ... namely active and responsible
participation.” What eventually ended up in the Citizenship Order (the official guidelines
for the teaching of citizenship), was considerably different to the recommendations
of the Advisory Group. This particularly weakened “the holistic impact of the
Citizenship Advisory Group’s final report” (ibid., p. 79). In the Citizenship Order the
following three attainment targets for Key Stages 3 and 4 were specified: (1) Knowledge
and understanding about becoming informed citizens; (2) Developing skills
of inquiry and approach; (3) Developing skills of participation and responsible
action (see ibid., p. 83).
THREE PROBLEMS WITH THE IDEA OF CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION
The framework for citizenship education in England has been criticised from a
wide range of different angles (see, for example, Beck, 1998; Garratt, 2000; for a
‘temperate’ reply see Crick, 2000; see also Crick, 2007). My concern here is not with
the specific content and shape of the proposals and practices but with the more
general idea of citizenship education, that is, with the idea that an alleged crisis in
democracy can be adequately addressed by (re)educating individuals, by making
them ‘ready’ for democratic citizenship through education. I basically see three
problems with this line of thinking.
The first problem with the idea of citizenship education is that it is largely aimed
at individual young people. The assumption is that they, as individuals, lack the
proper knowledge and skills, the right values, and the correct dispositions to be
the citizens that they should be. This not only individualises the problem of young
people’s citizenship – and in doing so follows the neo-liberal line of thinking in
which individuals are blamed for their social malfunctioning. It also individualises
citizenship itself, most notably through the suggestion that good citizenship will
follow from individuals’ acquisition of a proper set of knowledge, skills, values
FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
13
and dispositions. One could, of course, argue that citizenship education can only ever
be a necessary, but never a sufficient condition for the realisation of good citizenship.
This is, for example, acknowledged in the Crick Report, where it is emphasised that
“(s)chools can only do so much” and that we “must not ask too little of teachers,
but equally we must not ask too much” (Crick, 1998, p. 9). Yet the underlying idea
is that schools “could do more” and, more importantly, that they “must be helped”
(ibid., p. 9). The latter point suggests that even when the wider context is taken into
consideration, it is first and foremost in order to support the effective ‘production’
of the good citizen.
The second problem I wish to highlight, concerns the assumption that citizenship
can be understood as the outcome of an educational trajectory. The idea of citizenshipas-outcome
reveals a strong instrumental orientation in the idea of citizenship education.
The focus is mainly on the effective means to bring about ‘good citizenship’
rather on the question what ‘good citizenship’ actually is or might be. The instrumental
orientation clearly comes to the fore in Crick’s contention that “(t)he aim of the
new subject is to create active and responsible citizens” (Crick, 2000, p. 67;
emphasis added). Indeed, the overriding concern has been about how to best engender
a particular species of citizenship amongst young people. It has been to find the
‘best’ and most ‘appropriate’ methods and approaches of teaching citizenship to
young people – of achieving what is regarded to be a common goal that they can
aspire to. I therefore agree with Hall et al. (2000, p. 464), that the “contemporary
political and policy discussion is for the most part much less concerned to critically
interrogate the concept of active citizenship, than it is to debate how such a thing
might be achieved.” I wish to suggest that a continuous interrogation of the possible
meanings of citizenship, a continuous “public dialogue about rival value positions”
(Martin & Vincent, 1999, p. 236) should not only be at the very centre of democratic
life, but also at the very centre of citizenship education.
The idea of citizenship as outcome is also problematic because it is fabricated on
the assumption that citizenship is a status that is only achieved after one has successfully
traversed a specified trajectory. I suggest that citizenship is not so much a status,
something which can be achieved and maintained, but that it should primarily be
understood as something that people continuously do: citizenship as practice (see
Lawy & Biesta, 2006). Citizenship is, in other words, not an identity that someone
can ‘have,’ but first and foremost a practice of identification, more specifically a
practice of identification with public issues, that is, with issues that are of a common
concern. This implies that a culture of participation should be a central and essential
element of democratic citizenship.
As long as citizenship is conceived as outcome, it places young people in the
problematic position of not-yet-being-a-citizen. Indeed, as France has argued, citizenship
“is generally understood as an adult experience” and, as a result, being young
is only seen as “a transitional stage between ‘childhood’ and ‘adulthood’” (France,
1998, p. 99). Such an approach, set alongside my concerns about citizenship as
outcome, fails to recognise that young people always already participate in social
life; that their lives are implicated in the wider social, economic, cultural and political
world; and they are not isolated from these processes. In effect, being a citizen
CHAPTER 1
14
involves much more than the simple acquisition of certain fixed core values and
dispositions. It is participative and as such it is itself an inherently educative process
as it has to do with the transformation of the ways in which young people relate to,
understand and express their place and role in society.
This is precisely the point where the question of learning arises – which brings
me to the third and final problem with the idea of citizenship education. One obvious
problem with any educational strategy, including the teaching of citizenship, is that
there is no guarantee that what young people learn is identical to what is being
taught. Proponents of the idea of ‘effective’ education may want us to believe that
it is only a matter of time before research provides us with evidence about the teaching
strategies that will guarantee ‘success.’ Yet apart from the question what counts as
‘success’ and who has the right to define it, they seem to forget that what students
learn from what they are being taught crucially depends on the ways they interpret
and make sense of the teaching, something they do on the basis of a wide and diverge
range of experiences (see Biesta, 1994; Bloomer, 1997). Education is a process of
communication, which relies upon the active acts of meaning making of students
and it is this unpredictable factor which makes education possible in the first place
(see Vanderstraeten & Biesta, 2001; Biesta, 2004[b]). Moreover, young people learn
at least as much about democracy and citizenship from their participation in the
range of different practices that make up their lives, as they learn from that which
is officially prescribed and formally taught. Even where a school includes exceptional
internal democratic arrangements – such as a school council or other ways in which
young people are enabled to participate meaningfully in the collective decision making
about their educational experience – this still only represents a small proportion of
the environment in and from which young people learn. They learn as much, and
most possibly even more, from their participation in the family or leisure activities,
from interaction with their peers, from the media, from advertising and from their
role as consumers – and they often learn different and even contradictory things
(see also Biesta, Lawy & Kelly, 2009).
All this suggests that the learning of democratic citizenship is situated within
the lives of young people. The way in which young people make sense of their
experiences – including their experience of citizenship education – depends crucially
upon their own perspectives which are, in turn, shaped by the outcomes of previous
learning and meaning-making (see Dewey, 1938[a]). But young people’s perspectives
– and hence their learning and action in the area of democratic citizenship –
are also influenced by the wider cultural, social, political and economic order that
impacts upon their lives. It is at this point that the individualistic approach to citizenship
education and the individualistic understanding of citizenship itself reveals
one of its main shortcomings as it tends to forget – or at least downplays the significance
of – the situations in which young people live and act. As France (1998) has
argued, it is not enough to expect or to enforce young people to become active
citizens.
As a society we have to recognise that young people need a stake in the society
or community in which they live. During the last 15 years this has been reduced
by the erosion of social rights and the expression of social power by certain
FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
15
adults. This has led to fewer opportunities in both the community and employment
for young people to move into the adult world. It is important therefore
to recognise that without these opportunities many young people will not feel
any desire to undertake social responsibility either to their local or national
community. (France, 1998, pp. 109–110)
I agree with France that the ‘problem’ of citizenship is misunderstood if it is conceived
as an abstract unwillingness of young people to become active in social and
political life. The problem always has to be constructed as one of young-people-incontext,
which means that it is as much about the young people as it is about the
context in which they live and learn. It is, in other words, the actual condition of
young people’s citizenship which has a crucial – and perhaps even decisive – impact
upon the ways in which young people can be citizens and upon the ways in which
they learn democratic citizenship.
CONCLUSIONS: FROM TEACHING CITIZENSHIP TO LEARNING DEMOCRACY
In this chapter I have provided an overview of the evolution of the theory and practice
of citizenship in post-war Britain. Against this background I have discussed recent
initiatives in citizenship education in England, focusing on the general thrust of the
idea of citizenship education. Although I do not wish to argue against citizenship
education – schools can make a difference – I have suggested that the prevailing
approach to the teaching of citizenship is problematic for two related reasons. On
the one hand this has to do with the fact that the ‘problem’ of citizenship is mainly
understood as a problem of individuals and their behaviour. On the other hand it is
because the response to the ‘problem’ of citizenship so conceived focuses mainly
on individuals and their knowledge, skills and dispositions. I have argued that the
problem of citizenship is not about young people as individuals but about young
people-in-context which is why citizenship education should not only focus on
young people as isolated individuals but on young people-in-relationship and on the
social, economic, cultural and political conditions of their lives. This suggests a
different direction not only for citizenship education itself, but also for research
and policy. My case for a shift from teaching citizenship to learning democracy is
meant as a marker of such a change in direction.
One of the main implications for research lies in the need to focus on the ways
in which young people actually learn democracy. It requires research which aims to
understand the various ways in which young people can actually be democratic
citizens and learn from this. It asks, in other words, for a contextualised understanding
of the ways in which young people learn democracy, one which gives a central role
to their actual ‘condition of citizenship’. It is only by following young people as
they move in and out of different contexts, practices and institutions and by trying
to understand what they learn from their participation, or non-participation, in these
contexts, that we can actually begin to understand what is going in the lives of young
citizens in Britain today (for an example of such an approach see Biesta, Lawy &
Kelly, 2009).
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The shift from teaching citizenship to learning democracy also has implications
for policy makers and politicians. If policy makers and politicians are really concerned
about young people’s democratic citizenship, they should pay attention to and, even
more importantly, invest in the actual conditions under which young people can be
citizens and can learn what it means to be a citizen. What I have in mind, here, is
not only investment in economic terms, although the resources that make real and
meaningful participation of all citizens, including young citizens, possible, are of
crucial importance for the ways in which young people can learn democracy. Policy
makers and politicians also need to invest in a different way, in that they need to
think very carefully about the impact of their policies and strategies on young
people’s perceptions of democracy and citizenship. What, for example, do young
people learn from the fact that the government’s interest in education only seems to
be about test-scores and performance in a small number of academic subjects? What
do young people learn from the fact that the government supports an educational
system where those with money have a much better chance of success in life? And
how does the experience of unemployment, poverty and bad housing impact upon
young people living under these conditions? There are powerful ‘lessons in citizenship’
to be learned in everyday life which means that the educational responsibility
cannot and does not stop at the point where an effective system of citizenship
teaching is in place. The educational responsibility extends to the very conditions
of young people’s citizenship, because these conditions define the context in which
they will learn what it means to be a democratic citizen.
Finally, the shift from teaching citizenship to learning democracy also has
important implications for citizenship education itself. One implication is that
questions about the definition of citizenship should not be kept outside of citizenship
education, but should be part and parcel of what citizenship education is about. What
constitutes ‘good citizenship’ is not something that can be defined by politicians and
educationalists and then simply set as an aim for young people to achieve. This does
not mean that citizenship education should only be about the exploration of the
possible meanings of citizenship. If learning democracy is situated in the lives of
young people, then citizenship education should also facilitate a critical examination
of the actual conditions of young people’s citizenship, even it leads them to the
conclusion that their own citizenship is limited and restricted. Such an approach
would provide the basis for a much deeper understanding of and engagement with
democratic citizenship than what lessons in citizenship might be able to achieve.