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.

When teachers address controversial issues with their students in class, parents, society, and the teaching profession often expect them to adopt a neutral or impartial pedagogical stance. However, scholars have expressed doubts about whether this duty of impartiality is realistic and questioned whether it is educationally desirable. This chapter defends the duty of impartiality by arguing that the key reservations voiced against it in the academic literature are based on different misconceptions about impartial teaching and teacher neutrality: about the meaning of “controversial issue,” about the educational value of being flexible about neutrality in teaching situations, and about what constitutes a reasonable standard of impartiality. Drawing on the legal concept of evenhandedness, the chapter concludes by putting forward an alternative standard of teacher impartiality that walks the line between the inevitably value-laden nature of teaching and the expectation that teachers exercise their authority in a reasonable and responsible way.

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?

One of the most fundamental challenges to democratic education is the “epistocratic” challenge. According to proponents of epistocracy, the ordinary citizenry is too stupid, irrational, and demotivated to vote intelligently and better-quality government would result if the franchise were restricted to a small elite of the best informed, most rational, and best-motivated citizens. If correct, epistocracy would imply that many of the ideals of democratic education are misplaced and that the educational practice of preparing all citizens to vote would be pointless. In this chapter, I review the theory of epistocracy as it is presented in the work of historical and contemporary philosophers from Plato and John Stuart Mill to Bryan Caplan and – most notably – Jason Brennan. I also discuss the implications of epistocracy for democratic education. I hold that, even if Brennan is right that the franchise should be restricted to a small cognitive elite, the question of how one should educate that elite becomes even more important. In the final analysis, I hold that Brennan’s scheme for ensuring that the cognitive elite is representative of society will require a broadening of political education opportunities that will result in a reintroduction of a democratic form of education through the epistocratic back door.

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.

Although it is widely thought that more education is a reliable remedy for democratic ills, I argue that it is not always so. The problem arises because education plays a role in shaping what I call people’s trust networks: the set of sources of information they regard as trustworthy. A democratic society can falter if its citizens live on isolated epistemic islands (i.e., occupy nonoverlapping trust networks). If the educational system serves to reinforce one kind of trust network rather than help people build bridges between trust networks, education will rearrange the population of these islands but potentially make the underlying topography less democracy-friendly. The chapter makes this case and then looks at some potential educational remedies to the problem it outlines.

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 many policies for and practices of education for democratic citizenship it is assumed that the democratic community is a community of shared democratic values. On such an account, education has the task of including “newcomers” into this community by ensuring that they adopt and internalize the common democratic values. In this chapter, I discuss the work of two authors, Chantal Mouffe and Jacques Rancière, who both have challenged this understanding of democracy and the democratic community. Both authors highlight the contested (Mouffe) and sporadic (Rancière) nature of the democratic community, thus bringing into view the work done to constitute the political community. They also highlight that this constitution does not happen before democratic politics can take place, but actually is an essential part of it. I provide a reconstruction of Mouffe’s and Rancière’s ideas and explore the implications for education.

Higher education in the United States advanced democracy during the much of the twentieth century by fostering social mobility and by deepening students’ understanding of democratic citizenship, as well as strengthening their capacity to participate in a democratic polity. Concurrently, higher education enjoyed widespread esteem in the United States, while colleges and universities became highly stratified by financial capital, or endowment size, which was closely correlated with prestige. Yet, this financial stratification widened into a yawning "wealth gap" that precipitated a decline in public esteem near the end of the twentieth century. This historical chapter explains these developments and argues that wealth concentration in higher education and wealth inequality in the US population are interrelated, and this interrelationship weakens social mobility and democracy in the twenty-first century.

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.