EDUCATING TOWARD DIRECT DEMOCRACY AND ECOLOGICAL
SUSTAINABILITY: THEORY OF SOCIAL ECOLOGY AS A FRAMEWORK FOR
CRITICAL, DEMOCRATIC, AND COMMUNITY-BASED EDUCATION
By
Kevin J. Holohan

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Curriculum, Instruction, and Teacher Education
2012

ABSTRACT
EDUCATING TOWARD DIRECT DEMOCRACY AND ECOLOGICAL SUSTAINABILITY:
THEORY OF SOCIAL ECOLOGY AS A FRAMEWORK FOR CRITICAL, DEMOCRATIC,
AND COMMUNITY-BASED EDUCATION
By
Kevin J. Holohan
The aim of this dissertation project was to explore and extrapolate the work of the leftlibertarian social theorist, Murray Bookchin (1921-2006), paying particular attention to his
theory of social ecology and to examine its implications for and use as a comprehensive
philosophical/theoretical framework for alternative secondary education that has as its central
aim direct democracy, a new conception of citizenship premised upon such an aim, and a more
balanced, less destructive relationship between humans and non-human nature. The dissertation
attempts to answer two fundamental questions through both a theoretical examination and an
empirical study. First, what ideal of citizenship is established within the theory of social
ecology? Second, what outcomes would indicate that a school using the theory of social ecology
as a curricular centerpiece is successful in creating or fostering this ideal of citizenship within
students? In attempting to answer these questions, I first engage in a close reading and critical
examination of the theory of social ecology and its underlying philosophy as articulated and
developed in the work of the late Murray Bookchin. I mine the literature in order to draw out its
central concepts related to citizenship and democracy, shed light upon the political philosophy
that acts as its foundation, and extend these findings in order to deduce their implications for
education. Secondly, I conduct an empirical study at a small charter high school in a large
metropolitan area whose explicit aim is to empower students “to engage in critical thinking and
social transformation, from the classroom to the Puerto Rican community” (Mission and Vision

Statement, Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School homepage,
http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/about/dr-pedro-albizu-campos-high-school/ retrieved
January 4, 2012) through the use of social ecology, social-emotional learning, and critical
pedagogy as guiding theoretical frameworks. The aim of this empirical study was to gain an
understanding of how social ecology is used within a school to foster a particular ideal of
citizenship and the degree to which it is successful in attempting to do so.
I outline the distinctions between anarchism as a political philosophy and that of liberal
democratic theory upon which much of educational philosophy is based. As social ecology is
largely rooted in the social anarchist tradition, I sketch out the principles upon which the social
anarchist position (on the state, on authority, on human beings’ way of interacting with and
relating to one another) rests and identify some of its major tenets as they are specific
articulations of anarchist principles within the realms of philosophy, politics, and social relations
that I feel have particular relevance for an educational model aimed toward direct democracy and
ecological sustainability. I then move into a theoretical discussion of dialectical naturalism - the
philosophy of social ecology - and its attempt to formulate an objective ecological ethics. I
examine and explore libertarian municipalism – the politics of social ecology – paying particular
attention to its goal of re-orienting the modern western definitions of democracy, politics, and
citizenship. Next, I report my findings from the empirical study of a school that utilizes social
ecology and community-based education to move its students toward enhanced self-actualization
through active participation in nurturing greater community autonomy and self-sufficiency.
Finally, through creative imagining, I consider the implications of the philosophy and politics of
social ecology for the structure, form, and content of an alternative small-school movement
rooted in place and aimed at ameliorating social and ecological crises at the grassroots level.

Copyright by
KEVIN J. HOLOHAN
2012

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Some of the most appealing aspects of anarchism and social ecology are their emphasis
on the vital importance of solidarity, mutual aid, and cooperation. Despite dominant discourses
to the contrary, none of us are completely autonomous and independent agents but rather are
embedded in communities of family, friends, and comrades who make possible our growth, the
realization of our dreams and desires, and the maintenance and enrichment of our cultural and
ecological environments for future generations.
I extend my deepest gratitude to Avner Segall who ushered me into the College of
Education over five years ago and who has provided invaluable intellectual support and
mentorship to help me find my way to the other side. Kyle Greenwalt, thank you for instilling in
me the confidence to think outside the ‘educational box’ and for being not just a colleague but
also a friend throughout. Lynn Fendler and Elizabeth Heilman, you are inspiring intellectuals
and your advice and encouragement has meant a tremendous amount to me. Jeff Bale and Matt
Ferkany, I appreciate your openness to my ideas and only wish I had more time to engage with
and learn from you. Jim Garrett, the overlap of our personal and academic lives was nothing
short of serendipitous – thanks for teaching me when to bring them together and when to keep
them separate. My opportunity to participate in, learn from, and develop relationships through
the Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos school community was invigorating and re-ignited my belief in
young people and the adults committed to their flourishing. Thank you especially to Matt, for
inviting me in, for the many fruitful discussions, and for making me feel like a part of the school.

v

None of this would have been remotely possible without the love, patience, and support
of my family. Dad, Al, Mary, and grandparents -this was truly a collective effort and I deeply
appreciate your support. Josie, Mary, and Colin, you are the reasons I want to be part of creating
a better world. Mindy, my rock, through your partnership and strength of character, you have
helped me to find my part in working toward a more just world by making me a better person.
Finally, I dedicate this work to my late mother, Carmen Natalie Holohan (1947-2011).
Your lifelong drive to question and understand the world around you and to develop deep and
supportive relationships with others has shaped me in countless ways and has been a wonderful
model for all those that had the privilege of knowing you. I only wish you could be here to see
me complete this stage of my journey.

vi

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION………………………………………………………………………1
CHAPTER ONE
EDUCATING TOWARD DIRECT DEMOCRACY…………………………………10
CHAPTER TWO
ANARCHISM AND EDUCATION…………………………………………………..39
CHAPTER THREE
SOCIAL ECOLOGY AS A PHILOSOPHICAL
AND ETHICAL FOUNDATION FOR ECOLOGICAL
AND COMMMUNITY-BASED EDUCATION……………………………………..73
CHAPTER FOUR
REDEFINING POLITICS, CITIZENSHIP,
AND DEMOCRACY: THE FRAMEWORK OF
LIBERTARIAN MUNICIPALISM AND COMMUNALISM………………………111
CHAPTER FIVE
SOCIAL ECOLOGY FROM THEORY
TO PRACTICE: CASE STUDY OF
DR. PEDRO ALBIZU CAMPOS HIGH SCHOOL…………………………………150
CHAPTER SIX
SOCIAL ECOLOGY AND EDUCATION: IMPLICATIONS FOR PRAXIS………209
APPENDIX 1: INTERVIEW PROTOCOL FOR STUDENTS……………………...245
APPENDIX 2: INTERVIEW PROTOCOL FOR TEACHERS……………………...246
APPENDIX 3: DR. PEDRO ALBIZU
CAMPOS HIGH SCHOOL R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
FRAMEWORK……………………………………………………………………….247
REFERENCES………………………………………………………………………..251

vii

Introduction

Some of us remember the infamous old Communist tirades against merely
‘formal’ bourgeois freedom – absurd as they were, there is a pinch of truth in the
distinction between ‘formal’ and ‘actual’ freedom: ‘formal freedom is that
freedom to choose within the coordinates of the existing power relations, while
‘actual’ freedom grows when we can change the very coordinates of our choices.
(Slavoj Žižek, Living in the end times, 2011, 358)

The aim of this dissertation project is to explore and extrapolate the work of the leftlibertarian social theorist, Murray Bookchin (1921-2006), paying particular attention to his
theory of social ecology and to examine its implications for and use as a comprehensive
philosophical/theoretical framework for alternative secondary education that has as its central
aim direct democracy, a new conception of citizenship premised upon such an aim, and a more
balanced, less destructive relationship between humans and non-human nature. More
specifically, the dissertation attempts to answer two fundamental questions through both a
theoretical examination and an empirical study. First, what ideal of citizenship is established
within the theory of social ecology? Second, what outcomes would indicate that a school using
the theory of social ecology as a curricular centerpiece is successful in creating or fostering this
ideal of citizenship within students? In attempting to answer these questions, I first engaged in a
close reading and critical examination of the theory of social ecology and its underlying
philosophy as articulated and developed in the work of the late Murray Bookchin. I mined the
literature of social ecology (and related fields) in order to draw out its central concepts related to

1

citizenship and democracy, shed light upon the political philosophy that acts as its foundation,
and extend these findings in order to deduce their implications for education. Secondly, I moved
from theory to practice by conducting an empirical study at a small charter high school in a large
metropolitan area in the Midwest whose explicit aim is to empower students “to engage in
critical thinking and social transformation, from the classroom to the Puerto Rican community”
(Mission and Vision Statement, Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School homepage,
http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/about/dr-pedro-albizu-campos-high-school/) through the
use of social ecology, social-emotional learning, and critical pedagogy as guiding theoretical
frameworks. The aim of this empirical study was to gain an understanding of how social
ecology is used within a school to foster a particular ideal of citizenship and the degree to which
it is successful in attempting to do so.
Throughout the dissertation, I use a number of different terms that possess distinct
meanings but that also overlap with one another in a variety of important ways. In Chapter One,
I introduce anarchism as a unique political theory and philosophy with both historical and
contemporary iterations and examine its implications for education. Philosophically, anarchism
stands in opposition to all forms of hierarchy and domination and demands rational justification
for any form of authority. As a political theory, anarchism holds all forms of governmental
authority as unnecessary and advocates for a society based upon voluntary cooperation and free
association between individuals and groups. The radical left anarchist movement of the
nineteenth and early twentieth century had a profound influence upon Bookchin’s development
of the theory of social ecology and many of its foundational principles come out of the thought
and work of early European anarchists. My exploration of anarchist thought, principles, and
practice allowed me to better understand the development of social ecology and to begin to

2

articulate an ideal of citizenship that does not take for granted the necessity of centralized
government and the state itself. While anarchism helps to provide a set of principles for social
relations within this ideal of citizenship, I feel it does not sufficiently theorize or provide a way
of understanding the relationship between humans and the non-human natural world nor an
ethical basis for the interaction between the two.
In Chapters Three and Four, I move into a detailed examination of the theory and
philosophy of social ecology as well as its political corollary, libertarian municipalism. The
primary claim around which the theory revolves is that domination and hierarchy within human
social relations and within the human psyche itself emerged slowly and unevenly over time and
eventually led to a hierarchical mentality regarding the relationship between human beings and
the natural world out of which they evolved and within which they are still irrevocably
embedded. Utilizing some of the fundamental principles of anarchism including resistance to
hierarchy, horizontal decision making, cooperation, and mutual aid, social ecology advances the
idea that directly democratic, face-to-face decision making within municipalities by the
individuals that inhabit them can help eliminate some of the feelings of alienation and
disempowerment that have given rise to the disconnection between humans and the natural
environment and the resulting disregard for the biosphere. In short, directly democratic social
relations on the level of the municipality (i.e. libertarian municipalism) can foster recognition of
the circular and mutualistic relationship between humans and the non-human natural world and
make for more ecologically sustainable human activity.
In Chapter Five, I present the findings of an empirical study conducted at a small charter
high school that uses social ecology as its curricular centerpiece. That is, social ecology as a
coherent framework for understanding the interrelationship between the individual and the

3

social-ecological environments in which he/she is situated is utilized to support the school’s aim
to promote greater community self-sufficiency and self-determination. As is highlighted in the
study, there is an obvious link between direct democratic control of the community by its
inhabitants and the pursuit of more ecologically sustainable relationships and development. This
link is evidenced within the school’s curriculum, practice, and organization. Finally, all of these
aspects of the school are firmly rooted in the history, culture, and geography of the community
within which it is situated.
Chapter Six considers the implications of these distinct yet interrelated concepts for the
development of educational endeavors that aim toward promoting direct democracy and
ecological sustainability. More specifically, I turn to place-based education and the small
schools movement as containing the seeds for developing this project. What social ecology and
its roots in traditional and contemporary anarchism suggest is that in order to provide an
experience that fosters students’ active investment in and work toward the common good and
this particular ideal of citizenship, a school would be small and locally constituted;
democratically run and managed by school-community stakeholders; utilize place-based
curriculum centered upon local, cultural, historical and ecological contexts; and would develop
strong and integrated school-community partnerships. Ideally, small schools possess faculties
that are cohesive, self-selected, and that share an educational philosophy. Place-based education
is intended to immerse young people in the culture, history, and ecology of the communities in
which they live and promote a commitment to the common good over individual self-interest.
Overall, I feel social ecology can act as an overarching and comprehensive framework for
bringing these educational discourses together and for promoting a particular ideal of citizenship.

4

Anarchism, as both a theoretical and practical foundation for social ecology, is rarely
taken seriously within the academy. It exists on the margins of political and educational
philosophy. Over the course of the dissertation (specifically Chapter Two), I explore what
political and educational philosophers have disavowed in the process of marginalizing
anarchism. While most political and educational philosophy is rooted in the liberal tradition,
Judith Suissa (2001) explains,

The anarchist perspective is different in that it does not take any existing social or
political framework for granted. Instead, it has as its focal point a vision of what
an ideal such framework could be like – a vision that has often been described as
utopian. (629)

I, myself, have felt the burdensome weight of history in contemplating the use of
anarchism as one of the central concepts in my dissertation. There are fears of not being taken
seriously by other academics for some of the reasons mentioned above. There are fears of
limited job opportunities at institutions of higher learning due to the marginalization of discourse
centered upon anarchist theory and practice. There are fears of spending an inordinate amount of
time overcoming the initial misinterpretations or misconceptions of those with whom I engage in
conversation about ‘my’ dissertation work. And, of course, there are less well-defined, more
amorphous fears related to dealing with such ‘dangerous’ ideas. Despite these fears, my
attraction to the ideas, history, and underlying principles of anarchism and its long and rich
relationship with education have made a deep and sustained engagement with the topic
irresistible. In short, my beliefs around decentralism, local self-reliance, self-determination,

5

participatory or direct democracy, cooperativism, and community find their finest articulation in
the classical anarchist stance and, more specifically, in the contemporary theory of social
ecology and its political corollary, libertarian municipalism, put forward by the late Murray
Bookchin.
I should note that the perspective described above is far from the utopian dreaming as
many in academia and beyond have labeled it. Real men and women, situated in diverse
geographies and locales, have managed to be self-sufficient and self-managed in community for
the greater part of human history. Even with the rise of the nation-state and, later, the advent of
the Industrial Revolution, most people identified with and struggled to maintain the autonomy of
the specific places in which they lived and worked to provide for their needs (Bookchin, 1995).
Despite the dominant discourse of ‘globalization’, global citizenship, or global interconnectivity,
these struggles for local self-reliance and self-determination continue up through the present,
particularly amongst the world’s “social majorities” who have wound up suffering the most
destructive consequences of the Western notions of ‘progress’ and ‘development’ (Esteva &
Prakash, 1998).
Without providing an exhaustive autobiographical account of the development of my
thinking or my activism, I would like to offer some personal context for why I chose to pursue
this collection of ideas and theoretical framework. Undoubtedly, my experiences teaching in a
Chicago public high school and in a west Michigan juvenile detention facility had the most
formative impact on my thinking and work both as a social activist and academic. During those
years, I came to recognize that educational endeavors approached as one-size-fits-all would
inevitably privilege some and severely disadvantage others. Related to this, I also recognized
that young people are entirely willing and capable of critically examining the world around them,

6

understanding the intricate relationship between history, culture, and power and drawing from
their own lived experiences to imagine and work toward creating a more just and equitable
society. I entered graduate school to more fully understand the relationship between school and
society, how the current configuration of primary and secondary schooling came into being, and
the underlying assumptions and philosophical perspectives that shape the purposes of schooling
in the contemporary United States that are rarely engaged in public discourse.
In other words, what has really driven my studies is the fact that I do not feel there is
enough discussion about the ends of education – whether this discussion is with one another as
academics, with individuals interested in becoming part of the educational process as teachers or
administrators, or as a general public - each member of which has different levels of investment
in this thing we call school. Toward what ends are we doing what we are doing? It is not that
there are not a multitude of answers to this question; but it seems that only a minority, of those
who, in one way or another, are invested in this thing called education, give the question any
sustained attention. My conception of what this end could or should be is only one of many and
can certainly be proven no more right than any other. However, I believe without attempting to
articulate a response to the question and (this is the important part!) bringing it into dialogue and
discussion with others, we all run the risk of falling into entropy, apathy or both.
With those thoughts in mind, I have spent the greater part of my teaching and graduate
school career exploring critical theories in education. More specifically, I have been interested
in theory that takes into consideration the role of culture and historical context as forces that
drive individual meaning-making, motivation, and behavior and the relationship between these
forces and this relatively new institution known as school. For the shape and purposes of the

7

school – how learning is regarded and toward what ends it is directed - could be viewed as a
mirror of the broader ideals and shape of the society in which it is situated.
Additionally, I have always been attracted to ‘big theory’ – that is, theory that does not
confine itself to a specific sphere of human experience but that attempts to explain why things
are the way they are and how they have been or could be otherwise. Obviously, I feel the
education of the young - whether at home, through popular culture, or within the institution of
the school – plays a significant role in shaping, maintaining or changing the type of society we
live in.
Lastly, I would like to note that some would most certainly have an aversion to the notion
of anarchy or anarchism as something toward which some of us (myself included) choose to
strive. However, it is one word and one movement amongst dozens of others - others with which
it shares much in common - that aims to empower groups and individuals to reclaim control over
their lives. I used direct democracy as a central concept because I feel it encompasses the best of
many traditions and –ism’s - containing socialism’s drive toward equality, anarchism’s push
against unjustified authority and toward freedom, and social ecology’s call for the diminishment
of domination and hierarchy.
Having made this statement regarding what I find to be some compelling and vitally
important ‘ends’ of education, my real work lies in sharing these ideas with others, presenting
them for discussion, critique, and debate and hopefully, along the way, finding others that may
share similar visions with whom I can continue to engage in creative exploration.
As the dissertation contains both theoretical and empirical elements and aims to develop
an educational framework intended to foster a particular ideal of citizenship, it has the potential
to speak to a broad audience. First and foremost, teachers, administrators, and teacher educators

8

interested in pursuing educational alternatives that draw a focus upon promoting social and
ecological justice will find much of value within these pages. Secondly, I hope that this work
can contribute to broadening the parameters of our discussions and debates around citizenship
education within the university and, more specifically, departments of teacher education. In its
consideration of the philosophical foundations of education and theorization of curriculum, I
invite the discussion and critique of scholars in those fields. Finally, I intend for this exploration
to be a work of public scholarship. That is, I want nothing more than for these ideas to be
engaged within the public sphere by lay and scholarly audiences alike who recognize the grave
social and ecological crises we face and who view education as a vital arena for beginning to
address them on the grassroots level.

9

Chapter One
Educating Toward Direct Democracy
I. Framing the Study
th

Since the late 18 century, philosophers and politicians, revolutionaries and reformists
have held as their primary purpose or goal the preservation, enlargement, and/or extension of
democracy, democratic institutions, and democratic participation within their respective social,
historical, and geographical contexts. As Gert Biesta (2007) explains,

Questions about democracy have always been closely intertwined with questions
about education. Ever since its inception in the polis of Athens, political and
educational thinkers alike have asked what kind of education would best prepare
the people (demos) for their participation in the ruling (kratos) of their society.
Although our complex global world bears little or no resemblance to the polis of
Athens, the question of the relationship between education and democracy is as
important and urgent today as it was then. (743)

As evidenced most recently by the Arab Spring and the Occupy Wall Street movement, everyday
citizens from all walks of life continue to show a willingness for personal sacrifice and risks to
their physical safety and well-being in the name of asserting more personal and collective control
over the political and economic decisions that most directly impact their lives. For as long as
humans have been engaged in the struggle against the concentration of power in the hands of the
few, the justification of authority based upon custom, tradition, or divine right and for more
meaningful and direct participation in the decision-making process, they have turned to

10

education as a primary site in/for this struggle. As a result, according to Luis Miron and Pradeep
Dhillon (2004), “the disciplinary fields of political science and political philosophy deeply
intertwine with educational theory, research, and practice” (32).
While schools and the forms of education that have been enacted therein have always
been fundamental arenas in which democracy has been tested, deliberated, and cultivated, the
ways in which ‘democracy’ has been defined and, thus, the methods of education that have been
employed in its pursuit have varied greatly. In contemporary times, the connection between
democracy/democratic societies and the education of the young has certainly not waned but the
competing discourses of accountability, curricular standardization, and the economic imperatives
attached to the education of the young have overshadowed much meaningful discussion
regarding schools as democratic and democratizing institutions. Additionally, when the
relationship between education and democracy is discussed, this discussion is most often
premised upon and framed within liberal democratic theory and one historically specific form of
democracy – that is, representative or parliamentary.
In his Declarations of Independence: Cross-examining American ideology, Howard Zinn
(1990) makes clear both the historical imperatives and gross inadequacies of representative
government for securing the basic human rights of liberty and equality. According to Zinn
(1990), theories of representative government began to take rise in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries and grew out of the desire of the new middle class for more power in
government. It was during this time that John Locke put forth the idea of the social contract
under which, Zinn explains, “the community – wanting more order, less trouble, and more
safeguards for life, liberty, and property – agrees to choose representatives who would
accomplish these purposes” (233). Additionally, Locke proposed, if the elected government

11

violated the contract, rebellion might be justified. While the theory of the social contract appears
sound and rational upon first glance, Zinn claims the primary problem with it is that,

It pretends that there is some nice unified community that agrees to set up this
constitutional government. In reality, there was not such unity. There were rich
and poor, and the poor are never in a position to sign a contract on equal terms
with the rich. Indeed, they are not usually consulted when a contract is drawn up.
So while it may sound good that property and liberty will be protected by
representative government, in reality it is the property and liberty of the wealthy
and powerful that is most likely to be protected. (234)

Continuing his incisive yet simple and direct critique, Zinn draws from The Federalist Papers to
argue that “while it [representative government] indeed is an improvement over monarchy, and
may be used to bring about some reforms, it is chiefly used by those holding power in society as
a democratic façade for a controlled society and a barrier against demands that threaten their
interests” (235).
Zinn (1990) ends his appraisal with a brief mention of some of the alternatives that have
been offered to replace representative forms of government. Primary among these is the notion
of direct democracy. As Zinn (1990) points out, history is replete with examples of the
successful functioning of direct democracy: ancient Athens (despite the exclusion of slaves,
women, and foreigners); the Paris Commune of 1871; and the Soviet (councils) of workers,
peasants, and soldiers on the eve of the Russian revolution, to name just a few. Outside of these
historical examples, have we no models or frameworks upon which to anchor our efforts at

12

creating something similar in the present and with which to guide our thinking about how
education and schooling might be altered to support this project?
That liberalism and notions of representative democracy are the foundations upon which
discussions of democracy and education rest is generally taken for granted and are presumptions
that, I concur with Zinn, require re-examination. In particular, this project attempted to
undertake a reconsideration of the relationship between education and democracy through a redefinition of its most fundamental categories – that is, politics, citizen/citizenship, and
democracy itself. In undertaking this project, I relied primarily upon Murray Bookchin’s theory
of social ecology and its political corollary, libertarian municipalism, to offer an educational
framework based upon and intended to create, promote, and preserve a direct popular citizens’
democracy.

A. Contemporary Discourses on the Relationship between Education, Democracy, and
Citizenship
Historically, considerations of the role of education in preserving and furthering a
political democracy and democratic institutions have been within the purview of philosophers,
policymakers, educational theorists, teachers, students, and common citizens alike. In other
words, the topic has not been relegated to any one set of professionals or experts but rightly has
remained open to debate and differing conceptions articulated by the diverse sets of ideological
commitments and social and cultural backgrounds brought together within a democratic society.
That said, within the contemporary field of education, discussions of competing conceptions of
democracy, politics, and citizenship have most often found their home in the area of social
studies. I, on the other hand, have approached the topic of democracy and education from a

13

primarily philosophical, generalist, and/or theoretical perspective and not situated it within a
specific subject area. Neither have I considered literature that is strictly situated within a
particular subject area but rather comes out of this more generalist perspective. I would like to
argue that the preparation of citizens for democracy, in its truest sense (demos ‘the people’ +
kratia ‘power, rule’) is the responsibility not only of the entire school community but also of the
concentric communities in which the school is situated.
While there continue to be fierce debates around the meaning and practice of citizenship
in the contemporary western world, most of these debates fall within the spectrum between civic
republicanism and liberal individualism. The liberal-individualist conception of citizenship has
as its primary concern the individual's rights and responsibilities within the nation-state and the
government’s role in safe-guarding while also not impinging upon those individual rights. The
liberal perspective is rooted in a language of "needs" and "entitlements" necessary for individual
human dignity and is based on reason for the pursuit of individual self-interest. This primarily
western notion of citizenship suggests a focus on humans’ propensity for the individual pursuit
of material well-being and the guarantee of civil rights under shared law. From this view,
citizens are sovereign, morally autonomous beings with duties to pay taxes and obey the law and
rights to freely engage in economic activities, but are often passive politically outside of their
right to vote. In this view, essentially passive citizens are most concerned with their private
interests, and the management of society and formulation of law is left to a body of elected
representatives. While contemporary theorists of liberalism such as John Rawls do include
within the purview of liberalism the responsibility of society to try to benefit its least advantaged
members, this conception of citizenship, which I will eventually contrast with a more communal
sense of citizenship rooted in place, has given rise to what has been termed homo economicus,

14

almost entirely focused on individual autonomy and material production and consumption – a
notion almost totally foreign to many cultures of the world, but one that has gained increasing
hegemony (Esteva & Prakash, 1998). It is within this framework of liberal citizenship that much
of the educational literature on the topic is situated.
In “Participatory Citizenship: Civics in the Strong Sense”, Walter C. Parker (1989)
claims the deterioration of civic life in recent times is obvious and he largely attributes this to the
rampant individualism that pervades contemporary American society and that has begun to divert
the public mission and vision of schools. At the same time, Parker acknowledges that schools,
by themselves, cannot be expected to reverse this crisis in civic life. However, he argues,
schools can have a significant influence through stronger emphasis in three areas: 1) helping
students acquire in-depth knowledge of history and politics; 2) conducting themselves as
communities and exploring what community entails; and 3) providing students with ample
opportunities to participate in democratic practices (353).
Joel Westheimer and Joseph Kahne (2004) attempt to examine the wide range of ideas
about what good citizenship is and what good citizens do that are embedded in democratic
education programs. In short, there are a variety of perspectives on citizenship and each has
equally varied implications for curriculum (238). Rather than focusing on these curricular
implications, the authors develop a framework that is intended to “highlight several important
political dimensions of efforts to educate citizens for democracy” (239). Their framework
emerges out of three answers to the question, “What kind of citizen do we need to support an
effective democratic society?” (239, italics in original) and these answers suggest three distinct
visions of citizenship: the personally responsible citizen, the participatory citizen, and the justiceoriented citizen.

15

The personally responsible citizen adheres to the norms and standards of the existing
society and acts responsibly within his/her community. Within this conception of citizenship,
acting responsibly entails working and paying taxes, obeying laws, and volunteering in times of
crisis. The core assumptions embedded within this conception, according to the authors, suggest
that solving social problems and improving society are dependent upon citizens having sound
individual character.
The participatory citizen is an active member of community organizations and takes an
active role in organizing community efforts to care for those in need. Additionally, the
participatory citizen has knowledge of how government works and is aware of strategies for
accomplishing collective tasks. Embedded within this conception of citizenship, Westheimer
and Kahne (2004) explain, is the assumption that solving social problems and improving society
involves the active participation and leadership of citizens in established systems and community
structures.
Finally, the authors explain the characteristics and core assumptions underlying the
notion of the justice-oriented citizen. The justice-oriented citizen critically assesses social,
political, and economic structures to see beyond surface causes; seeks out and addresses areas of
injustice; and knows about democratic social movements and how to effect systemic change.
This vision of citizenship implicitly assumes that to solve social problems and improve society,
“citizens must question, debate, and change established systems and structures that reproduce
patterns of injustice over time” (240).
In “Teaching democracy: What schools need to do”, Kahne and Westheimer (2003)
attempt to address what they call “an important gap in our education agenda: preparing students
to be effective democratic citizens” (35). They draw from a study in which they examine 10

16

educational programs that make central educating for democratic citizenship. In doing so, the
authors identify specific goals and curricular components that, if given appropriate attention, can
help schools “fulfill their historic ideal of laying the foundations for a democratic society” (35).
Primary among these goals, the authors argue, is teaching young people to engage civically,
socially, and politically, to draw their attention to the issues that most directly affect their lives,
and to provide opportunities for them to develop opinions about and act upon them.
Kahne and Westheimer (2003) lay out in clear and accessible terms the competing
notions of what a commitment to democracy and, thus, citizenship, entails. They explain that,

For some, a commitment to democracy is a promise to protect liberal notions of
freedom, while for others democracy is primarily about equality. For some, civil
society is the key, while for others, free markets are the great hope for a
democratic society. For some, good citizens in a democracy volunteer, while for
others, they take active parts in political processes by voting, protesting, and
working on political campaigns. (36)

They go on to identify a number of school-based programs that are intended to promote
particular conceptions of democratic citizenship. Community service and character education
programs aim to develop individual character traits but are largely lacking in focus on social
transformation, collective action, and systemic change. Following from this, the authors claim,
“If democracy is to be effective at improving society, people need to exert power over issues that
affect their lives” (39). This can best be accomplished, they explain, through opportunities to
connect academic knowledge to analysis of social issues, knowledge of democratic processes,

17

and by instilling democratic values such as tolerance, respect for individual and group identities,
concern for the greater good, and the ability to communicate across differences while also
promoting one’s own goals in political arenas.
Through an examination of three programs that the authors define as successfully
teaching democracy, they identify three broad priorities: promoting democratic commitments,
capacities, and connections to others with similar goals. Teaching Commitment involves
showing students that society needs improving and providing positive experiences seeking
solutions. Capacity is related to helping students understand how they can engage issues,
offering students opportunities to participate in real-world projects, and providing students with
the skills, knowledge, and networks to feel they could be effective agents of change in their
communities and beyond. Finally, connections consist primarily of providing students with a
supportive community of peers and connections to role models that have been successful in
promoting social change.
One of the primary shortcomings of Kahne and Westheimer’s consideration of teaching
democracy and forms of citizenship are the normative assumptions that underlie what form of
democracy their explorations are intended to promote. In other words, they seem to take for
granted the liberal democratic state itself and, with it, its centralized bureaucracy, strong ties to
dominant economic interests, the obstacles it poses to community self-management, and the
hierarchical relationships embedded within it. In “Education and the Democratic Person:
Towards a Political Conception of Democratic Education”, Gert Biesta (2007) goes considerably
further in uncovering and unpacking some of the normative assumptions that Kahne and
Westheimer take for granted.

18

In this article, Biesta (2007) seeks to revisit fundamental questions regarding how we
should understand the relationship between democracy and education and what the role of
schools is in a democratic society. His conclusion, briefly, is that the answers to these questions
depend on “our views about the democratic person…on our ideas about the kind of subjectivity
that is considered to be desirable or necessary for a democratic society” (743-744). Whereas
Westheimer and Kahne attempt to delineate certain types of behavior that constitute democratic
citizenship and the organizational structures that promote the development of such behaviors,
Biesta’s (2007) aim is to uncover the conceptions of subjectivity that are implicitly assumed as
necessary for a democratic society.
Biesta (2007) draws distinctions between some of the dominant conceptions of what type
of person is seen as necessary. These include the rational individual capable of free and
independent judgment in which case schools are expected to “make children ‘ready for
democracy’ by instilling in them the knowledge, skills and dispositions that will turn them into
democratic citizens” (742). The author views this perspective as extremely problematic in that it
is overly “instrumentalistic” and requires an “individualistic approach to democratic
education…focused on equipping individuals with the proper set of democratic knowledge,
skills, and dispositions, without asking questions about individuals’ relationships with others and
about the social and political context in which they learn and act” (742). This conception of the
democratic person and, thus, democratic education rests upon an “individualistic view of
democracy, one in which it is assumed that the success of democracy depends on the knowledge,
skills, and dispositions of individuals and on their willingness as individuals to act
democratically” (742).

19

We are reminded by Biesta (2007) that there have been a variety of interpretations put
forth regarding what democracy might mean and that each of these interpretations carries with it
certain implications regarding what ruling (kratos) means (i.e. direct participation vs. indirect
representation) and who, exactly, constitutes the people (demos) (745). Biesta draws from
Beetham and Boyle’s (1995) definition of democracy as “’the twin principles of popular control
over collective decision-making and equality of rights in the exercise of that control’” and
reinforces that with Dewey’s (1916/1966) notion of democracy as “’primarily a mode of
associated living’” to come up with his own definition of democracy as “inclusive ways of social
and political action” (746).
He goes on to argue that the two most common ways of viewing the relationship between
education and democracy is as “education for democracy” and “education through democracy”.
“Education For Democracy” privileges the idea of schools providing the knowledge, skills, and
dispositions or values necessary for participation in democracy. “Education Through
Democracy”, on the other hand, puts forward the view that the best way to educate for
democracy is through establishing and enacting democratic structures and processes within
schools themselves; that is, providing young people with the opportunity to experience
participatory democracy first-hand, as it were. According to Biesta, both of these approaches are
problematic in that they both conceive of democracy “as a problem for education” for which
educators, schools and other educational institutions are to provide a solution (748).
The crux of Biesta’s (2007) argument revolves around three different conceptions of the
democratic person based upon the writing of Immanuel Kant, John Dewey, and Hannah Arendt,
respectively. In short, Kant tends to promote an individualistic conception of the democratic
person, Dewey a social conception, and Arendt a political conception. Kant’s conception,

20

according to Biesta, is focused upon the Enlightenment notion that the individuals necessary for
a democracy are those that can exercise their ability to reason without direction from another or
the capacity for rational autonomy. Dewey’s conception, on the other hand, views the
individual’s ability to think and reflect not as an inherent capacity of the individual subject but as
a quality that has a social origin and develops through social interaction. As Biesta (2007)
explains, “The idea of the subject as a shaper of the conditions that shape one’s subjectivity is the
central idea in Dewey’s notion of the democratic person” (752).
As an answer to the equally individualistic notions of the democratic person put forward
by Kant and Dewey, Biesta offers Hannah Arendt’s conception of subjectivity, rooted as it is in
“the active human life” (753). Arendt’s notion of subjectivity finds its expression in labor,
focused upon the maintenance of life; work, which takes form in the ways human beings actively
change their environments; and action, within which the human subject, in either word or deed,
brings something new into existence. It is within the realm of action that the individual brings
his/her uniqueness into the world and therefore assumes subjectivity, but this cannot be done in
isolation. In other words, this process is dependent upon our sharing this with others and “how
others…respond to our initiatives” (755). In this sense, action, and subjectivity itself, is
dependent upon the plurality of and interaction with the action of others. Arendt’s conception of
subjectivity has important implications for how we think about the democratic person.
According to Biesta, “individuals may have democratic knowledge, skills, and dispositions; but
it is only in action – which means action which is taken up by others in unpredictable and
uncontrollable ways – that the individual can be a democratic subject” (757). Following from
this, Biesta argues, “this means that the first question to ask about schools and other educational
institutions is not how they can make students into democratic citizens. The question to ask

21

rather is: What kind of schools do we need so that children and students can act?” (758). And,
because schools are not isolated entities but are embedded within the broader social milieu, it is
only necessary to ask: “What kind of society do we need so that people can act?” In exploring
Arendt’s conception of democratic subjectivity and drawing from it these important questions
about the relationship between education and democracy, Biesta makes space for us to move
beyond the individualistic Enlightenment notion of education as the production of rational
subjects and into a consideration of whether or not and to what degree schools and, more
importantly, the broader society prioritize and nurture the conditions for action.
Drawing a different focus on the effects of globalization, Kathy Hytten (2008) highlights
some of its more deleterious effects. As a result of globalization – a word for which there is no
agreed upon definition, she admits – we see

growing gaps between the wealthy and the poor, loss of job security, exploitation
of workers, privatization of public goods and services, environmental destruction,
diminishment of biodiversity, disruption of indigenous cultures, loss of
community, increased global homogenization, and ultimately, the almost
complete subordination of the developing world to the needs and desires of
transnational corporations. (333)

In addition to recognizing this dire situation, the author does concede that globalization may
offer some more progressive possibilities – namely, that it allows for the spread of a “robust”
vision of democracy in which “citizens work together to address social problems, challenge
inequities, provide equality of opportunity, and cultivate economic justice” (337). Much like the

22

authors I have previously discussed, Hytten (2008) views this justice-oriented, participatory
vision of democratic citizenship as ideal yet one rarely emphasized and cultivated within schools.
While I agree with Hytten’s call for a more robust conception of democracy, I have trouble with
the viability of her call for students to “learn to be active and critical thinkers, to hold those in
power accountable and responsible to common goods, and to engage in ongoing efforts to create
and sustain social justice around world” (338). This appears to be a tall order for both students
and those who educate them. If we are to accept this call, there must be a more concrete and
definable place to start.
James A. Banks (2008) also theorizes new conceptions of citizenship and citizenship
education in light of social and political shifts occurring as a result of globalization. In
“Diversity, Group Identity, and Citizenship in a Global Age”, Banks (2008) provides a
representative example of the way in which educational and political theorists alike conceive of
citizens and citizenship. That is, Banks (2008) uses as the foundation for his exploration the
assumption that there is a direct relationship between a citizen’s rights, privileges, duties, and
identities and the nation-state. He does complicate this conception of citizenship by considering
the way in which the ethnic revitalization movements of the 1960’s and 1970’s demanded “the
right to maintain important aspects of their [respective ethnic] cultures and languages while
participating fully in the national civic culture and community” (130) rather than be fully
assimilated into the dominant national culture. Through this consideration, Banks (2008) argues,
“conceptions of citizenship in a modern democratic nation-state should be expanded to include
cultural rights and group rights in a democratic framework” (130). In essence, Banks (2008)
argues that we must go beyond a universal notion of citizenship based upon the liberal
assimilationist view, in which the rights of the individual are paramount, and move toward a

23

multicultural citizenship in which “immigrant and minority groups can retain important aspects
of their languages and cultures while exercising full citizenship rights” (132).
Banks (2008) appears to critique the fact that, “nationalists and assimilationists around
the world worry that if citizens are allowed to retain identifications with their cultural
communities they will not acquire sufficiently strong attachments to their nation-states” (133).
He argues that nation-states, in order to maintain a sufficient degree of cohesion as well as
respect for and incorporation of different cultures, need to strike a balance between unity and
diversity. In this effort, schools need to implement both multicultural and global citizenship
which, according to Banks (2008), supports and enhances students’ understanding of and
commitment to their cultural communities, transnational community, and to the nation-state in
which they are legal citizens (133).
Banks (2008) concludes his article with a typology of citizens that includes: 1) Legal
citizen – a citizen who has rights and obligations to the nation-state but does not participate in
the political process; 2) Minimal citizen – a citizen who votes in local and national elections on
conventional candidates and conventional issues; 3) Active citizen – a citizen who takes action
beyond voting to actualize existing laws and conventions; and 3) Transformative citizen – a
citizen who takes action to actualize values and moral principles beyond those of conventional
authority. In his conception of the transformative citizen, Banks begins to move beyond the
implicit connection between a citizen and the nation-state. In fact, he claims “students
experience democracy in classrooms and schools when transformative citizenship education is
implemented” (137). However, like most other contemporary theorists of citizenship and
democracy, he does not offer an alternative theoretical or philosophical framework upon which
to base transformative citizenship education and remains bound by the hegemonic construction

24

of democracy as finding its greatest fulfillment in republican and representative forms of
government. In other words, he claims the most desirable form of citizenship and citizenship
education is beyond or above the state and its authority yet implicitly assumes the necessity of a
centralized state for providing a system of education, amongst other things, that is intended to
move people beyond the necessity of the state.
Finally, in considering the relationship between education, democracy, and citizenship
education, it is important to consider how the meaning of these concepts change over time and
within different social contexts based upon the discourses used to describe, define, and regulate
them. Obviously, shifts in the discourses of citizenship will determine how we understand this
concept and, in turn, how we view its relationship to education and democracy. In their article,
“Contemporary Discourses of Citizenship”, Kathleen Knight Abowitz and Jason Harnish (2006)
aim to identify the multiple discourses of citizenship circulating in contemporary Western
democracies through a Foucaultian discourse analysis of a wide variety of K-12 curricular and
policy texts. They conclude that contemporary notions of citizenship and citizenship education
continue to be dominated by the citizenship discourses of civic republicanism and liberalism.
However, they also found that there are a variety of competing and often oppositional discourses
of citizenship that have recently emerged which critique and challenge the dominant discourses
of citizenship in public schools. These multiple discourses - those rooted in civic republicanism
and liberalism and those that challenge them - the authors claim, offer “diverse ideological
orientations that are shaping our thinking about civic life and political participation” (656).
Abowitz and Harnish (2006) identify and discuss in detail what they call critical
citizenship discourses that have emerged from but also challenge the civic republican and liberal
discourses that tend to dominate formal school curricula. Not surprisingly, these critical

25

discourses (i.e. feminist, cultural, queer, and reconstructionist), which offer critiques of and raise
questions about traditional meanings of citizenship and of the nation-state itself, are marginalized
in curricular texts. Therefore, the authors argue, the civic republican and liberal discourses of
citizenship go relatively unquestioned and unchallenged within K-12 education. “The
diminution of [critical] discourses in the taught curriculum”, the authors explain, “means that
much of our schooling in citizenship fails to reflect the continual struggles of democratic
politics,” forecloses the “multiple forms of democratic engagement”, and ultimately reduces,
confines, diminishes, and depletes citizenship meanings within schools (657). In other words,
most students in most schools are left with a very limited notion of what constitutes citizenship
and politics, and therefore, leave schools with a rather static and narrow vision of what
democracy looks like in practice.
The authors go on to define the contours of each of the critical discourses of citizenship
that they identify and explain how they differ from or stand in opposition to those of civic
republicanism and/or liberalism. Most importantly for my purposes is the discourse of
reconstructionism which the authors define as being composed of two threads: the progressive,
populist thread that emphasizes “more inclusive, involved, active, participatory democracy that
engages in public (often local) problem solving and work” and the Marxist or critical thread
which “employs a more revolutionary rhetoric and practice in constructing notions of civic
identity, as well as a more hegemonic analysis of government and corporate power” (671).
Within these broad strands, reconstructionist discourses of citizenship attempt to address a
variety of pertinent social, economic, and political issues such as the unresponsiveness of US
institutions to the needs of marginalized groups, the increasing influence of multinational
corporations on government policy and public life, and the deleterious effects of consumer

26

culture. As Abowitz and Harnish (2006) explain, some theorists participating in this particular
discourse go so far as to say that state-run schooling, in as much as it is about order and loyalty,
is antithetical to notions of reconstructionist visions of citizenship.
Most of the claims put forward within reconstructionist discourses of citizenship mesh
quite well with the notions of citizenship, politics, and direct, participatory democracy advanced
by social ecology. However, as the label suggests, reconstructionism (so named, the authors
th

explain, to capture the vision of George Counts and other early 20 century progressives and
Marxists) was intended to advance a radical reconstruction of “U.S. political, economic, and
social institutions and systems” as the only means to see true democracy achieved (671). Having
largely disavowed any direct connection with Marxism proper and having embraced the identityfocused issues raised by postmodernism, many of the educational thinkers and theorists
participating in this discourse lack a broader social and political theory in which they can anchor
their ideas and unify their vision. In other words, while Marxism and other left-leaning critical
discourses within education have failed to provide us with a coherent conception of citizenship
and citizenship education that both directly challenge and move beyond civic republicanism and
liberalism and are firmly rooted in a broader vision of revolutionary social transformation, social
ecology seems well-poised to do both and, in the process, to expand rather than foreclose the
multiple forms of direct democratic engagement that are possible for our students.

B. Re-Imagining Education, Democracy, and Citizenship: Social Ecology and Libertarian
Municipalism
Within anarchism and, more specifically, social ecology/libertarian municipalism, there is
a wholly different framework for thinking about democracy, citizenship, and, thus, education.

27

While liberalism holds as its irreducible unit the self-determining, autonomous individual and the
state as guarantor of individual liberty and freedom, social ecology maintains as its foundation
the social interdependence of individuals and an unswerving faith in the ability of people to
work together to manage their own lives. As Janet Biehl and Murray Bookchin (1998) explain,

Libertarian municipalism [the political dimension of social ecology] proposes that
passive dependence on an elite State is not, after all, the final condition of human
political existence. A more active way of being is possible, it maintains, precisely
because of some of the features that distinguish human beings as social, especially
their capacity for reason, their mutual dependence, and their need for solidarity.
Their independence and solidarity, in particular, can become the psychological,
indeed moral groundwork for citizenship – and thus for the recreation of the
political realm and direct democracy. (85)

In other words, liberalism, with its primary focus on the self-determining, autonomous
individual, has been progressively distorted (by the State, urbanization, atomization, hierarchy,
and capitalism) and has resulted in equating a ‘citizen’ with being a voter, a taxpayer, a
consumer, and in rare instances, one who is able to actively participate in the shaping of
community life within the parameters the State itself has defined.
The notion of direct democracy and the formulation of a type of citizenship and
citizenship education that it requires which are explicitly called for by the philosophy of social
ecology and the politics of libertarian municipalism raise a whole host of questions and require a
detailed examination. The bulk of the dissertation engages just such an exploration and attempts

28

to answer some of those questions. I will now move into a description of the forthcoming
theoretical and empirical portions of the study.

II. Methodological Design
A. Humanities-Oriented Research
Methodologically, I have situated the conceptual portion of the dissertation within what
has come to be called Humanities-Oriented Research. As explained in the 2009 “Standards for
Reporting on Humanities-Oriented Research in AERA Publications”, Humanities-oriented
research includes, but is not limited to, “studies of education that have a relatively heavy
interpretive-theoretical emphasis” (482). As this dissertation project has attempted to examine a
body of social theory and philosophy that is not directly related to education but that may have
important implications for the field, it certainly meets the criteria of having a “heavy
interpretive-theoretical emphasis”. The AERA document also explains that Humanities-oriented
research “undertakes investigations into the relationship among…the ethical life, the good life,
the just society, the characteristics of the good citizen” and “is often intended to foster
dissonance and discomfort with conventional practices and, in some cases, to suggest
alternatives” (482). As has hopefully been made obvious, my intention has been to use social
ecology and libertarian municipalism as a lens through which to not only re-examine the
relationship between education and democracy but also to re-define such fundamental concepts
as citizen, politics, and citizenship education. In that the project aims to question some of the
normative assumptions in existing approaches to citizenship education and to offer concrete
alternatives to these approaches, my work fits nicely into the area of Humanities-oriented
research.

29

Murray Bookchin had set out for himself the project of re-examining and re-defining
such fundamental social and political concepts such as democracy, politics, citizen, and city and
of moving the Left away from the Marxist focus on economic exploitation to focus more
squarely upon broader notions of hierarchy and domination. He undertook this project through a
historical and anthropological examination of the multiple origins of these ideas and the lived
realities to which they gave rise. That said, a significant portion of my work is devoted to
mapping the exact contours of Bookchin’s thought, the influences upon his thinking, the lineage
of social theorists of which he is a part, and the gaps, oversights, and/or contradictions that may
exist in his work. Having gained an understanding of Bookchin’s work that has both breadth and
depth, I attempt to draw out the implications for education generally and citizenship and
ecological sustainability education more specifically.
This portion of the study involved engaging in a close philosophical reading of a number
of Bookchin’s seminal texts including but not limited to The Philosophy of Social Ecology:
Essays on Dialectical Naturalism (1990), The Ecology of Freedom: The emergence and
dissolution of hierarchy (1982/2005), From Urbanization to Cities: Toward a New Politics of
Citizenship (1995), The Politics of Social Ecology (1998), and Social Ecology and Communalism
(2007). More specifically, I engaged with these texts to delineate Bookchin’s conceptions of the
relationship between the social and the ecological; his anthropological and historical tracing of
the origins of domination and hierarchy within human societies; his unique definitions of
politics, democracy, and citizenship as viewed through an ecological and libertarian lens; and,
finally, a close examination and explanation of his libertarian municipalist agenda and the
implications for a form of citizenship education that might help move toward its realization.

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B. Project Description of Empirical Study
The Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School’s use of social ecology as the conceptual
centerpiece of the curriculum across subjects is the aspect of the school upon which my research
was focused. My investigation and exploration of the use of social ecology as a curricular
framework in this small, urban alternative high school provided an opportunity to observe the
real-life application of some of the central ideas in my dissertation. Much of the dissertation is
devoted to exploring, explicating, and drawing out the educational implications of the philosophy
of social ecology particularly as it relates to preparing students for participatory democracy and
ecological sustainability within the life of their communities and beyond. As PACHS is the only
secondary school I have discovered that explicitly utilizes social ecology as a curricular
framework, I believe an overview of the school’s mission and vision, unique approach to
curriculum and pedagogy, close ties to other organizations within the immediate community,
academic success of its students, and commitment to education for self- and social
transformation provide vital empirical insight into the real-life application of social ecology in an
educational setting.
The Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School (PACHS) was founded in 1972 in order to
serve the Latino youth of the area who, for a variety of reasons, were not finding success in the
large, comprehensive high schools of the Chicago Public Schools system. According to 2009
data from Chicago Public Schools, the dropout rate among Latino students in the city has
hovered around forty percent
. PACHS was established with the goal of attempting to remedy this situation by
providing students with what John W. Fritsche (2008) describes as a “standards-based
multicultural curriculum of intensive academic and community-oriented learning experiences in

31

the context of Puerto Rican and Latino life”
(http://www.successinhighneedschools.org/journal/article/illinois-college-and-dr-pedro-albizucampos-high-school-collaboration-type-9-certifi, np).

The central questions guiding the empirical portion of this study were as follows:
•

How has the philosophy of social ecology come to be understood and utilized as the
framework for educational practice, curriculum, pedagogy, and school organization in an
alternative urban secondary school setting?

•

How do the faculty and staff at PACHS understand social ecology and its relationship to
the education of largely disenfranchised urban youth?

•

How is social ecology related to the mission and vision of PACHS based as it is upon
“the philosophical foundation of self-determination, a methodology of self-actualization,
and an ethics of self-reliance”?

C. Methods and Data Collection
Data-generation involved observations of classrooms within the school to learn about the
direct implications of social ecology for curriculum and instruction. I collected and analyzed
historical and archival materials (i.e. brochures, newspaper articles, curricular documents, course
syllabi, etc.) to learn more about the development of the school’s philosophical vision, funding
and accreditation, and operation within institutional and community-based contexts and their
relationship to social ecology. I also documented students’ work and the school environment
through photographs and audio recordings. Finally, I conducted informal, semi-structured
interviews with one of the school’s founders, the school principal and teachers, and students

32

regarding the conceptualization, implementation, and outcomes (i.e. students’ experiences and
understanding) of social ecology as a curricular centerpiece. I audio recorded each of the nine
interviews I conducted and transcribed each for analysis.
I spent approximately four months visiting the school on a bi-weekly basis. During each
of my visits, I sat in and observed classes in nearly all of the subject areas and took field notes on
topics discussed, teachers’ pedagogical methods, classroom settings, and student interaction.
Each of the teachers I observed was comfortable not only with having me in the classroom as an
observer but also with inviting me to participate in classroom discussions and activities and to
ask questions of students. In addition to observing in classrooms, I attended meetings of the
entire staff that occurred on a weekly basis as well as meetings of staff subcommittees such as
those of the social-emotional learning team and curriculum and instruction team. Each week, the
entire school community (teachers, students, administrators, and support staff) came together for
what they call Large Group Unity. This time was utilized for discussion of important issues to
the school community such as upcoming community events in which the school was involved or
issues of concern to staff or students within the school itself (i.e. disruptive behavior or lack of
clarity on policy issues); to recognize students for individual achievement; and for student
performance and self-expression. At Large Group Unity, I observed cultural traditions such as
the singing of the traditional Puerto Rican national anthem and students’ performance of spoken
1

word poetry, hip-hop, and dance. Finally, over the course of my time at the school, I had the
opportunity to attend a city-wide spoken word competition at Columbia College in which a team
of PACHS students participated and the opening of a new art exhibit at the Institute for Puerto
Rican Arts and Culture (IPRAC) attended by various members of the Humboldt Park
1

See Part VI of Chapter 5 for further description of Large Group Unity.
33

community. In short, I was able to involve myself and directly participate in both life inside the
school and within the broader community in which it is situated.
Due to PACHS strong emphasis upon student involvement in local community
organizations and the intentional overlapping of school-based learning and community
development, I provide overviews of the community organizations with which PACHS is
directly involved. In doing so, I offer a description of the organization, the interaction between
students/faculty and the organization, and the relationship between involvement with the
organization and the theory of social ecology. These organizations include an HIV/AIDS
awareness project, a diabetes screening and prevention agency, and a year-round storefront
farmer’s market in which produce grown by students is sold back into the community. Overall, I
collected data and conducted observations at the research site on a bi-weekly basis over the
course of the second semester of the 2011-2012 school year (10 visits over the course of a 20week semester). After completing my scheduled visits, I devoted my time primarily to data
transcription and analysis, write-up of the results, and member checking.
According to the schools Mission and Vision statement,

Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos Puerto Rican High School’s mission is to provide a
quality educational experience needed to empower students to engage in critical
thinking and social transformation, from the classroom to the Puerto Rican
community, based on the philosophical foundation of self-determination, a
methodology of self-actualization, and an ethics of self-reliance.

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It is specifically this Mission and Vision Statement upon which my interviews with
PACHS faculty, students, and community members were focused. In other words, I sought to
glean a representative understanding of how faculty make sense of what is necessary for
empowering “students to engage in critical thinking and social transformation” (PACH Mission
and Vision Statement). I wanted to understand both how faculty make meaning of this mission
and vision and how they attempt to realize or manifest this meaning with students through their
classroom practice, choice of materials, choice of activities, and pedagogy. Additionally, I
sought to develop a definition of the ideal of citizenship held by the faculty of school, whether or
not and to what degree this ideal was aligned with that put forward within the theory of social
ecology, and how faculty went about pursuing the realization of this ideal with students.
After three initial observations at the school and in classrooms across subject areas, I
identified three teachers with which to conduct individual interviews. There are approximately
11 total classroom teachers at the school, 8 support faculty (assistant principal, dean of student
affairs, student mentors, urban agriculture coordinator). The teachers I interviewed taught Urban
Agriculture, Integrated Science, and Social Studies, respectively. Additionally, I had the
opportunity to interview one of the school’s founders who is still actively engaged in the school
and the surrounding community. Finally, throughout my time at PACHS I had frequent and
informal conversations as well as more structured interviews with the school principal that were
indispensable to developing an thorough understanding of the schools history, development,
2

mission and vision, and current organization and practice.

D. Goals
2

I provide a more detailed description of my methods for data analysis in Chapter Five which
focuses exclusively on the study I conducted at the school.
35

As my broader dissertation project aimed to provide a comprehensive examination of the
philosophy of social ecology and its implications for educating toward and through direct
democracy and ecological sustainability, the empirical research study provided a bridge between
what is primarily theoretical and the concrete, empirical reality within a school. The study also
provided insight into the obstacles to and possibilities for nurturing strong school-community
connections, methods for teaching critical thought regarding social and ecological
interrelationship, and students’ academic and self-development through the marrying of social
ecology to alternative secondary education. Finally, I gained an in-depth understanding of how
the faculty and staff of PACHS have come to understand social ecology and how they have
worked to incorporate it as the centerpiece of their curriculum. Ultimately, I believe the
philosophy has the potential to act as a foundation for similar experiments in small, alternative
schools committed to preparing critical, engaged, and participatory citizens and this study will
benefit pre-service and practicing teachers and teacher educators focused on alternative urban
education and urban educational reform.

III. Conclusion
We live in a time of deep economic insecurity, growing disparities in wealth and
privilege, and increasingly dire ecological crises. Americans’ distrust of government is at its
highest level ever (New York Times, October 26, 2011). As Eirik Eiglad (2007) describes our
current situation,

We are standing at a crucial crossroads. Not only does the age-old “social
question” concerning the exploitation of human labor remain unresolved, but also

36

the plundering of natural resources has reached a point where humanity is also
forced to politically deal with an “ecological question.” Today, we have to make
conscious choices about what direction society should take to properly meet these
challenges. At the same time, we see that our ability to make the necessary
choices is being undermined by an incessant centralization of economic and
political power. (7)

Deeply connected to these broad social, ecological, and political issues are the ways in
which we educate our young. Taken with the fact that many individuals and communities feel
the educational system is unable to meet their personal and collective needs, it seems high time
that we go beyond thinking within existing power relations and social, political, and economic
coordinates and move toward changing “the very coordinates of our choices” (Žižek, 2011, 358).
Since its inception, public education has been viewed as essential to preserving and advancing a
democratic society. In reassessing that aim and the means we have devised to accomplish it, it is
vital that we examine and question not only the edifice we have built but also the foundation
upon which we have built it. Social ecology and libertarian municipalism, representing

an effort to work from the latent or incipient democratic possibilities [within the
social realm] toward a radically new configuration of society itself – a
communitarian society oriented toward meeting human needs, responding to
ecological imperatives, and developing a new ethics based on sharing and
cooperation (Bookchin, 2007, 108)

37

– hold great promise for assisting us not only in that reassessment, but also in the more
important work of reconstruction.

38

Chapter Two
Anarchism and Education

I. Introduction
Bookchin’s life and work and the development of this theory of social ecology were
deeply enmeshed with a number of the radical left social movements of his time. The late
nineteenth and early twentieth century social anarchist movements were to have a profound
impact upon the way he conceived of social change toward a more equitable and ecological
society free of domination and hierarchy. In this chapter, I first outline the distinctions between
anarchism as a political philosophy and that of liberal democratic theory upon which much of
educational philosophy is based. Additionally, I compare/contrast the anarchist perspective on
education with that of Marxian critical pedagogy and highlight some of the important overlaps
and differences between the two. Secondly, as social ecology is largely rooted in the social
anarchist tradition, I briefly sketch out the principles upon which the social anarchist position (on
the state, on authority, on human beings’ way of interacting with and relating to one another)
rests. Next, I consider some of the anarchist critiques of state-controlled schooling. Following
this discussion of what I call traditional anarchism (largely rooted in late nineteenth and early
twentieth century European workers’ movements), I examine some of the foundational principles
of contemporary anarchism, beginning in the 1960’s and continuing up through the present.
Finally, I sketch a brief outline of what it might look like to utilize anarchist principles as an
organizing framework for education, but save a more detailed discussion of this topic for Chapter
Six.

39

While I will save a more thorough examination of social ecology for later chapters, it is
important to identify some of its major tenets as they are specific articulations of anarchist
principles within the realms of philosophy, politics, and social relations that have particular
relevance for an educational model aimed toward direct democracy. Briefly, these principles
include: a contextualist view of human nature; the importance of non-hierarchical, non-coercive
relations; radically democratic, participatory decision-making; decentralization of institutions
and decision-making processes; and the direct self-management of community issues and
institutions by the individuals that inhabit those communities.
Because it lies outside the liberal, pragmatic philosophical tradition and does not take for
granted the necessity of the State, anarchism has been summarily rejected by many academics
without serious consideration of its principles, history, or development. Other scholars within
the educational community suggest that associations within the popular imagination between
anarchism and disorder/violence have resulted in its failure to be taken seriously as a legitimate
theoretical framework for education (Bowen & Purkis, 2005). Additionally, there are those that
attribute anarchism’s absence from critical educational discourse to this discourse’s foundation
and subsequent development within Marxist and neo-Marxist theory and critique that rely on the
possibility of a central state apparatus. While I agree these are legitimate explanations for the
lack of consideration of anarchism within the academy, my feeling is that there are related yet
more pragmatic reasons that the history and philosophy of anarchism and its relationship to
education have not been more thoroughly explored within radical/critical/progressive education
circles. In short, amidst a time of increased centralization and standardization and the
persistence of conservative forces at work in the political, economic, and educational realms, I
would argue that even those whose thinking might strongly resonate with an anarchist ethic,

40

philosophy, and worldview are reluctant to name it as such for fear of the direct and concrete as
well as subtle and less tangible reprisals that might follow from claiming such an affinity.
The essential point I continually return to in my own work and relationships is that a
better, more just, more equitable world is possible and that the way we think about and practice
education is fundamental in moving toward realizing this world. This is a belief that led me into
and sustained my work as an educator and an academic. It is a belief I share with many other
anarchists, both living and dead. As explained by Krimerman and Perry (1966), “anarchism has
persistently regarded itself as having distinctive and revolutionary implications for education.
Indeed, no other movement whatever has assigned to educational principles, concepts,
experiments, and practices a more significant place in its writings and activities” (11) – outside
of perhaps nationalists.
In considering and exploring the relationship between anarchism and education, I need to
clarify an essential point at the outset. This exploration is not necessarily an exercise in thinking
about how to educate or teach young people how to be anarchists. Rather, the premise
underlying this work is that anarchist principles, an anarchist ethics, and an anarchist vision of
social change and movement toward a more rational and ecological society can serve as a
bedrock for reconsidering how schools are organized and structured, the form and function of
relationships within the school setting, and the interrelationship between the means and the ends
of educational endeavors. This last point is the most important. That is, a school based upon
anarchist principles should be an example of the future social organization community members
desire in the present.

41

II. Points of Departure: Beyond ‘Liberal’ Education and Marxian Critical Pedagogy, Towards
Anarchistic Learning Communities
The ways in which we conceive of the role of education in both fostering democratic selfgovernance and of expanding democratization into the everyday social life of individuals is
going to depend heavily upon how we conceive of or envision democracy itself. While we often
assume to share a common understanding of what democracy is and what democracy looks like
in practice, I would posit that there is a particular normative understanding of democracy upon
which most discussions of politics, citizenship, and education are based. That is, the hegemonic
construction of democracy most often rests upon the assumptions of a centralized state, a
representative form of government elected by the populace yet often far removed
(geographically, socially, and economically) from those it claims to represent, liberal notions of
the primacy of individual rights, and the primary role of the citizen as voter, taxpayer, and
‘productive’ (i.e. working) member of the polis. When citizenship is discussed beyond the
confines of simply voter, taxpayer, and worker, as in the case of the ‘participatory’ or ‘active’
citizen, this is most often done within the same commonly understood framework of democracy
laid out above. As explained by Claudia W. Ruitenberg (2008), many scholars in the area of
citizenship education have, as the starting point for their discussions, the idea of deliberative
democracy, as developed in the political philosophy of John Rawls and furthered by educational
theorists such as Amy Gutmann (see Gutmann, 1987) and Eamon Callan (see Callan, 1997).
My intention, however, is not to provide an exhaustive account of either liberalism or
deliberative democratic theory. Rather, I would like to briefly explore some relevant scholarly
literature that takes as its starting point something other than deliberative democracy because it is
the normative foundation of liberalism and deliberative democracy and their relationship to

42

politics and citizenship that anarchism seeks to question and challenge. As such, this section
attempts to distinguish anarchism from other radical discourses in education based primarily on
the fact that it offers not only critique of existing institutions but also principles by which to reimagine both the political and educational landscape. The International Institute for Democracy
and Electoral Assistance (IDEA) defines democracy in terms of two fundamental principles: that
democracy is characterized by “popular control over public decision making and decision
makers” and “equality between citizens in the exercise of that control” (Beetham et al. 2001, 3).
How often this definition is used in discussing democracy and education, not to mention how
often it is practiced, is difficult to say. However, this definition is broad enough to encompass a
number of different conceptions of the ‘good life’ and specific enough to begin to suggest how
schools and what kind of schools might more meaningfully contribute to realizing democracy in
its purest sense – direct democracy (demos + kratia=rule by the people).
Critical pedagogy has been the most widely recognized radical strand within educational
thought. Critical pedagogical thought and its explicators have been the most ardent critics of the
status quo, capitalist domination, inequality based upon race, gender, sexual orientation, and the
like. Critical pedagogues generally focus their examination on “the mediations that link the
institutions and activities of everyday life with the logic and commanding forces that shape the
larger social totality” (Giroux, 2009). In other words, the attention of critical pedagogues tends
to fall on these “commanding forces” that are often difficult to identify in one’s everyday life but
that nonetheless affect one’s thought, behavior, and the possibilities for the full unfolding of
one’s individuality and potential.
Generally speaking, critical pedagogues, like their Frankfurt School predecessors, have
been strongly influenced by Marxian analyses of society and culture through a more narrow

43

economic lens and tend to view the fragmented human subject as the outcome of the alienation
created in and through capitalism. While often negated or consciously overlooked, Paulo
Freire’s own commitment to and grounding in Marxist-Socialist thought is most obvious in his
early works such as Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970/1993). As Antonia Darder (2009)
explains, “Without question, when Freire spoke of the ruling class or the oppressors, he was
referring to historical class distinctions and class conflict within the structure of capitalist society
3

– capitalism was the root of domination” (570). In a cyclical process, capitalism feeds off of this
void and fragmentation by producing needs and desires that the subject is conditioned to fill
through consumption of the products of capitalism (Marcuse, 1964; Fromm, 1976/1997).
Because the material products of capitalism are inadequate and incapable of filling the void that
accompanies existence and self-awareness, individuals continually search for more and/or more
advanced products to fill the (W)hole. This leaves the process of production and consumption
intact, ever expanding, and self-sustaining and renders capitalism the dominant system
structuring individual and social experience. Pepi Leistyna and Loretta Alper (2009) articulately
explain this relationship:

While capitalism consists of a structural reality built on political and economic
processes, institutions, and relationships, its proponents also rely on the formative
power of culture to shape the kinds of meaning, desire, subjectivity, and thus
identity that can work to ensure the maintenance of its logic and practice. (501)

3

That said, a frequent tendency within critical pedagogy is to transmogrify Marxist theories
without serious and sustained engagement with Marxism proper. Therefore, the two schools of
thought should not necessarily be conflated with one another.
44

Based upon Freire’s (1997) own insistence that his pedagogical project be reconstructed
and re-envisioned within different cultural and historical contexts, a number of educational
scholars and theorists have critiqued and problematized his work and that of his North American
proponents so as to make it more inclusive and to broaden its ability to address the contemporary
constellation of issues related to power, oppression, and liberation (Bowers, 2003; Ellsworth,
1989; Ladson-Billings, 1994; Luke and Gore, 1992; Weiler, 1991) . These critiques have come
from a variety of sources and theoretical perspectives (i.e. feminist, post-structural,
psychoanalytic, Critical Race Theory, and ecological, to name a few). However, like critical
pedagogy itself, these critiques rarely question or offer alternatives to the nexus of centralized
power, hierarchy, and monopolized violence that is the state.
As Peter Marshall (1992/2010) describes in his comprehensive historical account of
anarchism, ‘the stream of anarchy’ can be said to reach back as far as pre-historical huntergatherer societies and the ancient Taoism of China. However, as a historically significant and
coherent political ideology that took rise in the nineteenth century, any consideration of social
anarchism must begin with its fundamental rejection of the state and the multiple layers of
hierarchical forms of government associated with it. I would argue it is this characteristic that
most outsiders associate with the word, but it is clear from the wide-ranging theoretical
articulations and historical accounts of anarchism ‘in action’ that, as a social doctrine, anarchism
goes far beyond a simple rejection of the state and institutionalized forms of authority and offers
nothing short of an entirely new way for human beings to relate to one another based upon a
particular view of human nature and particular notions of authority, freedom, and community.
While some of these important ideas will be examined more thoroughly later in the
chapter, I would like to provide a few brief comments on each of them here. First, anarchism

45

tends to view human nature as having a roughly equal capacity for competition as it does for
cooperation. The social and cultural context in which one is raised and the discourses through
which one comes to understand the workings of the world and his/her place within it is what
reinforces or provides credence to one of the two tendencies while undermining the other.
Authority, or what might also be called power over, is viewed by anarchists as essentially
illegitimate unless it can be sufficiently justified for the specific individual(s) upon which it
exerts its influence. For example, a police force may be able to justify its authority over a
population upon the basis of providing for that population’s safety and security; however, for any
single individual that does not directly consent to that authority, said authority is entirely
4

illegitimate. Conversely, freedom is regarded as having its foundation in one’s ability to have a
5

direct, participatory role in the decisions that most intimately affect one’s life. Finally, the
anarchist conception of community is generally not something vague or abstract or defined based
upon some shared characteristic without spatial or temporal limit (i.e. ‘community of believers’).
Rather, ‘community’, from the anarchist perspective, is defined by the place one lives and the
people with which one associates and mutually depends upon for one’s physical and emotional
well-being. Community is small, local, and conceived of on the human-scale. In short,
community is one’s immediate surroundings and the variety of relationships within those
surroundings upon which one depends for survival and consociation.

4

Some anarchists go so far as to claim even majority decision-making violates the freedom of or
rules over the minority and is, thus, also illegitimate. I, however, do not subscribe to this belief
but feel that, while consensus may be the most desirable means of making decisions, there may
be instances where the endorsement of the majority must win out.
5
Like notions of human nature and authority, there are as many definitions of ‘freedom’ as there
are anarchists. There are really no authoritative definitions of any of these concepts. Their many
articulations fall across a wide spectrum that have individualist anarchism at one pole and social
anarchism at the other.
46

While the anarchist critique of existing social relations, institutions, and political and
economic structures is comprehensive and its vision of a freer and more just and equitable
society far-reaching, it is wrong to think that anarchists are indifferent to addressing important
social issues within the nation-state and under capitalism and the hierarchical relationships that
exist in most realms of public life. A free society is not something that will only be realized after
the ‘revolution’. Individuals and communities, taking direct control of and participating on an
equal footing within the realms of social life by which they are most directly affected in the
present, will help usher in a more equitable, free, and just society. As explained on the Anarchist
FAQ website:

It is this organic evolution that anarchists promote when they create anarchist
alternatives within capitalist society. The alternatives anarchists create (be they
workplace or community unions, co-operatives, mutual banks, and so on) are
marked by certain common features such as being self-managed, being based
upon equality and decentralization and working with other groups and
associations within a confederal network based upon mutual aid and solidarity. In
other words, they are anarchist in both spirit and structure and so create a practical
bridge between what is and what is possible.
(http://www.infoshop.org/page/AnarchistFAQSectionJ5, retrieved September 23,
2011)

The social anarchist approach to this activity is that of localized and collective action of
groups to directly intervene in and change certain aspects of their lives. Social anarchism takes

47

many different forms in many different areas but most often these different forms share the same
basic aspects of “collective direct action, self-organization, self-management, solidarity, and
mutual aid” (Anarchism FAQ) – all of which are intended to support direct, face-to-face
deliberation, discussion, and management of community affairs by members of the community.
I believe the anarchist approach to social change, broadly speaking, and to education more
specifically offers new and exciting possibilities for the way we think about pedagogy,
teaching/learning, the philosophical foundations, and school reform and restructuring for civic
education centered upon direct democracy. In essence, I am looking to anarchism and social
ecology more specifically for a set of structuring principles for education toward direct
democracy that go beyond and approach from a different angle those principles/frameworks
grounded in the liberal tradition and discussed extensively in the literature concerned with the
link between education and democracy.
Anarchism shares the assumptions of Marxian critical educational discourse regarding the
structural inequality of capitalist society, and the possibility of subverting this by means of a
critical pedagogy. Explaining some points of convergence between anarchism and critical
pedagogy, Judith Suissa (2001) states:

Indeed, the Platonic ideal of education as freedom from illusion is one that
underlies much of the tradition of radical and critical pedagogy, reflecting yet
another point of convergence between liberalism, Marxism and anarchism. Yet
anarchist thinkers would reject both the theory of social reproduction and the
ideas of the socially constructed nature of knowledge implicit in much
contemporary work in critical pedagogy. As an Enlightenment movement,

48

anarchism involves a great deal of faith in progress and universal values. It is
this, indeed, that separates it from postmodernist theories, in spite of its
decentralist, anti-hierarchical stance. (640)

That said, the fundamental difference between the two schools of thought is the anarchists’
fundamental rejection of the state apparatus.
In his article, “Analytical Anarchism: Some Conceptual Foundations”, Alan Carter
(2000) postulates that clarification of foundational concepts within anarchist political philosophy
could aid in helping this perspective gain a foothold in academia similar to that enjoyed by
Marxism. He begins with a working definition of anarchism that defines the philosophy as one
opposed to substantive political inequalities as well as substantive economic inequalities. From
the anarchist perspective, most significant political inequalities, Carter (2000) argues, “are those
that flow from centralized, authoritarian forms of government” (1). According to Carter (2000),
anarchism consists of a normative opposition to substantive political inequalities along with an
empirical belief that political equality is unavoidably undermined by state power (1). The
opposition to political inequality and the belief that political equality is undermined by
centralized authority necessarily makes all anarchists opposed to the state as such. However,
Carter reminds us, opposition to the state and, thus, rule is not the same as opposition to society
and rules used to structure that society. As he explains,

What is surely crucial to any version of anarchism worth its salt is that the
anarchist structures it proposes be empowering to those within them and do not
lead to a centralization of power or decision-making. Even with those

49

restrictions, the possibilities for anarchist social organization are clearly far
greater than most opponents of anarchism realize or than is portrayed in popular
stereotypes of anarchist practice. (232)

Carter (2000) goes on to outline the significant distinctions between anarchism and
Marxism. The first and foremost difference is that Marxists are willing to adopt a vangaurdist
approach to revolutionary change and a transitional form of government leading toward a
socialist society while anarchists argue that this vanguard would itself develop into a state-like
form and that no state-like form could be relied upon to bring about the transition to an
egalitarian society (232). In essence, Carter argues that the most sophisticated articulations of
Marxist theory draw their focus upon economic forces, economic relations, and political relations
yet ignore political forces (i.e. police and military) that are drawn upon to secure economic
control (i.e. ownership of the means of production – tools and raw materials). It is the failure of
Marxist theory, according to Carter (2000), to distinguish between political relations and
political forces that is the first primary distinction between it and anarchist theory. In other
words, just as there is a distinction between relations of production (i.e. relations of effective
control of forces of production) and the forces of production (i.e. labor-power of producing
agents and means of production), there should also be a distinction between political relations
and political forces (i.e. the forces that empower the state). As Carter (2000) explains:

Included within the set of political relations, constituting the political structure,
are these power relations, essential for enabling and preserving the relations of
control over production and exchange and that are embodied in the various legal

50

and political institutions. The political institutions are relations of…effective
control of the defensive forces. In the modern state, these political forces are
coercive in nature. And such forces of coercion can comprise political laborpower and means of coercion. (235)

With technological development (i.e. developments in the means of production) comes the
transformation of legal and political structures to stabilize required economic relations. Carter
(2000) introduces a third factor to help explain “the features of society that otherwise appear to
fall outside the ambit of historical materialism (i.e. nationalism). This third important factor can
be characterized as (c) self-definition within a community” (238). Insofar as individuals identify
with different groups and that it is within these groups that rational individuals face scarcity, they
may choose to plunder the surpluses created by other groups rather than rationally choosing to
develop the productive forces. For those that choose systematic plunder of other groups in the
face of scarcity, development of the forces of coercion would be of great benefit.
Rather than viewing the nature of a set of production relations as explained by the level
of development of the productive forces, Carter explains that a set of production relations in a
society is explained by state interests. In order to protect their interests and develop their ability
to defend themselves (political forces), state actors have an interest “in selecting and stabilizing
appropriate economic relations” through the political forces under their control thereby further
developing these very forces. Finally, Carter argues, it is neither the legal and political
institutions nor simply the political actors or individuals but the “rational choices taken by
individuals who act within certain relationships to one another” that select economic relations.
The primary implication of Carter’s (2000) State-Primacy Theory flows from this:

51

given that states select relations of production that are in their interests rather than
egalitarian relations that are in the interests of the mass of the population, then a
necessary (though not necessarily sufficient) condition for human emancipation
and equality must be the abolition of the state by the citizens themselves. (249)

In short, whereas critical pedagogy often argues for the reform of, greater access to,
recognition from, and equality within the existing state apparatus, anarchism finds as its starting
point an outright rejection of centralized authority, manifested most clearly in the centralized
state. While anarchists and Marxian/Neo-Marxian critical pedagogues most certainly share
much common ground, this important point of divergence raises an essential question in a
discussion of the relationship between education, democracy, and citizenship.
This question asks whether the theories, analyses, and praxis of critical educators and
pedagogues are aimed toward providing each human being with greater access to and more
equitable distribution of the fruits of modern industrialization, technological development, and
political power or if they are more interested in articulating, pursuing, and realizing a completely
new (maybe not so new as it may have existed in the past) way of life that has at its center
“learning, sociality, community, ‘autonomous and creative intercourse among persons, and the
intercourse of persons with their environment’” – all of which “work to produce a more
democratic and sustainable society that is ‘simple in means and rich in ends’” (Kahn, 2009
quoting Illich, 1977, 44).
In summary, the anarchist perspective differs from Marxian-inspired critical pedagogues’
efforts at social transformation in a number of different ways. Broadly speaking, anarchism

52

stands in opposition to central ownership of the economy and state control of production. It
maintains the belief that a transition to a free and classless society is possible without any
intermediate period of dictatorship. As Judith Suissa (2010) explains, anarchist opposition to
Marxism is rooted in the belief that “by using the state structure to realize their goals,
revolutionaries will…inevitably reproduce all its negative features” (Suissa, 2001). Finally,
anarchists commonly hold that the Marxist claim to create a scientific theory of social change
will invariably lead to a form of elitism. In contrast, a fundamental aspect of the anarchist
position is the belief that the exact form of the future society can never be determined in advance
as it involves “as constant, dynamic process of self-improvement, spontaneous organization and
free experimentation” (Suissa, 2001, 631).

III. Overview of Historical and Contemporary Anarchist Critiques of State-Controlled Education
A preliminary search for scholarly articles under the broad heading of ‘anarchism and
education’ yields literature coming primarily from the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. It appears
that many of the investigations into this topic were conducted during the heyday of social,
cultural, and political resistance to hierarchy and authoritarianism in its many guises. Obviously,
the nature of social and political life and the ensuing discourses around the purpose, practice, and
organization of public education have changed dramatically over the past 30 years as have the
iterations and relevance of anarchist theory and practice. Therefore, I thought it wise to limit my
overview of the literature that is concerned with anarchism as a political philosophy and its
specific implications for the way we think about and practice education to the past 20 years as
this is most relevant for the present study. That said, education has been a central aspect of
th

th

anarchist thought since its officially recognized inception between the late 17 and mid-18

53

century and, thus, there is a wealth of literature on the topic that will be examined and considered
in due course throughout the dissertation.
Robert H. Chappell (1978) offers a comprehensive survey of the educational viewpoints
th

held by the major European anarchists of the 19 Century. As it turns out, like so many other
social movements of the time, the anarchist critique of public education was rooted in the belief
in reason and rationality as the means and ends of an education aimed at individual and social
freedom. While some of these early anarchists developed their programs around the former goal
(individual freedom), others viewed this as inseparable from the latter (social freedom).
William Godwin (1756-1836), one of the forefathers of anarchism as an organized
political theory and movement, opposed a state-controlled educational system because it served
to bolster the power of the state and thereby occluded the development of human reason as the
basis for social progress. The development of human reason, Godwin argued, could only come
with social interaction and communication and could not be trusted to any government or
religious institution. Similarly, Mikhail Alexandrovitch Bakunin (1814-1876) was strictly
opposed to a national education which, he believed, primarily served the socio-economic
interests of the state and those that controlled it and not the interests of the people. As Bakunin
believed the only legitimate authorities for a human were the laws of his/her own nature and
those of the environment, education should be based upon gaining an understanding, through
scientific inquiry, of nature and society. He called his approach integral education as it provided
both the theoretical and practical aspects necessary for the individual’s full development.
Pierre-Joseph Proudhon (1809-1865), the first to explicitly identify himself as an
anarchist, suggested the principal role of state-sponsored education was to create and reproduce
class divisions within society by separating professional and practical instruction. Similar to

54

Bakunin, Proudhon argued that book-learning or theoretical education should be integrated with
practical education focused on trades and conducting the affairs of one’s daily life.
In surveying the field of the study of anarchism and its relationship to education, there are
only a few contemporary scholars that have engaged sustained considerations of the topic. Of
the work of these few, most can be categorized as either historical investigations of (see Avrich,
1980; Shotton, 1993; Smith, 1983; Spring, 1998) or philosophical inquiries (see Smith, 1983;
Suissa, 2010) into the relationship. However, there are a couple of scholars that have gone
beyond the historical and philosophical to examine how an education firmly rooted in anarchist
principles looks in practice (see Gribble, 1998; Hern, 1997) or how anarchist principles could be
incorporated into the traditional public school (Deleon 2006 and 2008).
In her 2006 book, Anarchism and Education: A Philosophical Perspective, Judith Suissa
undertakes one of the most in-depth contemporary considerations of the implications of
traditional anarchist thought for philosophy of education. In her discussion of anarchism and the
underlying principles that have some bearing on education, she draws primarily from the
th

foundational anarchist thinkers of 19 century Europe – namely, Mikhail Bakunin, Peter
Kropotkin, and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon – and the numerous interpretations of their lives and
writing offered by contemporary academics and intellectuals. As Suissa’s work is one of only a
few current publications that engages a meticulous and relevant analysis of anarchism and its
relationship to/implications for education, I will provide a summary of her approach and major
claims paying particular attention to the comparisons/contrasts she provides between anarchism
and liberalism, identify the areas in which I feel she has laid some of the groundwork for my
own exploration, and map out the uncharted territory through which I traverse in the remainder
of the dissertation.

55

Suissa (2010) clearly and concisely distinguishes the anarchist perspective from most
other political philosophies by claiming that anarchism does not take any existing social or
political framework for granted but rather focuses upon imagining how an ideal social order
could look, identifying the principles underlying this vision, and enacting them within existing
social relations. The first chapter in the book immediately attempts to sketch out a working
definition for anarchism and to lay out the central questions related to anarchism and education
that she will explore in the subsequent chapters. Suissa claims that anarchism addresses “basic
philosophical issues concerning such notions as human nature, authority, freedom, and
community” (8) and places the burden of proof for the justification of authority or coercion in
any realm upon the agent/institution that exercises that authority or coercion.
Comparing anarchism to liberalism, Suissa claims that at the heart of anarchist theory is
the desire for freedom. Equally important to and mutually dependent upon freedom is equality –
a primary concern for anarchism and socialism alike. But while liberalism is centrally focused
upon freedom and socialism primarily concerned with equality, the anarchist stance is that they
are inseparable, neither freedom nor equality is realizable without the other. She distinguishes
between ‘individualist’ anarchism and ‘social’ anarchism (9) - the former privileging individual
freedom or autonomy above all else – and clearly states that her inquiry is primarily concerned
with the latter. Finally, she goes on to identify and briefly define the five main variants of social
anarchism which include mutualism, federalism, collectivism, communism, and syndicalism.
For the purposes of my discussion, it is not necessary to provide a detailed account of each of
these strands of anarchist thought as they all share, in one form or another, the fundamental set of
principles laid out above.

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Suissa identifies the anarchist conception of human nature as the key to understanding
“much of anarchist thought and…to addressing the criticisms of anarchism as a political theory”
as well as an “important element in the anarchist position on education” (16). Through
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consideration of foundational anarchist thinkers of the 19 century, Suissa determines that
anarchism tends to hold a conception of human nature that is essentially or “innately twofold,
involving both an egotistical potential and a sociable, or altruistic potential” and that it is the
form of the dominant political and economic relations within which one is embedded that
promote the expression of one or the other of these potentialities (25). As Suissa explains,
according to traditional anarchist theorists, “although there are two innate sides to human nature,
the way in which different propensities develop is a function of environmental conditions” (32).
In other words, capitalism and capitalist social relations and the indirect forms of political
participation available to people within large, bureaucratized, and centralized representative or
parliamentary democracies tend to bring out or nurture the more egoistic and unsympathetic
tendencies of individual human beings and entire societies living under these conditions.
Conversely, Suissa explains that many anarchists believed social relations (and primarily
educational relations)

which systematically promoted cooperation, solidarity, and mutual aid, thus
undermining the values underlying the capitalist state, would both encourage the
flourishing of these innate human propensities and inspire people to form social
alliances and movements aimed at furthering the social revolution. (32)

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Finally, in addition to holding a twofold notion of human nature, the social anarchists also placed
a strong emphasis on the idea of rationality and humans’ ability to reason as central to the project
of moral and political progress.
In the chapter titled, “Education for an anarchist society: Vocational training and political
visions,” Suissa (2010) attempts to answer the question, “’What should the anarchist policymaker or educational theorist do – in keeping with anarchist theory – in order to bring the
possibility of an anarchist society a little closer?’” Despite the oxymoronic notion of an
‘anarchist policy-maker’, Suissa’s examination of this question is worth considering in detail as
it attempts to directly bridge the gap between traditional anarchist theory and practice and the
moral and political content of anarchist education. In other words, she provides an articulation
of the traditional “anarchist perspective on the relationship between education and social change”
(103).
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Drawing from late 19 and early 20 century anarchists such as Peter Kropotkin and
Pierre Josesh-Proudhon, Suissa highlights the importance of integral education – that is, “an
education that combined intellectual and manual training” – in early attempts at providing an
anarchist education (103). The centrality of integral education rested upon the notion that an
education too divorced from the world of work would limit one’s ability to navigate the
industrialized marketplace while a wholly specialized vocational education would doom the
student to a life of monotonous factory work. Ideally, integral education would help break down
the distinctions created by capitalist economies between manual work and mental work and the
“associated inequalities in social status” to which this distinction gives rise.
In addition to the emphasis upon an education which combined manual and mental work,
the educational endeavors of traditional social anarchists also involved

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a commitment to political and moral education, in the sense of challenging the
dominant values of the capitalist system – for example, the wage system, the
competitive marketplace, the control of the means of production, and so on – as
well as fostering the social virtues. (Suissa, 2010, 105)

That is, students, whether old or young, were encouraged to critically examine and question the
legitimacy of social systems and institutions based upon obedience and authority such as the
Catholic church, division of labor, and traditional school organization itself and the values upon
which these systems and institutions rested (Avrich, 1980). Alongside the questioning of
dominant values, anarchist educators attempted to advance and cultivate - in word and deed “the human propensity (already present, but often suppressed by capitalist institutions and
values) for benevolence, mutual aid and fraternity” within students (Suissa, 2010, 107).
In short, according to Suissa’s examination of the traditional social anarchist perspective
on and practice of education, those involved in the education of the young should not be
concerned simply with intellectual development or preparation for the world of work – albeit
with a different orientation toward these endeavors. Education, according to the early anarchists,
should in no way aid and abet dominant economic and political trends, but should question and
challenge the moral foundations upon which such trends rest. The task for the anarchist
educator, according to Suissa, is

to lay the grounds for the transition to an anarchist, self-governing, equitable
community. One can begin this process…on the smallest possible scale, by

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challenging dominant values and encouraging the human propensity for mutual
aid, cooperation and self-governance. Indeed…the anarchist revolution is
conceptualized by most of the social anarchists not as a violent dismantling of the
present system in order to replace it with a radically new one, nor, as in the case
of Marxism, as a remolding of human tendencies and attitudes, but as a process of
creating a new society from the seeds of aspirations, tendencies and trends already
present in human action….the foundations of anarchist society are, above all,
moral, and thus one cannot escape the conclusion that the emphasis of the
educational process must be on fostering those moral attitudes which can further
and sustain a viable anarchist society. (118)

After considering some of the foundational principles of traditional social anarchism and
the ways in which they were realized in anarchist schools of the past, she goes on to consider the
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moral and political content of traditional anarchist education. First and foremost, mid to late 19
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and early 20 century anarchist educators thought it necessary to remove schools from control of
the state. Theorists such as Proudhon insisted that decentralization of the school system was as
necessary as decentralization of the workplace in order that “the responsibility for the setting up
and managing of schools would rest with parents and communities and would be closely tied to
local workers’ associations” (120).
While the notion of wresting control of the educational system may seem far-fetched, we
need not look far to see examples of how this has and continues to happen. For example,
anarchist free skools, the home schooling movement, and certain elements of the charter school

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movement have as their goal the education of young people with greater and lesser degrees of
autonomy from state control.
The political content of education rooted in the traditional anarchist movement, according
to Suissa, is grounded in the ideal of dismantling capitalism and creating a classless society. The
approach to the realization of this ideal, as explored earlier, lies in fostering the human
tendencies necessary to advance and support it (such as cooperation, mutual aid, solidarity,
sensitivity to injustice, etc.). However, the fostering of these qualities is insufficient on its own
and, according to Suissa, must be supplemented by two other vital ingredients. As Suissa claims,
a political education must first equip students to understand the anarchist critique of existing
society and, second, must provide students with opportunities to imagine alternatives. This final
quality – that is, encouraging students to develop reconstructive visions of society – has been a
central aspect of anarchist educational experiments in the past and present and is what sets it
apart from the liberal and Marxist perspectives. Suissa summarizes it this way:

The anarchist perspective…involves not only the ‘leap of faith’ that a stateless
society is possible, and can be sustained along communal, non-hierarchical
principles, on the basis of already present human capabilities and propensities but
also, crucially for education, the utopian hope that the very imaginative exercise
of encouraging people to conceptualize the exact form of this society, and to
constantly engage with and experiment with its principles and manifestations, is
itself a central part of the revolutionary process. (123)

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Suissa provides one of the most comprehensive contemporary accounts of the traditional
social anarchist perspective and its philosophical implications for education. This work has been
a major catalyst for my thinking. However, it is important to note that Suissa’s analysis and
philosophical investigation is focused upon the foundational anarchist thinkers, activists,
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theorists and educators of the 18 , 19 , and early 20 century. Because it is obviously beyond
the scope of her book, Suissa does not take into consideration the ways in which anarchism has
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changed and transformed over the course of the second half of the 20 century in response to a
rapidly shifting social, economic, and political landscape. Nor does she examine how these
social, economic, and political shifts have influenced education and how the contemporary
anarchist movement has responded. I will proceed in the next section of the chapter to provide a
broad outline of the contemporary anarchist movement and the principles that define it and
briefly sketch out its implications for education that will be explored in further depth in the
following chapters.

IV. Principles of Contemporary Anarchism
What falls outside of most historical and philosophical investigations of the relationship
between anarchism and education are contemporary iterations of the theory, philosophy, and
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practice of self-identified anarchists living in the 21 century. Anarchism, as a clearly
articulated political philosophy and basis for individual and collective action, took rise during the
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Jacobin revolution of the 1790’s and saw its largest following from the middle of the 19

century (during which time the ‘forefathers’ of anarchism lived such Pierre-Joseph Proudhon,
Peter Kropotkin, and Mikhail Bakunin) through to the end of World War II (Marshall,

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1992/2010). While anarchists and anarchist-inspired groups, organizations, and projects have
continued since, adherents of the philosophy have easily been overshadowed by the ascendancy
of Marxism and communism’s role in world events since the 1917 Russian Revolution.
Interestingly, anarchism has seen a revitalization that some attribute to the rise of neoliberal globalization, the passage of the North American Free Trade Agreement, and the global
resistance movements by which these trends have been met (i.e. the 1996 Zapatista uprising in
Chiapas, Mexico; the 1999 IMF/World Bank Protests in Seattle, WA; and the 2000 Free Trade
Area of the Americas Summit protests in Quebec) (Graeber, 2009). In fact, anarchism has seen
its most widespread and visible re-emergence in the global Occupy movement beginning in New
York City in 2011 (Aragorn!, 2012). While these movements have been made up of a wide
range of interests and foci and just as many variations of anarchists (black bloc anarchists, ecoanarchists, anarcha-feminists, anarchists of color, insurrectionary anarchists, anarcho-primitivists
etc.), they have shared a number of traits, principles, strategies, and tactics in common with one
another.
Uri Gordon (2007), in his doctoral thesis, Anarchism and political theory: Contemporary
problems, argues that contemporary anarchism has veered sharply away from the historical
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workers’ and peasants’ anarchist movement that emerged in the mid 19 century and saw a
significant decline after WWII. As he explains it, contemporary anarchism:

represents the revival of anarchist politics over the past decade in the intersection
of several other movements, including radical ecology, feminism, black and
indigenous liberation, anti-nuclear movements and, most recently, resistance to
neoliberal capitalism and the ‘global permanent war’. Because of its hybrid

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genealogy, anarchism in the age of globalization is a very fluid and diverse
movement, evolving in a rapidly-shifting landscape of social contention. (10)

No question, contemporary anarchism has carried forward a number of the principles and
strategies of traditional anarchism such as its rejection of the centralized state and capitalism and
the centrality of mutual aid, cooperation, and direct action. However, the contemporary
movement has taken these principles and strategies and provided them with re-articulations to fit
and more meaningfully resist and transform current power dynamics, relationships based on
command and obedience, centralized and/or private control of cultural and environmental
commons and decision-making, and the many mutations of capitalism and the concomitant
hyper-individualism, commodification, and consumerism it breeds.
More specifically, contemporary anarchism – across its variety of iterations and foci – is
grounded in resistance to all forms of hierarchy, direct action, consensus-based or horizontal
decision making, and pre-figurative politics. What unites and animates anarchists of every
stripe, Uri Gordon (2007) explains, is

a shared orientation toward ways of ‘doing politics’ that is manifest in common
forms of organization (anti-authoritarian, non-hierarchical, consensus-based); in a
common repertoire of political expression (direct action, constructing alternatives,
community outreach, confrontation); in a common discourse (keywords,
narratives, arguments and myths); and in more broadly shared ‘cultural’ features
(dress, music, diet). (10)

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I will briefly examine each of these principles/strategies in order to provide a comprehensive yet
necessarily broad picture of the movement before moving on to introduce its implications for
education.

A. Resistance to hierarchy/Anti-authoritarianism
The Greek meaning of the word ‘anarchy’ is formed by the prefix ‘an’ or ‘a’, meaning
‘not’, ‘the absence of’, or ‘the lack of’, plus ‘archos’, meaning ‘a ruler’, ‘director’, ‘chief’, or
‘authority’. Thus, the word anarchy itself can be defined as ‘without authority’ or ‘without a
ruler’. As mentioned, anarchism has defined itself as anti-statist and anti-government since its
inception. One can add to this list opposition to organized religion, capitalism, and private
property as each of these is either a manifestation of domination or has a direct link to the
interests and power of the few over that of the masses. While anti-statism, anti-capitalism, antimilitarism, and opposition to organized forms of religion were the bedrock of the anarchist
th

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movement in the 19 and early 20 century, anarchists have largely broadened the scope of
their activism to resist and replace hierarchy in all of its manifestations.
Again, resistance to hierarchy has long been a feature of both the traditional and
contemporary anarchist movements. However, contemporary anarchists have attempted to
recognize and confront manifestations of hierarchy in arenas that were largely ignored by
traditional anarchist activists. For example, few traditional anarchist theorists recognized issues
of hierarchy involving race and ethnicity, indigenous sovereignty, sexual orientation, and
ecological crises nor did they address these issues directly in their writing. Contemporary
anarchists, on the other hand, view these as fundamental issues - as fundamental as gender
oppression and patriarchy - that are not simply unconnected squabbles over identity politics, but

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as fundamentally tied to domination, capitalist exploitation, and the concentration of power and
decision-making.
In short, contemporary anarchists work not only to resist hierarchy in its multiple and
overlapping manifestations (i.e. sexism, racism, classism, ableism, speciesism) but also to
develop practices that promote, as much as possible, equity and autonomy for all people.
Following from the belief that all individuals are equal and autonomous, the contemporary
anarchist movement strives to organize itself, make decisions, and pursue structures that are
themselves anti-authoritarian, non-hierarchical, and consensus-based. In other words, while the
movement resists authority, domination, and their manifestation in the state, it “is less about
seizing state power than about exposing, delegitimating, and dismantling mechanisms of rule
while [also] winning ever-larger spaces of autonomy from it” (Graeber, 2002, 13). In other
words, anarchists promote self-organized alternatives to hierarchical institutions.

B. Direct Action
Direct action, in its simplest form, refers to people doing things for themselves without
permission, authorization, or assistance from those in authority. Direct action has taken the form
of anything from providing free medical care to injured activists at a protest to self-organized
distribution of food and supplies to the victims of a natural disaster such as Hurricane Katrina
(see Black flags and windmills, Scott Crow, PM Press, 2011). Direct action stands in contrast
with any decision or action that is politically mediated. Oftentimes, direct action takes the form
of civil disobedience. As anarchists are anti-statist, they do not believe in appealing to the state,
government officials, the police or the military to make decisions for them, carry out actions on
their behalf, or to otherwise approve of activities individuals or groups have mutually agreed to

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engage in. Direct action, in short, means choosing not to go to a ‘higher up’ for permission,
assistance or advocacy but looking to oneself and one’s peers to do what needs to be done –
whether it is in the workplace or the community in which one lives.

C. Pre-figurative Politics
As David Graeber (2004) explains, pre-figurative politics is an “ethical imperative” for
the contemporary anarchist movement and essentially involves the attempt to create nonalienated experiences and forms of direct democracy. He goes on:

…only by making one’s form of organization in the present at least a rough
approximation of how a free society would actually operate, how everyone,
someday, should be able to live, can one guarantee that we will not cascade back
into disaster. Grim joyless revolutionaries who sacrifice all pleasure to the cause
can only produce grim joyless societies.
(http://www.zcommunications.org/anarchism-or-the-revolutionary-movement-ofthe-twenty-first-century-by-david-graeber, retrieved April 12, 2012)

In other words, contemporary anarchists not only resist state control and authority but do
their best to work outside the state; they not only condemn hierarchy and authority but also work
to implement non-hierarchical structures, decentralized organizations, and decision-making
based upon consensus; they not only work to undermine capitalism but also work to develop
alternative forms of exchange, mutual aid, and cooperation. There is an overwhelming

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emphasis, Gordon (2007) argues, “on realizing libertarian and egalitarian social relations within
the fold of the movement itself” (23).
As cited earlier, Judith Suissa (2010) highlights the centrality amongst anarchists of both
critique and resistance to what is and imaginative reconceptualizations of what could be; that is,
of nurturing the utopian kernel of the anarchist sensibility. Contemporary anarchist theorists and
activists take this one step further and attempt not only to imagine what a non-hierarchical,
classless, and egalitarian society could look like but also to put these principles into practice in
the present – as the old Industrial Workers of the World saying goes, ‘to build the new world in
the shell of the old’. Again, Uri Gordon (2007) sums up the meaning of pre-figurative politics
quite well:

What anarchist ideological expression overwhelmingly lacks…are detailed
prognostic statements on a desired future society. This does not mean that
anarchism is merely destructive, but that its constructive aspects are expected to
be articulated in the present-tense experimentation of pre-figurative politics – not
as an a priori position. This lends anarchism a strongly open-ended dimension,
whereby it eschews any notion of a ‘post-revolutionary resting point’. Instead,
anarchists have come to transpose their notion of social revolution to the presenttense. Non-hierarchical, anarchic modes of interaction are no longer seen as
features on which to model a future society, but rather as an ever-present potential
of social interaction here and now. (11)

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As such, I will conclude this chapter with a consideration of how the aforementioned principles
and characteristics of contemporary anarchism may influence how we look at, think about, and
practice education. Stated differently, I will introduce some characteristics a school might
possess that used these principles as an organizing framework for structure, curriculum,
relationships, and objectives. Again, a more detailed exploration of these principles and their
implications will be taken up in Chapter Six.

V. Anarchist Principles as Organizing Framework for Education
A small number of contemporary scholars have begun to explore the relationship between
contemporary anarchism and the education of the young. Abraham DeLeon (2008) attempts to
draw attention to aspects of anarchist theory that he claims can inform educational praxis. More
specifically, he focuses upon the notions of direct action and sabotage as means of challenging
educators and students to resist the oppressive practices within educational institutions. The
anarchist notion of sabotage can be utilized, argues DeLeon (2008), “to interrupt the curriculum
educators are given, the high-stakes test their students are subjected to, and a framework for
moving their resistance outside of the walls of the school” (124). He goes on to offer an
excellent synopsis of the contemporary anarchist position that has direct implications for
education:

Anarchists also insist that human beings need to have the capability of managing
their own affairs without the need of top-down social structures. This rests upon
the belief that people should govern every aspect of their lives and this should be
done in a way that is as cooperative and non-coercive as possible. Anarchists

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contend that people are naturally cooperative and that social systems, such as
capitalism, have conditioned them to be selfish. Instead of relying on the
traditional dichotomous system of ruler/ruled, anarchists insist on building new
forms of organization that account for self-governing that are non-hierarchical.
(130)

Upon this basis, DeLeon (2008) makes a substantial argument for how direct action and sabotage
can be utilized within traditional school settings to disrupt circumscribed curriculum and
standardized testing, to introduce students to key concepts and strategies used by radical groups
to challenge unjust social relations, and to subvert social norms that are most often unchallenged
and perpetuated in traditional school settings. DeLeon (2006, 2008) consciously acknowledges
that infiltration is one of his key organizing frameworks. That is, in considering an anarchism
for education, he promotes the notion that those with anarchic sensibilities work to place
themselves within established institutions and practice “acts of epistemological and ideological
subversion and sabotage” (Ross & DeLeon, 2010, xiii).
This, I think, can be a helpful strategy for introducing anarchist discourse into these
mainstream institutions. However, I feel that contemporary anarchist principles and strategies
have much broader implications for education that move far beyond the pedagogy and praxis of
individual educators. While these implications certainly involve pedagogy and praxis, they also
speak to issues of curriculum, school organization, methods of decision-making, and the
relationships between individuals within the school and that between the school and the
community within which it is situated.

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William T. Armaline (2009) expands the perspective on education offered by
contemporary anarchism. He focuses upon some of the values inherent in contemporary
anarchism, described above, such as deconstructing all forms of hierarchy, a notion of ‘Truth’ as
fluid and situated, and the creation of democratic communities based upon situated knowledge
and a cooperative system of horizontal free-association. Armaline (2009) contends these values
help outline the primary characteristics of an anarchist pedagogical space which might include: a
“humble” approach to ‘Truth’ and a recognition of knowledge as something created and
constructed; the effort to create a space for the critical questioning and deconstruction of
oppressive practices, systems, and ideologies in and outside of the classroom; horizontal
democracy “where students and educators engage in freely associated cooperative learning and
activity rather than individual competition and mutual alienation”; and, lastly, a view of all
people as worthy of curiosity, learning, teaching, and creation (139). Finally, Armaline (2009)
suggests all educational endeavors “begin with the very real and immediate curiosities and needs
of those participating in whatever educational spaces we create” (144). This final point is crucial
in that an educational structure based upon anarchist principles must always be situated within,
initiated by, and developed through a community of individuals that share a common place and
set of evolving interests, desires, and needs.

VI. Conclusion
As the anarchist approach to change is not thought about in terms of a sweeping,
revolutionary transformation of society on a spatially broad scale and temporally condensed
timeframe, but, rather, through pursuing a pre-figurative politics within existing social relations,
it becomes obvious why education has been a central concern within anarchism since its

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inception. As schools affect so many individuals in society and are one of the first institutions in
and through which the young are socialized, it has been a primary site of contestation and
experimentation. The thinking is that if this primary socializing agent were to be premised upon
a different set of principles - namely cooperation rather than competition; the common good
rather than individual self-interest; local context and concrete lived experiences rather than
formal, abstract, and pre-formulated curricula; equality rather than hierarchy; direct democratic
control rather than leaving decision making to a select number of experts or professionals– then
the seeds for the future society toward which anarchists strive - though “buried beneath the
snow” (Ward, 1982) - would be firmly planted in the ground.

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Chapter 3
Social Ecology as Philosophical and Ethical Foundation for Ecological and CommunityBased Education

Social Ecology n 1: a coherent radical critique of current social, political, and anti-ecological
trends. 2: a reconstructive, ecological, communitarian, and ethical approach to society. (The
Institute for Social Ecology, http://www.social-ecology.org/, retrieved February 23, 2012)

I. Introduction
The aim of this chapter is to closely examine and explain the theory and philosophy of
social ecology as developed by the late Murray Bookchin (1921-2006) as a possible
comprehensive framework for a secondary curriculum centered upon an anarchistic and
ecological ethics. I will first review some of the approaches to teaching and learning that fall
under various labels including environmental education, ecological literacy, and/or ecojustice
pedagogy. In doing so, I am interested in examining the underlying philosophical and ethical
foundations of each of these approaches. The chapter will continue with a more detailed
consideration of the philosophy espoused by and developed through social ecology as well as its
ethical implications for human thought and behavior. In short, social ecology advances what
might be called an anarchistic philosophy of nature and an accompanying ethics based upon
mutuality, cooperation, non-hierarchy, and diversity. In the final chapter, I will return to this
topic and consider what the philosophical and ethical foundations of social ecology imply for the
content of an ecologically oriented education.

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This will involve a close reading and analysis of Bookchin’s work on social ecology,
including but not limited to The Ecology of freedom: The emergence and dissolution of hierarchy
(1982/2005), The Philosophy of social ecology: Essays on dialectical naturalism (1990), and
Remaking society: Pathways to a green future (1990). Bookchin spent the greater part of his life
developing the social, political, and philosophical bases of social ecology. Ultimately, social
ecology is rooted in the claim that the global ecological crisis (which Bookchin was one of the
first to call attention to in the early 1950s) is not a result of overpopulation, industrialism, or
technology per se, but is the logical result of hierarchy and domination of human by human. In
developing and supporting this claim, Bookchin traces back through the course of human history
to identify the emergence of hierarchy within pre-historic societies and through to its most
developed incarnation in the form of the modern State and its intimate relationship with
corporate globalization and neo-liberal capitalist economics. The historical analysis of the
emergence of hierarchy is conducted in Bookchin’s The Ecology of Freedom, but is carried over
into and further developed in subsequent works.
Some background on Bookchin’s origins and life are important for fully understanding
the scope and development of his work. Bookchin was born in January of 1921 in New York
City to Jewish-Russian immigrants who worked in the Manhattan sweatshops of the garment
industry. Radicalism was, one could argue, a family inheritance. His grandparents had been
members of the Socialist Revolutionary Party of Russia. He grew up in the working class
neighborhoods of the Bronx and, early in his life, got involved in radical organizations. As a
young worker, he participated in the trade union movement of the late 1930s. He was active in a
number of Communist-inspired groups from which he eventually broke away and began to move
more and more toward libertarian socialism and anarchism (from Eiglad’s Introduction to

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Bookchin, 2007). Peter Marshall (1992/2010) describes Bookchin as “the thinker that has most
renewed anarchist thought and action since the Second World War” (602). He participated in the
environmental movement when it was just beginning, the Civil Rights movement, the antinuclear movement, the Students for a Democratic Society, and a series of urban development
projects. Throughout his life of activism, despite developing a reputation for a sometimes
acerbic personality, Bookchin constantly examined, reevaluated, and re-articulated the premises,
logical conclusions, and strategies of radical theory across the spectrum and his writings have
included a variety of subject matters including history, anthropology, philosophy, science,
technology, culture, and social organization. Eirik Eiglad (in his Introduction to Bookchin,
2007) sums up the relationship between Bookchin’s life and work:

Bookchin experienced many radical movements in his lifetime, and had a
relationship to all the major radical ideological trends of the last century. Still, he
managed to hammer out a unique political philosophy that attempts to build on
the best in these traditions. The purpose of his work was to renew radical theory
so that it maintains its best principles and draws lessons from a broad spectrum of
historical experiences, while being adapted to new issues and challenges. (xi)

Bookchin develops the philosophical basis of social ecology in ‘dialectical naturalism’, or
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philosophy of nature, that expands upon the work of 19 century anarchist Peter Kropotkin. As
Matt Hern (1997) explains it, dialectical naturalism suggests that “the example of an endlessly
diverse, self-organizing, and mutualistic ecosystem should be the model for human society,
rather than the simplistic and falsifying projection of nature as a brutal, competitive hierarchy, a

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misinterpretation that obscures the natural world’s inherent cooperativeness” (64). The basic
premise of social ecology is that in order to bring society and nature back into sustainable and
healthy balance, we must deeply examine and rectify the “irrationalities” that dominate social
life.
As social ecology is centrally concerned with the nature of how humans relate to other
humans and, thus, how humans relate to the natural world and considering the fact that schools
are a primary socializing agent/institution, it appears each of these topics has implications for the
other. Dialectical naturalism, as a philosophy of both human and nonhuman nature, is an
attempt, according to Hern (1997) to place “humanity in the context of the natural world and
establish an ethical basis for interaction” (64).
Therefore, this chapter will attempt to draw out the implications of social ecology as a
philosophical foundation for how and toward what ends we educate younger generations.
Namely, social ecology could be used as a framework for assisting young people in
understanding the interrelationship of existing social relations and humans’ relationship to the
natural world through the lens of history, philosophy, and natural and social sciences. Drawing
as it does from history, philosophy, social theory, and the natural sciences, I would argue social
ecology could be utilized not only to guide curriculum but also as the curriculum itself – a
curriculum centered upon “the ability of an emancipated humanity to function as ethical agents
for diminishing needless suffering, engaging in ecological restoration, and fostering an aesthetic
appreciation of natural evolution in all its fecundity and diversity” (Bookchin, 2007, 21).
It should be noted that ecological science has moved away from viewing natural
ecosystems as working toward maintaining stability and a healthy equilibrium. Rather,
ecologists view ecosystems as more dynamic and unstable within geological and evolutionary

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timeframes (Des Jardins, 2005). Additionally, there is a significant controversy over whether
ethics can or should be grounded in what is considered ‘natural’ – in this case, the understanding
of nature uncovered by ecological science. Based upon my reading of Bookchin’s work, I
believe his view of nature aligns quite well with the dynamic viewpoint mentioned above. That
is, he tended to view nature and natural evolution as an unfolding process toward greater
differentiation and diversity. However, human activity and disruption of natural processes have
tended to render non-human nature as more homogeneous and, therefore, more limited in its
capacity to continue to move toward greater diversity and, ultimately, to sustain biotic life. It
was really this interface, between humans and the non-human natural world and their
relationship to one another, that Bookchin sought to think through and analyze and out of which
he sought to develop his ecological ethics.
Finally, it is important to recognize that objections to grounding ethics in nature are
rooted in the value placed upon neutrality and objectivity within scientific discourse – be it in the
form of the natural sciences themselves or analytic philosophy. What I am attempting to
6

highlight here is that ‘objectivity’ and ‘neutrality’ are values nonetheless. The point that will
come to light in the ensuing discussion is that Bookchin viewed the human species as fully
embedded within nature as opposed to standing outside or above it. At the same time, the
evolution of human reason and the species’ unique capacity to alter the environment put it in a
distinctive position relative to the rest of non-human nature and bring with it certain ethical
responsibilities. In the next section, I will consider some of the philosophical underpinnings of
environmental education and ecological literacy in order to situate the philosophy of social
6

It is beyond the scope of the current project to discuss in detail the ways in which Bookchin’s
work is aligned/misaligned with contemporary ecological science and to engage in a more
thorough discussion of the objections that have been raised against Aristotelian teleology.
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ecology within these established approaches. Following from this, I will discuss and examine
social ecology’s claim that the ecological crises have a social foundation. In the final section of
the chapter, I will take up an exploration of the philosophy of dialectical naturalism as
developed by Bookchin and look specifically at the way he used this philosophy as a basis for an
objective ecological ethics. As with previous chapters, I will save a more systematic assessment
of the implications of the philosophy of social ecology for education for the final chapter.

II. Philosophical Lenses for Environmental Literacy, Eco-Justice and Social Ecology
It is widely recognized that the earth’s ecosystems upon which all of life on the planet
depends have been in steady decline for over half a century. The UN-funded Millennium
Ecosystem Assessment (MEA), released in 2005, found that during the last fifty years, humans
have altered in significantly negative terms the earth’s ecosystems “more rapidly and extensively
than in any comparable time of human history” (MEA, 2005, 2). Leading up to this rapid
degradation, human’s have developed an increasingly instrumentalist perspective of the Earth
and its resources that has eventually led to the release of significant amounts of pollutants into
the air and water; the demand for and depletion of industrial energy resources; increases in
carbon emissions responsible for global warming; the desertification of once-vibrant, living soil
“which threatens the livelihood of more than 1 billion people in 100 countries” and that comes as
a result of mono-crop agriculture, the use of land to support increasing dependence upon meat
from livestock, and mismanagement of water resources
(http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=35633 retrieved May 5, 2012); the combined
effects of pollution, acidification, ocean warming, over-fishing, and depleting levels of oxygen in
the water that may result in the mass extinction of marine life

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(http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-13796479 retrieved May 5, 2012). The list of
facts could go on, further detailing what has now become an indisputable truth: the planet is in
crisis and we, as humans, are largely responsible. Without wide-scale and radical changes in our
orientation toward the Earth and concomitant transformations in our lifestyles, widespread death
and suffering is all but inevitable.
In light of our current predicament, the way we conceptualize and answer a number of
fundamental questions is going to have a profound impact upon the way we approach these
problems. What is humanity’s place within the natural world? Does nature have intrinsic value
beyond its usefulness to human beings? What are our responsibilities to future generations or to
the future in general? Upon what ethical basis can we make decisions that contribute to a
sustainable relationship with the non-human natural world in which we are all embedded? For
several decades, K-12 and higher education have been viewed as vital arenas in which to pursue
answers to these questions and to inculcate youth with an urgent sense of responsibility in
redressing the calamitous effects of the past century’s disregard for the earth’s capacity to sustain
life.
It is my belief, and the main thrust of my argument in this chapter, that the education of
young people toward a sense of responsibility and agency for both alleviating the oppression of
human by human and the exploitation and destruction of the Earth’s ecosystems is of the utmost
importance. One of our primary responsibilities as educators and intellectuals is to instill in the
young a sense of interdependence with the human and non-human worlds around them and the
land upon which they live and to assist them in recognizing the forces at play that ultimately
work to undermine these physically, emotionally, and psychologically nourishing relationships.
Over the course of approximately the past twenty years, there has been an increasing recognition

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that environmental awareness and ecological literacy should be fundamental components of any
modern educational endeavor (Stone, M.K. & Barlow, Z., eds., 2005). Within this brief timespan, educators, educational theorists, and other environmentally-conscious individuals have
developed a variety of frameworks for the teaching and learning of more sustainable life-ways
and for recognizing the larger forces at play that work to undermine them. In the next section of
the chapter, I will provide an overview of some of these approaches, highlighting both their
strengths and limitations, and then move on with a consideration of social ecology as a basis for
an ethical education centered upon ecological and social justice.
As Rebecca A. Martusewicz, Jeff Edmundson, and John Lupinacci (2011) point out, it
was not simply changes in human behavior that have brought us to the brink of ecological
catastrophe, but, more fundamentally, “important shifts in thinking that put individual gain above
communities, human needs or wants above non-human, ‘progress’ and growth above simple
happiness and well-being” (3). Economic ‘progress’ and ‘growth’, we have been told, are
responsible for the general affluence and security we in the developed world enjoy and continue
to be necessary to raise the standard of living of those in less developed regions of the world.
However, by even the most conservative measures, human communities worldwide are
experiencing widening economic inequalities and insecurities (Luxembourg Income study at
http://www.lisdatacenter.org/ retrieved May 7, 2012). It is difficult to question the relationship
between hunger and poverty and the degradation of the natural environment. The globalized
food industry, owned and controlled by a small handful of multinational corporations, generally
utilizes mono-crop farming, chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and industrial machinery to produce
as much food as possible for the lowest possible price.

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Unfortunately, this factory or industrial approach to farming has grave environmental and
social effects. Land is deforested, soil rapidly depleted, and water contaminated. Communities
and families that were once self-sufficient now produce commodity crops they cannot eat for
wages that are often insufficient to feed themselves. In addition to the devastating environmental
and economic effects, the globalized free market economy also tends toward tearing away at the
fabric that holds families and communities together through the promotion of what Bill
McKibben (2007) calls “hyperindividualism” and the increasing privatization of the cultural and
environmental commons (Shiva, 2005). As corporations are provided equal or greater legal
status as actual living, breathing individuals and possess the capital and political support to
advance their agendas, the ability of local communities to make decisions that most directly
influence their lives are continually being eroded and leading, at best, to a general sense of
disempowerment and, at worst, a cynical nihilism.
Upon these grounds, I will attempt to advance the argument for an anarchistic ethics of
ecojustice (present chapter) and citizenship (see Chapter Four) education. Before doing so,
however, I will briefly outline some of the approaches to environmental education that have
already been developed.
Environmental education, in its simplest form, generally aims to provide students with a
basic knowledge and understanding of ecological systems and issues and an appreciation of
outdoor environments. Often, environmental education is rooted in the natural sciences and
encourages students to understand, identify problems within, and examine potential solutions to
ecological issues through that lens. Another approach to raising awareness and appreciation of
the environment is experiential/outdoor education. As Martusewicz, Edmundson, and Lupinacci
(2011) note, “people in this field tend to emphasize the value of learning by doing, the

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importance of learning specifics about how ecosystems work, and try to encourage positive
feelings towards the outdoors” (11). Unlike outdoor/experiential learning, place-based
education aims to help students understand the relationship between natural and human
communities and is usually grounded in the locale in which the students reside. Holistic
education is intended to provide the individual child with multiple ways of coming to know and
learn about his/her inner and outer landscapes. While different in many ways from traditional
education, holistic education maintains it focus upon the individual and largely ignores the ways
in which culture shapes the individual and his/her way of viewing the world (Martusewicz, et al,
2011). As another bridge between the human costs of practices that are ecologically destructive,
environmental justice education, emphasizes the ways in which poor and minority communities
are disproportionately impacted by environmental degradation. Critical animal studies draws
attention to the cruel and often deadly treatment of animals and the roots of this behavior in
anthropocentrism and speciesism. Critical animal studies, unlike most of the approaches
previously mentioned, examines the philosophical and epistemological foundations of the
destruction humans have wreaked upon other animal and plant species. Below, I will engage in a
more detailed examination of the ecopedagogy and eco-justice movements within education as
they come closest to fully articulating the relationship between oppression within human
communities and the devastating effects of humans’ attempts to dominate the natural world that
is advanced by social ecology.
In his book Critical Pedagogy, Ecoliteracy, & Planetary Crisis: The Ecopedagogy
Movement, Richard Kahn (2010) conducts an exhaustive account of the different approaches that
have been developed to address the unfolding ecological crises that we, as a species, currently
face. Kahn cites environmental literacy as the first attempt within educational circles to address

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environmental issues within the classroom. While this approach espouses the goals of providing
students with knowledge of the natural environment, interdisciplinary exploration, and an
inquiry-based, student-centered curricular framework, Kahn (2010) argues it lacks “the strong
critical and ethical focus that is presently demanded by our unfolding planetary ecocrisis” (8).
Kahn (2010) admits he is not the first to recognize the shortcomings of the first wave of
environmental literacy. He cites ecological education, place-based education, humane
education, holistic education, eco-justice, commons-based education, transformative education,
and peace education as emerging discourses that have issued critiques of non-politicized and
uncritical approaches to environmental literacy and that have attempted to link environmental
literacy to social and cultural literacy (11). However, even within these movements, there has
been a tendency to move toward education for sustainable development - another trend Kahn
views as insufficient for dealing with our current predicament.
Kahn (2010) traces the movement of education for sustainable development to the 1992
Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil during which an attempt was made to develop “a
systematic policy statement about the interrelationship between humanity and the earth” and that
would also “formulate the sustainability concerns of education once and for all in both ethical
and ecological (as opposed to merely technocratic and instrumentalist) terms” (12). This
statement, titled the Earth Charter Initiative, attempted to form that link between human
relations and our relationship with the earth and was developed and pursued into the early 2000’s
at the World Summit for Sustainable Development. What ultimately arose from the WSSD was
not a common commitment to pursuing both environmental and social justice but rather a deep
divide between “large-scale corporate and governmental technocrats and the more grassrootsbased theorists, activists, and educators proper” (13). Many of the governments involved in the

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summit were those of developing countries and were trying conceptualize commitments to
sustainability without foreclosing possibilities for development. Many activists from these same
developing countries, however, viewed the development paradigm as the root of ecological
degradation (Esteva & Prakash, 1998). In essence, it remains quite questionable whether the
discourse of sustainable development is consonant with the grass-roots, alter-globalization views
of the radical left or the new rallying cry of neo-liberalism in “either its right or left-liberal
variants” (Kahn, 16).
The hope that Kahn (2010) holds out for critically engaging and beginning to
meaningfully address the potentially catastrophic social and ecological imbalances is the
ecopedagogy movement. According to Kahn (2010), ecopedaogy:

seeks to interpolate quintessentially Freirian aims of the humanization of
experience and the achievement of a just and free world with a future-oriented
ecological politics that militantly opposes the globalization of neoliberalism and
imperialism, on the one hand, and attempts to foment collective ecoliteracy and
realize culturally relevant forms of knowledge grounded in normative concepts
such as sustainability, planetarity, and biophilia, on the other. (18)

Ecopedagogy, according to Kahn, has begun to establish connections within both grassroots
political movements and academic and governmental institutions. It has drawn explicitly from
the work of Paulo Freire, Latin American networks for popular education, and liberation
theology. Simultaneously, Kahn (2010) recognizes that critical pedagogy has remained
“historically silent on environmental matters” and cites critics, such as C.A. Bowers and Ilan

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Gur-Ze’ev, of this silence by Freierian-inspired critical pedagogues. He goes so far as to assert
that the “foundational humanistic dualism between the ‘human’ and the ‘animal’ in fact runs
throughout Freire’s work and must itself be subjected to a reconstructive ecopedagogical
critique” (21).
Interestingly, Kahn proceeds to round out his notion of northern ecopedagogy through the
work of critical theorist Herbert Marcuse and the father of the deschooling movement, Ivan
Illich. In this consideration, Kahn contends that “ecological politics were an important aspect of
Marcuse’s revolutionary critique, and he should be considered a central theorist of the
relationship between advanced capitalist society and the manifestation of the ecological crisis”
(22). While I would not disagree that Marcuse and Illich are important figures to consider in
developing a radical critique of modern industrial civilization and the alienation and destruction
it has wrought upon human and non-human life, I will argue that Murray Bookchin offered both
a thoroughgoing critique of as well as a reconstructive vision for contemporary human relations
and humanity’s relationship with the natural world.
C.A. Bowers has written widely on the relationship between education and helping
students to develop an awareness of issues related to both social and ecological justice/injustice.
Throughout his work, he levels a strong critique of Freirean-inspired critical pedagogues. This
critique is based upon the fact that theorists such Henry Giroux and Peter McLaren largely
ignore the relationship between social injustice and environmental degradation and often
unthinkingly ground their analyses in the very notions that have led to the ecological crises we
face – such as the privileging of progress over tradition, transformation over preservation, and
the individual over community. In contrast, Bowers (2001) offers a pedagogical framework
based upon eco-justice. In summary, an eco-justice pedagogy, Bowers (2001) explains, would

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be comprised of four essential characteristics. First, an eco-justice pedagogy would take into
account and incorporate local traditions and culture. Second, it would help clarify for students
the dynamics of how technologies and hyper-consumerist strategies (such as mass media,
marketing, and advertising) contribute to environmental racism and to undermining the heritage
of minority cultures. Third, eco-justice pedagogy would include intergenerational knowledge of
the practices and values that contribute to mutual aid and networks of solidarity within and
across communities. And, finally, it should promote the regeneration of less-commodified
activities and relationships that could help facilitate critique of destructive ways of thinking (i.e.
hyperindividualist) as well as provide opportunities for participation in community activities that
develop personal talents and a sense of responsibility toward others (77-78).
More specifically, Bowers (1995, 1997, 2001) argues that an eco-justice pedagogy should
attempt to reverse the dominant Western liberal thinking regarding the individual as the primary
political unit. As Bowers (2001) explains,

…the idea of the individual as an autonomous, rational being is an ideological
construction based on the failure of earlier Western political theorists and
philosophers to understand how languaging processes reproduce patterns of
thought that have a distinct cultural history. Thus, the form of democracy to be
strengthened by an eco-justice curriculum is one that recognizes individualized
perspectives and talents as being embedded in distinct cultural approaches to
community. (150)

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From an ecological standpoint, the liberal paradigm, in which the individual self is
regarded as the primary political unit, is problematic for a couple of reasons. First, one’s
understanding of oneself and one’s relationship to the social and natural environment, through
language, tends to portray one as separate, autonomous, and independent rather than
interconnected, embedded, and interdependent. The latter understanding is much more closely
aligned with the organization of the natural world as well as with an ecological sensibility.
Secondly, and more specific to one’s interactions in the social realm, the liberal paradigm and
the language upon which it is structured, tends to obscure one’s dependence upon the human and
non-human communities in which one lives and, subsequently, undermines one’s commitment to
working toward the health and well-being of those communities.
Similar to the Freirean-inspired ecopedagogy movement, eco-justice education, in the
words of Martusewicz, Edmundson, and Lupinacci (2011), “insists…that there have been both
serious social injustices that result from [age-old] cultural assumptions as well as serious
environmental damage, and that these should be seen as intertwined and bound to the same belief
system” (15). The goal of this approach, according to the same authors, is to provide a
framework for teachers and teacher educators “to assume the responsibility for preparing citizens
ready to create democratic and sustainable communities in an increasingly globalized world”
(18). I believe the work of these educational scholars is comprehensive, intelligent, and
extremely important. My hope is that I can build upon this work and contribute to the
conversation by explicating a philosophical orientation that both situates humans back within the
intricate web of life (as opposed to having dominion over it) and, at the same time, rests
responsibility squarely upon the shoulders of the human species to respect and sustain its
interdependence with other living and non-living systems.

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III. Social Ecology: The Social Foundations of Ecological Crises

As our understanding of the interrelationship between human activities and
environmental problems progresses, the core of environmental education, when
properly developed, may well become the pivot around which the future strategies
of general education will turn; it should provide the citizens of the world with a
new outlook and attitude, better suited to the needs of Man (sic) and nature.
(“Some Thoughts on the Philosophy of Environmental Education,” Adriano
Buzzatti-Traverso, United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural
Organization, International Workshop on Environmental Education, Belgrade
Yugoslavia, 13-22 October, 1975)

The theory of social ecology is intended as a radical critique of the ecological crises we,
as a species, face, the social crises that have come as the result of a long history of hierarchical
relationships and domination within human societies, and the interrelationship between the two.
Importantly, social ecology is also intended to act as a viable framework for moving beyond
critique of existing ecological, social, and political arrangements and toward more harmonious,
egalitarian, and sustainable relationships between the human and non-human and within the
human community itself. In his development of the theory of social ecology, Murray Bookchin
conducts a sweeping and thoroughgoing analysis of the rise/materialization of hierarchy within
human societies and the gradual infiltration of hierarchical thinking into human interaction with
the non-human natural world.

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His critique and reconstructive vision, developed over the course of five decades and
refined in countless books, articles, interviews, and debates, was never intended strictly as a set
of problem-solving techniques or recommendations for remedying the antagonistic relationship
between human life and the environment within which it is situated though, of course, this was
and continues to be of primary concern. While Bookchin’s thought was shaped and directed by
the awareness that despoliation of the environment would have grave consequences for life as we
know it, he was just as concerned with alienation, domination, and hierarchy that, in his thinking,
not only gave rise to the growing ecological crises but also to the limitations and constraints
these characteristics placed upon the potentialities for human development and freedom. With
these as his primary concerns, Bookchin set out to offer a framework for rectifying the grave
imbalances in the environment that have come as a result of human activity and for a
communitarian democratic theory which affords individuals the power to make decisions that
most directly impact their lives and the life of their communities.
In The Ecology of Freedom: The Emergence and Dissolution of Hierarchy, Murray
Bookchin (1982/2005) introduces and provides a detailed outline of the notion of social ecology.
In essence, the fundamental premise of social ecology is that “the very notion of the domination
of nature by man stems from the very real domination of human by human” (66). Through a mix
of historical and anthropological studies and philosophical inquiry and examination, Bookchin
attempts to trace the emergence of hierarchy – what he defines as

the cultural, traditional, and psychological systems of obedience and
command…the domination of the young by the old, of women by men, of one
ethnic group by another, of ‘masses’ by bureaucrats who profess to speak in their

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‘higher social interests,’ of countryside by town, and in a more subtle
psychological sense, of body by mind, of spirit by a shallow instrumental
rationality, and of nature by society and technology. (4)

Hierarchy and domination, he contends, precede divisions based upon class and economic
exploitation and, yet, provide a foundation for these forces within history. From pre-literate
societies (what Bookchin calls organic societies) based upon an egalitarian consciousness and
worldview (in regards to both the human and non-human worlds) and the structuring principles
of ‘unity in diversity’, complementarity and interdependence, the irreducible minimum, and
usufruct arose a movement – by no means rapid or signaled by any single development – toward
hierarchical thinking and material hierarchies based upon age, sex, and quasi-religious and quasipolitical needs.
This assessment of pre-literate societies obviously stands in stark contrast to the ‘state of
nature’ described in Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan in which he writes that “during the time men
live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called
war; and such a war as is of every man against every man” (Chapter XIII). Characterizing the
lives of men before the emergence of the social contract as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and
short”, Hobbes portrays a humanity whose movement toward security from material want is
premised upon the domination and subservience of the natural environment. From this
perspective, of course, arose moral and political systems that supported an individualistic ethic
and an antagonistic relationship between ‘man’ and nature. Bookchin, on the other hand, paints
a very different portrait of humanity before the rise of civilization.

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Based upon a variety of studies of pre-literate cultures, Bookchin (1982/2005) defines the
worldview of these societies as shaped by a strong feeling of unity between the individual and
the community from which emerges a feeling of unity between the community and its
environment. The natural world is not viewed, as it came to be in ancient and early modern
civilizations, as something above which humanity stands or by necessity it is forced to dominate
but rather as the very fabric in which humanity is embedded and with which humanity is
interwoven. As Bookchin (1982/2005) explains,

nature is not merely a habitat; it is a participant that advises the community with
its omens, secures it with its camouflage, leaves it telltale messages in broken
twigs and footprints, whispers warnings to it in the wind’s voice, nourishes it with
a largesse of plants and animals, and in its countless functions and counsels is
absorbed into the community’s nexus of rights and duties. (47)

Just as people of all ages have projected their social structures onto the natural world, so too did
these early human communities (early Neolithic 10700-9400 BCE) understand their relationship
with the non-human world as they did their relationships with one another – that is, with a deeply
ingrained sense of interdependence and mutuality.
As a hierarchical mentality took shape (which, according to Bookchin’s analysis, first
took shape in the form of gerontocracies and patriarchies) within humanity on the subjective
level and within human relations on a material level, this way of thinking and relating, in turn,
was projected onto the natural world. The notion of a ‘brute’ and ‘stingy’ nature with which

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7

humans must wrestle for survival was relatively unknown to organic societies. As hierarchies
took shape amongst humans so too did the notion that the natural world was something to be
dominated and subdued by man. In the wake of these developments came an increasing
tendency to describe nature in hierarchical terms so as to make sense of or provide an orderliness
to natural phenomena. Underlying this procedure, Bookchin (1982/2005) contends, is a
tendency to

reinforce human social hierarchies by justifying the command of men and women
as innate features of the ‘natural order.’ Human domination is thereby transcribed
into the genetic code as biologically immutable – together with the subordination
of the young by the old, women by men, and man by man. (27)

As he continues, he traces the dissolution of humanly-scaled communities and civic ties
and the rise of autonomous individuality. In short, “naked self-interest established its eminence
over public interest; indeed, the destiny of the latter was reduced to that of the former. The
objectification of people as mere instruments of production fostered the objectification of nature
as mere ‘natural resources’” (163). However, in his genealogical approach to tracing the
emergence of hierarchy, Bookchin manages to avoid the two extremes of either romanticizing

7

Bookchin (1982/2005) described his use of the term ‘organic society’ as follows: “I use the
term to denote a spontaneously formed, non-coercive, and egalitarian society – a ‘natural’
society in the very definite sense that it emerges from innate human needs for association,
interdependence, and care” (5). He also characterized pre-civilized organic societies as “part of
the balance of nature – a forest community or a soil community – in short, a truly ecological
community or ecocommunity peculiar to its ecosystem, with an active sense of participation in
the overall environment and the cycles of nature” (46).
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organic societies as utopian or denigrating them as a savage struggle for existence. Bookchin
makes clear, as Steven Best (1998) explains, how

hierarchical societies help to advance emancipatory dynamics in some ways as
they stifle them in others, and that organic societies lack crucial resources for
human freedom that were developed by hierarchical societies. Nevertheless, [he]
looks to organic societies for providing certain viable alternatives to hierarchical
societies that should be appropriated for a future society. (342)

The notions of the inborn egoistic character of human nature, the necessity of competition
in channeling the primacy of self-interest, and the prioritization of individuality and
independence – not always present in history nor firmly rooted in the findings of the natural
sciences – are foundational assumptions underlying and perpetuated by the objectives and
practices of traditional schooling in most industrialized nations. Like so many anarchists before
him, Bookchin challenges what have come to be common-sense assumptions regarding what
constitutes and guides the functioning of and interaction between the human and non-human
realms. As Bookchin (1982) explains,

From the sixteenth century onward, western thought cast the relationship between
the ego and the external world, notably nature, in largely oppositional terms.
Progress was identified not with spiritual redemption but with the technical
capacity of humanity to bend nature to the service of the marketplace. Human
destiny was conceived not as the realization of its intellectual and spiritual

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potentialities, but as the mastery of ‘natural forces’ and the redemption of society
from a ‘demonic’ natural world. The outlook of organic society toward nature
and treasure was completely reversed. It was nature that now became demonic
and treasure that now became fecund. The subjugation of human by human,
which the Greeks had fatalistically accepted as the basis for a cultivated leisure
class, was now celebrated as a common human enterprise to bring nature under
human control. (161)

Unlike many of his Marxist comrades, Bookchin’s work addresses itself more to
hierarchy than class, to domination rather than exploitation, to liberatory institutions rather that
the mere abolition of the State, to freedom rather than justice, and pleasure rather than happiness.
He defines hierarchy as the cultural, traditional, and psychological systems of obedience and
command, not merely the economic and political systems to which the terms class and State most
appropriately refer; a complex system of command and obedience in which elites enjoy varying
degrees of control over their subordinates without necessarily exploiting them. Hierarchy is used
to refer to hierarchical relationships and a hierarchical sensibility.
Within the contemporary world, John Clark (2000) explains,

there are similar systematic causes for the social and ecological devastation.
Social ecologists contend that the roots are found in such (obviously interrelated)
social conditions as economic oligarchy and concentrated corporate economic
power; centralized, undemocratic political power; mass marketing and opinion
control that increasingly shape values and personality; massive, unresponsive

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state and corporate bureaucracies; a culture of consumption that promotes a
privatized, depoliticized world; patriarchal values and an egocentric, powerseeking self; otherworldly, nature-denying spirituality; and a vast system of
technology that appears as a self-moving megamachine. (64)

Due to the far-reaching and intimately interrelated systems of values, subjectivities, production,
consumption, and control, social ecologists conclude that “the social ecological crisis cannot be
resolved without serious global catastrophe unless there are far-reaching, fundamental changes in
the dominant institutions, cultural values and ideologies” (Clark, 2000, 64). As systems of
education and schooling are recognized not only as dominant institutions in the contemporary
developed world but also as fundamental in the shaping of cultural and social values and as
ideological apparatus’ of the state, it seems imperative from the social ecological perspective that
we closely examine, critique, and re-envision the role of schools, and education more broadly, in
creating a more egalitarian social order as well as a sustainable relationship between society and
nature. This vision, it appears, must be one guided not by economistic values, consumer culture,
and the egocentric self of Western psychology nor free-market interpretations of Darwinian
evolution’s survival of the fittest, but rather by a more naturalistic outlook based upon the
functioning of nature itself.
Murray Bookchin’s formulation of social ecology views the foundations of the ecological
crisis in the dominant ideology of modern western societies. At the heart of this ideology is a
psyche structured around, and forms of relationship based upon, domination. There is a direct
relationship between domination of humans by humans and the human desire to dominate the
natural world. Out of ancient forms of hierarchy and domination based upon age and sex,

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through a series of developments, transitions, breaks and ruptures, has come the free market
ideology of contemporary society in which both human beings and the natural world are reduced
to mere commodities. In this sense, human liberation and the liberation of the natural world are
inseparable. This notion distinguishes social ecology from much Marxist thought in which
human freedom is dependent on the complete domination of the natural world through
technology in order to overcome material scarcity.
In essence, humans must again recognize themselves as part of nature rather than being
distinct or separate from it and must also allow human relationships to be informed by the
essentially non-hierarchical and mutualistic relationships that are found in nature itself. Also,
unlike much Marxist thought, the transformation in subjectivity, philosophy, and human
relationship with other humans and the non-human natural world cannot be realized through an
all-powerful centralized state but only through transformations in the organization and
institutions of small communities (in the form of sustainable agriculture and production of other
necessary products, engaged participation in decision making through direct democracy, and
individual freedom through non-hierarchical relationships free of domination).
As we shall see, the philosophical and ethical foundations of Bookchin’s thought have
far-reaching implications not only for the place and responsibility of humans within the natural
world, but also for the types of human societies that would be highly conducive to expanding
forms of freedom and the fuller actualization of human and non-human potentialities.

IV. Bookchin’s Dialectical Naturalism

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Dialectical naturalism…conceives finiteness and contradiction as distinctly
natural in the sense that things and phenomena are incomplete and unactualized
in their development. Until they are what they have been constituted to become,
they exist in dynamic tension. Dialectical naturalism….advances the vision of an
ever-increasing wholeness, fullness, and richness of differentiation and
subjectivity. (Murray Bookchin, Philosophy of Social Ecology: Essays on
Dialectical Naturalism, 19-20)

Much of the inspiration for the development of Bookchin’s philosophy of dialectical
naturalism can be found in the work of the Russian geographer and anarchist thinker Peter
Kropotikin. Like Kropotkin before him, Bookchin believed it was possible to develop an
objective ethics grounded in the functioning and manifestations of natural evolution. Primarily,
Bookchin argues that all matter, organic and inorganic, contain unrealized potentialities that
drive its self-directed development and symbiotic relationship with all other matter. This is no
different for rocks than it is for humans.
In the introductory essay of his The Philosophy of social ecology: Essays on dialectical
naturalism, Murray Bookchin (1996) introduces the central questions that drive his discussion:
namely, What is nature? What is humanity’s place in nature? And what is the relationship
between society and the natural world? (1). The answers to these questions which may help in
providing some ethical guidance in our relationships with one another and with the non-human
natural world, Bookchin argues, can come neither through an instrumental, mechanistic
rationality nor through a cloudy and abstract intuitionism (embodied, as he saw it, in the
philosophy of Deep Ecology). Rather, we must pursue a centuries-old tradition of dialectical

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reason which provides “ a view of reality as developmental – of Being as an ever unfolding
Becoming” (Bookchin, 1996, 6). This form of reasoning, in many ways, stands in contrast to that
of logical or conventional reason whose tendency is to view phenomenon as separate and distinct
from one another and fails to “systematically explore processes of becoming, or how a living
entity is patterned as a potentiality to phase from one stage of its development into another”
(Bookchin, 1996, 7). Unlike conventional reason, dialectical reason views evolutionary
development as a process of unfolding and becoming as opposed to distinct and isolatable
moments; it allows for the rational interpretation of this development and, according to
Bookchin, could provide the basis for “a living ecological ethics” (15).
Serious and thoughtful consideration of the aforementioned questions, beyond
philosophical speculation and instrumental, analytical reason, is necessary for developing a
meaningful set of ethical standards. Bookchin set out to distinguish the way in which he
understands reason from strictly analytical and instrumental forms of reason rejected by so much
contemporary mysticism. Dialectical reason, he argues, is organic yet retains critical qualities; is
developmental yet retains analytical insights; and is ethical yet retains contact with reality (5).
Conventional reason, on the other hand,

is based on an analysis of phenomenon as precisely defined, and whose truth
depends upon their internal consistency and practicality. Conventional reason
thus serves the practical function of describing a given entity’s identity and telling
us how that entity is organized to be itself. But it cannot systematically explore
processes of becoming, or how a living entity is patterned as a potentiality to
phase from one stage of development into another. (6-7)

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In explaining Bookchin’s ecological ethics, it is important to define some fundamental
terms. First, Bookchin defines Nature as encompassing every material thing, both organic and
inorganic; that is, the totality of Being. Without an accompanying adjective to specify which
piece of nature we are talking about, Nature refers to Bookchin’s notion of “first nature” or the
cumulative evolution of the natural world, especially the organic world. This first nature exists
in both continuity and discontinuity with ‘second nature,’ or the evolution of society, what others
have described as cultural evolution. Society, according to Bookchin (1996), is specific to
human beings while ecology denotes the dynamic balance of nature, with the interdependence of
living and non-living things. Since nature also includes human beings, the science of ecology
should take into consideration humanity’s role in the natural world – specifically, the character,
form, and structure of humanity’s relationships with other species and with the inorganic
substrate of the biotic environment. In conceiving holistically social and natural relationships in
communities or ecosystems, that is to say, in terms of their mutual interdependence, social
ecology seeks to unravel the forms and patterns of interrelationships that give intelligibility to a
community, be it natural or social (Bookchin, 1982, 23). Finally, reason and rationality refer to
“dialectical reason, a secular dialectical logos, as contrasted with instrumental or conventional
reason, an ordinary mental skill. From Bookchin’s (1996) perspective (and following from the
work of Kropotkin and Elisee Reclus), “Reason exists in nature as the self-organizing attributes
of substance; it is the latent subjectivity in the inorganic and organic levels of reality that reveal
an inherent striving toward consciousness. In humanity, this subjectivity reveals itself as selfconsciousness” (11).

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In the first essay of The Philosophy of Social Ecology: Essays on Dialectical Naturalism,
Bookchin goes about explaining his philosophical method and its foundation in the dialectic.
While acknowledging his indebtedness to both Hegel and Marx, Bookchin takes this method of
inquiry in a new and unique direction grounded in the workings of natural evolution. Dialectical
reason, Bookchin explains, “grasps not only how an entity is organized at a particular moment
but how it is organized to go beyond that level of development and become other than what it is,
even as it retains its identity” (15). He distinguishes dialectical reason from conventional reason,
ironically, by way of an educational analogy:

The thinking of conventional reason today is exemplified - and disastrously
reinforced - by the ‘true or false’ questions that make up most standardized tests.
This testing procedure makes for bad mental habits among young people, who are
schooled to take such tests successfully, and whose careers and future life-ways
depend on their scores. But the thought process demanded by such tests
compartmentalizes and essentially computerizes otherwise rich minds, depriving
young people of their native ability to think organically and to understand the
developmental nature of the real world. (8)

No doubt, Bookchin adds, conventional reason has played a significant role in the
development of humanity and has its place in being utilized to solve certain problems and
achieve particular ends; but “to achieve the consistency that constitutes its fundamental principle,
conventional reason removes ethics from its discourse and concerns” (11).

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Drawing evidence from philosophy, history, the natural and social sciences, and the evolution of
life itself, Bookchin argues we must assume, first, that there is order in the world that exists
beyond the concepts and meanings that humans have created. Secondly, there exists in all
realms of Being – from the microbial to the cosmological - change and processes that lead
toward differentiation. Finally, within this order and these processes, there is some kind of
directionality toward ever-greater differentiation or wholeness insofar as potentiality is realized
in its full actuality. However, he goes on to distinguish between what is ‘real’ (what is) and what
is ‘rational’ (what should be). He explains the difference this way:

A society that fails to actualize its potentialities for human happiness and progress
is ‘real’ enough in the sense that it exists, but it is less than truly social. It is
incomplete and distorted insofar as it merely persists, and hence it is irrational.
Although it is ‘real’ in an existential sense, it is unfulfilled and hence ‘unreal’ in
terms of its potentialities. (21)

According to Bookchin (1996), the dialectic is a method of reasoning and an account of
the objective world, with an ontological causality. He goes on,

As a form of reasoning, the most basic categories in dialectic are differentiated by
their own inner logic into fuller, more complex categories. Each category, in turn,
is a potentiality that by means of eductive thinking, directed toward an
exploration of its latent and implicit possibilities, yields logical expression in the
form of self-realization, or what Hegel called ‘actuality’. (17)

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Dialectical causality is the differentiation of potentiality into actuality, in the course of which
each new actuality becomes the potentiality for further differentiation and actualization. The
dialectic explicates how processes occur not only in the natural world but also in the social.
In short, Bookchin believed dialectical naturalism has the potential to bring coherence to
ecological thinking and dispel anti-intellectual tendencies. It brings with it and adds an
evolutionary perspective to ecological thinking and, in essence, ecologizes the dialectic. Finally,
dialectical naturalism can help us discern evolution fluidly and plastically without divesting
evolution of rational interpretation. Most importantly for this discussion, a dialectic that has a
naturalistic core and a truly developmental understanding or view of reality could provide the
basis for a living ecological ethics that can help redress injustices in both human social relations
and relations between human societies and the natural world.
As has been made obvious and incontrovertible, the thrust of natural evolution has been
toward increasing complexity; the colonization of the planet by life has been possible only as a
8

result of biotic variety. Ecological wholeness and stability are predicated upon a dynamic
‘unity of diversity’, a term Bookchin borrows from Hegel. Ecological stability is a function not
of simplicity and homogeneity but of complexity and variety. “If ‘unity in diversity’ forms one
of the cardinal tenets of ecology”, Bookchin explains, “the wealth of biota that exists in a single
acre of soil leads us to still another basic ecological tenet: the need to allow for a high degree of
natural spontaneity” (25). A philosophy based upon dialectical naturalism suggests the nature of
8

As mentioned above, scientific ecologists have brought under critical scrutiny the ‘stability’
model of ecosystems. However, within limited temporal spans and amidst changing forms of
interrelationship, an ecosystem must develop some form of dynamic equilibrium to remain
healthy. Ironically, some of the most rapid increases in ecological instability have occurred over
the last 50 years as the result of human behavior.
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relationships - to be most conducive to unfolding potentialities, increased stability, and
expanding forms of freedom - should be of a non-hierarchical nature. As Bookchin (1996)
explains,

Ecosystems cannot be meaningfully described in hierarchical terms…to rank
species within an ecosystem, that is to say, between species, is anthropomorphism
at its crudest. If we can recognize that every ecosystem can also be viewed as a
food web, we can think of it as a circular, interlacing nexus of plant-animal
relationships (rather than a stratified pyramid with man at the apex) that includes
such widely varying creatures as microorganisms and large mammals. (26)

Additionally, describing nature in hierarchical terms provides a rationale for hierarchy within
human social relations – hierarchy as something natural, innate, biologically immutable. As
human history and society can never disengage themselves or disembed themselves from nature,
mutual aid, cooperation, egalitarianism, and equity should guide our interactions with the natural
world as much as they do in our interactions with one another.

V. Dialectical Naturalism as the Basis for an Objective Ecological Ethics

[Dialectical naturalism] not only grasps reality as an existentially unfolding
continuum, but it also forms an objective framework for making ethical
judgments. The ‘what should be’ becomes an ethical criterion for judging the
truth or validity of an objective ‘what is’. (Bookchin, 1998, 24)

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The thrust of social ecology is focused upon engendering ecologically sustainable and
harmonious relationships between the human and non-human world and within human societies
themselves in order to reverse the movement toward ecological disaster and the inability of the
earth to support human life as the result of human irrationalities. Simultaneously, it aims toward
the expansion of human freedom within the context of the good of the community through the
challenging of and resistance to hierarchy and domination. As thinkers from Kropotkin to
Bookchin realized and admitted, this would not be possible without widespread and radical
changes not only in the way we live but also in the way we think. In order to highlight the
reciprocal and symbiotic relationship between social structures and psychic structures, Bookchin
contrasted pre-historic tribal societies with more modern forms coming of age after the
emergence of hierarchy, the state, and eventually capitalism. In order to move toward a more
ecologically sustainable set of material relations between humans and the natural world upon
which they depend, modern-day economistic and mechanistic thinking and mentalities should be
replaced with ecological thinking focused upon interdependence. Finally, in order for
humanity’s ‘second nature’ to realize its full potentiality, this ‘second nature’ must be grounded
in reason and in grassroots, participatory democracy, economic and political decentralization,
and community control of decision-making. Ultimately, what all of this suggests is that
education aimed toward ecological justice and sustainability and direct, participatory democracy
should be firmly rooted in a particular form of what I refer to as ‘anarchist ethics’.
Within the field of nature philosophy and ecological ethics, it is common to categorize
approaches to thinking about the relationship between humanity and the natural world as falling
somewhere on a spectrum with anthropocentrism on one side and biocentrism on the other. The

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anthropocentric perspective of course refers to the notion that the natural world exists and is
available for exploitation by humans to satisfy human needs and desires. Biocentrism, on the
other hand, posits the inherent value and equality of all living beings and claims to make no
distinction between the human and the non-human. Somewhere beyond anthropocentrism and
biocentrism lies ecocentrism through which moral significance is extended to whole natural
systems rather than just to individual living beings. Within this view, ecosystems are the center
of moral and ethical concern. As ecology is the study of the relationship between organisms and
their environment and assuming that, if left alone, ecosystems will develop toward stable
communities of interdependent parts, then the guide for human action and behavior would be to
introduce the least amount of destabilizing forces that would upset the natural order. As Matt
Ferkany (unpublished presentation) points out, “What is so attractive about eco-centrism for
environmental ethicists then is that it makes moral laws out of nature’s own laws. The norms of
environmental ethics are the norms of nature. We ought to bring about just whatever nature
would bring about if we left it alone.” One of the most well-known advocates of ecocentrism
was Aldo Leopold (1949) who, in his essay “The Land Ethic” from A Sand County Almanac,
claimed that “A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the
biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise” (Leopold, 1949, page number not
available).
While it would be easy to think Bookchin’s philosophy falls on the side of biocentrism, he
tends to view each of these poles as problematic for different but related reasons.
Anthropocentrism, as previously mentioned, places humans atop a hierarchical pyramid of
species, tends toward disembedding them from their natural evolutionary development, and
dichotomizes society and nature. That said, Bookchin does claim humans – with their unique

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capacities for thought, language, and reason – occupy a distinctive position in the natural order
and therefore have a responsibility to act as stewards for the non-human in order to allow for its
continued stability, development, and diversity. Biocentrism, Bookchin argues, is anti-humanist
at best and downright misanthropic at worst. In his view, these broadly abstract approaches to
thinking about the relationship between humanity/society and nature are overly reductionist and,
despite the good intentions of their adherents, serve to conceal the concrete systems that threaten
both the human and non-human and that are ultimately social in nature (i.e.patriarchy, racism,
sexism as they limit the possibilities for the articulation and realization of the ‘good life’ for
entire groups; and capitalism, with its foundation in limitless growth and consumption, threatens
the earth’s capacity to sustain life). In response, what Bookchin attempts to do is answer the
question regarding how ‘second nature’ (institutionalized human communities, human technics,
symbolic language, and managed sources of sustenance) is derived from ‘first nature’ (organic or
natural evolution) and how human rationality – considered nature’s actualization of its own
evolution toward subjectivity – might reorganize society along rational lines, “imbued with an
ecological philosophy and sensibility” (Bookchin, 1996, 120).
At the heart of Bookchin’s (1996) nature philosophy is the belief that:

Biological nature is above all the cumulative evolution of ever-differentiating and
increasingly complex life-forms with a vibrant and interactive inorganic world.
We can call this relatively unconscious natural development ‘first nature’…that
exhibits a high degree of orderly continuity in the actualization of potentialities
that made for more complex and self-aware or subjective life-forms. (29-30)

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Humans’ capacity for thought and language, self-awareness, its ability to generalize this
awareness toward a systematic understanding of its environment, and, finally, its capacity to alter
itself and its environment by means of knowledge and technology place it beyond first nature,
though not above it, into the realm of second nature. Bookchin (1996) continues his explanation
of humanity being both beyond and embedded within first nature thus:

From an evolutionary viewpoint, humanity has been constituted to intervene
actively, consciously, and purposively into first nature with unparalleled
effectiveness and to alter it on a planetary scale. To denigrate this capacity is to
deny the thrust of natural evolution itself toward organic complexity and
subjectivity – the potentiality of first nature to actualize itself in self-conscious
intellectuality. What is decisive here is the compelling fact that humanity’s
natural capacity to consciously intervene into and act upon first nature has given
rise to a ‘second nature,’ a cultural, social, and political ‘nature’ that today has all
but absorbed first nature. (30-31)

Following from this, in Bookchin’s view, humanity bears a moral responsibility to be the voice
of this first nature and to act in a way that fosters and furthers organic evolution. As a guideline
for doing so, Bookchin attempts to develop a basis for an objective ecological ethics.

VI. Conclusion
Bookchin consciously grounds his nature philosophy in the orientation of Pre-Socratic
thought (though not necessarily its content) within which the world/universe has an order,

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intelligibility, and moral character outside of and beyond human projection. He does so as a
basis for searching for a set of values that can be grounded in nature and natural evolution. He
critiques and searches for an alternative to the epistemological turn initiated by Hume and Kant
that renders all experience and phenomena as subjectivist in nature. In order to counter this and
to provide coherence and meaning to natural evolution, Bookchin puts forward a number of
premises upon which his nature philosophy rests.
First, Bookchin (1996) argues, “we have the right to attribute properties to nature based
on the best of our knowledge, the right to assume that certain attributes as well as contexts are
self-evident in nature” (56). One of these attributes, he suggests, is that nature has a particular
development and directiveness or nisus – that is, movement toward the realization of a particular
aim. Second, Bookchin presupposes that nature presses forward toward consciousness of itself.
Based upon these presuppositions, Bookchin (1996) claims, “nature itself seems to ‘write’
natural philosophy and ethics” (59) in that substance has a self-directed capacity for selforganization into increasingly complex forms. Thus, self-organization is the first ethical
imperative ‘written’ by nature itself. Echoing Kropotkin, Bookchin identifies the second ethical
imperative as symbiosis or mutual interdependence. Based on some scientific data, symbiosis,
cooperation, and mutual aid appear to be more important for survival than competition (Tragar,
1970).
Finally, he suggests that, contrary to dominant interpretations of Darwinism, evolution
may include an ”immanent striving, not merely random mutational changes filtered by external
selective factors” (62). Only with the Enlightenment and its exorcism of an “often authoritarian,
supernatural arbiter” between nature and humanity, Bookchin (1996) claims, could an ethical
continuum between nature and humanity be rendered more meaningful and democratic (63).

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Summing up these reflections on a nature philosophy that helps provide an objective ecological
ethics, Bookchin (1996) writes:

The study of nature exhibits a self-evolving nisus, so to speak, that is implicitly
ethical. Mutualism, freedom, and subjectivity are not solely human values or
concerns. They appear, however germinally, in larger cosmic or organic
processes, but they require no Aristotelian God to motivate them, no Hegelian
Spirit to vitalize them. If social ecology can provide a coherent focus on the unity
of mutualism, freedom, and subjectivity as aspects of a cooperative society that is
free of domination and guided by reflection and reason, it will have removed the
difficulties that have plagued naturalistic ethics for so long. Mutualism, selforganization, freedom, and subjectivity, cohered by social ecology’s principles of
unity in diversity, spontaneity, and non-hierarchical relationships, are constitutive
of evolution’s potentialities. (66)

Eduction, unlike deduction, works toward manifesting and articulating the latent possibilities
within phenomena. Based upon eduction, an ecological dialectic is a philosophy of progress “in
which there is growing elaboration and self-consciousness” (125) or the self-directed movement
of nature toward subjectivity and increasing self-reflexivity. As such, dialectical naturalism is
projective and speculative. It is intended to ceaselessly critique reality or ‘what is’ and contrast
this with the actuality of ‘what could be’. Assuming nature’s movement or development is
toward subjectivity and self-reflexivity, speculating about possibilities anchored in rationality is
no less objective than the irrationality of what currently exists. Following from this, if human

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intervention into nature is inevitable (and, assuming second nature has emerged from first nature,
it most definitely is), the question becomes whether or not humanity’s transformation of nature is
aligned with an objective ecological ethics that has been rationally developed or not (Bookchin,
1996).
Highlighted in The Ecology of Freedom, as biological evolution passed into the evolution of
society, social evolution developed in the direction of hierarchical forms, taking shape in classes
and statist institutions and ultimately giving rise to nation-states and the capitalist economy. The
direction social evolution has taken is not the result of nature’s thrust toward subjectivity and
rationality but rather has been subverted by human irrationality. As the result of the
concentration of power and the force accrued and exercised by political and corporate elites,
what was a market economy has been transformed into a market society. As domination and
hierarchy currently represent ‘what is’, it is the task of an ecological ethics to seek ’what-couldbe’ as a realm of objective possibilities. Finally, as humanity represents the potentiality of nature
rendered self-conscious, it alone is responsible for actively creating an ecological society – that
is, a society which:

would be a transcendence of both first and second nature into a new domain of
‘free nature,’ a nature that in a truly rational humanity reached the level of
conceptual thought – in short, a nature that would willfully and thinkingly cope
with conflict, contingency, waste and consumption. Humanity, far from
diminishing the integrity of nature, would add the dimension of freedom, reason,
and ethics to it and raise evolution to a level of self-reflexivity that has always
been latent in the emergence of the natural world. (Bookchin, 1996, 136)

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Chapter Four
Re-defining Politics, Citizenship, and Democracy: The Framework of Libertarian
Municipalism and Communalism

I. Introduction
This chapter will involve a close reading and analysis of Bookchin’s primary works on
his political theory of libertarian muncipalism and communalism including, but not limited to,
From Urbanization to Cities: Toward a New Politics of Citizenship (1995), Remaking Society:
Pathways to a Green Future (1989), The Politics of Social Ecology (1998), and Social Ecology
and Communalism (2007). As Eirik Eiglad (Bookchin, 2007) explains,

vague libertarian ideals of popular self-management, mutual aid, and a stateless
community, are through Bookchin’s social ecology, developed into aspects of a
coherent political theory, marked by direct democracy, municipalization, and
confederalism. This constitutes the political alternative that Bookchin argued
could confront the market economy and powerful centralized institutions. (13)

Like social ecology itself, the political theory developed by Bookchin has far-reaching
implications for how we conceive of democracy, politics, citizenship and, by proxy, citizenship
education.
In “Teacher Education as a Counter-Public Sphere: Notes Towards a Redefinition”,
Giroux and McLaren (1987) develop the concept of “schools as sites for self and social
transformation” or “counter-public spheres”. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines

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“transform” in three ways: a) to change in composition or structure; b) to change the outward
form or appearance; and c) to change in character or composition. The type of transformation to
which Giroux and McLaren allude seems to be of the first and second types. That is, to change in
composition or structure schools and schools of education and/or to change in character or
composition teachers, teacher-educators, and/or students. The authors further argue that this
transformation is to be from teacher disempowerment to teacher empowerment, from a teacher
composition that supports and “serves to reproduce the technocratic and corporate ideologies that
characterize dominant societies” and “sustain and legitimate the status quo” to a teacher
composition enabled to offer new possibilities for democratic social relations and the practice of
radical democracy (268-269). They go on to articulate some of the limitations of liberal,
progressive, and radical educators and intellectuals as they have been more focused on critique
and resistance and less on situating the organization and practice of schooling within a more
“political, theoretical and critical understanding of the nature of domination and the type of
active opposition it should engender” (270). These are important and meaningful insights in that
they compel us to move from a language of critique towards the articulation of the language of
possibilities.
My premise, following Giroux and McLaren (1987), is that every critical educational
endeavor should be driven not only by a critical social theory that helps explain the way things
are, but also a utopian vision of how things could or should be and what is required to make this
a reality. This points to a fundamental problematic of much critical and progressive work within
the field of education and one we, as critical educators, must also grapple with. The problem, as
I see it, is one of the relationship between means and ends. That is, critical theorists and
educators have created and developed a body of work that has attempted to disentangle the

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relationship between knowledge and power, the movement toward (or lack thereof) viewing
oneself as a subject of history rather than an object of history, the reproduction of inequitable
social relations based on race, class, and gender, and the function of schooling in these processes.
What are less developed in the literature are viable alternatives to the structures of domination
and exploitation both in schools and in the larger social context. What this calls for is an
articulation of what it is, exactly, that we are working toward. It follows that one of the primary
task for any critical teacher or teacher-educator is to begin to articulate what it is one is working
against (pedagogy of critique) and, in doing so, to start the dialogic process of defining the
contours of and shaping the practices that will help realize what one is working towards
(pedagogy of hope/possibilities).
It is easy enough to get a sense of what critical theorists and critical pedagogues have
been/are reacting to and pushing back against. Marx’s project revolves around the economic
exploitation of the working class that comes as a result of the organization of the means of
production. The Frankfurt School theorists looked at the ways in which the mass production of
commodities ushered in the by the industrial revolution was followed by the mass production of
culture - the ideas, beliefs, and artistic expressions that came to dominate the public space in the
early twentieth-century. Freire critiqued the banking model of education that turned historical
subjects – ‘authors of the word and the world’ – into the objects of a static reality reified by a
fixed and unalterable notion of history. It is true that some of these theorists go on to develop
ideas regarding what a world free of these dynamics might look like – Freire’s notion of the full
humanization of both oppressed and oppressor and Marx’s vision of the passage into a fully
socialist society are primary examples and have proven their appeal in their persistence over
time. At the same time, these visions have been critiqued for being overly utopian, impractical,

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and based upon a conception of human nature that does not match up with reality. As a result of
these critiques (coming from both the political right as well as the left) I feel critical leftist
intellectuals (myself included) have been reluctant to supplement their ideological critique of
schools and schooling and the capitalist liberal democracies in which they are situated with
viable social and political alternatives.
It could be argued that a number of alternatives have been put forward by the left that can
be introduced and developed within schools such as the minimalization of inequality based on
race, gender, and class, the exposure to and exploration of difference that contribute to
multicultural awareness and tolerance, the continuing expansion of civil rights and liberties to
marginalized groups, and the push for more government programs that could aid in redistributing
wealth and in creating a stronger safety net for the disenfranchised. While these are important
short-term goals that can drive critical pedagogical theory and practice, they are insufficient for
providing the impetus for a sustained project that aims at radical self and social transformation.
Therefore, it seems important to turn back and further develop one of the aforementioned
‘utopian’ visions and/or to engage more directly with the work of contemporary social and
political theorists that can help us articulate what other visions of human emancipation and
freedom might be available and worth pursuing. In short, in order to be more than mere reforms
of the current systems and institutions that structure inequality, injustice, and exclusion, critical
educational theory and practice must be informed by and aligned with a larger movement that is
working toward a more radical transformation of the organization of social, political, and
economic life. I believe the theory of social ecology and politics of libertarian
municipalism/communalism may hold the potential to be just such a larger and more
comprehensive movement.

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For educators and citizens interested in strengthening the bond between education writ
large and direct democracy, it seems important to move beyond envisioning how to make better
what is and continue the tradition of imagining the possibilities of what is not yet. On the level
of practice, this entails a critical interrogation of our own vested interests and attachments,
beliefs and values. It also requires that we search out and/or develop a theoretical understanding
of the present and a philosophical basis for arguing that our current predicament should be
otherwise. As Giroux (2009), amongst others, argues, this theoretical understanding and
philosophical foundation for moving forward cannot be developed in isolation from the broader
public within which one is situated. Giroux (2009) argues, educators should consider how they
might

provide the opportunities for students to learn that the relationship between
knowledge and power can be emancipatory, that their histories and experiences
matter, and that what they say and do counts in their struggle to unlearn
dominating privileges, productively reconstruct their relations with others, and
transform, when necessary, the world around them. (236)

In short, the process of imagining what is not yet must involve the young people and teachers
that are most directly impacted by schools and schooling. In engaging in this process with
others, a critical intellectual has not only the responsibility of sharing the visions that have
already been put forward by revolutionaries of the past, but of also being receptive to the
imaginings and possibilities offered by the individuals with which one works. Without a
theoretical understanding of why social and political life are organized as they are, some guiding

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visions of how they could be otherwise, and concrete practices that attempt to make these visions
realizable, the radical left has little hope of creating any substantive change.
In this chapter, I attempt to describe just such a vision while also identifying and
critiquing some of the issues within the contemporary western world that make more difficult the
realization of this vision. In the first section, I provide an overview of Murray Bookchin’s notion
of libertarian municipalism/communalism which seeks to undermine centralized authority
through the creation/development of small, humanly-scaled communities managed through direct
democracy and organized on a confederal basis. Next, I will examine re-conceptualizations of
the meaning of politics, citizenship, and democracy. In the third section of the chapter and its
subsections, I will engage in a theoretical discussion of dominant western models of social
organization and individual subjectivity that undermine the possibilities for the development of
active citizenship in a direct democracy. These include institutional gigantism, the dominance of
consumerism, and the appropriation of youth agency through the construction of ‘adolescence’.
In the process of doing so, I will also suggest ways in which these trends may be reversed.

II. Overview of the Politics of Social Ecology: Defining Libertarian
Municipalism/Communalism

9

Social ecology and libertarian municipalism claim that replacing the State, urbanization,
hierarchy, and capitalism with direct-democratic cooperative institutions relies upon developing
a notion of citizenship and citizens themselves based upon the virtues of solidarity and

9

Very late in his life, Bookchin began using communalism interchangeably with libertarian
municipalism. For the sake of simplicity, it can be assumed in the remainder of the chapter that
libertarian municipalism falls under a broadly communalist framework but I will only refer to the
former term.
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10

rationality

(Biehl and Bookchin, 1998). Fostering a sense of solidarity would be necessary for

maintaining within individuals a fundamental commitment to the common good. Reason would
be necessary, according to Biehl and Bookchin (1998), for constructive discussion and
deliberation and of determining the best course of action that a community should take to address
a particular problem, and for overcoming personal prejudices (86).
Additionally, libertarian municipalism works off of the assumption that every citizen has
the potential to participate directly in democratic politics. However, there is a recognition that
specific characteristics of citizenship must be taught and nurtured “through a specific political
education, which includes character formation…The Athenians called this education paideia, the
intentional cultivation of the civic and ethical qualities necessary for citizenship” (88) and direct
participation in the polis. This type of citizenship education, argue Biehl and Bookchin (1998),
cannot be confined to the schoolroom but must be fostered through the political realm itself,
“during the course of democratic political participation, amid a plentitude of discussion and
interaction that engender knowledge, training, experience, and reason” – in other words, in the
very process of decision-making and political processes (89).
In articulating the political theory of libertarian municipalism, Bookchin explicitly draws
from the Greek polis and Athenian direct democracy, the New England town hall tradition, the
classical anarchists, and Spanish Workers’ Collectives amongst other historical examples. He
elaborates his theory by making clear distinctions between politics and statecraft, between the
10

I recognize that ‘rationality’ as a basis upon which to come to know and act in the world has
been deeply questioned within the discourses of postmodern and post-structural theory, amongst
others. Bookchin was an unabashed humanist and rooted much of his thinking in the Western
Enlightenment tradition. However, following theorists like those of the Frankfurt School,
Bookchin distinguished his conception of rationality from that of an instrumental rationality.
For a more in-depth explanation of Bookchin’s conception of rationality and its significance in
moving toward a more ecological society, see Chapter Three.
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city as a democratic public sphere and the phenomena of urbanization that has eroded the
democratic roots of city life, and between the notions of citizen as ‘constituent’ or ‘taxpayer’ and
citizen as an empowered and active participant in the development and decision-making
processes of the communities in which he/she lives. In doing so, Bookchin makes as an
argument for the gradual reclaiming of power and decision-making from the centralized,
hierarchical, and beauracratic state apparatus by citizens situated within specific municipalities
and organized with other municipalities as a confederation or ‘Commune of communes’.
In short, the social and political agenda Bookchin advances over the course of several
books and numerous articles is dialectical and in keeping with his conception of nature as a selfpropelled unfolding of potentialities toward rationality, subjectivity, and freedom. As an
expression of natural evolution and with the potentiality for becoming nature rendered selfconscious and rational, humanity and human societies have the capacity to not only live in a
11

harmonious relationship with the natural world

but also to create social institutions that are

decentralized, organized from the bottom-up, rooted in specific communities, and directly
democratic.

12

This form of society, in turn, has found expression in the tribal communities of
th

the Neolithic period, the ekklesia of 5 century B.C.E. Athens, the communes of the French
Revolution of 1871, and so on. Despite their many shortcomings (patriarchy, slavery, and
parochialism, amongst others), Bookchin argues, these historical examples are evidence of
societies striving toward freedom. These instances of freedom taking form in human societies,
however, have always been in dialectical tension with their opposites; that is, movements toward

11
12

See Chapter Three for further elaboration of these ideas.

I examine an example of a school loosely organized around these characteristics in Chapter
Five.
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centralization, hierarchy, gigantism, the primacy of the individual over the common good, and an
antagonistic relationship between humans and the natural world. It appears that in the
contemporary developed world, the forces of the latter set of tendencies have eclipsed those of
the former. But there is still hope.
This dialectical tension revolves around the competing conceptions of two ideas that have
historically vied for primacy in both external forms of human social organization and within the
human psyche itself. These countervailing forces, though often used interchangeably, have
distinct historical genealogies as well as significantly different implications for notions of
citizenship and democracy. According to Bookchin, these two distinct ideas can briefly be
described as the opposition between ‘autonomy’ and ‘freedom’. In essence, ‘autonomy’ utilizes
as its basic unit of organization the individual while the notion of ‘freedom’ is firmly rooted
within and dependent upon forms of human social organization and consociation. It is this
distinction that ultimately led Bookchin, within the last decade of his life, to break with the
anarchist movement and to develop his notions of libertarian municipalism and communalism.
The contemporary anarchist movement, Bookchin (1995) argued, had eschewed one of its
original aims – that is, social freedom – and had drawn its primary focus upon its other dominant
tendency – that is, individual autonomy. As Bookchin (1992/1995), explains,

…the ‘autonomy’ of the individual is structured in theory around the Roman and
liberalistic notion of a seemingly sovereign, self-contained individual who has no
clear roots in social life, while the word freedom (derived from the Germanic
Freiheit) implies that individuality has deep social roots and responsibilities. In
Imperial Rome, particularly under the Julio-Claudian emperors, the individual

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could exercise a wide range of choices in vocations, responsibilities, and the
satisfaction of tastes. (52)

What can be surmised from this is that as individual choice expands, political involvement is
eroded. It is not difficult to recognize a similar phenomena in the contemporary Western,
developed world.
Apart from both individualist anarchism and liberalism, social ecology/libertarian
municipalism advances a wholly different framework for thinking about democracy, citizenship,
and, thus, education. While liberalism (as well as some strands of anarchism) holds as its
irreducible unit the self-determining, autonomous individual and the state as guarantor of
individual liberty and freedom, social ecology maintains as its foundation the social
interdependence of individuals and an unswerving faith in the ability of people to work together
to manage their own lives. As Janet Biehl and Murray Bookchin (1998) explain,

Libertarian municipalism [the political dimension of social ecology] proposes that
passive dependence on an elite State is not, after all, the final condition of human
political existence. A more active way of being is possible, it maintains, precisely
because of some of the features that distinguish human beings as social, especially
their capacity for reason, their mutual dependence, and their need for solidarity.
Their interdependence and solidarity, in particular, can become the psychological,
indeed moral groundwork for citizenship – and thus for the recreation of the
political realm and direct democracy. (85)

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In other words, liberalism, with its primary focus on the self-determining, autonomous
individual, has been progressively distorted (by the State, urbanization, atomization, hierarchy,
and capitalism) and has resulted in equating a ‘citizen’ with being a voter, a taxpayer, a
consumer, and in rare instances, one who is able to actively participate in the shaping of
community life within the parameters the State itself has defined. Much work has been carried
out that examines the ways in which schools actively engage in a process of social and economic
reproduction (see Bowles and Gintis, 1977). What I am suggesting here is that schools also tend
to perpetuate civic reproduction. That is, as most efforts toward citizenship education are
couched in the frameworks of civic republicanism and/or liberalism and conflate democracy with
representative government, these efforts tend toward reproducing hegemonic conceptions of
politics, citizenship, and the ways in which these concepts are to be enacted.
The notion of direct democracy and the formulation of a type of citizenship and
citizenship education that it requires which are explicitly called for by the philosophy of social
ecology and the politics of libertarian municipalism raise a whole host of questions and require a
detailed examination. I will now summarize Bookchin’s re-definition of the fundamental
concepts of politics, citizenship, and democracy.

III. Redefining Politics, Citizenship, and Democracy: A Project of Re-Discovery and ReImagination
As made clear in the previous chapter, Bookchin viewed the ecological crises we face as
the focus for a potentially trans-class movement that might bring together people from a variety
of backgrounds, races, ethnicities, and cultures to reverse the suicidal course of global capitalism
and a market-centered society which have commodified human and non-human life as well as

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the biosphere itself. Based upon an ecological ethics rooted in place and guided by the principles
of decentralization, non-hierarchical structures and relationships, and direct democracy, how
exactly might we as intellectuals and educators, young people and community members regain
some modicum of control over the decisions that most directly affect our lives? What form
should our interactions take that might allow for all voices to be heard, for all to be empowered
with a sense of agency not only over their own personal and professional trajectory but also over
the direction in which their community will develop? What characteristics of the citizen will
need to be introduced, developed, and nurtured in order to provide every person the opportunity
to take part in decision-making and managing the community? Finally, what might a school look
like that would provide a civic education rooted in direct democracy, an ecological ethics, and
the ideal of citizenship that brings these forces together?

A. Politics
In attempting to answer these questions, it is first necessary to give some consideration to
the specific ways in which Murray Bookchin defined ‘politics’, the ‘city’, and the ‘citizen’ as the
grounds for a re-conceptualization of the essence of democracy and, by proxy, citizenship
education toward a direct democracy. First, Bookchin goes to great lengths to distinguish
between politics and statecraft. As he does throughout his work, Bookchin draws many of his
th

ideas from the Athenian polis of the 5 century B.C.E. as the example par excellence of direct
democracy.

13

In so doing, he clearly defines and delineates the realms of social life, the state,

and politics. Social life, or what Hannah Arendt (1958) calls the “realm of necessity”, refers to
13

While drawing inspiration for his Communalist project from the Athenian polis, Bookchin
repeatedly acknowledges its shortcomings (in the form of the exclusion of women and its
dependence upon slave labor) throughout his work.
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the private world in which individuals work to meet their personal needs such as those for food,
clothing, shelter, and reproduction.

Unlike today, in the ancient Athenian polis the social realm

was not viewed as the primary arena in which one sought satisfaction, forms of expression, and
the fulfillment of duties. These were more properly pursued in the civic realm and, more
specifically, in the agora or public space provided for discussion with one’s fellow citizens of
matters both personal and political.
The state or statecraft, Bookchin (1992/1995) defines as a “professional civil authority
with the power to govern a ‘body politic’ and “professional systems of governance and violence”
(43). It is difficult to deny that, in the present day and age, the State has come to represent a
particular set of power relationships. While in its ideal form, civic republicanism is intended as a
form of government in which elected ‘representatives’ act on behalf of their constituents and
attempt to align their actions with the will of the majority of citizens. Obviously, most everyday
citizens recognize this ideal as being unduly influenced at best and completely corrupted at worst
by powerful moneyed interests. Because electoral campaigns require exceedingly large sums of
money and much of this money is provided by individuals or groups with corporate affiliations
and interests or specific ideological interests, elected representatives are then obliged to advance
policies, both domestic and foreign, that protect the interests of these groups rather than those of
the constituents they supposedly represent. Despite their best intentions, politicians inevitably
base their decisions not upon the common good nor even that of their constituents but rather
upon a system of power relations largely dominated by wealth. As Janet Biehl (1998) explains,

By functioning in the framework of this system, they come to share its aims of
securing and maintaining a monopoly of power for an elite group of professionals,

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and of protecting and advancing the interests of the wealthy, rather than the more
popular aims of empowering the many and redistributing wealth. (4)

This perspective is no longer coming strictly from those with left-leaning or even socialistic
political or economic inclinations. According to a New York Times/CBS News poll (2011),
two-thirds of the American public believe wealth should be distributed more evenly, seven in ten
Americans think the policies of Congressional Republicans favor the rich, and eighty-nine
percent of Americans say they distrust the government to do the right thing (New York Times,
October 25, 2011).
Unfortunately, I would argue, it is these sentiments that inform many people’s thinking
about politics. In other words, due to the hegemony of civic republicanism and its philosophical
foundation in liberalism, many individuals are unable to distinguish between the Aristotelian
notion of politics and the State. While this may appear a fairly obvious point and, perhaps, not
one worth noting outside of circles of political philosophers, Bookchin (1992/1995) argues that
this is a relatively new phenomenon. As he explains,

until recent times, professional systems of governance and violence coexisted
with richly articulated community forms at the base of society – city
neighborhoods in the world’s few large urban areas, self-contained towns and
villages, a network of extended kinship ties, a great variety of vocational, mutualaid, and fraternal groups – which were largely beyond the reach of centralized
state authorities. (43)

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There has been a certain form of social amnesia that has clouded the notion of politics as direct
management of the polis by citizens through face-to-face democratic institutions, particularly
popular assemblies. In fact, the word politics itself, as defined and used in the writings of
Aristotle, suggests direct democracy and the public, participatory dimension of a community.
Based upon the classical definition of the word, politics is not mere participation in the
decision-making and management of the community but rather a realm of life associated with
strong ethical and teleological foundations. It is the sphere, according to Aristotle, in which man
becomes more than an animal and through which he fulfills his true nature as a political being.
Unlike the household or what has been previously called the social realm in which humans
simply fulfill their needs for survival, the political realm is where humans develop and construct
a community with a shared commonality of purpose and consciously act to maintain, uphold or
alter it (Arendt, 1958). According to Bookchin (1992/1995), as humanity moves from the mere
struggle for survival toward organizing into broader collectives structured around shared ethics
and cultures, the polis begins to take shape. The ancient Athenians were unique in that they
broadened and fostered a “a degree of citizen participation not only in the decision-making
activities of the assembly but in the everyday politics of the agora” and literally created politics
as a “form of popular activity in administering public life that…is neither a state, conceived as a
highly professionalized system of governance, nor a ‘society,’ conceived as forms of personal
association for promoting survival and well-being” (Bookchin, 1992/1995, 49).
Politics, Bookchin (2007) defines as “ the active engagement of free citizens in the
handling of their municipal affairs and in their defense of its freedom”; historically speaking,
politics connotes “the direct governing of the city by its citizens” (94). However obvious some of
these observations may seem, the question remains as to how this ideal can be realized again in

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st

the global, hyper-individual, and highly complex world of the 21 century. This will require
more precise definitions of the elements that make possible direct democracy which include a
particular conception of the ‘place’ of citizenship (local, humanely-scaled, conceived within the
limits of the bioregion, and encompassing its natural as well as cultural features and history), the
ethics of citizenship (one which embodies the classical ideals of philia/solidarity, autonomy/selfsufficiency, rationality, and civic commitment), and the practice of citizenship (decentralization,
direct participation in decision-making, and confederalism).
What will emerge, as I continue the discussion, is that active forms of citizenship and,
ultimately, direct popular control of community affairs through the assembly, will not emerge
simply from inculcating individuals with specific traits that contribute to their ability to identify
issues of importance, engage in rational and deliberative discussion and debate, and formulate
ways of addressing these issues. In other words, civic education toward direct democracy and
libertarian municipalism will not be effective if it is carried out in a vacuum. Rather, there must
be a community-wide effort that interdependently supports the place, ethics, and ecological
character of meaningful citizenship education toward direct democracy.

B. Citizenship: Rooted in Place, Grounded in Ethics
In From urbanization to cities: Toward a new politics of citizenship, Bookchin
(1992/1995) provides an exhaustive historical account of the move from tribal social
organization based upon kinship or blood ties and a strong dependence upon custom and welltested traditions of community management; toward the rise of cities and direct democratic
control and management of the polis by an active and engaged citizenry; and through to the
emergence of the centralized state, the replacement of politics by statecraft, and the dominance

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of the market economy in organizing both urban and rural life. In doing so, he advances a
theoretical framework for communalism and a concrete agenda for the politics of libertarian
municipalism. Ultimately, the move toward more directly democratic forms of
community/municipal management as well as the re-harmonization of human society with the
natural world rests upon shifting our attitudes, thinking, and activity away from the large, global,
centralized, and beauracratic and focusing more upon the humanly-scaled, local, decentralized,
and directly managed. As Janet Biehl (1998) argues:

It is from this incipient political level of the community that libertarian
municipalism strives to create and renew the political realm, then expand it. Here
people can potentially reconstitute themselves from isolated monads into citizens
who recognize each other, are mutually interdependent, and as such are concerned
for their common welfare. It is here that they can create those political
institutions that make for broad community participation and sustain them on an
on-going basis. It is here that citizenship can become meaningful as citizens
regain and expand the power that the State has usurped from them. (54)

The logical starting place for expanding the possibilities for a new notion of citizenship
and direct democracy is the community. This is obviously an overused term and one that lost
some of its meaning. However, drawing from Aristotle, Bookchin defines the community (or
Greek polis) as an area small enough to be taken in within a view from where one is situated.
Other definitions exist that look more to the number of residents or citizens within a given area.
According to Biehl (1998),

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A community comprises individuals whose dwellings are clustered in the vicinity
of a distinct public space, forming a discernible community entity. [I]t is
residential proximity and the shared problems and interests that arise in a single
community, such as environmental, educational, and economic issues that form
the underpinnings of a shared civic life. (49)

Most importantly, it was this entity, the city or polis, with which a citizen most closely identified
and to which he/she pledged his loyalties. This matrix of identification and loyalty with one’s
city gave way, slowly and unevenly, to identification with one’s nation or nationality.
Up until the sixteenth century and the ascendancy of the nation-state, an individual
generally considered himself a citizen of the town or city in which he/she lived. The body politic
of a given town or city was not gigantic and anonymous but rather a real, tangible entity.
Because people more closely associated themselves with the places in which they lived and were
familiar with the land and other inhabitants of the place, there was a much stronger sense of
solidarity and, therefore, sense of communal obligation. As Bookchin (1992/1995), explains, “If
kinsmen were obligated to each other by virtue of blood ties and tribal custom, citizens were
obligated to each other by virtue of civic ties and ethical precepts” (59). In other words, there
was a strong sense of civic commitment, made palpable by one’s surroundings and the people
one associated with, that the individual was expected to act upon through direct and rational
involvement in political life. Assuming that this identification with and loyalty to the locale and
its members is an essential ingredient for strong civic participation and investment in directly
democratic politics, the question of what obstacles stand in the way of this in the contemporary

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western world and how to engender this identification and loyalty will be explored in the final
section of the paper.
Bookchin, in closely examining the character of pre-literate, ancient, and modern citizens
alike, identifies certain important traits of citizenship largely grounded in a particular set of
ethics. First, the citizens of the ancient Athenian polis placed a high value on a cultural
conception of personal development which they called paideia. Bookchin goes on to explain
paideia as the Greeks’ notion of the education or development of a man (as this was not an
option available to women) which:

involved a deeply formative and life-long process whose end result made him an
asset to the polis, to his friends and family, and induced him to live up to the
community’s highest ethical ideals. The German word, Bildung, with its
combined meanings of character development, growth, enculturation, and an wellrounded education in knowledge and skills, more appropriately denotes what the
Greeks meant by paideia than any word we have in English. It expresses a
creative integration of the individual into his environment, a balance that demands
a crucial mind with a wide-ranging sense of duty. The Greek word, arête, which
in Homeric times denoted the warrior attributes of prowess and valor, was
extended by the classical era to mean goodness, virtue, and excellence in all
aspects of life. Paideia and arête are indissolubly linked - not as a means and
ends but as a unified process of civic- and self-development. (64-65)

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Often translated as ‘education’, the Athenian notion paideia went far beyond academic or
intellectual development to include instilling within the individual a commitment to the polis and
the ability to act effectively in the public interest.
In addition, paideia was not viewed as something that occurred primarily within an
institution designated for learning. Quite the contrary, the education of citizens in civic
commitment, rational deliberation, and reasoned discourse with fellow citizens was viewed as a
community-wide endeavor. One learned how to become a citizen and political being by directly
participating in the discourse, debate, public affairs, and management of the polis itself. The
community, its inhabitants, its affairs, its issues, and the problems it faced provided citizens with
an exhaustive ‘curriculum’ for developing intellectually, ethically, and personally (Bookchin,
1992/1995). It is not difficult to recognize how far our notions of citizenship and citizenship
education have drifted from this ancient Greek ideal. However, I wish to argue that this is not
because individuals are inherently less interested in participating in political life, but rather
primarily because of the size and centralization of the modern political realm, the culture of
hyper-individualism promoted by techno-capitalism and mass media, and the general trend
toward the disenfranchisement and disempowerment of youth through contemporary institutions
(schools included) and discourse.
In their ideal of citizenship, the ancient Greeks viewed autonomy as being inseparable
from material self-sufficiency. Independence and self-sufficiency were greatly prized but could
not be disentangled from one’s embeddedness in the community in which one lived. That is, in
order for one to make independent judgments in the interests of the community, rather than in
strictly personal self-interest, one had to be free from dependence upon others for one’s material
subsistence. This is the reason, Bookchin argues, wage labor was viewed quite negatively by the

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ancient Athenians. In other words, one could not be autonomous without also being materially
self-sufficient. Thus, the ideal citizen of the ancient Athenian polis, Bookchin (1992/1995)
explains, was a “self-possessed individual who could be entrusted as much with the affairs of his
community as with the satisfaction of his private needs” (69). Participating in politics was no
different than providing oneself and one’s family with food, shelter, and clothing. Politics, like
life itself, did not require specialization and indeed, was kept ‘amateur’ rather than
professionalized so that all (white, free men) could participate. And again, like life itself, one
learned politics by directly participating in it.
Modern society, organized as it is around hyper-individualism and personal choice would
have been anathema to the ancient Greek mind. To be ‘free,’ according to modern discourse
both inside and outside of schools, is to be autonomous, to be able to choose amongst a variety of
identities for the expression of one’s individuality. In ancient Athens, where we find our closest
living example of direct democracy in action, there was an interplay between a variety of factors
and sets of values that made the well-being of the community of the utmost importance without
sacrificing the integrity of the individual. To the citizen of the polis, Bookchin (1992/1995)
explains,

Individuality meant citizenship. And, ideally, citizenship meant personal
wholeness that came from deep roots in tradition, a complexity of social bonds,
richly articulated civic relationships, shared festivals, philia [solidarity], freedom
from clientage and freedom for collective self-determination through institutions
that fostered the full participation and everyday practice of a creative body politic.
To be such a citizen, one had to live in a polis – a city that possessed an agora, a

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space to convene general assemblies of the people, a theatre to dramatize the
reality and ideology of freedom, and the ceremonial squares, avenues, and
temples that gave it reverential meaning. To remove any of these elements that
made up this whole was to instantly destroy it. Without every one of them,
cultivated on a daily basis by the paideia of citizenship and guided by an unerring
concept of arête [virtue, goodness], the Athenian ideal of citizenship fell apart and
its institutions became hollow forms. (81)

C. The Social Ecology of Urbanization: Gigantism, Individualism, Disempowerment and the
Decline of Citizenship
A variety of factors have worked to undermine the ideal of citizenship that first found
expression in the Athenian polis and that remained a strong undercurrent amidst the rise of the
nation-state, the emergence of the market economy, and the ascendancy of industrial capitalism.
It is only within the past half-century that the legacy of resistance to centralized authority and
communal solidarity and struggle for local autonomy and independence seems to have largely
faded from public memory. The polis - and its later manifestations in the feudal guilds, Spanish
communes, New England town hall meetings, amongst other historical examples – has been
thoroughly destabilized and weakened by gigantism in social and political institutions and the
increasing centralization of power, wealth, and decision-making. Communal solidarity and civic
commitment to one’s village, town, or city has been weakened by a pervasive culture of
individualism and consumerism in many developed nations but particularly in the United States.

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The desire for personal wholeness, a rounded self-development, and an individual and
collective sense of empowerment has been undercut by the drive toward specialization, the
professionalization of power, and a resulting privatization of the self.
If our aim as educators, activists, and individuals committed to the common good is to somehow
revive these vital components of an active and engaged citizenry, particularly for the young
amongst us, I believe it necessary to more fully explore the forces that have worked to
undermine them. In doing so, I will first briefly consider Bookchin’s account of the rise of
urbanization against cities and the resulting deterioration of a shared commitment to local
autonomy and self-determination. I will continue by exploring the ubiquitous culture of
individualism and consumerism perpetuated by contemporary mass media and popular culture.
Lastly, I will examine the collective disempowerment of youth through the construction of
‘adolescence’ and the appropriation of youth agency. In Chapter Six, I will return to some of
these ideas and present some promising in-roads within the field of education aimed at reimagining citizenship through the small schools movement, community or place-based
education, and direct democracy.

1. Urbanization Against Cities
As has been illustrated, there is a long history of a notion of citizenship rooted in place,
committed to local autonomy, and resistant to encroachment by centralized authority, be it in the
form of a monarch or state bureaucracy. Bookchin (1992/1995) contends that these centuries-old
traditions were significantly weakened by the long and uneven movement from the city – “where
people advance beyond the kinship bond to share, create, and develop the means of life,
culturally as well as economically, as human beings” – to urbanization – “the dissolution of the

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city’s wealth of variety and a force that makes for municipal homogeneity and formlessness”
(158). Urbanization, in turn, was precipitated by the emergence of the nation-state, the rise of
industrialism, and the ever-expanding capitalistic forms of production and consumption.
Without a community in which it could be grounded and around which it could be structured,
politics and citizenship were gradually divested of their meaning and unmoored from their
practice.
According to Bookchin, the increasing centralized power of the nation-state and the
expansion of the market economy would not have been possible without significant
developments in networks of roads, canals and rivers and modes of transportation. There was a
conscious effort on the part of the emerging nation-state to develop these networks and thereby
extend their reach into once locally insular, self-sufficient, and autonomous towns and villages.
The nature of these geographically isolated communities was such that trade and institutions
were humanly-scaled and promoted cooperation and face-to-face management of community
affairs. However, by the seventeenth-century, Bookchin (1992/1995) explains,

Western Europe and its towns seem to have reached a historic crossroads. The
continent’s further ‘development’, a term that by no means denotes ‘progress’ in
any qualitative sense, was to depend less on the growth of a centralized state and
on the expansion of commerce than on technology – on the development of
machines and transportation techniques that were to re-work all the traditional ties
that had produced such an ecologically extraordinary cultural, political, civic, and
economic diversity of social and urban forms. The market society we call
‘capitalism’ – a society that tends to reduce all citizens to mere buyers and sellers

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and debases all the ecologically varied social relationships produced by history to
the exchange of objects called commodities – did not evolve out of a feudal era.
It literally exploded into being in Europe during the eighteenth and particularly
nineteenth centuries. Its invasion of the neighborhood, indeed of villages and
small towns into the recesses of the domestic or familial relationships, has
subverted the social bond itself and threatens to totally undermine any sense of
community and ecological balance and diversity in social life. (180-181)

As a result, cities have gradually lost the attributes of unique cultural and physical bodies,
small enough to be managed by the people that occupy them and to foster a sense of
commonality amidst diversity, collective commitment to the common good, and a shared active
citizenship. The gigantism of cities and their reduction to marketplaces for the buying and
selling of goods has gradually eroded a communal sentiment and social cohesion present to a
large degree through the expansion of industrialism and the growth of large urban centers that
existed up to the middle of the twentieth century. “It was not until a technology developed that
could make deep, perhaps decisive, inroads into this ‘underground’ municipal domain,”
Bookchin (1992/1995) claims, “that politics and citizenship were faced with the total
‘commodification’ of society, the supremacy of statecraft, and the subversion of the city’s
ecological diversity and creativity” (192). The underground culture of the municipality, centered
upon cooperation, self-determination, and shared civic responsibility, has been all but buried
beneath the globalized culture of mass media, hyper-individualism, and consumerism.

2. The Consumption of Education: Citizenship as Consumerism

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After the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks carried out on the World Trade Center and
Pentagon, the nation was gripped with fear, anxiety, anger, and mourning. Tragic historical
events such as this often provide large groups of people with the opportunity to reflect upon and
reassess their collective beliefs, values, and actions. Often, a people are compelled to look
toward their leaders to provide some sense of how to make meaning of and respond to such
events. President George W. Bush’s response to these events and his instructions to the
American public for dealing with them were at once shocking and at the same time perfectly
tailored for the dominant culture that has taken shape in this country over the past five decades:
“Get on board. Do your business around the country. Fly and enjoy America’s great destination
spots. Get down to Disney World in Florida. Take your families and enjoy life, the way we
want it to be enjoyed” (Remarks by President George W. Bush to Airline Employees, Chicago
O’Hare International Airport, Chicago, IL, September 27, 2001). The essential message here?
Do not let the terrorists scare you out of doing what you have always done – shopping,
consuming, and entertaining yourselves.
I fear that in our day and age, schooling, and the education it purports to do, have become
enmeshed with market values and imperatives. This link between the capitalist marketplace and
schooling has been elaborated in structural functionalist terms, positing the school as nothing
more than the training ground for the future workforce. In the work of Bowles and Gintis
(1976), the argument was that schools are structured in such a way as to prepare young people
for a particular position in the class-based economy. That is, students coming from lower- or
working-class positions received training within the school - training of both mind and body
through routines, expectations, ways of interacting and relating with authority, and modes of
expression – that would render them suitable for characteristically poor and working-class jobs.

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Conversely, students from middle- to upper-middle class and elite backgrounds received the
requisite skills in schools that situated them to assume jobs characteristic of these class positions.
While the deterministic nature of this argument has been thoroughly critiqued and problematized
primarily due to its lack of attention to human agency, it still appears a highly viable explanation
for existing class stratification. However, my concern is less with how schools function to
reproduce an economic- and class-stratified workforce and more with the school’s role in the
production of a particular kind of citizen, namely that of the consumer.
From vending machines to scoreboard sponsorships, from team uniforms to ‘educational’
books and videos promoting television and film characters, the market imperatives of advertising
and selling products has insidiously seeped into primary and secondary institutions of public
education. Beyond the drive to advertise particular products to a captive audience, marketing
and advertising in schools blends more traditional values of learning, growth, and creativity with
the values of consumption, status, and brand loyalty. I am opposed to instilling in young people
the notion that their worth is predicated upon their buying power or what they possess and feel
that the educational process should be centered on exploration, critical examination, creatively
re-imagining oneself and the world in which one lives. Erich Fromm (1976) articulates the
distinction between these two orientations to life as that between having and being.
Corporate-sponsored media has contributed to keeping the attention of educators and
learners away from the culture, history, problems, and educational possibilities that exist within
their own communities (Bowers, 2000). As David Gruenwald and Gregory A. Smith (2008)
point out:

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Few people would argue that first television and now the Internet and their
associated technologies and products help to choreograph youth and consumer
cultures based on the commercial values that benefit corporate media sponsors.
The entertainment-style technology-industrial complex reinforces the narrative of
economic globalization by constructing children and youth around the world as
hi-tech consumers rather than citizens. A youth culture based on the
commodification of experience through product identification intensifies
alienation from community and from the intergenerational relationships necessary
to strengthening community ties. Furthermore, a technologized consumer culture
reinforces a brand of competitive individualism familiar now to both school and
work environments. Corporate-sponsored media constantly teach that
participation in the global economy through consumption of ever-new products
(made from cheap labor in deregulated environments around the globe) is a right
as well as a measure of success and self-worth. Thus, in tandem with schooling
and the narrative of globalization, corporate media distort what it means to be a
person, a learner, and a member of a local community. (xv)

As such, young people are not only discouraged from learning about and investing in their local
communities but are often divested of the support and mentoring necessary for becoming active,
empowered citizens capable of imagining their own role in the development and future of their
communities. Situated within a dominant culture whose messages emphasize the primacy of
individuality and that provides little space for active and meaningful political participation on the

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local level, many youth retreat into an egoism that is only fostered by the adults that surround
them.

3. The Construction of ‘Adolescence’ and the Appropriation of Youth Agency
Many administrators, educators, and policy makers have labeled contemporary American
youth as both disengaged from political life and apathetic toward pressing social issues. Social
surveys and academic research on teenagers have found evidence for declining levels of political
knowledge, interest and participation and a growing cynicism toward politicians and social
institutions in general (Times Mirror Center Study, 1990; Hart, 1994 cited in Buckingham, 2000;
Barton & Levstik, 1998; Cornbleth, 2002).
These criticisms come from both the right and the left in the United States. The right
bemoans the seeming unwillingness of young people to become informed about and supportive
of this country’s official history and institutions. The left looks back nostalgically on the 1960s
as a time when youth were visible leading the struggle for civil rights, women’s liberation, and
opposition to the Vietnam war. The point that I would like to make is that while a great number
of contemporary youth in the United States are not informed nor involved in significant social,
cultural, and political issues that directly impact them and the communities in which they live,
the reasons for this do not lie in the ‘nature’ of ‘youth’ nor in their unwillingness to participate.
Rather, the perceived lack of engagement on the part of youth may be related to contemporary
constructions of ‘youth’ by adults and the foundational position these constructions have
occupied in the design and implementation of public education.
In using the term ‘youth’, I am specifically referring to children between the ages of 13
and 17. I chose this as my focus for two reasons. First, it is between the ages of 13 and 17 that

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one is typically enrolled in secondary school in the United States. Both historically and
contemporarily, this age range denotes a unique stage and state both in relation to those that are
older and those that are younger. Culturally, socially, and legally, this is a period that signals a
shift out of ‘childhood’ but not yet into ‘adulthood’. This ‘in-between-ness’ has implications for
adult expectations of teenagers that conflict with the social and cultural norms and legal
restrictions that exist for people of those ages.
I will provide a brief historical overview of the roles and expectations of ‘youth’ during
the late nineteenth and early twentieth century and how these were transformed by the
construction and development of the concept of ‘adolescence’. I will also explore how the
concept of ‘adolescence’ manifested itself in public education. This manifestation acted as a
vehicle for adult colonization of youth space and time (Cannella and Viruru, 2004) that isolated
them from and ultimately prevented their direct participation in the public sphere. I will also
briefly consider the related issue of how these shifting paradigms also began to open up spaces
for young people to create cultures of their own and to effectively resist, contest, and reshape the
social conditions in which they found themselves. Finally, I will consider the contemporary
movement toward standardization within schools as a response to the counterculture of the 1960s
and 1970s, and its implications for youth agency.
“Since the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries”, Colin Heywood (2001) explains,

the ‘middle-class’ desire has been to isolate children, and later adolescents, from
the world of adults. Young people have been increasingly ‘infantilized’ by efforts
to keep them out of the workplace, to repress their sexuality and to prolong their
education in schools and colleges. (21)

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These efforts created tension between adult control and the realities of the young and were often
met with resistance. In some ways, this resistance led to the institution of compulsory schooling
by government during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in order to control youth
under the guise of providing them with an education.
As the child was liberated from adulthood, new forms of collective social constraint
became necessary to contain it. "Theories of the child”, Chris Jenks (1996) explains, “are always
pointers towards the social construction of reality." The two dominant ways of talking about
children Jenks call the Dionysian and the Apollonian. The Dionysian view, which seems to
correspond to that of traditionalists, assumes children enter the world with an evil or corruption
already within them. The Apollonian child, as reflected in progressive’s definition of
‘adolescence’, is viewed as innocent and untainted by the world they have entered.
These images of the child help inform the strategies Western society, specifically schools
in this case, enacts to control, socialize, and constrain the young. In the Dionysian view,
children sacrifice their childhood to the cause of the collective adult good. In the Apollonian
view, where children are viewed as unique and different, it is more difficult to appeal to a sense
of shared values. "We monitor and examine and watch the Apollonian child; he or she in turn
learns to watch over themselves and shame is replaced by guilt” (Jenks, 1996). In examining our
views of and dealings with children, we are also investigating forms of social integration and
social control. "Our historical perspectives on normality in childhood reflect the changes in the
organization of our social structure”, Jenks (1996) explains. "All ideas and practices concerning
the care of, justice for, and protection of the child can be seen to be instrumental in the
ideological network that preserves the status quo” (30).

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As late as the nineteenth century, most children were encouraged to begin supporting
themselves at an early stage. Children entering their early teens were likely to be working
alongside adults or embarking upon an apprenticeship to learn a trade. In fact, many children
had left home by the modern stage of adolescence to begin working as a servant or an apprentice
to a tradesman outside the family (Heywood, 2001). During the early twentieth century,
increasing numbers of children were spending the majority of their time in school, far removed
from the world of work and adult responsibilities – a far different situation from less than a
century earlier. What changed in the way adults thought about youth over this relatively short
period of time and how were these changes related to the growth and structure of public
schooling in the United States?
The “Child Study” movement within the United States was centered on gaining a detailed
scientific understanding of children’s emotional, physical, and sexual development. These new
understandings marked the beginning of the emergence of the modern concept of ‘adolescence’
as a distinct phase of human development. As Steven Mintz (2004) explains, during the early
twentieth century, adolescence was characterized by

intense passions, a penchant for risk-taking, and wildly fluctuating emotions. G.
Stanley Hall, the psychologist whose 1904 book on adolescence helped
popularize the concept, convinced many parents and educators that young people
were growing up too fast, that adolescence needed to be prolonged, and that the
early and mid-teenage years needed to be spent in specialized institutions
designed to meet adolescents’ special psychological needs. (187)

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Chris Jenks’ (1998) observation is also instructive in putting these changes into perspective:

If, as Rousseau advised and our late twentieth century liberalism encourages,
children are immanent in their capacities then they must surely be allowed free
rein, they must go where their journeying takes them and they must be
encouraged in their pioneering spirit. But, of course, the lines are drawn. From
the close arenas of domestic space to the infinite horizons of cyberspace the
boundaries are erected by a gerontocratic hegemony, policed by discipline and
legitimized through ideologies of care, protection and privacy. (22)

Lloyd DeMause (1962) argues that the further back in history one goes, the more likely children
are to be physically mistreated. He describes the period beginning in the mid-twentieth century
as characterized by the “helping mode” of parent-child relations, where discipline is not
necessary and both mother and father empathize with and work to fulfill the child’s particular
needs. While the modern conception of adolescence may have led to more humane physical
treatment of children (a decrease in the danger and amount of work done by young people or a
more ‘child-centered’ curriculum, for example), it was no less oppressive in its management and
discipline of their bodies through particular constructions of time and space.
While G. Stanley Hall’s observations and the emerging concept of adolescence helped
bring about a shift to a more progressive, child-centered pedagogy within schools (Mintz, 2004;
Reese, 2005), it also led to the rapid expansion of adult control over how and where teenagers
spent their time and an almost complete surveillance of teenagers inner and outer lives.
Extracurricular activities were expanded but so was adult control and supervision. The role of

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schools as agents of socialization became more pronounced, but was directed toward
adolescents’ smooth transition into the pre-existing world of adults. Enrollment in high schools
doubled during the first four decades of the century placing the majority of teenagers under the
care, supervision, and tutelage of adult-controlled, state-run institutions. All of this amounted to
the erosion of adolescent autonomy and the possibilities for youth to speak on their own behalf
and to act upon the issues that mattered most to them. Mintz (2004) explains the problematic
nature of these developments for young people:

Why did the autonomous student organizations of the mid and late nineteenth
century disappear, and why did students submit to administrative control of their
activities? One reason was that the schools offered better facilities and coaching
than students could provide for themselves. But it also reflected a shift in
students’ self-perception. As high schools grew more important as placement
agencies and assumed a more all-encompassing role in middle-class lives,
students began to see themselves as juveniles and became more and more
acquiescent. It seemed appropriate that adults who knew better should organize
their leisure as well as their academic activities. (199)

With large-scale efforts to make school more relevant, equitable, and child-centered
during the 1940s, ‘50s, and ‘60s, there were also many critics of progressive education that
condemned the shift in focus away from academics. These critics promoted the traditional
curriculum, conventional teaching methods, reliance upon textbooks, strict discipline within
schools and classrooms, and a system based upon competition and meritocracy (Reese, 2005).

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While the traditionalists also saw schools as a central institution for social progress and
individual improvement, they primarily viewed children as adults-in-the-making, empty vessels
to be filled with specific pieces of knowledge at appropriate stages of development by their adult
superiors. Traditionalists’ conceptions of youth were far different from their progressive
counterparts, yet they often served the same ends: adult control, monitoring and surveillance of
youth activity, a smooth transition into the adult world, and maintenance of the established social
order.
Despite widespread calls for educational reforms by progressives and a resounding
backlash from traditionalists responding to Cold War fears and the launch of Sputnik by the
Soviet Union, innovative practices that took seriously the interests and perspectives of the child
were not as common as sometimes perceived. The 1969 edition of the AERA encyclopedia
contradicted many of the assumptions of critics of progressive education. As Reese (2005)
explains,

lectures, an efficient way to teach, prevailed, and so did pupil passivity, especially
if teachers enforced a code of pupil decorum. As in past decades, pupils filled in
workbooks, often sat quietly at their desks, and spent considerable time listening
to other people, especially the teacher. (271)

While the explicit aim of schools was to aid in children’s development into autonomous,
civically engaged adults, I would argue the implicit message of dominant pedagogical
approaches had the opposite effect. As David Buckingham (2000) explains, “arguments about
the ‘innate’ incompetence [of children] give rise to a circular logic. Children may well appear

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incompetent (and indeed uninterested) because they have not been encouraged to develop the
skills or knowledge that would enable them to appear otherwise” (169).
Both the progressive model of education and its foundation on the concept of
‘adolescence’ as well as the traditionalist approach modeled on the factory acted to isolate youth
from the public and political sphere and discipline their bodies in time and space. Ironically, as
the result of soaring enrollments in high schools across the country and the social isolation of
youth from the adult world within these institutions, what began to develop was a distinct youth
culture as well as youth-led social activism. During the 1960s, young people were the leaders of
challenges to the status quo and the pioneers of social and cultural change.
How do we explain the shift from the highly disciplined and conventional childhoods of
the 1950s and early ‘60s to the rebellious and radical nature of much of America’s youth in the
mid- to late ‘60s? Steven Mintz (2004) offers one explanation:

as a result of depressed birthrates during the 1930’s and the postwar babyboom,
the number of teenagers exploded. Unlike their parents, whose values and
expectations had been shaped by the Depression and World War II, young people
grew up in a period of unprecedented prosperity, security, and ease, when the
gross national product expanded at an average rate of 3.9 percent a year and real
income doubled. Their parents’ concern for their well-being became translated
into their own search for personal fulfillment. (313)

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In reality, those most closely linked with the youth culture at that time were born before the
postwar boom and the formative influence on their lives had been the democratic idealism of the
New Deal and World War II (Mintz, 2004).
Leading to revolutionary changes in American society, the social unrest and political
discontent of the 1960’s created a great deal of fear and anxiety amongst adults. I would argue
that the memory of these times along with the publication of A Nation at Risk in the early 1980’s
reinforced adult unease over the younger generation. The combination of these factors worked
to draw the focus back to schools as both partly to blame for and a potential solution to what
were perceived as unruly, unpatriotic, and potentially dangerous young people. Linking
scholastic performance with the health of the economy, A Nation at Risk demanded higher
academic standards in the public schools (Reese, 2005). With youth culture(s) firmly entrenched
in our society, other means were devised not only to isolate children from adults but also to
isolate children from one another. This, coupled with the call for higher standards, in many ways
led to the standardization of the curriculum and the reimplementation of testing as a mechanism
for sorting and dividing children.
With youth tracked and sorted within schools and the explosion of electronic media that
drew young people off the streets and into a seat in front of the screen, the stage was set for a
generation of disconnected, socially unaware individuals. This seems to be a more accurate
portrayal of the 1980s and early ‘90s than it is of the current century. While the 1980’s were a
fairly flat period for youth engagement in and work on social issues, I believe one can see
resurgence in youth-led activism if one looks in the right places.
While it seems the ‘60s are long forgotten and the contemporary generation is as
disconnected from political and social life as they are connected to the internet and ipods, I see

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some areas for investigation that may hold out some hope that contemporary youth do possess a
sense of political agency and are ready and willing to enact it. The first area is that of the micropractices in which students engage while in school. The second area is the growing number of
youth-led social activist groups that are springing up nationally and internationally.
Though schools continue to act as disciplinary mechanisms for youth and are as adult
controlled as ever, an examination of the micro-practices of young people may show they are not
as passive as they seem. Despite the seemingly monolithic nature of temporal and spatial
regulatory practices in schools, students’ abilities to find loopholes, transgress controlled spaces,
and turn time to their own ends speaks to their ingenuity and resiliency.
Teachers and administrators spend inordinate amounts of time and energy struggling to
keep students “on task”, properly oriented in space and time, and mentally engaged with the
material deemed appropriate for the classroom. While the strategies employed by school
authorities are often effective and therefore repressive of students’ free will and autonomous use
of space and time, what I find more interesting for exploration are the ways in which students
tactically resist these strategies - in small ways and often on an individual basis – thereby
reclaiming this very autonomy that seems to be taken from them. According to de Certeau
(1984), these “tactics of consumption, the ingenious ways in which the weak make use of the
strong…must constantly manipulate events in order to turn them into ‘opportunities’. The weak
must continually turn to their own ends forces alien to them” (xix) thus opening up greater
possibilities for the expression of difference, pleasure, and creativity.

IV. Conclusion

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As any simple Google search for ‘youth activism’ will show, there are a large number of
youth-led organizations that have developed nationally and internationally over the past ten to
fifteen years. These organizations have taken up a variety of issues including but not limited to
environmental protection, LGBT rights, animal rights, ageism, racism, community-building
initiatives, school reform, and anti-globalization. Some initial research (www.freechild.org) has
revealed these groups are highly organized, connected with one another, and, to a large degree,
completely youth-inspired and led. These young people are going against the grain and
challenging assumptions regarding their level of competency and willingness to take part in
larger discourses regarding issues that directly affect them but from which they have been kept
from meaningful participation.
According to Buckingham (2000), “Children will only be likely to become ‘active
citizens’, capable of exercising thoughtful choice in political [as well as social and cultural]
matters, if they are presumed to be capable of doing so” (169). By moving toward a conception
of youth as capable of not only meaningfully participating in the content and form of their own
educations but also in actively engaging in the development, enrichment, and management of
their own communities, we can begin to sow the seeds of a notion of citizenship education
toward direct democracy.

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Chapter Five
Social Ecology From Theory to Practice: Case Study of Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos H.S.

I. Introduction
The Pedro Albizu Campos High School (PACHS) is a community-based charter school
situated in the Humboldt Park neighborhood on Chicago’s west side. Currently, PACHS serves
approximately 175 students of Puerto Rican, Mexican, African-American and multiple other
Latino ethnicities from grades 9-12. There is a faculty of approximately 15 teachers along with
an administrative and support staff of approximately 11. The school is located in a newly
renovated building with six classrooms including a modern science classroom and lab and a fully
functioning hydroponics-based rooftop greenhouse. Accredited by the National Association for
the Legal Support of Alternative Schools (NALSAS), PACHS is affiliated with the Juan Antonio
Corretjer Puerto Rican Cultural Center, the Alternative Schools Network, and the Youth
Connection Charter Schools.
According to the principal of PACHS, the school community has been actively working
on making social ecology the conceptual centerpiece of the curriculum in order to actualize the
school’s mission and vision. As understood and utilized by the faculty at PACHS, social
ecology provides a means of understanding the cause and effect relationship between human
beings and their environment. According to the schools website, “A person’s health and wellbeing – physical, emotional, and spiritual – has as much to do with a person’s decisions in life as
it does with the environments in which that person is raised. A person is always a part of an
ecosystem that they can both impact and also be impacted by”
(http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/urban-agriculture/urban-agriculture/).

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II. Description of School-Community or Community-School: Context, History, and Funding and
Accreditation
A. Context: Paseo Boricua
The Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School is located in the heart of Chicago’s Puerto
Rican community and in what has come to be known as “Paseo Boricua”. Always a bastion of
community activism, Puerto Rican culture including food, music, and street vendors and pride in
its Puerto Rican heritage, “Paseo Boricua” is located on Division Street between Western
Avenue and Mozart in the Humboldt Park neighborhood. Flanked on either end with nearly 60foot tall Puerto Rican flags constructed of steel and stretching over Division Avenue, this street
has been named Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos Street in honor of the first Puerto Rican to graduate
from Harvard. Also a WWI veteran, labor leader, President of the Nationalist Party, and political
prisoner, Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos (1891-1965) has become a widely recognized symbol of
Puerto Rican political consciousness and national pride.
As I walked up and down Division Avenue, the anonymity, rush, and isolation that as a
large a city as Chicago can often invoke seemed to disappear. The sound of Bamba music came
from storefronts and cars. People sat outside together talking feverishly and observing what was
happening around them. The sides of many a building displayed hand painted murals depicting
artifacts of Puerto Rican pride – the flag, the image of Roberto Clemente, and the fiery gaze of
Albizu Campos himself, amongst others. All of the businesses along this stretch – including La
Bruquena restaurant, Café Colao, Dance Academy of Salsa, and Batey Urbano – are small and
locally-owned and work to uphold and transmit the Caribbean culture from which their food,
music, dance, and art have their origins. This is no accident as the members of this community

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have worked tirelessly to maintain its autonomy and culture and resist encroachment by the more
dominant, affluent, Euro-centric, and often corporate culture that surrounds it. The Dr. Pedro
Albizu Campos High School, which will be celebrating its 40th anniversary in the Fall of 2012,
has been central to these efforts to resist gentrification, to maintain and perpetuate Puerto Rican
culture and political consciousness, and to empowering youth to better themselves and their
communities and to carry on these traditions.

B. History: “La educacion rompe las cadenas” (“Education Breaks Chains”)
Originally named “La Escuela Puertorriquena (the Puerto Rican School)”, the Dr. Pedro
Albizu Campos High School was established in 1972 by parents, students, teachers, and
community activists in response to a 70 percent dropout/push-out rate amongst Puerto Rican
youth in the city of Chicago. As José Lopez, one of the founders of the school, shared with me,
the dominant culture of the time portrayed Puerto Ricans as lazy, unmotivated, and unprepared
for academic learning and success. As documented through my interviews with current PACHS
students, these racist and marginalizing discourses persist into the present and often lead many
Latino/a and African-American youth to the conclusion that school is not for them. Both
anecdotal evidence from teachers and staff and conversations with students themselves prove
that many Puerto Rican and other Latino/a students leave school as the result of feeling uncared
for, unsupported, and generally ignored in the large comprehensive high schools of the Chicago
Public School system. Additionally, the curriculum and general culture of these schools do not
give serious consideration to the language, culture, and history of the students they are charged
with teaching. As the Chicago School Board resisted addressing what many viewed as deficits
and discriminatory practices within Tuley, Wells, and Lake View High Schools, a contingent of

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community members took matters into their own hands and established an independent school
that would teach pride in Puerto Rican culture, history, and language, draw attention to the
history of colonialism, imperialism, and racism and that would, over time, begin to connect these
struggles with those of other marginalized and oppressed groups.
Currently located above the Puerto Rican Cultural Center on Division Street in Chicago,
PACHS serves approximately 175 students in grades 9-12 from Humboldt Park and other
surrounding neighborhoods. PACHS has a contractual agreement with the Chicago Public
Schools to accept students that have officially dropped-out of the public school system. Students
that are interested in attending the school need to apply and are then made part of a lottery to
determine who is eligible to enroll. No form of standardized testing is used as a basis for
admittance but each student is interviewed by school administrators and staff in order to make
absolutely clear the rigor and expectations of the school and to identify whether or not the
student is prepared to make the social and academic commitment the school requires. Presently,
many students remain on a waiting list as the school works to uphold its commitment to remain
small and maintain a strong sense of community and family.
Because of its size, PACHS is able to offer students classes with no more than a 1:16
teacher-to-student ratio and one-to-one student mentorship by full-time mentors working at the
school. Over the past three years, PACHS has boasted a graduation rate of over 80 percent and
provides students with opportunities to earn college credit and work experience. Amidst what
can often be an environment hostile to difference, PACHS openly declares itself an LGBTQfriendly school and campus. Connected to the school, the Lolita Lebron Family Learning Center
offers young parents culturally relevant parenting classes, family literacy workshops, and an
onsite bilingual daycare service for children from ages 0 to 5 years old. Finally, PACHS is an

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affiliate organization of the Juan Antonio Corretjer Puerto Rican Cultural Center, a founding
member of the Alternative Schools Network (ASN), and one of approximately 20 Chicago
Campuses comprising the Youth Connection Charter Schools (YCCS).

C. Funding/ Accreditation
PACHS has accreditation from the National Association for the Legal Support of
Alternative Schools (NALSAS). A description of the role of the NALSAS comes from the
organization’s website (http://www.nalsas.org):

NALSAS was originally “designed to help interested persons/organizations
locate/evaluate/create viable alternatives to traditional schooling approaches”--including home study. Subsequently, NALSAS established a process to accredit
bona fide members of the National Coalition of Alternative Community Schools
(ncacs.org) requiring an on-site visit be conducted by a qualified representative to
members of NCACS and educational home schooling programs that apply.
A Certificate of Accreditation issued by NALSAS is not meant to
represent an evaluation and/or approval of the materials, teaching staff or
educational philosophy employed by the applicant program. Rather, only one
standard is applied: consumer protection---an assurance to the general public: 1)
that a member of NCACS not involved with the control, operation, or proceeds of
the applicant program has reviewed and confirmed documentation of their
compliance with all state and local laws; and 2) that the conditions and
advertising claims made regarding their location and operation have been verified

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(that the program is what it purports to be and does what it purports to do).
Whether such a program is desirable or suitable for meeting the needs of a
particular learner then becomes a question for the consumer to determine.

As mentioned, PACHS is a founding member of the Alternative Schools Network (ASN)
and a campus of the Youth Connection Charter Schools (YCCS). The Alternative Schools
Network (ASN) is a not-for-profit organization in Chicago working to provide quality
educational opportunities for inner-city children, youth and adults. Since 1973, the ASN has been
supporting community-based and community-run programs to develop and expand training and
other educational services in Chicago’s inner-city neighborhoods. In addition to supporting direct
services, ASN has been a consistent and effective advocate for community-based services
whereby the people involved are active participants in developing and running programs – not
passive recipients of services. The ASN currently works with 24 community-based alternative
high schools in Chicago (adapted from description of Alternative Schools Network on PACHS
website: http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/programs/rsp).

The Youth Connection Charter Schools, established in 1997, provides alternative
education programs in the Chicago area and focuses upon serving the population
of drop-out and at-risk students in Illinois. It has carried out this work by building
small campuses in partnership with community-based organizations and colleges
throughout Chicago. By providing at-risk students with unique educational
approaches and learning environments, it has helped 80 percent of its graduates to
continue on to post-secondary education or employment.

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Based upon the overall agency budget for the 2011-2012 school year, PACHS receives
approximately 94 percent of its funding from public grants and the remainder comes from private
grants. These private grants are further divided between PACHS and the Puerto Rican Cultural
Center with which it is affiliated. Of the total income, 56 percent of PACHS dollars comes from
YCCS. Less than 1 percent of the annual budget is comprised of government state aid for
students at or below the poverty level. The Alternative Schools Network, who provides funding
for schools with students that are wards of the state, provides approximately 1 percent of the
schools funding. Less than 1 percent of the school’s funding comes from federal Title I/NCLB.
A small portion of the school’s funding comes from a Title XX City of Chicago grant intended
for student mentoring.

III. Foci of Previous Research at the Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School
In “’This School is My Sanctuary’: The Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos Alternative High
School”, Rene Antrop-Gonzalez (2003) presents the findings of a qualitative study of the Puerto
Rican-centric high school situated within literature that examines the relationship between the
general lack of care provided for Latino/a students in most large, comprehensive urban high
schools and their history of low academic achievement. Through a focus upon the experiences
of students and teachers at PACHS, Antrop-Gonzalez (2003) makes the argument that for a
school to be effective for Latino/a students, it should foster student-teacher caring relationships,
provide a familial type of environment to insure that its students are not marginalized, provide a
gang-free safe space, and affirm students’ racial and ethnic identities (2). In highlighting and
describing these characteristics he develops the concept of “school as sanctuary.”

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As Antrop-Gonzalez and Anthony De Jesus (2006) explain, a school like PACHS takes
shape not only to provide improved educational opportunities for students of a given community
but also as political movements for self-determination, community control, and decolonization.
As such, the work of students, teachers, and community members are not centered solely upon
individual accomplishment and advancement but is intimately tied to the maintenance of
community cohesiveness, the preservation of relationships and traditions, and the enhancement
of community life itself. Conversely, as the well-being of the community cannot be disentangled
from the well-being of the individuals that constitute it, much effort is devoted to providing for
the social and emotional well-being of the students themselves.
This approach to education cuts against the grain of much of the discourse, rhetoric, and
practice of traditional schooling. This approach emphasizes that the good of the individual
cannot be disentangled from the good of the community; that one is embedded in and deeply
influenced by a place – that is, the matrix of geographical, environmental, historical, and cultural
coordinates that give a region or neighborhood its unique flavor, strengths, and problems that
form the fabric of people’s everyday lives. It is an education that promotes an understanding of
the interrelationship of political, economic, and cultural factors – that is to say, the social – with
environmental conditions. However, the educational approach at PACHS aims to move students
beyond a cognitive understanding of these interrelationships and into the realm of collective
action to influence these factors in meaningful and beneficial ways. Using the framework of
social ecology, this educational approach draws from Puerto Rican as well as other historically
oppressed cultural traditions to make learning as personally and socially relevant as possible.

IV. Description of Interview Participants

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A. Founder and Faculty
José – PACHS Founding Member
Amidst his very busy schedule as professor, community activist, and executive director of
the Institute of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture (IPRAC), José Lopez agreed to sit down with me
for an informal interview. A Puerto Rican male probably in his late fifties to early sixties, José
has been a life-long resident of the Humboldt Park community and a long-time educator at the
both the secondary and post-secondary levels. Beginning his teaching career in one of the
comprehensive Chicago Public High Schools in the neighborhood, José described his
opportunity to realize the ‘American Dream’ in that he graduated from high school with high
marks and earned acceptance into prestigious universities. While acting as a research assistant
on a project whose aim was to examine the phenomenon of Puerto Rican drop-outs in the city of
Chicago, José had some stark realizations that led him to founding PACHS in 1972. What he
continually heard from students he interviewed for the research project was that “teachers hear
us, but don’t listen to us”. Initially, he had trouble fully comprehending to what these students
were referring. As a Puerto Rican student himself, he always felt his teachers had listened to
him. However, the realization he had was that he was the exception rather than the rule and that,
despite their status as drop-outs, the young Puerto Rican men he was interviewing were
“smarter” than he was insofar as they were critically questioning the world around them, a world
that held largely racist views of them and subsequently foreclosed many of the opportunities and
rights they were entitled to as human beings. It was at this moment that José felt compelled to
begin to think about and address the issue of a nearly 73 percent Puerto Rican dropout rate in the
city of Chicago. In attempting to do so, he began conducting a voluntary course on Puerto Rican
history held after school and it was from there that the school began to take shape. Looking back

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upon the past 40 years since the school’s inception, José explained that despite a wide variety of
changes over time, he felt those involved with the school “maintained an incredible integrity in
preserving the core values of what [they] set out to do”.

Marcos

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– PACHS Principal

Young, charismatic, and deeply passionate about his work and role as educational leader,
Marcos, a Puerto Rican male, has been the principal at PACHS for the past eight years. After
obtaining his teacher certification, he began at the school as a teacher and subsequently obtained
the position of principal. He is extremely intelligent, organized, and well read and takes
responsibility for the schools budgeting and finance, curriculum development, instructional
leadership, and community outreach, amongst other things. From the time we met, Marcos made
me feel welcome and engaged with the ideas I was exploring while also inviting me to offer
critique of what I observed, to share my learning and experiences with him and the staff.
Continually throughout my time at the school, I observed Marcos’ commitment to and diligence
in his work . He had a thorough understanding of the school’s history and the thinking behind its
mission and vision and consistently asked both teachers and students to critically reflect upon
these ideas in order to identify what was being done effectively and the issues that were acting as
obstacles to their more meaningful realization. He mixed serious reflection and high standards
of accountability (for himself, for the teachers, and for the students) with fun, creativity,
excitement, and encouragement. Based upon my experience, I saw his leadership as a vital
component in the delivery of a critical, community-based education intended to foster student
achievement and self and social transformation.
14

Names of all participants have been replaced with pseudonyms in order to protect their
anonymity.
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Manuel – Urban Agriculture Teacher and Assistant Principal
Manuel is a middle-aged Puerto Rican man that occupies the dual roles of classroom
teacher and assistant principal at the school. Having started his work at the school as a part-time
teacher of classes in Puerto Rican history and Black and Latino Literature approximately seven
years ago, Manuel’s background in science led him to take over the science department and to
eventually develop the program and courses in urban agriculture. Manuel’s history with PACHS
dates back to his own high school career in that one of the founders of the PACHS was his
teacher in a nearby Chicago Public School. In that he was familiar with some of its founding
members, Manuel was aware of the school and its developing mission before it actually began in
1972. While the majority of the staff at PACHS is under the age of forty and have come from
different parts of the city and country, Manuel is older and has lived in the community for the
greater part of his life. He has a deep sense of the culture and history of the area that he works to
impart to students. Manuel has a warm and welcoming spirit and obviously takes great pride in
the expanding urban agriculture program at the school. In describing the success and expansion
of the urban agriculture program, however – including a private-public partnership to build a $1
million greenhouse on the rooftop of the school – Manuel is quick to point out that the idea came
from the students themselves and their explorations of some of the more predominate issues that
face the community. Viewing his work with students as a partnership rather than in a traditional
top-down fashion was characteristic of all of the staff that I worked with at the school.

Emiliana – US and World History Teacher
Emiliana obtained her teaching degree in early elementary education and was committed
to finding a position in an inner city school. She learned about PACHS through a family member

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that had been involved at the school and eventually started substitute teaching there. When there
was an opening for a full-time position teaching social studies, Emiliana applied and obtained the
job. At the time of the study, Emiliana, a Mexican-American woman, was in her fourth year as
lead teacher of both US and World History. Younger and usually dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and
sneakers, Emiliana had obviously developed a passion for the Social Studies and the young
people with whom she worked. Her classroom, like many of the other teachers at the school,
was small and intimate. She always welcomed me into her teaching space, invited me into
classroom conversation, and even asked me questions around topics of which she was unsure in
front of the class. In other words, she had no desire to appear as the ‘expert’. I had the
opportunity to watch Emiliana engage in conversation with and counsel students in matters both
academic and personal. Her enthusiasm around and commitment to exploring with students
matters of social and historical injustice were also clear yet never overbearing or self-righteous.
Her general soft-spoken and amiable nature allowed for students to develop a sense of trust while
also being challenged with ‘difficult knowledge’ (Britzman, 1998) and high academic and social
expectations and accountability. Emiliana, along with other teachers I had the opportunity to
observe and interact with, embodied what I will later describe as a ‘graceful’ critical pedagogy.

Zuri – Integrated Science Teacher
Zuri is an Indian-American woman in her early thirties. At the time of the study, she had
been teaching Integrated Science at PACHS for two years. A non-native resident of the
Humboldt Park community, Zuri studied environmental science and International Community
Development and Conservation before pursuing a degree in teaching. Soft-spoken and
thoughtful, Zuri explained that her initial interest in and work around community development

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and urban agriculture with at-risk youth in the Detroit area led her to the realization that much of
the change necessary in these three areas needed to happen within schools. Recognizing that
youth were dropping out of school due to poverty, lack of relevant curriculum, not feeling cared
for, and being criminalized through punitive measures, Zuri closely identified with PACHS
mission to make learning personally and socially relevant, its commitment to developing
personal relationships with and strong networks of mutual support for students, and its model of
restorative justice. As the title of her classes suggest and to which her classroom practices attest,
Zuri views science as an area that is naturally integrated and not something that, in the real
world, is neatly divided into its constituent parts. The portions of her curriculum and instruction
that I had an opportunity to observe focused upon the broad topic of food justice. The students
identified Humboldt Park as a food desert and so were encouraged to identify the reasons behind
that, both social and ecological. Through Zuri’s pedagogical approach, students also began to
recognize the relationship between Humboldt Park’s designation as a food desert and the high
rates of obesity and diabetes in the community. She artfully guided students and provided a
framework for them to understand the interrelationship between human beings and their
environments and their interdependence with other forms of life. In doing so, she hoped to instill
in students a sense of responsibility and agency in preserving the systems that contributed to the
overall health and well-being of the community and in changing those systems that adversely
affected the community. Zuri’s was truly an integrated approach to teaching and learning,
individual and social responsibility, and physical, mental, and spiritual welfare.

Students

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I conducted one-on-one interviews with four individual students that were enrolled at the
school at the time of the study. I interviewed two male and two female students. Ideally, I
wanted to interview students that had a range of experience at the school and within the
community from which to draw for our conversation. My goal in these interviews was to
develop an understanding of how each of them made sense and meaning of their experiences at
the school. The school’s mission and vision is to “empower students to engage in critical
thinking and social transformation…based on the philosophical foundation of self-determination,
a methodology of self-actualization, and an ethics of self-reliance” (PACHS Mission and Vision
Statement). Ultimately, I wanted to hear from students themselves regarding whether or not and
how the school/curriculum/pedagogy had been successful in realizing this vision and, if it had,
how this translated into the day-to-day lives and worldviews of these young people. In other
words, there is a distinct ideal of citizenship established and described within the theory of social
ecology and my purpose was to determine whether or not the culture, curriculum, and practices
utilized by the school staff were successful in fostering this ideal within students.

Davis – 19 year-old PACHS Senior
At the time of our interview, Davis was a 19 year-old African-American male completing
his first full year at PACHS. Passionate for spoken word, poetry, and hip hop verse, Davis
exhibited none of the bravado often associated with mainstream rap artists. I had the opportunity
to listen to Davis perform his poetry and verse at both school functions and at a city-wide poetry
slam in which he and some of his classmates competed with other students from other high
schools within Chicago at a major university in downtown Chicago. It was in listening to Davis’
original verses that I was drawn to him as an interview participant for he displayed an awareness

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and political consciousness of the issues he faced as a young black male as well as those of his
community. Davis was a bit shy at first but once he became comfortable with me and fully
internalized the questions I was asking him, his responses were thoughtful and lively and almost
took on the aura of the rhymes he so eloquently and powerfully performed on stage. Before
beginning at PACHS, Davis attended another large, comprehensive Chicago public high school
for four years. Throughout our interview, Davis described the unique characteristics of the
educational approach and relationships cultivated at PACHS in comparison to his experience at
his previous high school. Smaller class sizes, the integration and interdisciplinary approach to
subject matter, and the connection between class content and the historical and cultural
backgrounds of students were all attributes of the school that Davis felt were positively
impacting his learning, preparing him for life outside of school, and bettering his chances of
obtaining a post-secondary education.

Victor – 19 year-old PACHS Senior
Victor was born in Puerto Rico and initially came to the continental United States in the
fifth grade. He returned to Puerto Rico off and on until he began his freshman year at a large,
comprehensive high school in the Chicago Public School system. He was eventually kicked out
of that school and it was at that time that he decided to start attending PACHS. Gregarious and
almost always wearing a smile, Victor openly shared the nature of his struggles in school before
beginning at PACHS. He described his disinterest, his association with other young people that
were also not invested in school, and the ease with which he cut class and regularly did not
attend school. Over the course of our conversation, Victor attributed his newly found interest
and success in school to a variety of factors. Primary to this success, Victor explained, was the

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small size of the school which enabled him to develop close relationships with both peers and
staff; the lack of gang violence and safe and secure environment fostered at the school; and the
ability of teachers to connect the way students view their individual well-being with the wellbeing of their communities. Victor went from being what he described as ‘anti-social’ to taking
leadership initiatives in the school’s urban agriculture program, acting as a representative and
spokesperson for the student body during events for outside organizations and private donors to
the school, and being actively involved in the after-school creative writing and poetry group.
Based upon my interactions with Victor, it was hard for me to believe he was ever anti-social,
but it was obvious the culture, curriculum, and instruction as PACHS provided him with avenues
for self-expression and the ability to view himself as an agent of change both in school and in the
community at large.

Allyn – 18 year-old PACHS Senior
Allyn, an 18 year-old Puerto Rican female, began attending PACHS in January of 2012
right around the time my study began. In some ways, we were becoming oriented with the
school at the same time and I remember participating in a theatre class in which we both
introduced ourselves to a group of students and a teacher that already knew each other to one
degree or another. Before coming to PACHS, Allyn had spent a year as a drop-out of a large
Chicago public high school within a mile of where we were sitting. Describing herself as
intelligent and capable of earning good grades, Allyn explained that she had not been interested
in school, often did not attend, much preferred hanging out with her friends than sitting in classes
where she was not noticed, and was failing “miserably”. Her experience at PACHS, even within
the few short months since she started attending, was noticeably different. She felt cared for,

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supported by both peers and staff, and held to high academic expectations. There has been a
consistent message from school staff that she is responsible for her own education and that, while
being supported socially, emotionally, and academically, it was up to her as to whether or not she
would take advantage of the opportunity. Throughout our conversation, Allyn remained quite
aware of the school’s focus on both self- and social transformation. She was able to translate
these somewhat abstract concepts and relate them to projects that she had participated in at the
school such as examining instances of police brutality, community sustainability through urban
agriculture, and action research on the nature and causes of physical, mental, and emotional
abuse experienced by members of the outside community and how students can help address
these issues. It was perfectly clear from our conversation and from informal observations of
Allyn in classes and extracurricular activities that she is quite invested in the academic and
action-oriented work of the school as well as the relationships that are being cultivated. As she
herself expressed it, “I love this school, honestly. It doesn’t even feel like a school to me. It
feels like a second home, like everybody really cares”.

Maribel – 18 year-old PACHS Senior
My interview with Maribel was based on a recommendation from a teacher and
scheduled at the last minute as another student I had planned to interview was not present in
school that day. Despite the abrupt nature of our introduction to one another, Maribel spoke
candidly about her past and present experiences in high school. Like all of the other students I
interviewed, Maribel had previously attended a large Chicago public high school before
beginning at PACHS in January of 2012. Maribel, a friendly but shy female of mixed
Guatemalan and Mexican descent, described in very similar terms to other participants the school

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she had formally attended as being impersonal and academically unchallenging. Due to the
small size of the school and the comparatively small class sizes, Maribel felt her teachers knew
her better as an individual and as a learner and were therefore able to tailor their instruction to
her particular learning style. Upon being asked how she understood the school’s mission and
vision, particularly the ideas of self- and social transformation, Maribel explained that her
experiences in Emiliana’s history classes had been totally eye opening. For instance, she
th

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recounted how she had learned something about sweat shops in 7 or 8 grade, but had no idea
that practices of that nature were still occurring in the present. In similar terms and with a
corresponding passion for acting to change these things, she described her learning around
contemporary human trafficking and sex slavery. Exploration of these topics did not stop with
simply learning about them in class, Maribel told me. Students were always encouraged to
understand the topic, investigate its manifestations in their own lives and communities, and
develop ways to individually and collectively intervene and create change. As a result, Maribel
went from being a disinterested and unmotivated student to one who enjoys being challenged,
thinks differently as a result of what she’s learning and, to use her own words, wants “to change
the world”.

B. Data Analysis: Thematic Open Coding
The purpose of my research at PACHS was threefold. First, I wanted to identify,
describe, and define the ideal of citizenship explicitly espoused by the school community
through an examination of school documents and curriculum and observation of school routines,
classroom practices, and teacher pedagogy. Second, I was interested in gaining insight into the
subjective conception of the ideal of citizenship held by teachers, administrators, students, and

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community members, the processes through which they hoped to realize this ideal, and to what
degree these individual ideals were aligned with one another. Lastly, I wanted to gain an
understanding of whether or not and to what degree the individuals involved in the school feel
they are successful in their attempts to realize and put into practice their ideals of citizenship.
In summary, the first purpose I attempted to accomplish through observation of and
detailed field notes about classroom instruction and activities, school-sponsored events, and
school-community collaboration as well as analysis of existing documents such as the school’s
mission and vision statement and description of course goals and objectives. In order to fulfill
the second and third purpose, I conducted semi-structured interviews with the individuals from
the three aforementioned groups and tape-recorded each interview. I transcribed each interview
and analyzed them for themes related to 1) the particular ideal of citizenship held by each
participant; 2) their understanding/interpretation of the ideal of citizenship espoused and
articulated by the school community; and 3) the degree to which they feel the school is
successful in fostering and furthering this ideal within students. Utilizing thematic analysis, I
closely re-read and analyzed each transcript in order to identify themes that emerged within each
individual interview as well as themes that emerged across the interviews. I coded the data and
then segregated the data by codes into data clumps for further analysis, interpretation, and
description (Glesne, 2006).

V. Mission and Vision Framework and Curriculum: Self-determination, Self-Actualization, and
Self-Reliance
In its approach to education, PACHS explicitly works to integrate critical pedagogy,
social ecology, and culturally responsive pedagogy. PACHS utilizes these approaches in order to

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make learning as personally, socially, and politically relevant as possible. In this effort,
education is approached “from the perspective of the whole person, linking education to the
individual social, emotional, and academic needs of our students and empowering them to be
active participants in creating change at the global, local, and personal level” (from Dr. Pedro
Albizu Campos High School homepage, http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/about/dr-pedroalbizu-campos-high-school/).
Through social ecology, the administrators and staff work to promote an understanding of
the interrelationship of environmental, political, cultural, and economic aspects of community
and how these pieces interact with and influence one another to produce certain conditions as
well as how they are susceptible to change through human agency. The core of the school’s
Mission and Vision statement are the values of Self-Reliance, Self-Actualization, and SelfDetermination. While these characteristics may appear to reinforce or uphold the notion of
individualism explored and critiqued in previous chapters, within the context of the school these
ideas are firmly embedded in a community-centered paradigm and need to be interpreted through
the lens of Puerto Rican culture and history and an anti-imperialist and anti-colonialist
perspective.
In the student handbook, each of these phrases is defined in the following way:

Self-Reliance: “Live and Help to Live”
You don’t have to depend on other people to rescue you or provide for you, to give you
direction. You can accomplish that yourself. If you don’t have to depend on the Other to “save
yourself from yourself” but turn instead to strength, knowledge and experience of those in your
community then you are acting in a self-reliant way.

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Self-Actualization: “Be the change you want to see in the world”
You need strength and belonging to your community and an understanding of your past and your
people to achieve your maximum potential – these things make you who you are and you will
never fully self-actualize and become your best self until you recognize your need as a human to
belong to and participate in a meaningful community.

Self-Determination: “Building a sacred self and sovereign nation”
A strong community is built only by strong individuals. In order for a community to thrive, its
members must first recognize and cultivate the value, talents, and strengths that they are born
with. Every individual and community has a right to decide: major problems that need to solved;
what resources to use in solving those problems; and how the solution should look. A sovereign
community is not controlled by outsiders, instead, it is to determine its own future. (excerpted
from Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School R.E.S.P.E.C.T. planner, 2011-2012)

It is obvious that these terms will mean very different things to different people. As they
are defined by the school community, they take on their meaning, again, within the context of the
Puerto Rican struggle against colonialism and imperialism and are rooted in cultural traditions
that place a high value on one’s embeddedness in community. They will not translate easily or
neatly across contexts. However, they do provide a framework for a particular ideal of
citizenship espoused by the school and very much aligned with that put forth in Murray
Bookchin’s work on social ecology, which I will examine further in the next section of the paper.

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The question remains as to how the school community attempts to translate these characteristics
of a particular ideal of citizenship into realizable benchmarks, curriculum, and practice.
Moving from the broad ideals of the Mission and Vision, the school has developed the
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework to help provide further definition for the three core values. R stands
for Responsibility; E stands for Ethics; S stands for Self; P stands for Puerto Rican; E stands for
Extended Education; C stands for Community; and T stands for Transformation. Each of these
traits is further defined through specific benchmarks or descriptions of behavior and language by
which the realization of the Mission and Vision can be qualitatively measured (See Appendix 3
for R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework and benchmarks). Prior to the start of the 2011-2012 school year,
faculty and students collaborated to identify themes for each quarter that would tie together the
work across the disciplines. The first quarter theme was ‘know yourself’; the second quarter
theme was ‘know your community’; the third quarter theme was ‘know your planet’; and the
fourth quarter theme was ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’.
In order to graduate, all students must satisfactorily complete requirements in four areas.
First, each student must complete a total of 21 course credits. Second, all students must
complete the Prairie State Achievement Exam/ACT Test. Third, students must complete a
Senior Portfolio and Presentation in which they document their achievements at the school and
develop a project that identifies, researches, and offers active solutions to problem within the
community. A panel of community members, partners of the high school, and educators
evaluate the portfolio and determine if it meets acceptable standards. Finally, all students must
th

have a minimum of a 10 grade reading level as reflected in their TABE scores and a minimum
of one year of attendance at the school (reading level accommodations are made for students
with special needs).

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The courses offered at the school include Black and Latino Literature, Integrated Science
1, 2 and 3, Integrated Math 1, 2, and 3, Puerto Rican Studies 1 and 2, World Studies, US Studies
1, US History 2, Creative Writing, Social History of Parenting, Spanish for Non-Speakers 1 and
2, Spanish for Heritage Speakers, English/Language Arts 1, English/Language Arts Critical
Literacy 3, Introduction to Public Health, Theatre, Fine Arts, Consumer Education, Senior
Portfolio, and Unity for Social Analysis. Unity for Social Analysis is held on a weekly basis in
both small groups and with the entire school community. It is intended to provide a venue for
shared critical analyses of the social dynamics of the community as well as for student
recognition and artistic self-expression. Overall, the educational approach attempts to fully
integrate teaching and learning with the life of the community.
Finally, the school utilizes a model of restorative justice to productively work through
issues with behavior and disruptions to the learning environment. As defined in the PACHS
student handbook, restorative justice:

allows for consistency and a flexibility that accounts for students’ special
situations and needs. Restorative justice is an invitation for dialogue and
exploration. When a school policy or procedure is broken, restorative justice is a
process to involve the school, staff, and students in re-establishing relationships.
The goal is to engage everyone involved to collectively identify and address
harms, needs, and obligations, in order to heal and make our school community as
just as possible. Restorative justice encourages outcomes that promote
responsibility, reparation, and healing for all. It is an alternative framework for
thinking about ‘wrongdoing’. As much as possible, PACHS seeks non-punitive

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measures to resolve issues in school (excerpted from Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Planner 2011-2012, p.13).

This model is used as an alternative to punitive justice where offenses are met with
specific punishments. The goal is to provide space for dialogue and healing that takes into
consideration the unique circumstances of each situation and the needs of those involved. Taken
together – context, history, mission and vision, curriculum, and model of restorative justice –
these components are all intended to foster a strong sense of self and desire for self-development,
commitment to community enrichment and well-being, solidarity, mutual aid, and an image of
one’s self and one’s peers as agents of change acting upon the foundations provided by tradition
and experience. With all of this context in mind, I will now move into examining how
individuals involved at the school – teachers, administrators, and students – understand these
concepts and practices and the degree to which they are implemented on the ground in the school
and in the life of the community.

VI. Conceptual Lenses and Themes
In the previous four chapters of the dissertation, I have conducted an in-depth exploration
of the theory and philosophy of social ecology and attempted to draw out its implications for a
civics education rooted in sustainability, an objective ecological ethics, and direct democracy. In
doing so, I have sketched out a particular ideal of citizenship established by social ecology and
its foundations in eco-anarchism. As the Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School has been
intentionally working to incorporate social ecology at its curricular centerpiece across
disciplines, I was primarily interested, through observation, participation, and dialogue, in

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looking at the specific ways in which this work is being carried out at the school. More
importantly, I sought to understand how individual participants at the school understood and
made sense of social ecology; how teachers and administrators attempted to use the theory to
inform their development of curriculum, practice, and pedagogy; the degree to which the ideal of
citizenship promoted by the school aligned with that explicated in the work of Murray Bookchin;
and the qualitative measures by which the school community determined whether or not it was
successful in helping students develop the characteristics associated with this ideal of citizenship.
As I worked through the literature, identified the defining features of the ecological,
social, and political theory of social ecology, a number of themes emerged. The fundamental
principles underlying both social anarchism and social ecology are their anti-authoritarianism
and commitment to non-hierarchical relationships. As emphasized, social ecology is premised
upon the notion that the drive to dominate and subdue ‘nature’ is rooted in the domination that
took rise within human communities through the development of hierarchy based upon gender,
age, status, and eventually, class. The flip side of these principles is direct confrontation with
and resistance to the multiple manifestations of domination - be it in the form of patriarchy,
imperialism, humans’ relationship to the natural world or the centralized state itself. Second,
social ecology promotes an ethic of solidarity, mutuality, and cooperation grounded in a
dialectical interpretation of natural evolution and nature’s movement toward increasing diversity,
subjectivity, and freedom. Third, contemporary anarchism and social ecology promote the
practice of a pre-figurative politics – that is, a way of behaving and interacting in the present that
embodies a vision for the community and the world in the future. Importantly, the practice of
pre-figurative politics will never look the same in any two places but should be developed by
people living and working together and within the specific social, cultural, geographic, and

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historical contexts they share. Finally, in the effort to realize these principles in practice, social
ecology promotes decentralized organization and the development of small, face-to-face, and
directly democratic relationships and humanly-scaled institutions in which members of
communities or municipalities directly participate in making decisions that impact their lives.
At this point, it is important to make clear two related ideas. First, PACHS does not in
any explicit way identify itself as ‘anarchist.’ Based on the school’s work to use social ecology
as a curricular framework and the principal’s familiarity with the work of Murray Bookchin, my
assumption was that the notion of anarchism may have been familiar to some individuals
involved at the school. However, none of the members of the staff, students, or community
members involved with the school ever explicitly acknowledged this familiarity with or use of
the theory in the structure, organization, or content of the school. Principles of anarchism have a
long history of manifesting themselves through the work of individuals and groups that may have
little or no knowledge of the movement’s history or theoretical articulations (Ward, 1977). That
said, this was a lens that I brought to my research at the school and utilized to interpret some of
the philosophy and praxis at the school that was more explicitly aligned with anti-imperialist and
anti-colonialist thinking. The second important point I want to make before putting forward my
analysis and highlighting the themes that emerged from that analysis is that social ecology as a
curricular centerpiece at PACHS is still a work in progress and, while the staff is familiar with
the concept and utilize it in thinking about curriculum and pedagogy, the students I spoke with
generally could not define the idea.
That said, the major concepts that emerged through my theoretical explorations of
anarchism and social ecology resonated deeply with the mission, vision, and day-to-day work of
the school that I had the opportunity to observe and discuss with members of the school

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community. I will describe the correspondence between theory and practice based upon three
foundational components that I identified during my time at the school in which the work of
PACHS intersects with the theory of social ecology: 1) an exploration of how the school
community defines social ecology; 2) the school community’s unique ideal of citizenship rooted
in the Puerto Rican experience and the theory of social ecology; and, 3) the means by which the
school community attempts to realize its ideal of citizenship.

A. Defining and Integrating Social Ecology as Curricular Centerpiece
According to the PACHS website, the school defines social ecology in the following
way:

Social – from L. socialis “united, living with others,” Ecology “branch of science
dealing with the relationship of living things to their environments…”
(www.etymonline.com). Our school uses the term “social ecology” to help us
understand the cause and effect between human beings and their environments.
For example, we all live in this world, and this world has different environments –
from one continent to another, as well as from one community to another. A
person’s health and wellbeing – physical, emotional, and spiritual – has as much
to do with a person’s decisions in life as it does to the environments in which that
person is raised. A person is always a part of an ecosystem that they can both
impact and also be impacted by. The “social” in “social ecology” also helps us
understand that environments are different – some better than others – because of
human manipulation of those environments. Do you know how an environment

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can be impacted by a human being? Think of differences in housing, stores,
community centers, employment, etc. (from
http://www.pedroalbizucamposhs.org/urban-agriculture/urban-agriculture
retrieved March 4, 2012).

In carrying out this research, it was vitally important to understand exactly how the
various members of the school community – administrators, teachers, and students – defined and
understood social ecology. As the phrase has come to be used rather widely and loosely as a
means of examining the ecology of a society or group of people living together, I asked the
principal if the school’s use of the theory was, in fact, based specifically upon the work of
Murray Bookchin. I was curious about when the language and concepts around social ecology
were introduced as a potential organizing framework or curricular centerpiece for the school’s
work. He shared that that one of the school’s founders had suggested the work of Bookchin as a
provocative lens through which to “advance some of the thinking that we were already doing.”
Through a collaborative examination and discussion of some of Bookchin’s work, administrators
and teachers began to view social ecology as a clear articulation of many of the ideas the school
was already promoting. As Marcos explained:

The school always had a connection with the Puerto Rican Cultural Center and
the Cultural Center has always had a mission and vision that’s conceptually linked
with this idea of social ecology and how human beings existed in ecosystems.
Those are concepts that go back to the study of human interaction…the idea of
interdependency, the idea of self-reliance, self-determination, self-actualization. I

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don’t think that there was a crystallizing moment to say that social ecology is the
way to go because it has always been what our school has done.

According to the educational leadership at the school and those familiar with the school’s history
and development, social ecology is most clearly and explicitly embedded in the R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
framework (see appendix).
Based upon conversations with the school leadership and teachers, the exploration of
social ecology as an organizing framework for the school really began in the early 2000’s and in
response to state and federal efforts to standardize the curriculum. As these efforts moved
forward and materialized in the No Child Left Behind Act, those involved in the school felt
compelled to actively resist this standardization and to define a set of expectations, foci, and
approach to curriculum that was specific to the community within which the school was situated
and the students the school was intended to serve. According to Marcos, school leaders and
teachers were motivated by a series of questions:

How do you establish a sense of self-reliance as a community? How do you
ensure that your problems as a community can be solved by those who are here
and not depending on somebody to come from the outside in a sort of altruistic or
paternalistic method to say “we have the answer, take it”? We’re going to say,
“No, we have the answers to our own issues and we’re going to struggle to
establish them as we go”.

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There are clear connections between these questions that were driving the development of
the school and some of the prominent themes within the theory of social ecology itself. The
members of the school community had to struggle against efforts toward standardization and
centralization and, at the same time, define their own alternative approach that was specific to
their geography, history, culture, and issues faced by students. This struggle advanced around
the ideas of community self-reliance and community self-determination. Progress toward these
ideals could be advanced by people embedded within the community itself as opposed to
politicians, bureaucrats, or “educational specialists” that had no connection to the school
community or the community of the school. These have been central themes at the school since
its inception. However, with pressure from the outside to conform to a particular model of
education and pressure from the inside to more clearly conceptualize and make cohesive the
schools mission, vision, curriculum, and practice, social ecology came to play a more central
role.
The introduction of these ideas was an organic process based upon dialogue and
discussions amongst school leadership, teachers, and students. As has been made clear, to move
toward more humanly-scaled institutions and more directly democratic forms of decision-making
and management of community life, dialogue, discussion, and debate amongst stakeholders is
vital. These forms of discussions within the school revolved around some central questions that
included all stakeholders asking themselves “what kind of community, what kind of world do we
want to see?” Again, Marcos:

What kind of world [do] we want to have, do we want to be able to establish? Its
one where people are able to be proud of who they are, are able to be proud of

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their nationality and their cultural distinction. Not at the expense of other
ethnicities or other nationalities but that they’re able to be proud of that, and at the
same time, that they’re able to say that we don’t have to depend on big
corporations to provide food. We don’t have to depend on big corporations that
guzzle diesel fuel to transport goods from one location to the next. We have a
threat to our natural resources which include our air, it includes our water, it
includes our land. So how do we conceptualize the world that is able to be
sustainable within the limits of those very crucial natural resources for the
survival of the people?

This involved re-imagining what a school and curriculum would look like that would help
support and realize the vision that began to materialize – a vision of a community in which the
health of the whole was dependent upon the health of its constituent parts. Manuel described the
evolution this way:

We have sort of taken the liberty of re-defining Murray Bookchin’s concept and
tried to apply it here. What we were looking for is, we’ve been a school now for
almost 40 years, we’ve been an alternative school for many, many years – for all
that time, we’re an alternative to public schools, but to what extent is our
curriculum alternative? So, sure, the students got exposed to the community, got
exposed to the history of Puerto Rico, got exposed to a lot of cultural elements,
but to what extent was their academic education any different than the public
schools? We have to comply with the State standards in order to grant diplomas

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but they’re fairly general and there’s a lot of latitude that a charter school has. So
one of the things that we thought was, do we have standards for ourselves?

As I spoke with other teachers, there was a fairly consistent understanding and definition
of social ecology that was used to guide curriculum development and pedagogy. Emiliana
defined social ecology as the “the direct relationship between people and their environment and
the man-made manipulation that exists within the environments that we live in.” Based upon
this, Emiliana described how helping students develop an awareness of their surroundings and
awareness of different forms of oppression become central objectives in her teaching of the
social studies. Similarly, Zuri defined social ecology as “the whole system of interactions and
linkages in relationships between different pieces of life that share space together…whether its
plants and animals or the water and the earth and the air or humans and all of the other stuff that
they bring with them. I think social ecology is just about how we live together and affect one
another, as people, but also as a broader system of interdependent living beings”. These
definitions suggested that teachers were developing curriculum and teaching methods that would
encourage students to understand natural systems as well as the capacity for humans to alter and
manipulate these systems toward increased health and harmony or disequilibrium,
homogenization, and degradation.
In participants’ description of the evolution of the school and its incorporation of social
ecology as an organizing framework as well as in the individual conversations I had with
teachers and administrators, a number of central themes began to emerge. Importantly, these
themes were both a result of the on-going critical reflection and dialogue the school community
engaged in as well as manifestations of the principles of social ecology as a coherent theoretical

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framework. In other words, social ecology was not first identified as an organizing framework
that the leadership then attempted to fit their work within. The re-development of priorities,
objectives, and work of the school and its utilization of some of the concepts of social ecology
occurred organically and simultaneously. Each of these pieces informed and mutually supported
the others.
First, the school retains it commitment – established from its inception – to remaining
small, intimate, humanly-scaled, and decentralized. Second, the curriculum is deeply rooted in
and customized for the cultural background and lived experience of the students and directly
connected to the community outside the walls of the school. The focus is on connecting learning
to the traditions, strengths, limitations, and problems faced by the community in which students
experience their lives. All the while, there is an effort to help students understand the connection
between these aspects of their community and lived experience within broader social, political,
historical, and economic structures and systems. Frequent and sustained dialogue between all
stakeholders in the school community is prioritized as the means by which to identify its own
strengths, limitations, and processes for continuing development. From all of this emerged a rearticulation of a mission and vision and curricular framework that identified the values of the
school, its ideal of citizenship, and the processes and practices by which it aimed to realize this
ideal.

B. Social Ecology as a Framework for Ideal of Citizenship: The End Toward which PACHS
Strives
As the members of the school community worked to integrate their mission, vision, and
curriculum with social ecology, they also began to more clearly define the outcomes they

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expected of the students that graduated from the school. These outcomes of course, involve
academic achievement and college readiness as described above but are articulated in terms of
character development and civic dispositions within the R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework. Beyond
these documented traits the school community hopes to aid students in developing, I was also
interested in learning directly from teachers and administrators the ideal of citizenship they hold
for their students/graduates, how they go about trying to realize this ideal through curriculum,
practice and school culture and then to compare this with the experience of the students
themselves.
While there were individual nuances in the definitions provided by the teachers I spoke
with, their visions for an ideal of citizenship were closely aligned with one another and centered
upon some central qualities. Broadly speaking, the staff with whom I had an opportunity to speak
were primarily interested in empowering students to be agents of change within their
communities – that is, equipping students to be able identify problems and to develop and
implement solutions. More specifically, teachers and staff believed their work should instill
within students a responsibility to put their education to the service of the community; they
expressed the idea that students’ approach to and action within the community should advance
community self-reliance and sustainability; that students should embody an ideal of active
citizenship engaged in direct action to address issues without dependence or reliance upon
intermediaries; and finally, that students should be both prepared to function within society as it
is and to imagine and work toward society as it could be.
In discussing their goals for students, school leadership and teachers were fairly precise
in what they hoped to accomplish. According to Manuel, central to the school’s vision is
producing:

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a student that is socially conscious, politically conscious, values social justice, and
is armed to become a leader in the community. That’s the type of student that we
want to create. We don’t necessarily need for our students to be better citizens in
the traditional sense. We want them to be better citizens armed with the skill sets
and desire and passion to have an impact on the community.

The articulation of this ideal was consistent throughout the interviews I conducted with school
faculty. There was obviously a shared vision amongst teachers and school leadership (not
necessarily uniform) that enhanced cohesion across subject areas and within relationships
(teachers and teachers, administrators and teachers, staff and students). Teachers used a variety
of methods and approaches to work to realize this ideal that I will discuss in the next section but
there was a consistent focus on instilling within students a commitment to and responsibility for
the well-being and health of their community.
Zuri clearly recognized the dominant paradigm within which many traditional schools
work, particularly those serving marginalized youth. That is, education is viewed as a means of
escape from the community. Its a way of getting out and, more often than not, a sign that one
has been successful is the degree to which one has been able to extricate oneself from the
community. As Zuri described it,

the biggest piece of it for me is that students walk out with a sense of
responsibility as a result of their education. In terms of being able to understand
all of the forces that are at work on their own communities, and on their own

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lives, whether or not they see them when they come here and how they can use
that education as a tool in returning back to that community more equipped to
address it challenges, to take it to a higher level. So one of the things that we look
at and that I think about here is just the idea that whatever I teach students needs
to allow them to be better equipped to live and to be community members and to
be agents of change right here in the community.

Like Zuri, Emiliana was also invested in helping her students develop a sense of
commitment to community. She aimed toward providing opportunities for students to recognize
that they are capable of being agents of change. Through exposure to topics she viewed as
relevant to the lives of students, topics students themselves often identified, Emiliana believed:

students can become aware because I think that’s the biggest thing. That you
have to be aware of what’s going on in your surroundings. Aware of oppression –
and that’s the major stuff for me – awareness. And then how can we bring that
awareness into social transformation.

José, one of the founders of the school, reiterated a number of the same themes shared by
the teachers with which I spoke. He emphasized the school’s effort to not only transform the
way things are taught and how they are taught, but also toward what ends they are taught. He
contrasted the ethos of traditional schooling with that which PACHS is actively working to
create and fosters. In his own words,

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We start out with the wrong premise in schools. The premise is that we want out
students to succeed, but that ‘success’ is defined as an individual endeavor.
Success should be measured to the degree that I become a transformative agent of
change. We want our students to be critical thinkers, we want them to be the best
that they can be. But, at the end of the day, we want them to return here. We
don’t want the brain-drain. As it stands, individualism is the ethos of society,
that’s the ethos of schooling. That’s why for me the idea of learning has to be to
what extent is learning a process, a real exchange and a real dialogue?

These are quite clearly admirable ideals that I imagine a number of inner-city educators
might share: an ideal of citizenship through which students develop the ability to recognize the
strengths and limitations of their own communities; where they feel a deep sense of
responsibility to utilize their own unique talents and learning to maintain and further the
sustainability and health of these communities; where they do not view the issues they face or the
gains they make as strictly individual possessions; and where they recognize themselves as
active, participatory agents of change. However, the question remains as to how, exactly,
teachers and staff go about the work of trying to realize this ideal and whether or not they are
successful.

C. Approaches to Realizing the Ideal: Building Commitment to Community Through
Commitment to Community-Building
1. From the Political to the Personal

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In attempting to answer this question, my observations and conversations with school
staff and students led me to a number of conclusions. First, the school attempted to impart to
students an intimate knowledge of and involvement with cultural traditions and history of
community through curriculum and direct participation. Second, there was time and space built
into the school schedule for dialogue and unity-building on both the small-group and schoolwide scale centered upon an ethic of care, cooperation, solidarity, and mutual aid. Third, every
class across the curriculum was organized around identifying issues and problems faced by the
community. Finally, there was an emphasis on connecting classroom content with developing
and putting into action solutions to the problems that had been mutually identified through
dialogue and discussion.
Helping students to understand and connect with the rich cultural traditions and history of
the community was an explicit commitment of the staff of the school. This was accomplished
first by organizing course content in a culturally responsive manner. Students took Black and
Latino Literature as part of their English/Language Arts requirement. Puerto Rican history was
an option for fulfilling a social studies requirement. Both native and non-native speakers took
courses in Spanish. Students also had the option of taking a Creative Writing course in which
they explored spoken word traditions, rap, and hip hop, interrogated these popular forms of
expression for the messages they conveyed, and attempted to use them to express ideas of both
personal and political relevance. Additionally, the entire school community participated in
community-wide events such as Three King’s Day, Black Pride Day, the Puerto Rican Pride
Parade, community clean-ups, and commemorations of Puerto Rican leaders and political
prisoners. All of these activities helped students develop a sense of pride in their heritages and a
broader sense of solidarity with the community outside of the school.

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I observed the shared vision of committed, responsible, and active citizens cultivated
amongst staff and students in a variety of ways. Amidst a condensed schedule of classes,
students met with advisory teachers in small group unity where they were provided with prompts
for discussion that were personally and/or politically relevant. These prompts included questions
st

such as ‘What is Race?’ and ‘What are the challenges facing women in the 21 Century?’ (this
second question coincided with a celebration of International Women’s Day). Every Wednesday
at the school, there were opportunities built into the schedule for the entire school to come
together and remind one another of what had been accomplished (from recognition of individual
student achievement to discussions of the school’s involvement in community-wide events) and
what needed to be accomplished. This coming together of the entire school each week was
called Large Group Unity. An average Large Group Unity consisted of celebration of individual
student achievement, discussion of topics important to the entire school community, and
opportunities for student performance and artistic self-expression. I described Large Group
Unity as follows:

Today, awards were distributed for dean’s list (3.0-3.49), principal’s list (3.5-4.0),
and perfect attendance for the month of March. The distribution of these awards
was accompanied by much excitement, music, impromptu performance by
teachers and administrators. The principal explained that these award ceremonies
used to be quite stoic and without much fanfare. The staff decided that these
awards should be sources of pride and accomplishment so they worked to make
the presentation more special and unique. Most students were quite into the
presentation of the awards but even more so into the performance by a dance team

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consisting of three female classmates. For this dance performance, students were
up on chairs to see, thoroughly engaged with the music, and very supportive of
the young ladies.

All of these activities - from culturally specific courses and pedagogy to involvement in
community-wide events and celebrations to small and large group unity – were intended to foster
within students a sense of belonging and solidarity. These were the systemic structures built into
school life to help students feel connected and genuinely cared for. However, there were also
innumerable ‘unofficial’ interactions that occurred on a day-to-day basis that I believe also aided
students in feeling that they were recognized and that their personal needs were being met.
Every student I spoke with mentioned that the small size of the school and personal, intimate
relationships they had with teachers and peers were of the utmost importance. Maribel said, “I
think it helps that the classes are smaller so they focus more on us individually”. Similarly,
Davis described the difference between the previous school he attended and PACHS this way:

Its smaller, the school is smaller so all of the students fit in the lunchroom.
Everybody knows everybody. All the staff members, outside of the school, they
talk to each other so the staff members have a close relationship and the students
have a close relationship with the staff.

Continuing along similar lines, Allyn summed up the relationship between the size of the school
and the nature of the relationships cultivated there in a most powerful way:

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I love this school, honestly. It doesn’t even feel like a school to me. It feels like a
second home kind of, like everybody really cares. Coming here, I have met so
many teachers that actually care about me and my future and where I’m headed
toward and they are on top of me and they tell me all the time I have the potential
and they uplift the students here and I love it. Its like family. Its not even like
school.

In addition to feeling recognized as individuals and cared for and having the opportunity
to build meaningful relationships with faculty and peers, students also expressed the value they
have for the school as a safe space. Victor described the school as feeling much safer than his
previous school. He felt that there was a certain level of maturity amongst students. Instilled
within students, through discussion and reflection guided by teachers, is the idea that the health
of the community is dependent upon the health of the individuals within the community.
Students are encouraged to maintain their physical, mental, and emotional health through eating
a nutritious diet, finding ways to reduce stress, and developing healthy and respectful
relationships with others. The community-building, the inclusive, intimate and caring
relationships, and the safe and supportive environment are the foundations upon which the
teachers and staff attempt to carry out their work in helping students view themselves as agents
of change within their community and providing them with opportunities to directly realize this.
In short, students are both challenged socially and academically while also being empowered,
individually and collectively. Implicit in the staff’s instruction and pedagogy and supported with
the evidence of the students’ words and actions was the recognition that there cannot be the

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expectation for individuals to work toward social transformation unless they feel a sense of
belonging and their basic needs as human beings are met.

2. From the Personal to the Political: Problem-Posing Education within the Context of
Community
Each of the teachers and administrators I interviewed highlighted the centrality of directly
involving students in identifying issues and problems that the community faced, uncovering the
reasons that were at the root of these problems, and actively working to develop ways of
addressing them. Manuel encapsulated the process and its relationship to social ecology this
way:

Social ecology seemed to make sense to us. How we defined it, how we crafted
it, was to say that we need to take a look at the community as an ecological
system. That the health and well-being of the community is dependent on the
health and well-being of its residents. We know the assets that we have in our
community, we know the assets we have in our students, and we appreciate it, and
so what are the illnesses, what is getting in the way of a truly effective, healthy,
harmonious ecological system? The physical and medical health and well-being
of our residents is important, but there’s also all of these psycho-social elements.
To what extent is poverty decimating the health and spirit of our young people?
To what extent is being members of an oppressed people, being schooled in a
colonial mentality, to what extent is the pressure of overcrowding and the
pressure of poverty, the pressure of being deemed as less than, the poor treatment

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by police, being criminalized impacting the health of our community? All of
these things become fertile ground for our curriculum. So the concept of social
ecology seemed to make sense to us when we defined it in terms of community
health, that the community is an ecosystem.

It was obvious that these types of questions and viewing the community as an interdependent
system were not simply matters of theoretical discussion. They have been used directly to guide
what is done in classrooms on a daily basis.
One of the most notable examples of this dialogical process was the identification of
Humboldt Park as a food desert and the establishment of the urban agriculture program and
rooftop greenhouse at the school. In reflecting upon the development of this aspect of the
school, Marcos explained that students were central to its fruition:

The students were part of thinking about this to say, “how do we establish some
sustainability in this neighborhood?” Students thought about it, community
leaders thought about it to say, “if we have an issue with this being a food desert
then we have to establish our own source of goods. How do we do that with
concrete surroundings? We do so on our rooftops. How do we do it year-round?
We do so in a greenhouse. How do we do it without depleting our water
resources? We do so hydroponically. How do we do it while maintaining our
cultural identity? We do it by growing sufrito” [traditional Puerto Rican dish
requiring a variety of fresh produce]. You don’t necessarily need dollars to

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provide food on the table. You can again sustain yourselves as a community,
interacting with one another, inter-depending on one another.

Marcos went on to explain that the goal across the content areas is to create participatory projects
where student are able to clearly articulate challenges that they see in their neighborhood and
create a plan with which the issue can be dealt with and ultimately transformed. Emiliana noted
that there is an incalculable benefit for students in seeing these projects materialize. An idea
generated by students, developed by students, and fulfilled by students, in the words of Emiliana,
“brings about hope”.
While the principal provides guidance and educational leadership, this inquiry and
project-based approach to education also requires a high degree of teacher autonomy and
collaboration. Based upon the shared vision of an ideal of citizenship and the commitment to
directly involving students in naming and addressing community issues, I observed that teachers
often build flexibility into their curriculums. This, I believe, is to ensure that when students’
interest is captured by a particular topic or question, the teachers have the room to grow and
cultivate it. Zuri described developing scientific questions based upon student ethnographies of
their lived experiences. Emiliana discussed an experience of attending a community event with
students and viewing a video that discussed hip-hop within the Palestinian context. In
recognizing the similarities between Palestine and Puerto Rico, Emiliana decided to develop a
unit on this topic. The point is she had the latitude and support to do what she and her students
found meaningful within the context of the content area she taught. Obviously, I do not wish to
oversimplify the continual cycle of reflection, action, and analysis engaged in by both teachers
and students. It was clear that teachers and school leadership had a shared ideal of citizenship

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and common ways of attempting to realize it. But how did the students respond to this? Did
students feel empowered and capable of actively participating in the life of their community?
Could they recognize the relationships of interdependence that teachers worked to promote?
One way to find out was by asking students themselves.
As mentioned, the strongest and most consistent messages that came across from the
students I spoke with were regarding the small and personal nature of the school environment,
the school as a safe and secure learning environment, and the intimate relationships they were
able to develop with both peers and teachers. This largely reinforced the findings of Renee
Antrop-Gonzelez discussed previously. However, in looking to understand the degree to which
the ideals of citizenship held by school leadership and teachers were being realized, I asked
students how they understood the core elements of the school’s mission and vision statement
regarding empowering students to engage in critical thinking and social transformation based
upon self-determination, self-actualization, and an ethics of self-reliance.
Each of the four students I spoke with had a slightly different way of defining these core
elements of the mission and vision yet they shared concrete examples of how these things looked
in practice that shared some similarities. Each of the students mentioned specific projects they
had worked on as part of a class in which they identified problems within the community and
attempted to develop workable solutions. Davis explained how he participated in a project to
help create safe space for young children in the community to trick-or-treat around Halloween
and how he participated in planting flowers in the area to beautify the community. Maribel
shared some of the topics she had been exposed to in Emiliana’s class such as sex trafficking and
modern-day examples of slavery – practices she had no idea continued in the contemporary
world. She explained Emiliana’s approach to teaching as follows:

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She’ll give us something and she’ll know its hard but she’ll help us understand it
and then at the end of the day we know so much more than we did before we went
into her class. Then we have to think about ways we can help. We create our
own ways and then go on-line and see if there are any organizations or anything
like that. So we had to figure that out on our own and give our own ideas on how
we would help.

Similarly, in being asked how she defines social transformation and whether or not she was
encouraged and supported by teachers to identify and address social issues important to her,
Allyn immediately began to describe a variety of projects she had engaged in through her
classes:

They’re [teachers, administrators] really big on change. I’ve only been here since
January and I’ve done 3 or 4 huge projects that have to do with sustainability and
the community and trying to fix things and change things for the better. They
push us a lot, whether it has to do with guarding against police brutality or other
serious issues like abuse. They really push for change. They want you to really
see what’s out there in the world for you and how to make it better. You need to
make an improvement.

Allyn went on to describe the nature of specific projects she had worked on such as one
dealing with physical, mental, emotional, and sexual abuse in the community. She explained

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how her and her classmates distributed surveys, conducted interviews, and did research to
investigate the prevalence of abuse in the community and what they could do to change it or
work to diminish its prevalence. She also talked about a current project on police brutality
during which she and her peers were investigating and researching the issue within the
community and organizing a march where, she explained,

We’re going to walk to our destination and we’re going to show a video of what’s
been going on throughout the year, like not even just now, it’s been happening in
the past too. We’re going to show some videos, get some fliers with information
about the specifics. We might even have cops as guest speakers to hear how they
feel about it.

Finally, Victor described not only his developing awareness around issues facing the
community but also his desire to directly act to address them. As he said,

Before, I used to be aware of the social issues and stuff, like let’s say diabetes. I
was aware that it was because of the food that we were eating and we shouldn’t eat
that food but now I’m aware that it’s in certain communities and we need to
change that, like with greenhouses. We got encouraged to grow our own plants
and I now I see it’s so cool. Now I see them and I know that we could actually
make a change. I see gardens in the community. I can see more greenhouses. I
can see rooftop greenhouses and we’re being pushed to it and that’s something that
stays in your mind. If you ever become somebody, you can make a difference.

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While the students I spoke with did not have an explicit understanding of social ecology
as such, they were familiar with and able to talk about the components of the mission and vision
statement and the R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework. They were able to connect these relatively abstract
qualities and concepts to experiences they have had through the school, the motivation they feel
to work with others to identify, think about, and address issues within the community.
Significantly, each of the students also reflected in concrete ways the community-centric and
anti-individualist ideal of citizenship held by their teachers. This aspect of the ideal manifested
itself in the students’ expressions of their feelings of ‘rootedness’ in the community and their
desire to remain within and continue to serve this community beyond their high school
experience. Allyn described the transformation she experienced quite powerfully:

Well, coming here, honestly I really didn’t care. I would throw garbage on the
floor and I would do all of this stuff that was unnecessary but coming here really
opened my eyes to all these problems. There’s such big issues that I don’t have
control over, but I know one day I can. I really want to go into the Navy because
I know I can get somewhere through there first, so then I can be set and come
back and do what I want and do what I love. I’m going to come back to my
community. I grew up here. This is where my family is from. This is where I’m
from. I will never forget about where I’m from. I’m going to come back and who
knows, I might even work at Campos one day. I’m going to come back to my
community and continue to help.

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In addition to being empowered to recognize and actively work to address problems in
the community, these students saw beyond the problems and felt they belonged, they felt a strong
sense of place that went far beyond a strict interest in their individual advancement. Due to the
close links between the school, the curriculum, community organizations and traditions, and
students’ lived experiences, the students I interviewed seemed to understand the interdependent
relationship between the outside world (i.e. community or neighborhood) and the individuals that
inhabited it. As Victor so eloquently put it:

I think if you help your community, you help yourself. I would see on the news
how many people would die in Humboldt Park, the violence. But then I saw that
this is a community that really helps each other out and they try to solve their
social issues and I notice how when I help my community of Humboldt Park, I
know when I help this place, they always give it back to me. I help out around the
school and now I got a job in the community.

I often wondered if the recognition of this interdependency and the ethic of care, cooperation,
and mutual aid was part of the Puerto Rican culture itself, so integral a part of what makes this
place and this school what they are. Because he had lived in Puerto Rico as well as the
continental US, I posed this question to Victor. He responded as follows:

I find the Puerto Ricans over here are more proud to be Puerto Ricans than Puerto
Ricans in Puerto Rico. And Puerto Ricans over here are more proud of the salsa
music than Puerto Ricans in Puerto Rico. I see a lot of pride in this community

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because after you leave your country, you only recognize this stuff and you make
it happen where versus in Puerto Rico, you hear a salsa song on every corner and
you don’t really care. Over here, they got a lot more pride and they have to work
a lot harder to get that culture.

That being said, I did observe some students of non-Puerto Rican racial or ethnic
backgrounds expressing their frustration or difficulty with relating to issues specific to Puerto
Rican history and/or culture. As the school transitioned from an exclusively Puerto Rican
student body to one that included young people of other racial/ethnic backgrounds, I am certain it
struggled to maintain its identity as being Puerto Rican-centric while also holding fast to its
commitment to youth empowerment and critical agency. One of the ways the school attempted
to do this was through the claim that the struggles of Puerto Ricans were, more broadly, the
struggles of an oppressed and marginalized people. Therefore, if one was a member of any
oppressed or marginalized group – whether based upon race, ethnicity, gender or sexual
orientation – one could relate to and learn from the struggles of Puerto Ricans and apply this
knowledge across contexts. While I feel the school staff shared a common understanding of this
claim, it was much less clear whether all the students understood or, more importantly, bought
into this idea.
Despite this, there was no question in my mind that the pride, resiliency, ethic of care and
mutuality, and sheer vitality were directly connected to the history, culture, and struggle of the
Puerto Rican people in this part of Chicago. I did not spend a great deal of time in other parts of
the neighborhood outside of walking distance from the school and so have little data to support
such a generalization. But from the moment I began the study and came into the area, I could

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feel the solidarity, the pride, and the openness to sharing their culture with others exhibited by
old and young alike. José offered what I think is a profound connection between the centrality of
a dynamic cultural tradition and the work of the Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School “to
empower students to engage in critical thinking and social transformation, from the classroom to
the Puerto Rican community, based on the philosophical foundation of self-determination, a
methodology of self-actualization, and an ethics of self-reliance”:

Marginalization leads you to something which is really horrible because you
begin to question everything about who you are, what you value, but the Puerto
Rican comes with no sense of historical knowledge of being Puerto Rican because
it wasn’t taught in the schools. It was denied. That’s why Puerto Ricans have a
greater attachment to a flag, which is a piece of cloth, than almost any other
people. You say “why?” Because this is the only thing I know that makes me
Puerto Rican, but its in my Puerto Ricanness that I define my humanity. I affirm
who I am because you have denied me everything, but I must find my humanity
somewhere. That’s why for me, when we’re talking about social processes and
social change, for me the idea of historical memory is very important. As a
Puerto Rican, I have to understand my own oppression and marginalization, but
that should make me more human and humane and I have to look at other
people’s oppression and be in solidarity with them.

VII. Obstacles and Tensions

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PACHS is a small, diverse, and pedagogically innovative learning community that has
been serving to empower marginalized youth to take ownership of their education and of their
role as leaders in their community. However, some of the same characteristics that make the
school so unique and that challenge much of the dominant discourses in civic education can also
act as obstacles that the school community must work to creatively deal with and surmount.
Some of these obstacles are of a practical nature such as finding time within a busy schedule for
teachers to reflect on their work and collaborate with one another. Other obstacles arise out of
the tension between working toward community self-reliance and self-determination while also
relying upon outside sources of funding, particularly state and federal dollars. While it is outside
the scope of this chapter to examine and speak to in any detail the variety of organizational,
pedagogical, and philosophical dilemmas the school has faced, I would like to briefly outline
them here and hope to return to these issues in future work.
Organizationally, PACHS is committed to remaining small so as not to lose the intimate
relationships between teachers, administrators, and students that are so important to its ethos.
However, the school receives less per-pupil funding than the public high schools and has a much
a smaller teacher-to-student ratio. According to one administrator at the school, while public
high schools in Chicago receive approximately $11,000 per student, PACHS receives
approximately $7300 per student. Obviously, fewer students means less money and more
teachers per student means increased personnel costs. All of this translates into much time and
energy directed toward seeking out alternative sources of funding.
Along with this comes the tension resulting from receiving/accepting government
funding in the first place. Just as PACHS is committed to remaining a small and intimate
learning community, it is equally committed to remaining relatively autonomous in its approach

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to teaching and learning. For many years in the school’s early existence, much of its work – both
inside the school and in the life of the community – was focused upon Puerto Rican political
prisoners that were involved in the movement for Puerto Rican independence from the United
States. Some of these political prisoners were directly involved in beginning the school. In
addition, and as expressed in José’s comments above, the school has always been committed to
an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist stance. As a result, there was active resistance to accepting
any funding directly from the government for a long period of the school’s history. This was
done not only on ideological grounds but also because the individuals involved with the school
feared being controlled by or beholden to outside agencies. However, there was at some point a
shift in that mentality. Manuel explained it this way:

I think up until around the early to mid 1990’s, there was a conscious shift from
being militant for Puerto Rican Independence to the extent that they actively
discouraged people from voting - as that was legitimizing the colonizer - and that
we, as a community, needed to resist. We never applied directly for government
dollars; we didn’t even apply for city dollars because, number 1, the city would
probably never have given us the money, but also there was a conscious fear that
they would control us. It seems to me that [in the early 90’s] there was a
significant shift in the attitude of political leadership at the Cultural Center and
consequently, the high school.

Currently, there are active and strong ties between the Puerto Rican community in
Humboldt Park and elected officials in both local and federal government. This has not seemed

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to compromise the school’s ideals in so far as the community as a whole has been able to
maintain a high degree of autonomy and has used political representation to resist such things as
gentrification rather than being used by political representatives. In this vein, Manuel said, “We
have political leaders now and to the extent possible, we hold them accountable.”
At the end of the study, it was not entirely clear to me how the school community and the
community of the school (i.e. Humboldt Park) viewed its relationship to the centralized state and,
more specifically, the United States government. As Manuel pointed out and what also became
evident to me through my time in the area, there was a long history of Puerto Rican resistance to
colonial rule by the United States and at least a contingent of the population that continued to
view the U.S. government’s authority over the island of Puerto Rico as illegitimate and
imperialist. I read letters from a current Puerto Rican political prisoner published in a local
newspaper that expressed support for the continued resistance to oppression of Puerto Ricans and
other marginalized groups alike. As a result of Puerto Rico’s history and some of the
consequences of its own past involvement in the movement for Puerto Rican independence
(which, amongst other things, resulted in the school’s infiltration by the F.B.I.), there appeared to
be a deep and understandable distrust of authority on the part of many within the school
community. However, there was no evidence in the form of rhetoric, behavior, curriculum, or
teaching that suggested the school or the individuals that constitute it espouse violent or
subversive activity to undermine this authority. Rather, as I have attempted to explain, resistance
is enacted through the focus upon and continued movement toward greater community autonomy
and self-sufficiency on its own terms and through channels it has created.
This desire for autonomy and self-sufficiency also translated into the academic and
curricular development within the school itself. While this autonomy appeared to be of central

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importance to teachers and administrators alike and vital to the creation of the school’s unique
approach to teaching and learning, it brought with it its own set of drawbacks and obstacles. Due
to budgeting constraints, teachers at PACHS are paid less than the average public high school
teacher. At the same time, the nature of their work requires that they put in as much, if not more,
time and energy into their work than the average public high school teacher. The primary reason
I can make this claim is because PACHS does not use a standardized curriculum of any kind. In
fact, because they want the teaching and learning within their classrooms to be directly relevant
to the lives of their students and their realities outside of school, most of the teachers at the
school only use textbooks as references.
The majority of the curriculum is developed based upon the mission and vision of the
school and the R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework and materializes through collaboration with one
another and issues and interests that students raise over a given quarter’s course of study. Of
course, there is some core content teachers are required to cover based upon the Illinois State
Standards and in order to prepare students for the Prairie State Achievement Exam and the like.
The idea of a shared and articulated vision that I explored earlier provides for a common
direction for instruction and assessment while also allowing a high degree of teacher autonomy
within his/her given content area. Although I believe this dialogical approach makes for more
authentic learning, there is no question it requires a great deal of work and investment on the part
of the teachers. Additionally, because the school so highly values the relationships, culture, and
traditions outside of the walls of the school and within the community, students and teachers
alike are often participating in actions, events, and organizations in the evenings, on weekends,
and during school holidays and vacations.

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None of the teachers I interviewed complained or took issue with the ‘extra’ time and
work they put in at the school. They seemed to understand that direct involvement in the
Humboldt Park neighborhood was a vital part of their work and the school’s mission. My only
concern is that the enormous amount of time and energy teachers and administrators put into
their work with students might contribute to premature ‘burn-out’ or decreased rates of long-term
teacher retention. In reflecting upon the school’s history and development, one teacher described
the tension this way:

There has always been a make-do attitude. We have to do it, so we’ll do it
somehow. We may not have the money to do it. So, it creates this thing about
let’s just do whatever needs to be done, no matter how many hours you have to
work at getting it done. It created this thing about, “well, if you’re really
committed to the community, you’ll work for shit and work 17 hours a day”.

Unfortunately, this issue did not come to my attention until after completing my study at the
school and I did not have the opportunity to figure out the average number of years a teacher
works at the school.
Related to the intensive amount of work teachers and administrators put into maintaining
and developing the school’s unique approach to education, there was evidence that little time is
left-over to network with other’s doing similar work in alternative education and/or those that
might benefit from learning more about PACHS 40-year history of providing at-risk youth an
individually and socially empowering education. In an informal conversation early on in the
study, Marcos shared that because PACHS approach to education came out of unique

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geographical (inner city Chicago Puerto Rican neighborhood), historical (heightening movement
for Puerto Rican independence), and cultural (Puerto Rican-Chicago culture and traditions)
circumstances, it was not an approach that could be looked at as a model for other communities
looking to achieve similar results with students. Others, however, believed that not enough was
being done to share the school’s work with other communities that might benefit from the many
lessons learned over the course of the school’s 40-year evolution.

As one teacher explained,

There is so much we can do. We can’t be focused solely here. This is one
manifestation of our community. Its [struggle for community self-reliance and
self-determination] so much bigger than that. To the extent that we can have an
impact on other communities, it is essential that we share our work. Its our
responsibility to do that. We can’t be so insular.

The potential pitfalls of focusing exclusively on local context and the low priority placed upon or
lack of space created for sharing and collaboration with other organizations are issues I will
further explore in the final chapter.

VIII. Conclusion: A Community-Centric, Mutually Supportive, and ‘Graceful’ Pedagogy
Despite PACHS unique history, development, and culture, I tend to agree with the
teacher quoted above. I do not think I would have undertaken the study if I did not believe
PACHS had some invaluable knowledge, practices, and lessons to share with other educators,
schools, and communities interested in sustainability, direct democracy, and/or deeply
meaningful, relevant, and revolutionary education for largely marginalized and silenced youth.

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Through a community-centric, mutually supportive, and graceful critical pedagogy, PACHS
offers us new ways to think about the relationship between education and the ecological crises
we face, the social roots of those crises, and movements toward sustainability and direct
democracy.
The school is held together and its curriculum, instruction, and pedagogy made cohesive
through a shared and articulated ideal of citizenship. This ideal of citizenship was defined as
being/becoming a critical and active member of one’s community who puts the common good
over one’s individual self-interest. It is an ideal of citizenship in which the individual recognizes
his/her interdependence with both other human beings and the non-human natural world and
systems upon which we rely. It is an ideal of citizenship that is realized through an ethic of care,
cooperation, and mutual aid with those that one shares a community. It is an ideal of citizenship
in which one recognizes one’s own health and well-being as inseparable from the health and
well-being of one’s locale and its other inhabitants. Finally, it is an ideal of citizenship in which
one can only fully recognize and realize their own humanity and self-actualization through the
struggle for community self-reliance and self-determination.
In order to realize this ideal of citizenship, those involved in the PACHS community
recognize the necessity of providing a safe and secure environment for students to participate and
learn. They recognize that students must feel authentic care and belonging through the
satisfaction of their physiological, emotional, and psychological needs. They recognize that
these needs cannot be met and satisfied unless students are both challenged and nurtured, held to
high social and academic ideals and recognized as the unique individuals that they are. They
recognize this can only be accomplished through developing personal relationships with one

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another and with their students, in celebrating their diversity, and in identifying their common
struggles in the community they share.
Finally, the teachers and school leadership fully acknowledge that for learning to be
meaningful and enriching, it must be directly connected to the lived realities of students. Despite
the extra energy and thought it requires, they practice a problem-posing education in which
students are directly involved in identifying the issues they, as individuals and as a community,
face, the ways in which these issues can be productively and positively addressed, and how they
themselves can be active agents of change. They recognize that they cannot simply tell students
what to think, but rather can provide different lenses for how to think – as Victor put it, “provide
knowledge, but give us a conscience about it”. All of this, in my mind, represents a prefigurative politics, providing a glimpse of what a society could look like if its youth were
respected, trusted, and empowered and that inches us closer toward a direct, participatory
democracy.

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Chapter Six
Social Ecology and Education: Implications for Praxis
I. Introduction
In this final chapter, I synthesize the material from the preceding chapters and attempt to
draw out in more detail its implications for how we might think differently about education and
citizenship intended to support direct democracy and ecological sustainability. In light of
Bookchin’s robust theoretical framework for moving toward a more rational, just, and
sustainable society, I intend to consider what this suggests for the goals, structure, decisionmaking processes, and curriculum within secondary schools focused upon fostering direct
democracy and the preparation of citizens for just such an arrangement. In short, my explorations
have led me to the conclusion that social ecology and libertarian municipalism suggest a
movement toward small, locally and democratically controlled (by students, parents, staff, and
other community members) schools utilizing placed-based curriculum tailored to the individual
needs, interests and backgrounds of the students and with deep and meaningful ties to other
organizations working within and for the betterment of that particular community. While this
may appear idyllic, I hope to have made a convincing argument not only for how it is possible
but also for why it is necessary.
In addition to thinking through how social ecology might act as guiding framework for
how a school would be structured, how decisions would be made, and how curriculum would be
developed, I have also considered some of the concrete obstacles that stand in the way of
carrying out such a project. These obstacles would include issues around academic
accountability, funding (state and otherwise), and teacher preparation amongst others. While a

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thoroughgoing examination of these issues is beyond the scope of this project, I will touch upon
them toward the end of this chapter.
The structure of the chapter takes the form of returning to the primary focal points of
Chapters Two, Three, and Four in order to more thoroughly tease out their implications for
education. More specifically, I first look back to principles of traditional and contemporary
anarchism and use them as a guide for imagining an alternative educational model with a
philosophical foundation in resistance to hierarchy and expanded avenues for pursuing local
autonomy. Within this discussion, I consider the structure, form, and content just such a school
might possess. Next, I return to the philosophy of social ecology and think through the ways in
which it might function as a framework for an eco-justice education. This involved a
consideration of how subject matter might be re-oriented in order to promote an understanding of
the interrelationship between society and nature and the ways in which the health of one is
dependent upon and interwoven with that of the other. In the third section, I again take up the
most significant aspects of the libertarian municipalist agenda and discuss how it might act as
foundation for a communalist civic education through place-based education within a smallschool structure. Throughout, I compare these speculative imaginings with my experience at
PACHS. Finally, I briefly consider how these ideas might influence our thinking about teacher
education, the potential limitations inherent within them, and some of the questions they raise for
future study.
Before I embark on this exploration, it is vitally important to reiterate that both anarchism
and social ecology are not necessarily intended to be prescriptive or universalizable. Of course,
each philosophy has certain foundational principles but these very principles are such that their
application will vary significantly across social and cultural contexts. The principles are

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intended to be debated, discussed, and re-interpreted by real women and men living in
community with one another in local contexts. As I have pointed out, an individual or group of
individuals need not even label themselves ‘anarchists’ or ‘social ecologists’ in order to live out
these principles (see the work of Colin Ward for countless inspiring examples of this). By living
and working at the grassroots in mutually supportive and cooperative ways free of domination
and hierarchy, people anywhere can begin to re-gain control over their own lives and the
decisions that most directly affect them while expanding the potential for increasing freedom,
self-actualization, and creative thriving within both the human and non-human worlds.
Similarly, I am under no illusion that my explorations in this chapter could or should be
applied across contexts or are some form of fix-all for the complex and multidimensional social
and ecological crises we face. Rather, they are intended for others that view learning and
education as vital spaces for resisting the deleterious social, environmental, and psychical effects
of hierarchy, hyper-individualism, and the breakdown of community. If these ideas are a
blueprint for anything, it is only a school I creatively imagine planting the seeds for, collectively
with like-minded friends and colleagues, in the place in which we are embedded.

II. Anarchism and Education
The aim of this section is to engage a more in-depth exploration of some of the key principles
of the political philosophy of anarchism and its relationship to or implications for education. I
argue that an educational model organized around social anarchist principles might possess a
number of the following characteristics: small and locally-constituted – the population of any
given school should be small enough for direct and intimate relationships with all others in the
school community; decentralized - decentralizing schools could greatly improve classroom

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instruction by allowing the school to pursue methods and materials that are more communityspecific and that reflect students’ cultural, academic, social, and economic diversity; equal and
fully-democratic participation of each member of the learning community in the schooling
process: students, teachers, parents/caregivers, and community members; Non-coercive
pedagogical methods – the disentanglement of reward and punishment from the learning process;
curriculum that is firmly rooted in the lived experiences of participants and deeply connected to
the communities outside the walls of the classroom (namely, place-based education, which will
be explored later); curriculum that offers students the opportunity to examine their own lived
experiences and ‘place’ within the context of broader cultural, economic, and political hierarchy
and domination (racism, sexism, classism, capitalism, and speciesism, amongst others); frequent
and sustained dialogue between all stakeholders in the educational community (one voice, one
vote in all school affairs); teacher autonomy within a mutually agreed upon curricular focus;
learning by doing - curriculum consisting of practical training and fieldtrips; non-hierarchical,
non-coercive relationships – no grades, no prizes, no punishments; forms of management and
organization based on consensus.
Following from the examination of both traditional and contemporary anarchism, an
educational model organized around anarchist principles might possess a number of the
following characteristics. I have placed each of these characteristics within one of three broad
categories that speak to the primary elements of most organized educational endeavors: structure,
form, and content.

A. Structure

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A school inspired by or working to emulate contemporary anarchist principles would be
small and locally constituted. The population of any given school should be small enough for
direct and intimate relationships with all others in the school community to develop. Like large
state bureaucracies that are inefficient and alienating, organized hierarchically, and divest all
modicum of control and decision-making power from those that they most directly impact, the
model of the large comprehensive high school would be replaced by small schools directly
controlled by the communities in which they are situated. This follows from the anarchist notion
that small, face-to-face communities should be the basic unit of social organization in order to
provide the context for truly democratic decision-making and individual and social autonomy.
Following from the goals of creating schools that are small enough for those involved to
develop close, intimate relationships and to create a learning environment specific to the needs
and curiosities of its learners, anarchist-inspired schools would be decentralized. All decisionmaking would occur within the school community itself and the goal would be to involve and
provide space for all interested stakeholders and community members. Decentralizing schools,
as mentioned, would allow for more flexibility in curriculum design and differentiated
instruction. Admittedly, the idea of decentralizing schools brings with it a whole host of issues,
not the least important of which is funding. Also, a school organized around anarchist principles,
in theory, would refuse any association with and funding from the state.
Recall that the Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School began nearly 40 years ago with
approximately five to eight students. Despite a long and continuing battle for autonomy from the
centralized school system, PACHS now serves nearly 170 students from diverse racial and ethnic
backgrounds through a curriculum that is directly tailored to the students that attend.
Additionally, the school has managed to strike a balance between maintaining its autonomy,

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adhering to state standards, and receiving city, state, and federal funding. Based upon this
example, I believe the charter school movement has the potential to help further decentralize
schools and school systems and place power over education back in the hands of local
communities. Of course, I also recognize some of the limitations of this approach insofar as
those that choose to begin such schools may do so for profit, may further undermine struggling
inner-city public schools, or may do so with aims significantly different from those laid out in
this dissertation. Unfortunately, it is beyond the scope of this project to fully consider the charter
school debate.

B. Form
An anarchist education would ideally offer each member of the learning community –
students, teachers, parents/caregivers, and community members - the opportunity for equal and
fully democratic participation in the schooling process. As anarchists have long pointed out, the
notion that groups of people, when left to their own devices, would be unable to engage in
rational debate and collectively determine courses of action is one of the great myths upon which
the state and most other forms of authority rest. Obviously, this would require frequent and
sustained dialogue between all stakeholders in the learning community and the time and energy
necessary for this to take place. However, if individuals and families freely chose to become
members of the learning community and felt they had genuine voice in determining the shape
and direction of the school and in collectively addressing specific issues as they arose, there is a
greater likelihood they would make the time and space in their lives to engage and participate.
Despite critiques and misunderstandings of anarchism based on the notion that it is
opposed to all structure and organization and lacking a central theme or ideology, consensus-

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decision-making and the directly-democratic process have been central to the contemporary
anarchist movement and “these forms of organization are its ideology” (Graeber, 2002).
Anarchists have been remarkably creative in developing forms and structures for decisionmaking that require consensus on anything from organizational issues to management of existing
activities to determining new courses of action. As David Graeber (2002) explains,

Over the past decade, activists in North America have been putting enormous
creative energy into reinventing their groups’ own internal processes, to create
viable models of what functioning direct democracy could actually look like. In
this we’ve drawn particularly…on examples from outside the Western tradition,
which almost invariably rely on some process of consensus finding, rather than
majority vote. The result is a rich and growing panoply of organizational
instruments – spokescouncils, affinity groups, facilitation tools, breakouts,
fishbowls, blocking concerns, vibe-watchers and so on – all aimed at creating
forms of democratic process that allow initiatives to rise from below and attain
maximum effective solidarity, without stifling dissenting voices, creating
leadership positions or compelling anyone to anything which they have not freely
agreed to do. (71)

Following from this, consensus decision-making practices would need to be learned before they
could be utilized. The teaching of these practices could be facilitated by those with experience in
engaging with them within classrooms and in workshops. In this sense, the use of consensus
decision-making would fall into both the form and content of an anarchist-inspired school.

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One of the primary anarchist critiques of traditional educational models is the coercive
nature of these institutions. William Godwin (1756-1836), considered one of the first to fully
articulate the anarchist position on education, without identifying it as such – vehemently
objected to the coercive nature of relationships between adults and children and based this
objection on a genuine respect for the autonomy of the child (Smith, 1983). As Michael P. Smith
(1983) explains:

This respect for the learner’s autonomy is obviously an application of the general
principle of respect for the autonomy of the child. But there is also a case for it
on purely pedagogical grounds. Godwin believed that if education was
approached in this way, and the process tailored to the deep psychology of the
learner, then learning would simply be better. The point is an important one, for
Godwin’s view is shared by later libertarians. The case made for libertarian
pedagogy is not just that it is more moral but that it is pedagogically superior. (9)

Anarchist educators’ interpretations of the meaning of ‘non-coercive’ pedagogical
methods and relationships fall across a wide spectrum. While some have felt this should be
taken as far as providing no compulsion to attend or to participate, others have attempted to
make education less coercive by eliminating tests, grades, and other forms of extrinsic rewards or
punishments. Obviously, compulsory attendance has been the hallmark of state-sponsored
schooling and was enacted to ensure that all students – despite their regional loyalties – would be
exposed to the nationalistic and socially cohesive forces schools were intended to foster (Hern,
2003). That said, if a given school community chose to make attendance mandatory and learners

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freely entered into this arrangement, it would not necessarily be a violation of anarchist
principles.
A final consideration regarding the form of an anarchist-inspired school involves teacher
autonomy. This is an interesting issue in that it crosses the boundary between anarchist
considerations of education and those of labor. While there are a variety of anarchist positions
and approaches to labor and the organization of the workplace, one of the most well known is
that of anarcho-syndicalism. Anarcho-syndicalism traditionally advances the idea that the
workplace should be run and controlled by workers themselves without the need of bosses and
administrators. Of course, applied to education, this suggests that teachers would organize and
run the school. However, this does not preclude individuals acting in other capacities within the
school community such as administrators so long as they acted upon an equal footing with all
others involved in the educational process and held no unique privileges or decision-making
authority above and beyond that of other stakeholders. Beyond providing teachers with equal
say in the organization and running of the school community, teacher autonomy would also
apply to content and pedagogical principles within the individual teacher’s classroom. The
notion of teacher as cog in the educational machine has long been abhorred and resisted by
th

anarchist educators. The founder of one of the most successful anarchist schools in early 20

century Spain, Francisco Ferrer was a staunch supporter of teacher autonomy. As Judith Suissa
(2001) explains, “Ferrer was…adamant about the need for teachers to be professionally
independent, and was highly critical of the system by which the educator is regarded as an
‘official servant, narrowly enslaved to minute regulations, inexorable programmes’ (Suissa, 2001
quoting Ferrer, 1913, p.55). Teacher autonomy would only be subordinate to the principles of

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anti-authoritarianism, horizontality, and the direct incorporation of students’ needs and interests
in the learning process.
This idea was substantiated in the study I conducted at PACHS. Both students and
teachers felt a sense of empowerment that I believe was largely attributable to the space provided
for their full and equal participation in the learning process. This went beyond group work or
collaborative activities within a pre-defined structure and curriculum. Rather, all members of the
learning community were invited to provide input regarding the direction learning would take,
the way the school day and year were structured, the rules and regulations that would be used to
govern the school, and the way to approach issues that arose over time.
Teachers and administrators convened in both small and large groups on a weekly basis
and participated in summer and winter institutes (i.e. faculty retreats) where a previous year’s or
semester’s work was discussed, plans of action were formulated, and new ideas were put on the
table. For example, it was during the summer institute prior to the 2011-2012 school year that
the staff collaboratively decided upon the quarterly themes that would be used to structure the
curriculum across content areas. Students also were brought together in both formal and
informal settings to do such things as review and discuss the student handbook and revise rules
and regulations and revisit and provide recommendations for how classes were conducted, the
community organizations and events with which the school was involved, and the extracurricular
opportunities that were offered. Further, parents and caregivers were often invited in to learn
more about the school’s work, to volunteer within the school and at different school functions,
and to offer feedback on and ask questions about the education their children were receiving.
As might be expected, every individual did not participate fully and equally in these
multiple forums nor were they forced to. The point is the space was created for them to do so, on

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a relatively equal footing with all others, and because of the smallness and intimacy of the
environment and the meaningful relationships fostered therein, many took advantage of these
opportunities. It should also be noted that PACHS did not espouse any form of consensus
decision-making and did have what appears to be a fairly traditional structure with a principal,
vice principal, dean of students, and board of directors. However, decisions were not formulated
and implemented in a top-down fashion but were always put in the public realm for genuine
consideration, debate, and discussion by all stakeholders in the school community. Again, in this
regard, I do believe size matters and will discuss this further below.

C. Content
As mentioned, an anarchist-inspired curriculum would be firmly rooted in the lived
experiences of participants and deeply connected to the communities outside the walls of the
classroom. This characteristic is dependent upon decentralization in that centralized control of
schools necessarily requires some form of standardized curriculum that often ignores the issues,
problems, culture, and history of specific locales and their inhabitants. However, providing
curriculum that is, in large part, determined by administrators, teachers, and students within a
given school would not necessarily exclude the teaching of core academic literacies. Insofar as
school community members feel a sense of solidarity with one another and are encouraged to
view their success and flourishing as inseparable from that of those around them, teachers and
students may develop a shared commitment to both academic literacy, critical thinking, and
resistance to domination.
As highlighted by examinations of past experiments in libertarian/anarchist education,
political and moral education are the centerpieces of both challenging existing forms of

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domination and hierarchy and of imagining more egalitarian alternatives to these forms of social
relationships. That said, the curriculum would offer students the opportunity to examine their
own lived experiences, individual and collective histories, and ‘place’ within the context of
broader cultural, economic, and political hierarchy and domination. This might involve
examining instances of inequality, privilege, and hierarchy in the experiences of students
themselves and drawing connections to historical and systemic oppression based upon gender,
race, sexuality, ability, and class.
I imagine there would be a continued focus upon the idea of providing ‘integral
education’. This notion has been central to anarchist educational endeavors and has been,
according to Suissa (2001), the

direct consequence of the commitment to social equality, and the belief that it is
capitalism itself that divorces manual work from mental work. Integral education
was intended not only to provide pupils with a useful trade, but to diminish their
dependence on the capitalist system and to help to break down the division of
labour and the consequent separation into educated and uneducated classes. (632)

Integral education has not only aimed toward erasing the divisions between mental work and
manual work, but also is intended to provide students with greater autonomy and self-reliance.
The contemporary anarchist movement is well known for emphasizing a ‘do-it-yourself’
sensibility that is maintained through mutual aid and cooperation and is intended to subvert the
commodification of everything from work to leisure to relationships. Through an integral
education and a mix of academic and skills-based, hands-on learning, an anarchist school

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community would provide students with more of the tools they require for taking care of their
own affairs and sharing their gifts and talents with those around them while also working to build
relationships and community, all outside the market economy.
I do not feel it is necessary to review again the form and content of the curriculum
developed and delivered at PACHS to illustrate some of the ideas previously mentioned. I will
note that the centrality of community self-reliance and self-determination emphasized to students
the value of working together in mutually supportive ways without the dependence upon outside
experts, professionals, or ‘middle men’. Practically speaking, students learned to grow their own
food in an inner-city neighborhood. This is no small accomplishment and a particularly
powerful means of teaching self-sufficiency as food is a basic necessity and one many of us in
the developed world take completely for granted. As discussed in Chapter Five, there were
further efforts in both integrated science and social studies to connect ‘book’ learning to handson activities in the school and the broader community. That said, there was little evidence of
other efforts to teach students practical or technical skills they could use to aid themselves or
others in mutually supportive ways or that would further collective self-reliance such as trades or
mechanics.

III. Social Ecology as Curricular Framework for Ecojustice Education

We must always be on a quest for the new, for the potentialities that ripen with
the development of the world and the new visions that unfold with them. An
outlook that ceases to look for what is new and potential in the name of ‘realism’
has already lost contact with the present, for the present is always conditioned by

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the future. True development is cumulative, not sequential; it is growth, not
succession. The new always embodies the present and past, but it does so in new
ways and more adequately as the parts of a greater whole.
- Murray Bookchin, “On Spontaneity and Organization,” 1971 in Biehl, 1999

Having engaged in a thorough exploration of both current approaches to thinking about
the grave ecological issues we face and the philosophical and ethical foundations of social
ecology as a means of addressing them, I would now like to examine the relationship between
these ideas and the possibilities for thinking anew about the form and content of education. As a
subjective and projective philosophy, dialectical naturalism aims to uncover the unfolding
processes of natural evolution toward greater self-reflexivity and rationality. As such, it can
assist us in developing a notion of the potentialities for humanity to re-harmonize the relationship
between society and nature and to create a more rational and ecological society. But what,
exactly, would be required for this re-harmonization? What characteristics would this rational
ecological society consist of? And what role would education play in helping to create it?
Bookchin attempted to provide at least the outlines of an answer to the first and second question
that I continue to explore in the remainder of this chapter. Since Bookchin himself did not
address in any systematic way the third question, I hope that I have made some progress in
beginning to that as well.
As I have already explored the philosophical basis of Bookchin’s thought – that is,
dialectical naturalism – I would now like to draw out the implications of this philosophy for the
way in which we think about what it means to educate a citizenry for ecological sustainability

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and direct, participatory democracy; what a curriculum with this as its goal might look like; and
how a school might be organized and structured so as to promote this ideal of citizenship.
One of the most dominant critiques of both anarchism and social ecology has been their
utopian character. From the late nineteenth-century theories of Kropotkin, Proudhon, and Ferrer
to the libertarian municipalist agenda of Bookchin all the way up to the current Occupy Wall
Street movement, conservatives and pragmatists alike have dismissed or condemned these
tendencies as lacking a coherent list of demands, reasonable reforms, or concrete alternatives to
the present social, economic, or political order. However, this utopian character, the ability to
imagine society in radically different forms with radically different sets of values, and the
absence of a concrete and prescriptive formula for how to achieve this has been one of
anarchism’s strongest attributes. It allows different groups of people in different locales living
within different historical, material, cultural, and ecological circumstances to collectively and
directly decide for themselves how their lives and communities should look and function. In this
same spirit and as mentioned earlier, it is not my intention to prescribe a specific model for
schooling or education that would apply across cultural or geographical contexts but rather to
begin to identify some of the characteristics that might allow for the development of citizens
15

capable of creating diverse, directly democratic, and ecologically sustainable communities.

Bookchin spent the greater part of five decades developing the outlines of what a rational,
libertarian, and ecological society might look like. It would be useful to briefly review that
material here before moving into a discussion of what an education might look like that would
help foster this type of transformation. Janet Biehl (1999), Bookchin’s longtime partner and
15

That said, as my life experience, interest, and work as an educator and educational researcher
have all been situated in large or medium-sized urban areas, this is the context in which I will
focus my discussion.

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collaborator, summarizes the characteristics of this society quite nicely in her introduction to The
Murray Bookchin Reader:

It would be a decentralized and mutualistic [society], free of hierarchy and
domination. Town and country would no longer be opposed to each other but
would instead be integrated. Social life would be scaled to human dimensions.
Politics would be directly democratic at the community level, so that citizens can
manage their own social and political affairs on a face-to-face basis, forming
confederations to address larger-scale problems. Economic life would be
cooperative and communal, and technology would eliminate onerous and tedious
toil. (7)

In this summary and the writing of Bookchin’s through which it is developed, we can discern
some of the changes that would be necessary to move toward a more humane, ecologically
sustainable, and emotionally satisfying society. More specifically, this would call for
communities (including their economies and decision-making processes) to be decentralized and
more humanly-scaled; the development of new forms of local and alternative energy; more
localized food production and distribution; tailoring the overall economy of a community to its
specific resources and trade with other locales for necessary resources not readily available. All
of this would require individuals be skilled in rational discourse and collective decision-making;
the ability to engage in both manual and mental labor – that is, some form of production that
would contribute both to individual and community well-being and development; ultimately,
individuals would need to be re-educated to think on a more local level – to become familiar with

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one’s natural environs, to understand and utilize local cultural traditions based upon mutual aid
and cooperation, and to re-establish community autonomy, self-reliance, and self-determination.
These are not simply romanticized notions or nostalgic longing for a by-gone era. More and
more, farmers, economists, business owners, scientists, and everyday citizens are recognizing the
social, psychological, and ecological benefits of localizing everything from food to entertainment
to learning and decision-making (see McKibben, 2007 for a well-researched and highly
provocative global account of the ‘local’ movement).
In looking back to the broad characteristics of contemporary anarchism and the objective
ecological ethics of social ecology, I wish to suggest that an educational endeavor that had as its
focus helping students to confront ecological issues and restore ecological balance while also
developing individual and community empowerment would possess a number of broad
characteristics. Objectively speaking, this vision for an eco-anarchistic education centered upon
the framework of social ecology would not need to radically alter the broad outline of a
traditional liberal education. Rather, an eco-anarchistic education would require a radical
transformation of the orientation of a traditional liberal education. That is, I imagine this form of
education integrating study of the natural sciences and the humanities but with the objective of
fostering the aforementioned qualities of a rational and ecological society based upon community
self-reliance, autonomy, and self-determination. Additionally, students and families that
consciously chose to participate in this form of education would be encouraged not only to
utilize and build upon their learning at the post-secondary level but also to put their learning and
development of specific areas of interest or expertise at the service of the communities in which
they are situated and within the framework of local autonomy, self-reliance, and selfdetermination. Far from coming out of a desire to wrest power and control from the state, this

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approach would gradually undermine the authority and power of the state, nameless
multinational corporations, and centralized bureaucracies from below.

A. Natural Sciences
A natural sciences curriculum rooted in the nature philosophy of social ecology and the
social vantage point of eco-anarchism would, first and foremost, be an integrated curriculum.
Biology, chemistry, and physics would all come into play in exploring and gaining
understanding of the relationship between human societies and the environment. This would not
be done through what some have labeled ‘catastrophe education’, but rather by first learning
about the development and evolution of the earth and its living systems, the forces that have
contributed to the destruction and undermining of these systems, and the possibilities that exist
for rectifying the relationship. This basic understanding of the earth, it processes and
interdependent ecosystems would build toward collaboratively identifying environmental and
ecological issues specific to the community that the school is situated within. Applicable to all
locales would be explorations of food, food production, the consequences of food processing and
transportation; water, water sources, and water contamination; air, air quality, and other
environmental pollutants; the production and distribution of energy, how much is required to
maintain particular lifestyles and the environmental consequences of such production and use;
and, finally, transportation and communication and the environmental resources necessary for
existing and alternative forms of each. Much of this can be learned experientially and put into
direct practice through urban gardening, community gardens, rooftop greenhouses, and
exploration and implementation of wind, solar, and biogas energy production.

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The trend within many schools or programs that work to raise the environmental and
ecological consciousness of students is to focus upon the actions and behaviors of individuals
rather than upon the larger corporate and political forces that are creating the vast majority of
unhealthy food, waste, and environmental contamination. With that in mind, the focus of this
form of natural sciences education would simultaneously be upon resisting these systemic and
corporate-driven threats to individual and community well-being and upon transitioning to more
local, autonomous, and ecologically sound production and distribution of basic necessities such
as food, water, energy, and transportation.

B. Humanities
Again, traditional subjects within the humanities would be studied in an eco-anarchistic
educational setting but would be oriented toward challenging all forms of domination and
hierarchy and moving out from under the framework of the centralized state, corporate
capitalistic economy, and representative democracy. Within a history curriculum, students
would learn about and explore the emergence of hierarchy and domination within human
societies, its roots in patriarchy, and its modern manifestations on the structural, community, and
individual levels; students would also have the opportunity to explore both current forms of
social, economic, and political organization and alternative forms of organization that have been
or are currently being practiced. These alternative forms might include the anarcho-syndicalist
tradition of worker-owned and operated businesses; systems of bartering; skill-sharing;
alternative currencies and time banks; micro-lending; the town hall meeting; systems of
consensus decision-making; anarchist spokescouncils; and local systems of food production and
exchange such as community gardens and farmer’s markets.

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Also, and quite importantly, students would not learn standard and sanitized versions of
history but rather history that is specific to and at least partially coming from the perspective of
their particular cultural and geographical background. Civics and economics, too, would attempt
to provide students with a contextual understanding of current political and economic
arrangements while also fostering within students the ability to imagine alternative forms of
organization rooted in direct democracy, community autonomy, and community selfdetermination.
Within English/language arts, students would continue to benefit from learning basic
reading and writing skills but would do so in culturally responsive ways – that is, in ways that
fostered more formal academic research and writing as well as culturally specific forms of
artistic and creative expression. Additionally, a strong emphasis would be placed upon assisting
students in engaging in rational dialogue and debate around issues they identify as being of
concern to them and to the communities in which they live. Students would learn to respect the
diverse opinions and perspectives of others while also learning how to develop and support their
own perspectives and opinions with research and evidence. This would be augmented with
exploration of culturally relevant examples of and opportunities to engage in creative, visual, and
performing arts.
Finally, without a strong philosophical and ethical basis, much of the aforementioned
curriculum would lose its anarchistic and ecological character and could easily be engaged
without challenging the status quo of the centralized state, liberalist notions of democracy,
corporate capitalism, and environmental devastation. Following from this, students would study
and think through the philosophical, epistemological, and cultural underpinnings of
contemporary society rooted as it is in liberalism, empiricism, and individualist consumerism.

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The philosophical foundation of social ecology, dialectical naturalism, as a thoroughly and
cogently developed philosophy of its own, would be engaged as a grounds for developing nonhierarchical and complementary relationships amongst humans and between humans and the
non-human natural world.
Ultimately, the ‘subjects’ of the humanities would be integrated in a similar way as those
of the natural sciences. Just as a thorough understanding of biology would be impossible without
at least a rudimentary understanding of chemistry, so too an understanding of representative
democracy would be impossible without an understanding of the political philosophy of
liberalism. In addition to integrating the subjects, this approach to a liberal education with an
anarchistic and ecological focus would require a high degree of commitment and collaboration
from those involved in the educational endeavor – from teachers, to parents, to community
members. It would require a commitment to a central focus but also a commitment to dialogue,
shared decision-making, and equal participation of all those involved. Following from this, the
school community would necessarily have to be small enough to allow for these vital
characteristics. Again, to the pragmatic mind, much of this may seem utopian or simply
‘unrealistic’. However, part of my purpose has been to move outside the confines of what is and
toward what could be. I have further attempted to augment theoretical pondering with study and
documentation of some of the historical and contemporary examples of attempts to enact some of
these anarchistic and ecological principles in education and, of course, one explicitly organized
around the framework of social ecology.
In all of this, a particular ideal of citizenship would be developed that was not oriented
around the nation-state or necessarily the cosmopolitan global community. Rather, this ideal of
citizenship would cultivate a resistance to domination and hierarchy. Through the study of social

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ecology, it would help develop an understanding of the relationship between the individual or
group and its environment. Through practice within the school and the community, it would
nurture the desire and ability to debate, find consensus, and directly participate in making
decisions that most directly affect those involved. It would foster a focus on community as the
basic unit of social organization rather than the individual. Through identification of issues and
development of local solutions, it would work to help students develop ecologically sustainable
practices for providing for basic needs and desires and would place the highest value upon
community autonomy, self-sufficiency, and self-determination as was documented in the
previous chapter.

IV. Think Locally, Act Locally: The Municipal Agenda and Foundations of a Communalist Civic
Education
In this section of the paper, I return to some of the ideas presented in Chapter Four but
move on to suggest ways in which the undermining of direct democracy and citizenship
education toward this end might be addressed. Taking as its basic unit of social organization
groups living within the municipality rather than the nation, the communalist framework and
libertarian municipalist agenda provide a means by which the forces of gigantism, centralization,
hyper-individualism, consumer culture, and disempowerment of youth can be effectively
counteracted. In constructing this vision of civic education, I briefly summarize the major
premises upon which Bookchin’s municipal agenda rests. Secondly, I connect these premises
with the curriculum of place-based or community-centered education. Finally, I propose that the
ideal structure for realizing this vision is within the decentralized, autonomous small school as
described above.

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A. The Libertarian Municipalist Agenda
In short, the libertarian municipalist agenda seeks to recover from history the free
municipality in which politics is realized through direct, face-to-face management of the
community by active citizens with a shared sense of civic commitment, interdependence, and
mutual aid. The management and, more specifically, the policies of the municipality would be
debated, discussed, and decided through popular assemblies open to all individuals. Going back
to the Athenian principle of amateurism, one of the defining features of the popular assembly as
the means by which to determine municipal policy is its assumption that every citizen is capable
and, in fact, entitled to participate in its workings. This is not to say that every individual would
be required to participate, but rather that the opportunity to participate would always be open.
It should be noted that Bookchin’s municipalist agenda is not a misty-eyed attempt to
return to a bygone era. He stresses throughout his work that while there is much to be admired in
and learned from historical examples such as the ancient Athenian democracy, contemporary
technology and culture have the potential to provide some of the necessary antidotes to the
shortcomings of these earlier forms. For example, technological innovation and automation
make it possible to eliminate much of the backbreaking toil that was required of those living
even a mere century ago. Consequently, if used rationally and for the common good, this
technology could make possible the leisure time necessary for more well-rounded individual
development and active political participation. Additionally, contemporary culture, with its
expanded inclusiveness and openness to difference could help to eliminate some of the
parochialism and discrimination based on gender and status that confined direct democracy to
certain sectors of the population in the past.

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As Bookchin (1992/1995) explains,

the recovery and development of politics must take its point of departure from the
citizen and his or her immediate environment beyond the familial and private
arena of life. There can be not politics without community. And by community I
mean a municipal association of people reinforced by its own economic power, its
own institutionalization of the grass roots, and the confederal support of nearby
communities organized into a territorial network on a local and regional scale.
(222)

It might be easier to imagine a small town or rural village functioning through the use of popular
assemblies and direct democracy, but what about the sprawling megalopolis of the contemporary
United States? Surely, it would be impossible to imagine a city like Chicago being organized
around and by popular assemblies and direct, face-to-face democracy. However, Bookchin’s
argument is that a city like Chicago is precisely not a city in the classical sense. Rather, the
variety of neighborhoods that make up the city would be the rational units of organization for
popular assemblies. Often, these neighborhoods are inhabited by people with shared economic,
cultural, ethnic, and/or historical backgrounds and would be free to draw from these
commonalities to make decisions and propose policies. Again, Bookchin reminds us, there are
numerous historical examples to draw from where these forms of organization have worked and
could work again.
The formation of policy and the execution of policy, within the libertarian municipalist
agenda, are separate endeavors. That is, developing, debating, and deciding upon policy would

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be the work of the popular assembly. Once decided, the individual members of the community
that have experience and/or expertise in the given area could carry out the execution and
implementation of those policies such as the development of infrastructure, the construction of
buildings, or the implementation of forms of renewable energy. Connected to this idea, students
within the community school(s) could be provided with exposure to and direct hands-on
experience with the skills necessary for maintaining and developing these supportive structures.
As alluded to earlier, the rejuvenation of directly democratic and confederally organized
communities requires not only certain structures (namely, the popular assembly) but also citizens
that possess particular characteristics or, rather, a shared set of ethical commitments that render
them capable of functioning effectively within these structures. The notion of the autonomous
individual with no ties or responsibilities to the community would have to be augmented by the
independently thinking but communally embedded individual. Rather than viewing the
independent individual as one that somehow stands above or beyond community, we would be
wise to return to the idea of the community as the only genuine forum for the expression of our
full individuality. Moving away from the dominant western discourse around the autonomous
individual, a meaningful and substantive civics education organized around the framework of
communalism and the politics of libertarian municipalism would engender solidarity or philia
through the course of political participation itself. As Bookchin (1992/1995) explains,

Philia is the result of the educational and self-formative process that paideia is
meant to achieve. In the absence of a humanly-scaled, comprehensible, and
institutionally accessible municipality, this all-important function of politics and
its embodiment in citizenship are simply impossible to achieve. In the absence of

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philia or the means to create it, we gauge “political involvement” by the
“percentage of voters” who “participate” in the “political process” – a degradation
of words that totally denatures their authentic meaning and eviscerates their
ethical contents. (227)

Solidarity can be created and nurtured when individuals feel a sense of community. When
individuals feel a sense of community and solidarity, they will be more likely to engage in
meaningful political participation, further engendering their sense of community and their
feelings of solidarity.
The development of this form citizenship would be difficult to realize if confined within
the walls of the classroom; rather, it would benefit from spilling out into the community itself.
The civic curriculum would necessarily involve the discussion, deliberation, and management of
community affairs. Through a focus on localism, decentralism, and humanly-scaled institutions –
that is, a scale on which it is possible for individuals to fully grasp their political environment
and ability to act within it – it is possible, as Bookchin (1992/1995) explains

to envision a new political culture with a new revival of citizenship, popular civic
institutions, a new kind of economy, and a countervailing dual power,
confederally networked, that could arrest and hopefully reverse the growing
centralization of the state and corporate enterprises. (237)

Of course, this begs the question of what form a school might take and how it could be structured
so as to contribute to this movement toward the re-empowerment of municipalities and the

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individuals that reside within them. I will complete this discussion by identifying what I believe
are two fundamental characteristics of a school setting that would support and further a
libertarian municipalist agenda, the direct democracy upon which it is based, and the ideal of
citizenship upon which it depends. The first of these characteristics is a place-based curriculum
and the second is ‘small-school’ restructuring and both of these are already well-established
discourses in the educational literature.

B. Place-Based Education in a Small-School Structure
Place-based education is a distinct field that has emerged in the educational literature that
has largely been inspired by the growing recognition that humans are: a) largely alienated from
the environments in which they live; b) this alienation results in a certain disregard for the nonhuman natural world; and c) traditional schooling tends to reinforce this alienation and disregard.
In the introduction to Place-Based Education in the Global Age, David Gruenwald and Gregory
Smith (2008) argue that place-based education “can be viewed as the educational counterpart of
a broader movement toward reclaiming the significance of the local in the global age” (xiii). In
addition to pushing back against the trends of globalization, place-based education also seeks to
offer an alternative to formal education isolated as it is from community life, driven by global
economic imperatives, and primarily intended to promote nationalism and prepare a obedient yet
skilled labor force for large businesses (Gruenwald and Smith, 2008).
Knapp and Woodhouse (2003) further identify a variety of principal characteristics of
place-based education. These include using surrounding events as the foundation for
interdisciplinary curriculum development with ecological, multigenerational, and multicultural
dimensions; students and teachers freely moving across the boundary between school and

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community; learners that are expected not only to obtain knowledge but also to create
knowledge; and students that are assessed on how their knowledge contributes to the well-being
and sustainability of the community. Within this framework, a much stronger emphasis is placed
upon one’s preparation for and active participation in the life of the community than on their
preparedness to make a living.
Gruenwald (2003) draws from phenomenology, critical geography, bioregionalism, and
ecofeminism to identify five dimensions of place that can contribute to the development of placeconscious education. These include the perceptual, the sociological, the ideological, the
political, and the ecological. As every individual and every phenomena is situated within a
place, by examining these dimensions of place, one can better understand oneself, the groups of
which one is a part, and the way in which place has shaped events that have occurred.
Due to a variety of social and economic reasons, many people do not live in a particular
place long enough to develop a connection to the human and non-human environment. This
phenomenon of ‘placelessness’, Gruenewald and Smith (2008) explain, “is associated with
alienation from others and a lack of participation in the social and political life of communities.
However,” the authors continue,

many people, families, and communities are resisting the experience and cultural
trends of alienation and rootlessness by consciously deciding to stay put, dig in,
and become long-term inhabitants of a place. The new localism is not only about
creating the economic conditions that make staying put possible; it is also about
conserving and creating patterns of connectedness and mutuality that are the
foundations of community well-being. (xvi)

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Place-based education is intended to immerse young people in the culture, history, and
ecology of the communities in which they live. There is not necessarily a disdain for or
avoidance of the discourses of globalization or cosmopolitan citizenship, but rather an effort to
focus first on the immediate community and to draw connections to larger systems, structures,
and trends that directly or indirectly influence that community. The primary thrust of place-based
education is toward overcoming the disconnect between school and community life. In this
effort, children are encouraged to get out into the community, to ask questions of its inhabitants,
to identify its strengths, and articulate its weaknesses while also becoming involved in finding
solutions (Theobald and Curtiss, 2000). In essence, the classroom becomes the community and
the community becomes the classroom. Young people are provided the opportunity to see firsthand how their lives are directly connected to their schooling and vice versa. Restructuring a
school so as to be centered upon place can provide students with a greater sense of belonging,
make education more relevant, and simultaneously prepare them for active citizenship within
their communities while also providing them with real opportunities to engage in this kind of
work. I had the opportunity to see how this looked in practice at PACHS as described in Chapter
Five, even though the school itself did not claim to be doing place-based education per se.
More specifically, place-based education may help youth connect more closely with the
places they live. With guidance, they can begin to understand the forces that shape their lives
and the lives of their communities. They can begin to unravel the relationship between
domination, hierarchy, and ecological degradation and destruction. Most importantly, they can
begin to develop the skills necessary for democratic participation in decision-making such as
rational debate, deliberation, and educating themselves and others on topics of importance. As

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Gruenewald and Smith (2008) argue, place-based education has the potential to teach young
people not only skills but particular dispositions that have been occluded by the tide of global
capitalism. These dispositions include the fundamental importance of collective effort and
mutual aid; the ability to work with others; direct action, or moving away from dependence upon
experts or politicians and learning to solve community problems within the community itself;
familiarizing students with the notion that their health and well-being are intertwined with the
health and well-being of everyone and everything around them; intimate knowledge of the
commons, which Bowers (2005) describes as the relationships, systems, and resources that have
not been commodified by the capitalist-industrial system; finally, issues of race, class, gender,
and other area of difference can be examined through lived experiences rather than being
explored as abstract concepts. This final point applies as much to other forms of oppression and
exploitation that are often only explored theoretically in classrooms.
Ultimately, place-based education concerns itself with the material, ecological, and psychic
sustainability of a community.
Following from the premises of libertarian municipalism and communalism, it is
difficult to imagine looking to the large, factory-model school to implement a civic education
rooted in place and organized around direct, face-to-face management of the community by its
members. I think a much better model in which to imagine this form of civic education taking
place is that of the “small school”. Implicitly, the small schools movement has looked to
embody many of the same characteristics of the communalist movement. That is, crowding kids
into large and largely impersonal settings and forcing them to learn a curriculum that is distant at
best and totally irrelevant at worst while providing them little choice or voice in how the school
is organized or what the curriculum consists of and then assessing their development through

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standardized measures is analogous to the gigantism, centralization, and hierarchy that exists in
the broader society.
Small schools, on the other hand, aim to develop intimate relationships between teachers
and learners; to put students rather than top-down mandates at the center of the learning process;
to provide all involved in the educational endeavor with equal voice and the opportunity for
direct involvement in the work of the school; making teachers and students accountable not to
some distant bureaucrat but to the community in which the school is situated; and, finally, to
intimately connect the work of the school with the development and betterment of the
community, and vice versa.
According to Michael Klonsky (2000), small school restructuring focuses upon some
fundamental ingredients. First, teachers work together in a professional community. Second,
teachers remain with a group of students long enough to get to know them well. Third, there is a
curricular focus chosen by those that work in the school and a clear sense of purpose is
articulated and documented. Based upon extensive research into the small schools movement, G.
Alfred Hess, Jr. (2000) explains that small schools possess faculties that are cohesive, selfselected, and share an educational philosophy. Families and students then choose small schools
whose goals and philosophy they also share. This of course increases the probability that all
involved – teachers, families, and students – will participate together in the school’s growth and
development. Of course, for a small school to develop a curricular focus and shared philosophy
requires, to a large degree, that it be autonomous and decentralized. Finally, the size of the
school is vital. By keeping the school small and maintaining a low student-to-teacher ratio, it
becomes possible for the individuals involved to come to know one another on a more personal
level. There can be more meaningful accommodations made for the diverse strengths and needs

239

of the students. And it can foster a greater sense of belonging on the part of students and,
therefore, investment in their learning.
Direct democracy within a libertarian or communalist framework requires that we as
citizens take action around the issues that most concretely concern our neighbors, families and
fellow community members without dependence upon professionalized and distant politicians or
bureaucrats. It also requires that we become re-educated in the arts of social interaction, rational
debate and discussion, and collective decision-making. This, in turn, calls upon us as educators
and citizens to reverse the trends toward hyper-individualism, consumerism, and the egoism and
retreat into private life that the dominant culture reinforces. As an ethical undertaking,
citizenship and citizenship education grounded in the philosophy of social ecology and the
politics of direct democracy necessitates a radical reconsideration of what it means to be human,
our social nature, and unique capability to creatively alter or destroy our environment, both the
outer environment and the inner psychic landscape. In this sense, we must consider
sustainability as not just a maxim for developing life ways that will allow life on this planet to
continue in all of its diversity and richness, but also as a means of expanding our potentialities
for freedom, creativity, and spontaneity. In short, I feel small schools focused upon place-based
or community-centered education would be vital to advancing the libertarian municipalist agenda
with its focus on direct democratic control of the municipality by the individuals that live and
work there and the inherent self-trust these endeavors have the potential to cultivate within
young people as active political agents and environmental stewards.

V. Concluding Remarks: Teacher Education, the ‘Dangers’ of Localism, and Questions for
Further Study

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In these concluding remarks, I briefly consider the implications of my theoretical project
and empirical study for teacher education. I also highlight, and briefly address, some of the
dangers inherent in thinking, acting, teaching, and learning locally and within a communalist
framework. I end with a few questions related to this project that might be considered for further
study.
It is not difficult to imagine how a movement toward schooling within a communalist
framework and based upon the philosophy of social ecology might impact teacher education. In
many ways, I would imagine the structure and content of teacher education for those interested in
these pursuits would mirror some of the qualities described above. That is, instruction in content
and pedagogy would be firmly rooted in the local cultural and environmental settings where preservice teachers intended to teach. Pre-service teachers interested in working within this model
would of course need to be intimately familiar with the physical, cultural, and historical make-up
of the place in which their students are embedded. Getting to know a place would require
spending time in it, talking to its inhabitants, and studying its physical geography. This would
not necessarily preclude studying and thinking through other topics traditionally associated with
teacher education such as theories of human development, the historical and philosophical
foundations of education, and teaching methods specific to particular content areas.
Obviously, very few people involved in teacher education are interested in adding
additional coursework and practicum experiences to what is an already overloaded course of
study. However, I see teacher preparation for education within a communalist or place-based
framework as being one option amongst others housed within a university college of education.
Already, at places like Eastern Michigan University, pre-service teachers have the option of
entering a program focused upon eco-justice education that shares many of the attributes I have

241

described in this study. Similarly, I can imagine a teacher preparation program that has as its
focus and uses as its organizing framework the theory and philosophy of social ecology.
Needless to say, these types of program would be intended for teacher candidates that had
identified a commitment to and investment in the place where they would be teaching and
learning. As one option amongst others, it would not preclude a college of education from also
preparing teachers that were interested in being marketable across contexts in a more traditional
manner.
Of course, it could be argued that focusing solely on local context in the teaching and
learning process would be difficult, if not impossible, in our globally interconnected world.
Ironically, it is this very ‘global interconnectedness’ and the processes of globalization that have
brought it about that are largely responsible for the undermining of the fabric of community and
disregard for one’s surroundings, be they natural or social (Prakash & Esteva, 1998). That said, I
believe it would actually be quite difficult to completely disentangle the local from the global.
Beginning within the local context, it would be possible to expose students to their community’s
connections to the global landscape – through exploration of where things, people, and traditions
within the local environment actually come from. Additionally, efforts toward greater
community autonomy and self-determination would not necessarily preclude building
connections with other surrounding communities through confederal association and sustainable
economic development and relationships. In short, these efforts would not be aimed at fostering
isolation or parochialism, but rootedness in place, relationships free of hierarchy and domination,
and sustainable ways of living accompanied by understanding and empathy with the ‘Other’ of
other places.

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I believe one of the most fruitful areas for further study are investigations of living
examples of education toward direct democracy and ecological sustainability such as that
examined in Chapter Five. Because these living examples are context-specific, they would all
offer unique interpretations of some of the concepts explored previously, different iterations of
curriculum specific to their place, and different ways in which they foster relationships with
16

other community members and organizations.

I obviously only scratched the surface of what

teacher education might look like within this framework and feel it requires much more thorough
collaborative examination and articulation. Fortunately, mine is not a cry in the wilderness as
there are many others within the field of education and beyond who are exploring, thinking, and
writing about similar topics (several of whom I have relied upon heavily for my own work and
have cited throughout).
I hope my explorations have made clear that relationships free of domination and
hierarchy, direct democratic control of communities by community members, and a more
balanced relationship between the human and non-human natural world have been realized in the
past and continue to be explored in the present. Learning from one another and from the natural
world with which we are inextricably linked has always been vital to these efforts. Finally, the
roadblocks of ‘practicality’ and ‘efficiency’ should not act as obstructions to the free use of
human creativity and ingenuity, both inside and outside the halls of the academy. With that in
mind, I would like to close by echoing the call of many a radical and anarchist of the great
rebellion against the status quo of the 1960’s:
All Power to the Imagination!
Be Practical: Demand the Impossible!
16

As Esteva and Prakash (1998, 2008) point out, we in the Western ‘developed’ world have
much to learn about this from the ‘social majorities’ of the ‘developing’ world.
243

APPENDICES

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APPENDIX 1: INTERVIEW PROTOCAL FOR FACULTY
Tell me about yourself – how long you have been teaching at the school, what you teach, what
other experience have.
Describe the content and/or curriculum of the courses you teach.
Could you talk about how you understand social ecology. What is the connection between social
ecology and the subject you teach.
How do you understand the relationship between integrated science, social studies, social
ecology and the movement toward self and social transformation.
Please describe the way you understand the relationship between the work you do at the school
or education more generally and the values of self-determination, self-actualization, and selfreliance.
How are urban agriculture and social ecology related to the schools commitment to education for
self- and social transformation?
Do you feel students are receptive to the school’s approach to education?
How do Puerto Rican cultural traditions influence and support the mission and vision of the
school? (local traditions of intergenerational knowledge, skill, values, ways of viewing the
relationship between humans and the environment, and patterns of mutual support)

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APPENDIX 2: INTERVIEW PROTOCAL FOR STUDENTS
Tell me about yourself. How long have you been attending the school? Where did you go to
school before coming to PACHS?
Has your experience at PACHS been different from your experiences in other schools? How has
it been different?
Part of your school’s mission and vision is to “empower students to engage in critical thinking
and social transformation…based on the philosophical foundation of self-determination, a
methodology of self-actualization, and an ethics of self-reliance”. How do you understand these
ideas?
Do you feel like your teachers, classes, and general experiences at Albizu Campos have helped
you become a more critical thinker and someone capable of self- and social transformation? If
so, how have your teachers, classes, and general experiences at Campos helped you to do these
things?
Try to describe some specific ways that you have been encouraged to think critically about
yourself, about your community, about the world around you.
Try to describe some specific ways that you have engaged in self- and/or social transformation.

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APPENDIX 3: DR. PEDRO ALBIZU CAMPOS RESPECT FRAMEWORK
The R.E.S.P.E.C.T. framework was created in an effort to ensure that all members of the
learning community truly understand the mission of Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High
School. Below are descriptions of behavior and language, which are how we can live our
mission and vision.
R.E.S.P.E.C.T Benchmarks
Responsibility
• Prepared with all appropriate supplies and on time for ALL classes throughout the
day.
• Accountability; We can count on you.
• Set and accomplish goals.
• Follow class procedures.
• Keep track of assignments using planner and binder. Avoid excuses for incomplete
work. Get make-up work, and complete school/homework in a timely manner.
• Come in for extra tutoring/help. Complete homework with obvious effort.
• Complete TABE testing.
• Use appropriate language to communicate.
• Attend meetings and open houses.
Ethics
• Challenge racist, sexist, homophobic language or acts.
• Respect other’s opinions and perspectives.
• Honor language and use it well.
• Seek challenges to push your intellectual boundaries. Engage in debates.
• Respect the freedom of speech. Respect each other’s opinions and perspectives.
• Open to new ideas.
• Self-monitor your actions.
• Positive conflict resolution. Take responsibility for actions during conflicts.
• Participate in peer circle.
• Participation in Pana Program to support peers
• Support peers. Mentor your peers. Remind peers of school rules. Work well in a
group setting. Support fellow students during times of stress.
• Young parents become support network for each other.
• Be non-judgmental regarding appearances of others.
• Help teachers explain topics to students.
• Organize student-led unity.
Sense of Self
• Be open to learning about your culture and history. Know your own roots.
• Share prior knowledge from your lived experience.

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• Celebrate success; be proud to be successful.
• Actualize your strengths.
• Lead discussions and find solutions.
• Write a personal memoir. Read a memoir of your peer.
• Creatively express yourself, rooted in forms of resistance.
• Participate in Grito de Lares, Black Pride Day, Grito de Dolores, letter writing
campaign to political prisoners, etc.
• Identify scientists, historians, mathematicians, etc. like yourself or in the
community.
Puerto Rican Centric
• Celebrating culture.
• Make connections between the Puerto Rican experience and that of other groups.
• Understand who Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos, Lolita Lebron, Juan Antonio Corretjer,
and other important figures were.
• Create a “Home Place” of Paseo Boricua.
• Support other students in their group struggles.
• Students understand La Borinqueña and how it relates to other’s struggles.
• Learn what a Cimarron society is in relation to Puerto Rican identity. s.
• Students can articulate/understand the Diasporic experience of people of color.
• Learning the influence of world cultures in Puerto Rican culture.
• Connecting Bomba music to world history.
• Learn terms such as Resistance, independence and colonialism. Learn about what
militarization does to a people.
Extended Education
• Able to have number sense, solve equations, write equations, deconstruct word
problems, make and interpret surveys and graphs, makes accurate measurements
and conversions, uses logic to interpret and infer.
• Extended reading, writing and research.
• Identify careers of interest.
• Students will seek support beyond PACHS
• Complete and make appropriate gains on the TABE Test.
• Successfully complete final exams in class.
• Participate in college visits and job/college shadowing
• Successfully place and complete dual enrollment courses
• Complete exemplary work in senior portfolio.
• 18 or higher on PSAE, 10.0 or higher on TABE.
• Use ACT training.
• Focus on following directions and information acquisition.
• Able to use the scientific method to solve problems.
Community Oriented
• Bring culture beyond the classroom.
• Create a plan of action for community service needs.
• Promote Public Health.
• Understand and respect community roots.

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• Represent our community well and be an ambassador of Paseo Boricua.
• Participate in Urban Agriculture Program. Community Garden, Greenhouse,
maintenance and beautification of Division and La Casita de Don Pedro etc.
• Analyze the needs of the community such as access to fresh food, diabetic care,
battle against displacement, changing violent realities, etc.
• Participate with La Voz newspaper, Humboldt Park No Se Vende, etc.
• Graduates become employees/employers of community businesses, high school,
and members of collectives in community organizations.
• Connect their strengths, talents, skills, training and education to the process of
community building.
Transformation
• Graduation of PACHS students.
• Grasp the idea of restorative justice.
• Student Leadership/Council groups.
• Researching critical issues.
• Create “service learning” projects in the school and the community.
• Fight for what is right in our communities, in this nation and in our world.
• ‘Making a dent” in our food desert community.
• Exercising the Scientific Method with regard to community issues.
• Creating events that change people’s perceptions of what it means to be Puerto
Rican, Mexican, Black, or the like
• Creation of support groups.
• Cultural comparison.

249

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