The fact of religious pluralism is one of the most challenging questions for contemporary liberal democracies. Political theorists variously argue that religious belief and practice can be a support for prosocial morality, can cause social division, may prevent citizens from adopting important civic norms, or should simply be an area of civic competence. All of these positions carry significant consequences for democratic education. This chapter surveys a range of positions present in political theory and democratic education literature, drawing on historical and contemporary examples from Western democracies, particularly the American context. The chapter concludes by exploring the possibility that modern liberal democratic regimes are properly considered religious themselves, and by considering the implications of this notion for debates regarding democratic education.

Democratic education is central to the functioning and flourishing of modern multicultural democracies, and yet it is subject to increasing public controversy and political pressure. Waning public trust in government institutions, sustained attacks on democratic values and customs from populist politicians and organizations, political sectarianism, and increasing trends toward privatization and chartering in the educational landscape have placed immense strain on the existing structures of public education and generally worked to undermine public confidence in democratic education. In light of these developments, it seems to us to be of central importance to return to the essential concepts, theories and values of democratic education, both as a social ideal and a political institution. This Handbook aims to offer an expansive view of the formation of individuals for democratic life and includes a diversity of theoretical traditions, topics, and thinkers that are relevant to the theory and practice of democratic education.

The COVID-19 pandemic has led to far-reaching challenges in the field of (democratic) education. This chapter focuses on two aspects. First, as a measure to contain the spread of the coronavirus, schools in many countries were closed for extended periods of time. In this chapter, school closures are discussed as an issue of educational justice, with particular attention to the problem of an education for democratic participation. Second, the pandemic has raised questions of democratic legitimacy: The political measures taken to combat the virus were seen as illegitimate by parts of the population. In this context, there is disagreement about the basic facts regarding the virus and the response to it. The chapter discusses how teachers should deal with this kind of disagreement, in the classroom.

Both democratic education and moral education have significant formative components. That is to say, educators in both domains are concerned not only with imparting knowledge and understanding and equipping pupils with skills and competences, but also with cultivating dispositions and attitudes. A central aim of democratic education is to dispose children toward democracy and a central aim of moral education is to make children moral. My particular interest in this chapter is in how we should understand the relationship between these two formative projects. Is the cultivation of democratic dispositions and attitudes an exercise in moral formation? Are democratic educators, to that extent at least, also moral educators?

In this chapter, I analyze the moral transformation of Derek Black in order to acquire insights into the capacities exercised by his friends in helping him overcome his racist ideology – capacities that democratic education should foster in students. Black grew up in the white nationalist movement, but then later repudiated it after college, citing the influence of close friends as a major factor. Analysis of this case suggests that Black’s college friends possessed at least two major sets of capacities, the first concerning friendship and the other regarding the promotion of truth and justice. Efforts aimed at democratic education that aspire to address racism would do well to incorporate the development of these two capacities among their objectives.

“Populism” is a much used but still rather vague term employed mostly in political but also in educational discourses. To understand what is meant by “populist challenges to democratic education” this chapter first analyzes the historical relations between liberal democracy and public education. I then refer to a discussion of “populism” using a social-political definition of the term that was coined by American sociologist Edward Shils. This is followed by a discussion of populist changes in public discourse and education created by new media. My main focus is on the populist challenges to systems education systems and the challenges of populist positions in education itself. Finally, I will suggest the perspectives that remain for democratic education.

In this chapter, I claim that the central question of global justice in education is which – if any – educational inequalities between citizens and non-citizens in a democratic state are morally legitimate, and which inequalities between them contradict the normative foundations of democratic education. By trying to find a convincing answer to this question, I first briefly recapitulate the controversy between the cosmopolitan and the state-nationalist approaches to it. Then I elaborate on the question, whether special obligations to a privileged treatment of cocitizens over noncitizens apply to institutionalized education. I make the claim that the answer to that question depends on how we understand education – whether we spell it out as a traditionalist-authoritarian, or as democratic social practice. I argue that democratic education necessarily implies moral universalism. It requires not only the recognition of the equal moral status of all students, but also the inclusion of their individual experiences, worldviews, and ideals, regardless of their nationalities, or ethnic or cultural backgrounds, in an open and “diversity-friendly” ethical discourse that should be established in every classroom. I conclude that since democratic education is necessarily cosmopolitan in its essence, democratic educational institutions should be supranationally orientated.

Publications on citizenship, democracy, and disability tend to focus almost exclusively on the labor market, the political system, as well as assistance and support, and not on education. The same holds true in reverse. Democracy in relation to education and schooling is often discussed in a restricted manner. Disability is not treated with specific interest in this context. This chapter addresses this gap with a specific focus on John Dewey’s theoretical considerations. It first outline key aspects of Dewey’s theoretical framework before turning to the issue of disability and the specific risks it entails for democratic life in general and democratic participation in particular. It then explores the question of whether Dewey’s pragmatist approach can be used to make progress for disabled people’s education. It particularly discusses tensions and dilemmas that disability poses for democratic and inclusive education.

In Emile, Jean-Jacques Rousseau describes the education of a fictional student who follows his interests and discovers facts by problem-solving. Rousseau’s educational philosophy was embraced by child-centered progressives committed to advancing a distinctively democratic conception of education. They believed that Rousseau outlined principles for forming autonomous and independent citizens – precisely the kind of citizens ready to meet the demands of democratic self-government. In other works, however, Rousseau calls for a system of public schooling that forms patriots. He writes that education “must give souls the national form, and so direct their tastes and opinions that they will be patriotic by inclination, passion, necessity.” Can this authoritarian approach to education be reconciled with the laissez-faire principles of Emile? Should either of these educational visions be called democratic? This chapter offers answers to those questions and argues that, ultimately, both approaches aim to improve how citizens relate to one another.

In this chapter, I turn to an unlikely source for democratic inspiration: Plato’s Republic. I argue that, understood correctly, Plato’s Republic provides insights into what a flourishing democracy looks like and how education can help produce such a democracy. While Plato does not provide an explicit defense of democracy, his criticism of corrupt democracies in Book VIII and his often-ignored advocacy of egalitarian communities in Books II, III, and IV offer contemporary educators insights into a mode of education that could strengthen contemporary democracies. Once this interpretation is in place, I will discuss the ways contemporary democratic educators might use Plato’s ideas to support students in their development as democratic citizens.

Education professionals regularly confront challenging ethical questions in the course of their work. Recently, education scholars and practitioners have embraced normative case studies – realistic accounts of the complex ethical dilemmas of educational practice and policy – as a key tool both for theorizing the ethical dimension of education work and for supporting the development of education professionals as moral agents. This chapter zooms in on the second, pedagogical aim of the normative case study and makes the case that this approach to professional education is best understood as a form of democratic education. Through careful facilitation and a structured discussion protocol, the normative case study approach: (i) allows participants to discuss ethical dilemmas that arise in their work in relations of democratic equality, fostering their development of moral sensitivity and moral agency; and (ii) supports participants in learning to sustain dialogue across reasonable disagreement.

This chapter attempts to answer two questions. First, what does democratic education informed by critical theory minimally entail? Second, what does it take for a critical democratic education to succeed? The chapter argues that attention to local contexts is a necessary aspect for developing critical and democratic virtues. The chapter first sets the stage by offering a sketch of both democratic education and critical theory. The following section draws out a common occluding characteristic of both democratic education and critical education, namely, their preoccupation with national and global scopes. The next two sections draw on the work of Iris Murdoch and John McDowell to argue that cultivating moral attention to one’s local setting must be seen as an essential aspect of critical democratic education. The chapter concludes by offering brief educational applications and responses to objections related to objectivity and the threat of parochialism.

The current retributive system of school punishment conflicts with the aims of democratic education because it impedes the cultivation of essential democratic values and capabilities. To be legitimate, however, school punishment in democratic societies ought to align with, or at least not impede, the aims of democratic education. This suggests that punishment should be consistent with the communicative and inclusive nature of democracy and support the cultivation of essential democratic capabilities. Restorative justice provides such a model of school punishment by prioritizing communication and inclusion, facilitating the cultivation of democratic capabilities, and legitimizing punishment as a means of communicating remorse instead of inflicting retribution to wrongdoers. The authors argue that for school punishment to align with and support the aims of democratic education, it must shift from the retributive justice model currently employed in most schools to a restorative justice model.

In this chapter, Hannah Arendt is characterized as a “pedagogue of the public realm” and, at the same time, as an antipode to John Dewey and his ideas of democracy and education. Arendt’s understanding of the political sphere – the so-called “political” – is illuminated and questioned in its proximity to political thoughts of Jacques Rancière. The elementary political dimension of education is asserted in line with, or even despite, Arendt’s insights and skepticism.

Debate and deliberation are two commonly promoted strategies for democratic education. Both strategies are designed to unearth different points of view and then engage in reason-giving and argumentation; in other words, they help students to recognize pluralism. When done well, both also model inquiry and deepen understanding about the issues being investigated. In this chapter, we discuss the theoretical justification for each and show how the adversarial aspect of debate engages a different set of democratic skills than the more collaborative approach of deliberation. These differences require teachers to make judgments about how best to use these strategies in the classroom. We conclude by addressing some critiques of these strategies and discuss how alternative discussion designs might overcome some of the limitations of deliberation and debate.

This chapter analyzes the advantages and disadvantages of democracies over nondemocracies when it comes to responding adequately to climate change in order to reflect on their implications for democratic education, understood as an ideal of education in which those educated come to a personal, informed awareness of the nature of political reality and a personal and informed understanding and assessment of the value of the two main components of the ideal of democracy: popular sovereignty and the recognition of human beings’ fundamental equality. The chapter offers three conclusions. First, we have reason to invest in democratic education – not just climate education. Second, radical (or agonistic) democratic education can be considered an important corrective and supplement to other approaches. Third, the primary value of democratic education, in the face of climate change, lies in responsibilizing students – fostering serious personal engagement with the issue.

Chapter 9 proposes concrete measures to promote role-based constitutional fellowship. First, the chapter acknowledges that bounded solidarity can support fellowship. Accordingly, the chapter identifies ways of imagining the nation to ensure that that solidarity is inclusive, and urges liberal democrats to promote inclusion cautiously. Second, the chapter discusses trust among political actors. The chapter acknowledges that some institutional arrangements – namely Westminster systems – seem relatively effective at channelling competition and alleviating the need for fellowship. Most democratic systems, however, are non-Westminster systems. Accordingly, the chapter suggests reforms that can make it easier for political competitors to act like fellows. Third, the chapter discusses trust among citizens at large. In addition to certain democratic education arrangements, the chapter argues that the integrated workplace and less-voluntary associations are more promising than voluntary civil societal associations as forums to promote trust. Fourth, the chapter demonstrates the need for some material redistribution to ensure that citizens feel that they are all in it together.

This chapter draws on the concept of affective atmospheres that is currently circulating in a growing number of academic disciplines to theorize how democracy and democratic education take hold and circulate in classrooms and schools. The chapter asks under which circumstances affective atmospheres are experienced or even ‘engineered’, encompassing affective and material features that (de)legitimate democracy, democratic education and populism. The aim is to render the concept of atmosphere tractable through a line of theorizing that recognizes the affective force of democracy and populism and asks how democratic education may respond by paying careful attention to democracy as affectively produced and transmitted. The chapter also examines what it would take to reinvigorate the affective atmospheres of democratic education in schools in light of the rise of right-wing populist affectivity.

This chapter argues that it is important for educators in democratic education to understand how the rise of right-wing populism in Europe, the United States and around the world can never be viewed apart from the affective investments of populist leaders and their supporters to essentialist ideological visions of nationalism, racism, sexism and xenophobia. Democratic education can provide the space for educators and students to think critically and productively about people’s affects, in order to identify the implications of different affective modes through which right-wing populism is articulated. Furthermore, this chapter points out that ‘negative’ critique of the affective ideology of right-wing populism is not sufficient for developing a productive counterpolitics. An affirmative critique is also needed to set alternative frames and agendas which endorse and disseminate alternative concepts and affective practices such as equality, love and solidarity. These ideas provide critical resources to democratic education for developing a culture and process of democracy that transcends the negativity of mere critique of either right-wing populisms or inadequate forms of democracy.

This chapter asks: when political emotions are invoked in the classroom, can this be done without the process of democratic education degenerating into a form of emotional and/or political indoctrination? The source of inspiration for addressing this question is Hannah Arendt’s political thought on emotion and education. The aim of the chapter is to show that despite the tensions and weaknesses that have been identified over the years about Arendt’s views on both emotions and political education, she provides compelling insights against the possibilities of political education degenerating into moral-emotional rhetoric. Arendt highlights the dangers of constructing political emotions in the classroom as the foundation for political action, while acknowledging the constructive role for the emotions in the development of political agency. The chapter concludes that Arendt’s insights on emotions and political education can help educators avoid potential pitfalls in efforts that (re)consider the place of political emotions in the classroom.