What is Social Justice?:

Implications for the Field of Education

by

Erin Thrift

M.A., Simon Fraser University, 2004

B.A., University of British Columbia, 1998

Thesis Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the

Requirements for the Degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

in the

Educational Psychology Program

Faculty of Education

© Erin Thrift 2019

SIMON FRASER UNIVERSITY

Summer 2019

Copyright in this work rests with the author. Please ensure that any reproduction or re-use is done in accordance with the relevant national copyright legislation.

ii

Approval

Name: Erin Thrift

Degree: Doctor of Philosophy

Title: What is Social Justice?: Implications for the Field of Education

Examining Committee: Chair: Dr. Lucy Lemare

Professor

Jeff Sugarman Senior Supervisor Professor

Robin Barrow Supervisor Professor

Samuel Black Supervisor Associate Professor, Philosophy

Kate Slaney Internal Examiner Professor Psychology

Theodore Christou External Examiner Associate Professor Faculty of Education Queen’s University

Date Defended/Approved: July 11, 2019

iii

Abstract

In the field of education, there is currently much enthusiasm for social justice and a

popular education movement, Social Justice Education (SJE), based on advancing this

ideal. However, efforts to achieve social justice in and through schooling are undermined

by a lack of clarity regarding the meaning of the term. Educators and educationists use

the term nebulously and frequently as justification for diverse and even opposing

programs, the merits of which are impossible to investigate absent conceptual consensus.

Little attention has been devoted to clarifying concepts that underlie the SJE movement.

The primary aim of this dissertation, therefore, is to answer the question “What is social

justice?” and a secondary aim is to examine the question “What is the relationship

between social justice, education, and schooling?” Because there currently are multiple

and competing philosophical accounts of social justice, these questions were investigated

historically, guided by Gadamerian philosophical hermeneutics.

The historical emergence and development of social justice over the past three centuries

is examined. I have argued that the concept and practices of social justice are interwoven

with the history of liberal thought. Based on this historical account, Nancy Fraser’s

principles of social justice and Martha Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach are offered in

the present work as the best ways of thinking about social justice, with implications for

educational policy and practice. Education has been central to the liberal project and

given social justice’s association with liberal ideals, it is unsurprising that social justice

and schooling have come to be associated with each other. However, current support for

SJE in the field of education is premised on the notion that realizing social ideals is an

aim of schools, which, paradoxically, undermines the end it is designed to achieve. As an

alternative, I have suggested that educators take up the view of early liberal theorists who

considered quality schooling a result of social justice (and not the reverse).

Keywords: social justice; education; schooling; liberalism; philosophical

hermeneutics; history

iv

Dedication

In memory of my grandmother, Jean Amundson

1924 - 2017

v

Acknowledgements

There are many individuals who have made this completion of this thesis project possible.

Although at risk of forgetting some, I wish to acknowledge and thank those whose guidance and

support has been instrumental in this undertaking.

I am especially grateful for the instruction, support, and encouragement of Dr. Jeff Sugarman, my

senior supervisor and mentor. I owe my view of the discipline of psychology, valuation of

historical research, and appreciation for rigorous education to his influence. He has been an

exceptional supervisor and I am incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to learn from

and work with him throughout this degree.

This thesis is much improved as a result of the excellent feedback provided by committee

members Dr. Robin Barrow and Dr. Sam Black. Their expertise and willingness to provide

guidance made it possible for me to study a topic outside of the typical purview of a graduate

degree in Educational Psychology, and for this I am sincerely thankful. I also appreciated the

thoughtful comments provided by examiners Dr. Kate Slaney and Dr. Theodore Christou during

my defense. Their suggestions will inform my future work.

I have been fortunate to have had the opportunity to learn from esteemed members of the

Education Faculty at Simon Fraser University. In addition to those mentioned above, I am

grateful to Dr. Kieran Egan, in whose history of education class the idea for this thesis project

was born. I received many books from Dr. Egan’s professional library upon his retirement, many

of which became key citations in this project. As well, I have benefitted tremendously from the

rich discussions and friendships with colleagues from the Society for Theoretical and

Philosophical Society. Although many from this group have provided social and academic

support, I wish to especially thank Cacky Mellor and Dr. Michael Arfken, frequent collaborators

and good friends. Finally, Dr. Robyn Long deserves special mention and thanks for her

friendship, outstanding contributions to our many joint conference presentations, careful readings

and excellent feedback on many chapters of this thesis, and help in preparing for the defence of

this project.

vi

Many outside of my academic network have been invaluable sources of support as I have

completed this degree. I think of the Morey family in our shared home; friends with whom, in

spite of distance, we meet regularly for hiking and beach holidays; friends who live in our East

Vancouver neighbourhood, many of whom attend GCBC; swimming, biking, and triathlon

compatriots; fellow board members, allies in the advancement of social justice, charitable, and

youth sport projects; likeminded horse riding enthusiasts, with whom I spend many hours doing

barn chores; and, the families of my children’s friends, who have become kin.

I owe a special debt of gratitude to extended and immediate family members who have been an

ongoing source of support and care throughout my studies. I have drawn inspiration from my

father’s distinguished career in academia and my mother tenacity in the pursuit of truth. My

parents, in-laws, and siblings have frequently stepped in to help throughout the completion of this

degree, making travel for conferences and time for writing possible, and for this I am very

thankful. Finally, I am exceedingly grateful to my strongest supporters—my partner Andrew and

our dear children, Emilia and Ezra—whose kindness, flexibility, sensibility, and good-

naturedness have enabled the completion of this project.

This project is dedicated to my late grandmother, Jean Amundson. With only a grade eight

education and five children, she returned to university to complete a university degree with a

major in psychology in her ‘40s. From what I have been told, she turned her house into something

of a philosophical café during this time. Students and faculty would gather in her living room for

lively discussions and she spearheaded social activist efforts. She never spoke down to children

and would frequently ask me about my views on issues pertaining to psychology, philosophy,

theology, and justice as I was growing up. In many ways, this thesis project is a continuation of

these talks.

vii

Table of Contents

Approval ........................................................................................................................................... iiAbstract ........................................................................................................................................... iiiDedication ........................................................................................................................................ ivAcknowledgements .......................................................................................................................... vTable of Contents ........................................................................................................................... viiList of Figures ................................................................................................................................... x

Chapter 1. Introduction .............................................................................................................. 1Social Justice Everywhere ................................................................................................................ 2Problems with Social Justice Education ........................................................................................... 4

What is social justice? .................................................................................................................. 4What is the relationship between social justice, education, and schooling? ................................ 7

Prior Efforts to Address These Issues in Education Literature ...................................................... 10The Turn to History ........................................................................................................................ 13

Philosophical hermeneutics ........................................................................................................ 16The hermeneutic circle ........................................................................................................... 17Horizons of understanding ..................................................................................................... 18

Applying Philosophical Hermeneutics to this Project ................................................................ 20Entering the circle: Becoming aware of prejudices and developing research questions ........ 20Developing historically effected consciousness ..................................................................... 22

Limitations of the Results ........................................................................................................... 25Chapter Overview ........................................................................................................................... 25

Chapter 2. Precursors to Social Justice ................................................................................... 28Liberalism ....................................................................................................................................... 29

18th century liberalism ................................................................................................................ 30Changing Conceptions of Poverty .................................................................................................. 33Changing Conceptions of Inequality .............................................................................................. 34Agency and Structure in the Social Imaginary ............................................................................... 35Revolutions ..................................................................................................................................... 38Education and Liberalism ............................................................................................................... 39

Marquis de Condorcet ................................................................................................................ 40Mary Wollstonecraft ................................................................................................................... 42

Summary ......................................................................................................................................... 44

Chapter 3. The Rise and Establishment of Social Justice ..................................................... 47Classical Liberalism and Its Discontents ........................................................................................ 4819th Century Reformers .................................................................................................................. 50

Utilitarian reform ........................................................................................................................ 51Marxist reform ............................................................................................................................ 52Liberal reform ............................................................................................................................. 54

viii

Social Liberalism ............................................................................................................................ 54John Stuart Mill .......................................................................................................................... 55Thomas Hill Green ..................................................................................................................... 56

Conceptual Elaboration of Social Justice ....................................................................................... 60Westel Woodbury Willoughby: Social Justice: A Critical Essay (1900) .................................. 60Jane Addams: Charity and Social Justice (1910) ....................................................................... 62Leonard Trelawny Hobhouse: The Elements of Social Justice (1922) ....................................... 63

The Popularization and Institutionalization of Social Justice ........................................................ 67Social justice in politics .............................................................................................................. 67Social justice in religion ............................................................................................................. 70Social justice in economic theory ............................................................................................... 71Social justice and the mid-century interventionist state ............................................................. 72

The Absence of Social Justice ........................................................................................................ 73Social Liberalism and Education .................................................................................................... 76

State institutions as both beneficent and oppressive, and the challenges of discerning and mediating these effects: Examples from mid-century Britain as described by T. H. Green ...... 77The hope for society lies in the schooling system: John Dewey and progressive education ..... 80Social justice education in the early 20th century ....................................................................... 83Critique of vocational education and an advancement of liberal education: William Edward Burghardt Du Bois ...................................................................................................................... 88

Chapter Summary ........................................................................................................................... 91

Chapter 4. The Paradox of Social Justice ............................................................................... 93Practice/Theory Dialectic in the Emergence of Concepts .............................................................. 94John Rawls and A Theory of Justice (1971) ................................................................................... 95Response to Rawls: Critique and Theoretical Proliferation ........................................................... 97

Ontological critique .................................................................................................................... 98Critique of presumed neutrality ................................................................................................ 101Social justice has been interpreted too narrowly ...................................................................... 103Limits of the nationalist framework ......................................................................................... 107

Lack of a normative frame ........................................................................................................... 110Neoliberalism and Social Justice .................................................................................................. 111

The rise of neoliberalism in the 1970s ...................................................................................... 113Corporate activism ............................................................................................................... 114Undermining the concept of social justice in the name of freedom ..................................... 117

Neoliberal political transformation ........................................................................................... 120The effects of neoliberalism ................................................................................................. 121

Neoliberal social justice ............................................................................................................ 123The Paradox of Social Justice: The Result of Two Coalescing Historical Processes .................. 126The Paradox of Social Justice in Education ................................................................................. 127

Social justice in education ........................................................................................................ 127Neoliberalism and education .................................................................................................... 128Neoliberal social justice and schooling .................................................................................... 132

Chapter Summary ......................................................................................................................... 137

ix

Chapter 5. Discussion and Concluding Remarks ................................................................. 139“Historically Effected” Understanding of Social Justice ............................................................. 139

Ideals of social justice ............................................................................................................... 140Contestation about social justice .............................................................................................. 141Multiple interpretations of social justice and challenges evaluating varied accounts .............. 143

A Best Account of Social Justice ................................................................................................. 145Nancy Fraser’s framework of social justice ............................................................................. 146Martha Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach ............................................................................. 149

Fraser and Nussbaum’s Contributions to Social Justice in Education ......................................... 155Social Justice, Schooling, and Education ..................................................................................... 159Concluding Remarks .................................................................................................................... 161

References ................................................................................................................................... 168

x

List of Figures

Figure 1. Number of Publications with "Social Justice" as Subject in ERIC Database, 1900-2018 3Figure 2. Proportion of Publications with "Social Justice" as Subject in ERIC Database, 1900-

2018 ........................................................................................................................ 4

1

Chapter 1. Introduction

There is much enthusiasm for social justice1 in the field of education. Many

teachers identify social justice as central to their professional mission and university

education faculties frequently make social justice a keystone of their programs. Taking

social justice as an aim of educational systems and public schooling, in particular, seems

to have become axiomatic, and there is now a popular movement in education, Social

Justice Education (SJE), based on this belief. This notion is often treated as common

sense, in part, because as Nussbaum (2011) observes, “education does seem to have

special salience in the efforts nations have made to promote human equality over the last

two centuries” (p. 153) and social justice often is associated with the advancement of

equality (Hirose, 2015).

However, efforts to achieve social justice in and through education are

undermined by a significant conceptual problem: it frequently is not at all clear what

educators mean by social justice. Part of the problem is that the term often is used

nebulously in educational contexts. Even when social justice is defined specifically, the

meaning still is not clear because there are multiple interpretations of the concept in

circulation. As a result, an appeal to social justice can be used as justification for diverse

and even opposing educational programs. This lack of conceptual consensus makes it is

difficult to evaluate the merits of social justice programs or defend the inclusion of social

justice as a goal of schooling.

Although much has been written about educational practices and programs

intended to further social justice, little attention has been devoted to clarifying concepts

that underlie the SJE movement. Given the current widespread interest in social justice

and confusion over the term, the primary aim of this dissertation is to answer the question

1 It is customary to use quotation marks when referring to a term but not a concept. However, it often can be difficult to distinguish between references to the term versus the concept of social justice in historical sources given that the meaning of social justice has shifted over time and has been contested. In order to avoid the distraction of excessive quotation marks, I have deviated from this convention and rarely use quotation marks when referring to social justice.

2

“What is social justice?” A secondary aim of this study is to examine the question “What

is the relationship between social justice, education, and schooling?”

In this chapter, I recount the conceptual and practical problems that inspired the

project, review prior efforts to address these issues in educational literature, rationalize

the decision to investigate these questions using a historical approach guided by

philosophical hermeneutics, which I explain, and provide a summary of the ensuing

chapters.

Social Justice Everywhere

Talk of social justice now seems to be everywhere in education. One does not

have to search hard to find, for example: social justice curriculum guides (e.g., see

Making Space: Teaching for Diversity and Social Justice Throughout the K-12

Curriculum, from BC Ministry of Education,2 and Social Justice Begins with Me, from

the Elementary Teachers’ Federation of Ontario3); a multitude of books devoted to social

justice education (e.g., Teaching for Diversity and Social Justice, 2nd ed., edited by

Adams, Bell, & Griffin, 2007; Action for Social Justice in Education, edited by Griffiths,

2003; Is Everyone Really Equal? An Introduction to Key Concepts in Social Justice

Education, Sensoy & DiAngelo, 2012); schools with social justice as a core value (e.g.,

Paulo Freire Social Justice Charter School4 in Massachusetts, The Grove Community

School in Toronto5); university schools of education and teacher training programs with

overt commitments to social justice (e.g., Department of Social Justice Education at

Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, University of Toronto6); peer-reviewed

journals devoted to the topic of social justice and education (e.g., Education, Citizenship

and Social Justice and Equity and Excellence in Education); and conferences on social

2 https://www.bced.gov.bc.ca/irp/pdfs/making_space/mkg_spc_intr.pdf 3 http://www.etfo.ca/resources/socialjustice/pages/default.aspx 4 https://paulofreirecharterschool.org 5 http://thegrovecommunityschool.ca 6 https://www.oise.utoronto.ca/sje/

3

justice and education (e.g., Annual Educators’ Network for Social Justice Conferences7,

Global Alliance for Justice Education Conferences8, the Northwest Conference on

Teaching for Social Justice9). The widespread commitment to advancing social justice

through education has coalesced into the SJE movement, which “has become not only

ubiquitous but also almost untouchable, the apple pie of contemporary education work”

(Bialystok, 2014, p. 416).

Not only is there widespread interest in social justice in education, enthusiasm for

this subject seems to be growing. A survey of publications listed on the Education

Resources Information Center (ERIC) database reveals that the number and proportion of

publications that name “social justice” as a subject have been steadily increasing for the

past 50 years (see Figures 1 and 2). There are 17 publications related to social justice

published prior to 1970 listed on ERIC. In contrast, since the turn of the millennium,

there have been close to 10,000 works published on the subject listed on that database.

Figure 1. Number of Publications with "Social Justice" as Subject in ERIC Database, 1900-2018

7 https://ensj.weebly.com 8 https://www.gaje.org 9 https://nwtsj.org/wp/

0

1000

2000

3000

4000

5000

6000

NumberofPublicationswith"SocialJustice"asSubjectinERICDatabase,1900-2018

NumberofSJpublications

4

Figure 2. Proportion of Publications with "Social Justice" as Subject in ERIC Database, 1900-2018

Problems with Social Justice Education

What is social justice?

Although social justice has received considerable attention from education

theorists, researchers, and practitioners in recent decades, there are significant problems

that underlie the SJE movement. A foremost issue is that it is not at all clear what many

in the field of education mean when writing or speaking of social justice. References to

social justice are often vague or opaque, even though the term is frequently used as

justification for numerous and varied educational practices, programs, and policies.

Sometimes the term is not defined at all. As Novak (2000) has noted, “whole books and

treatises have been written about social justice without ever offering a definition of it. It

is allowed to float in the air as if everyone will recognize an instance of it when it arises”

(p. 1). As a result, social justice in education often seems to be “little more than a

rhetorical phrase used to add luster to some policy or proposal that the speaker wants us

to support” (Miller, 1999, p. ix).

0

0.5

1

1.5

2

ProportionofPublicationswith"SocialJustice"asSubjectinERICDatabase,1900-

2018

Proportion

5

Even when educators explicitly define the term, confusion persists because there

are multiple and conflicting accounts of social justice. For example, according to Rawls

(2001), social justice depends on an institutional structure that accords each individual

equal access to basic liberties and fairly distributes goods and opportunities. Young

(1990), in contrast, names recognition of difference and a lack of oppression and

domination in cultural institutions as evidence of social justice. According to Nussbaum

(2011), social justice requires the achievement of a threshold level of capabilities for each

person that, collectively, enable agency, a requirement for a life of human dignity. Fraser

(2009) describes social justice as multidimensional but recommends that injustices in all

realms be considered in terms of their effects on participational parity in order to restore

normativity to the concept. There is now a neoliberal variant of social justice that,

paradoxically, is inspired by Hayek’s anti-social justice theorizing (Hayek, 1976, The

Mirage of Social Justice). Proponents of this view (e.g., Anderson, 2017; Messmore,

2010a & b; Novak & Adams, 2015) describe social justice as occurring when individuals

conduct themselves responsibly and with virtue and take care of themselves and their kin.

In this interpretation, the state’s only contribution to social justice is the creation and

maintenance of markets that enable individual choice.

As a result of the multiple ways social justice can be interpreted, this term now

can be used to provide justification for myriad educational practices, even those that are

antithetical to one another. For example, an argument is made that standardized testing in

schools can advance social justice (e.g., Skrla, Scheurich, Johnson, & Koschoreck, 2001),

while others argue that standardized testing perpetuates injustice (e.g., Lingard & Mills,

2007). Social justice is invoked by supporters on both sides of the debate about inclusive

education and diversity in school composition. Some argue that public schooling has

failed certain student populations and social justice is best achieved through independent

“focus” schools (e.g., Africentric schools in Toronto, Hampton, 2010; and Aboriginal

focus school in Vancouver, Widdownson & Howard, 2013). However, others argue that

diversity in schools is a precondition of social justice and thus support educational

policies that increase student diversity in schools and classes (e.g., Thomas & Vaughan,

2004; Tomlinson, 2013; West & Currie, 2008). Social justice is used to justify in-class

activities that are other-focused, such as teaching children about the value of diversity

6

and tolerance (e.g., Making Space: Teaching for diversity and social justice throughout

the K-12 curriculum, BC Ministry of Education), as well as to justify in-class activities

that attempt to turn the focus inward, such as inculcating self-esteem in students (e.g.,

Griffiths, 2003). Some defend a knowledge-focused or “academic” curriculum as the best

way schools can contribute to social justice (e.g., Lawton, 1977; Young, 2008), while

others argue that social justice is best achieved through a student-centered progressive

curriculum (e.g., Kohn, 2008). Social justice has been used to rationalize vocational

education (e.g., Noddings, 2012) and as an argument for liberal arts education (e.g.,

Nussbaum, 2010; Suny, 2013). In their survey of SJE, Hytten and Bettez (2011)

conclude:

Despite all the talk about social justice of late, it is often unclear in any practical terms what we mean when we invoke a vision of social justice or how this influences such issues as program development, curricula, practicum opportunities, educational philosophy, social vision, and activist work. In the abstract, it is an idea that it hard to be against …Yet the more we see people invoking the idea of social justice, the less clear it becomes what people mean, and if it is meaningful at all. (p. 8)

Confusion about the meaning of social justice has resulted in backlash against

SJE. For example, citing the reason that “the term [social justice] is susceptible to a

variety of definitions,” the National Council for Accreditation of Teacher Education

(NCATE) removed all references to social justice from its documentation (as cited by

Bialystok, 2014, p. 416). As well, parents, politicians, and media personalities have

called for the removal of social justice activities and programs from the curriculum (e.g.,

Eisen, 2017; Reynolds, 2012; Wente, 2017). Some of these critics seem motivated more

by ideological differences than a concern for conceptual clarity. However, it is difficult to

defend SJE against their denunciations if the meaning of the key concept defining this

movement is indeterminate.

Debate about which educational practices best contribute to social justice is to be

expected and is not necessarily problematic. The aims of educational institutions can be

achieved in multiple ways and there often is disagreement in education about pedagogical

approaches, curricula, and policies. A more significant issue is that absent a clear and

agreed upon definition of social justice, the effectiveness of these various programs and

7

approaches cannot be evaluated. It is impossible to evaluate a program empirically if

there is no consensus regarding the meaning of fundamental constructs. As Martin and

McLellan (2008) point out,

In order to study something empirically, one must know what one is attempting to study, and know what criteria indicate the thing, its presence, and its operations. Without such conceptual understanding of what is to be investigated, empirical research cannot get off the ground. (p. 439)

The need for evaluation of SJE practices is pressing because, as I will discuss

further in chapters four and five, in the same time period as references to social justice

have dramatically increased in the literature, inequalities linking family income levels to

academic achievement, access to choice programs, and educational attainment also have

increased (e.g., Berliner, 2013; Reardon, 2011; Thrupp, 2007; Wilkinson & Pickett, 2010;

Yoon & Gulson, 2010). It may be that this paradox, in which interest in social justice is

increasing in the same period as inequality also is increasing (assuming, for the moment,

that social justice has something to do with a decline in inequalities), is the result of

educators trying to counter rising disparity in educational institutions and society, more

broadly. Or, it could also be that the focus on social justice in education has contributed

to rising inequality. Or it could be both, given that the workings of educational systems

are complex and have potential to both reduce and reinforce and perpetuate inequalities

(see Bourdieu & Passeron, 1994; Harper, Marcus & Moore, 2003; Lareau, 2011; Willis,

1977).10 The point is, we do not know because without consensus about the meaning of

social justice we cannot evaluate the outcomes of varied SJE practices and policies.

What is the relationship between social justice, education, and schooling?

Although there is disagreement over the practices that would best achieve social

justice in and through education, the belief that social justice is a goal of schooling is

widely held. I also accepted this presumption at the outset of this project. But then I read

the following passage by T. S. Eliot (1948): 10 Historically, social justice has been assumed to relate to a reduction of inequality (Jackson, 2005). A key question for those interested in advancing this ideal, and where various interpretations differ, is an answer to the question, “equality of what?”

8

What we remark especially about the educational thought of the last few years, is the enthusiasm with which education has been taken up as an instrument for the realization of social ideals. It would be a pity if we overlooked the possibilities of education as a means of acquiring wisdom; if we belittled the acquisition of knowledge for the satisfaction of curiosity, without any further motive than the desire to know; and if we lost our respect for learning. (p. 175, emphasis in original)

Might the focus on social justice as a social ideal be displacing other educational

outcomes, such as the acquisition of wisdom, knowledge, curiosity, and respect for

learning, as Eliot alleged?

Debates about social justice in our culture are very polarized. Those in one camp

vehemently denigrate the concept; those in the other unconditionally support the

advancement of social justice in all realms of life. The sharp divide between these

positions does not encourage consideration of the view implied in Eliot’s 1948 text.

Although a social ideal (such as social justice) might hold great value, it is possible that

not every institutional context is suited to or able to contribute to its realization.

Moreover, it also is possible that by taking social ideals as educational ends, other equally

valuable outcomes are displaced. Supplanting other educational aims in pursuit of social

ideals may even be counterproductive and work to undermine the desired social end.

Therefore, even if social justice is a commendable social ideal, it should not be adopted

as an aim of schooling without careful consideration.

Consequently, I added an additional question to this study that prompted critical

evaluation of the inclusion of social justice as an aim of schooling. Initially, this question

was phrased, “Is social justice a goal of education?” However, as a result of reading the

works of 19th century liberal theorists, I came to see that framing the question in this way

was based on two misconceptions that are pervasive in the SJE literature. A first

misconception is conflation of education with schooling. Schooling is an institutional

process designed to accomplish a variety of ends. For example, schools impart

knowledge and help students develop understanding of various subjects, develop citizens

with valued qualities, prepare individuals for entrance into the job market, impart moral

values, and promote healthy behaviours (Barrow, 1981). Although the focus of schools is

contested, the meaning of schooling is relatively straightforward. The meaning of

9

education, however, is much more controversial, since what is deemed to be

“educational” will play a large role in determining what activities are prioritized in

schooling. After all, education is, presumably, a primary aim of schools. Delineating the

meaning of education has been taken up by numerous authors (e.g., Barrow, 1981;

Dewey, 1938; Egan, 1997; Hirst & Peters, 1970; Kohn, 2003; Noddings, 2002; Peters,

1966). Although some (e.g., Kohn, 2003) interpret education broadly, I agree with

Barrow’s (1981) assertion that education “is essentially to do with the mind … [and is

denoted by a person’s breadth of] understanding and his capacity for discrimination” (p.

38) of concepts and ideas. Barrow’s point is that the quality of being “educated” differs

from that of being gainfully employed, financially successful, physically strong,

emotionally secure, morally good, clever, or even knowledgeable. These also may all be

valued outcomes of schooling, but they differ from the quality of being educated. This

distinction is important to take into account when evaluating the relationship between

social justice, education, and schooling, a point to which I will return in this project.

A second misconception underlying the initial question is the presumption that

social justice is, or could be, an outcome of schooling or an educated populace. However,

as I came to realize from reading the texts of early proponents of liberalism (e.g.,

Wollstonecraft, Du Bois, and Green, whose works I summarize in later chapters), this is

not the only possible relationship between social justice and education (or social justice

and schooling, for that matter). The original wording of the question implied a

unidirectional relation that originated with the process of education. As I will argue

further in this project, the notion that schooling has a central role to play in shaping

society is attributable to the influence of progressivism in the field and is not reflective of

the totality of thought on social justice and education. In fact, early proponents of public

schooling and social liberalism conceived of schooling, education, and social justice as

having a reciprocal relationship, whose origin began with a political commitment to

quality public schooling, the focus of which was education. In light of this history, I came

to realize there were multiple ways of conceiving of social justice in relation to education

and schooling and, thus, the second question of this study was changed so as not to

unnecessarily constrain the outcome. The question became, “What is the relationship

between social justice, education, and schooling?”

10

Prior Efforts to Address These Issues in Education Literature

In the past 50 years, there have been many publications on the subject of social

justice in education (see Figures 1 and 2). The predominant focus of these works has been

the practical implementation of social justice programs in schools and there is a paucity

of scholarship focused on the conceptual foundations of SJE. There are no sources in the

educational literature that I could find that address specifically either of the two questions

of this study. Nonetheless, there are some works whose content is relevant. I summarize

the contributions from these sources here.

In the past decade, largely in response to the NCATE decision to eliminate

references to social justice, some authors have sought to bring coherence to SJE by

proposing frameworks that can help make sense of the varied initiatives that are part of

this movement. For example, North (2008) endeavors to integrate the “wide range of

terms and projects used to describe education for social justice” (p. 1182). She suggests

that SJE could be understood as occurring within three spheres of activity related to

redistribution and recognition, macro-and micro-level processes, and knowledge and

action. This framework is intended to show the connection between seemingly disparate

SJE activities and to demonstrate how they contribute to the same goal of social justice.

Hytten and Bettez (2011) also seek to unify SJE by cataloguing and thematizing various

social justice activities in education. A challenge to furthering the SJE movement, they

argue, is the “multiple discourses that educators draw upon when claiming a social justice

orientation” (p. 8) that inspire and justify various programs and policies. They suggest

that SJE be understood as advancing along the following fronts: philosophical/

conceptual, practical, ethnographic/narrative, theoretically specific, and democratically

grounded. Although North and Hytten and Bettez recognize the practical problems that

follow from the lack of conceptual clarity regarding social justice, they focus their efforts

on integrating divergent practices and do not explicitly take up the question of the

meaning of social justice.

In contrast to the above two articles, Bialystok (2014) provides a reasoned

argument in support of the inclusion of social justice aims in the curriculum. Her purpose

11

is to “defend [SJE] beyond the educational community… to ensure there is enough

political will to continue endorsing policies that facilitate and protect this work” (p. 414).

She recognizes the plurality of social justice definitions and implementations in education

but considers this lack of consensus to be unproblematic. She contends, “[SJE] is far too

nebulous and versatile to be captured by any one definition, and scholarly pluralism can

be a virtue” (p. 418). In spite of these various interpretations of SJE, Bialystok states that

they share a commitment “to values that are broadly recognized as ‘progressive,’”

including “the goals of anti-oppression politics, anti-colonialism, environmentalism, and

a critique of corporate globalization, with more or less overt sympathy for the social

welfare state and resistance to educational policies characteristic of neoliberalism” (p.

418). Further, those that support SJE tend to “endorse a robust notion of democracy and

[see] education as an indispensible site of social and political participation” (p. 418).

The educational practices that can arise from these shared values are varied and

not all are of equal value, Bialystok (2014) argues. Her purpose is not to defend all ideas

and practices that could be included under the banner of SJE, but rather to articulate

“principles for politically defensible educational practices” that can then be used to

“assess whether individual practices are legitimate regardless of which definition of SJE

is being employed” (p. 419). The principles she recommends accord with the Canadian

liberal tradition, which she argues is best described as “comprehensive liberalism” (i.e.,

liberalism based on some explicitly articulated moral values). Given this national context,

Bialystok proposes that the following five principles be used to delineate the acceptable

bounds of SJE practice in Canada:

1) have legislative backing in the form of such precedents as the Charter, human rights codes, and current policy; 2) be compatible with reasonable pluralism; 3) not engage in partisan politics or political activism that students do not choose; 4) be connected with developing skills for democratic engagement; and 5) respect students’ freedom to abstain from activities that contravene their own (emerging or tentative) comprehensive doctrines. (p. 415, italics in original)

Rizvi’s (1998) chapter, Some Thoughts on Contemporary Theories of Social

Justice (1998), describes the effect of multiple philosophical views of social justice on

educational policy. Rizvi notes that political leaders frequently justify educational

12

policies with reference to social justice (Smith, 2018, also provides many examples of

how social justice is used by politicians in Great Britain to justify policy directions).

However, conflicting views of social justice enable this term to be invoked in support of

nearly any political ideology and associated educational policy. Sometimes philosophical

theories are combined in illogical ways to support political agendas that historically

would have been counter to social justice. For example, Rizvi describes the Australian

political context in the 1990s:

a conception of social justice has now been found by Labor which is consistent with the requirements of capital accumulation that give markets a freer reign. Social and educational policies and programmes are now subjected to this piece of ideology. The view of social justice now emerging in the form of a consensus is a contradictory amalgam of Rawlsian redistributive principles and Nozickian entitlement theory. (pp. 50-51)

Rizvi’s (1998) analysis reveals that not only do different conceptions of justice

provide license for the implementation of various practices and policies in education, but

also that these varied philosophical influences are rarely explicitly recognized or

scrutinized. As a result, theoretical problems are transposed to the practical realm. For

example, Lawton (1977) concludes, based on a view of social justice that prioritizes fair

distribution of goods (as per Rawls’ 1971 account), that social justice in education is

achieved through provision of a standardized curriculum. In contrast, Sensoy and

DiAngelo (2012) recommend that social justice be advanced by teaching students to

“recognize how relations of unequal social power are constantly being negotiated at both

the micro (individual) and macro (structural) levels” (p. xxi), and that all in the field of

education ought to endeavour to “understand [their] own positions within these relations

of unequal power, think critically about knowledge, and, most importantly, act from this

understanding in service of a more just society” (p. xxi, emphasis in original). This

account emphasizes recognition of difference and oppression in institutional and social

relations, which aligns with Young’s (1990) account of social justice. As I will discuss

further in chapter four, both of these emphases in social justice have strengths, but also

problems. For example, when social justice is understood as primarily a matter of fair

distribution, as in Lawton’s argument, injustices that comprise inequalities of power or

13

the oppression of one group by another are not elucidated. However, focusing on identity

differences and power relations in social justice, the view that Sensoy and DiAngelo

adopt, can erode solidarity and divert attention from structural injustices.

Problems with the underlying theoretical frameworks can become manifest in

educational contexts. For example, the notion that social justice is achieved through the

distribution of a standardized curriculum diverts attention from other important issues of

injustice, such as the “hidden curriculum” of schools that privileges certain groups over

others (Lareau, 2011), the effect of school composition and catchment boundaries on

academic outcomes (Berliner, 2013), and issues of safety in schools that certain groups of

students face as a result of their identities (Vermeulen, 2013). However, when issues of

recognition are foregrounded in SJE, as in Sensoy and DiAngelo’s account, the effects of

structural and economic factors on the perpetuation of disparities are ignored (Anyon,

2014; Bourdieu & Passeron, 1994; Laureau, 2011; Oakes, 1985). Although authors that

write about social justice in education often do note the diversity of theoretical

viewpoints on this subject (e.g., Griffiths, 2003; Smith, 2018), few, if any, (with the

exception of Rizvi’s 1998 chapter) weigh the merits of theories that inform varied SJE

practices.

In sum, there is a large body of work pertaining to social justice in education but

rarely have authors focused on the conceptual and theoretical underpinnings of this

subject. This is unfortunate, because the lack of clarity and consensus about the meaning

of social justice has meant that the SJE movement has been undermined by incoherency.

Some authors have recognized these problems and the current project seeks to build on

the contributions reviewed in this section. However, in the present work, the question of

the meaning of social justice and the relationship between social justice, education, and

schooling are the explicit foci.

The Turn to History

Given that in the field of education there currently is both considerable

enthusiasm for advancing social justice and a lack of conceptual clarity about the

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meaning of the term, the primary aim of this project became seeking an answer to the

question “What is social justice?” Without consensus regarding the meaning of this

concept, it is not possible to evaluate the myriad SJE programs and policies. Vague

references are not the only hindrance to SJE. The multiplicity of theoretical accounts

enables educators to invoke numerous interpretations of social justice and, as a result, use

varied understandings as justification for nearly any practice. Surely some accounts of

social justice are better than others. But what are the standards that can be used to make

this determination? I suggest that a historical understanding of social justice (both the

concept and associated practices) can be used to evaluate various theoretical

interpretations.

MacIntyre (1988) argues that conceptions of justice are constituted by the

historical and sociocultural contexts in which they are embedded. Specifically, MacIntyre

contends that ideas about justice are embroiled in wider, more encompassing traditions of

thought that also include conceptions of selfhood, metaphysics, virtues, social practices,

institutional forms, and standards of practical rationality. Therefore, efforts to understand

varied accounts require knowledge of traditions that have shaped (and in turn been

shaped by) notions of justice.

Traditions are distinct to particular historical eras and sociocultural contexts.

Given the entwinement of justice in tradition, knowledge of history and culture are

essential for both understanding and discriminating among varied conceptions. As

MacIntyre (1988) argues, it is particularly important to understand the predominant

liberal tradition in which we in the West are embedded because not only has this tradition

made it possible for numerous and competing accounts of justice to arise but, as I will

discuss in later chapters, features of liberalism present challenges for distinguishing

among varied viewpoints. Specifically, liberalism has endeavoured to find standards of

justification outside of tradition, an ultimately impossible task as standards, forms of

reasoning, and methods of evaluation are themselves ensconced in history, culture, and

tradition (MacIntyre, 1988). As a result, relativism often is taken to be the only

alternative, allowing for a proliferation of theoretical accounts, with practical

consequences (such as in the field of education). However, MacIntyre argues,

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discriminating among accounts of justice is possible but requires taking seriously the

sociocultural and historical embededdness of both justice and reasoning, as well as

discarding a dichotomized view of subjectivity and objectivity, a legacy of Enlightenment

epistemology. Knowledge of historical conditions of possibility is prioritized because

conceptions of justice become more readily understood once the contextual surround is

known, and also because the standards of evaluation emerge from the historical trajectory

of the subject. Indeed, as MacIntyre (1988) asserts:

there is no other way to engage in the formulation, elaboration, rational justification, and criticism of accounts of practical rationality and justice except from within some one particular tradition in conversation, cooperation, and conflict with those who inhabit the same tradition. There is no standing ground, no place for enquiry, no way to engage in the practices of advancing, evaluating, accepting, and rejecting reasoned argument apart from that which is provided by some particular tradition or other. (p. 350)

The inescapable influence of tradition is not an impediment to reasoned inquiry,

but it does require employment of a form of investigation that takes seriously the effect of

history on the phenomenon in question and recognizes the limits of knowledge claims.

MacIntyre (1988) describes this form of historical study as “tradition-constituted and

tradition-constitutive enquiry” (p. 9).11 The primary aim of this approach is the

explication of the historicity of the subject in question since evaluation of conceptions of

justice depends on understanding the historical conditions that contributed to the

formation of social justice. As MacIntyre argues, it is on the basis of historical knowledge

that the grounds of justification for recommending one account of justice over another

can be discerned because, “[t]o justify is to narrate how the argument has gone so far”

(1988, p. 8). The cogency of theories of justice, therefore, depends on their ability to a)

explain the historical development of the notion of justice as well as make sense of the

weaknesses of other interpretations within this history, and b) present solutions to

11 As this term conveys, an assumption of this approach is that this form of reasoned investigation is constituted but not determined by the socio-historical context. New understandings are always possible. Novel accounts of phenomena also can become constitutive of traditions of thought, which shift over time. This is due, in part, to the fact that insights from one tradition can be drawn upon in the evaluative process. Traditions are predominant in times and places, but not insular (MacIntyre, 1988).

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contemporary challenges that confound other approaches (MacIntyre, 1977, 1988). I

endorse this view in this project.

Philosophical hermeneutics

The approach to studying justice that MacIntyre (1977, 1988) recommends is

based on the tenets of philosophical hermeneutics. The need to take up a historical lens in

the social/human sciences has been recognized by many. For example, in the Logics of

History, Sewell, 2005, states, “our messy and mutable world needs the conceptual tools

that only a collaboration between interpretive social scientists and historians is likely to

produce,” (p. 17). However, I chose to use a hermeneutic approach in the present project

because this philosophical tradition is specifically concerned with the development of

knowledge in the social/human sciences. Hermeneuts have argued that historical

understanding, not methodological fidelity, is the best means of producing sound

knowledge of social phenomena.

Gadamer (1960/1989), building on insights from Dilthey, Husserl, and Heidegger,

argued that the “methodological self-consciousness” (Gadamer, p. xxiii) of the human

sciences has functioned to obscure the ontological temporality of human life. We are able

to make sense of the world because we are part of the same historical process as the

entities we wish to understand. Methods that fail to recognize the historical development

of human and social phenomena hinder instead of help the advancement of knowledge.

For example, when methods based on the natural sciences treat psychological phenomena

(e.g., self-esteem, self-regulation, personality classifications) as though they are static,

ahistorical objects, the conditions that enabled these conceptions of human life to emerge

are obscured. We are best able to understand these phenomena when we treat them as

historical products. Therefore, according to Gadamer, understanding human and social

phenomena requires abandoning the preoccupation with method and instead developing

“historically effected consciousness” (1960/1989, p. 307)—an awareness of the

historicity of all of human life. Focal subjects of the social/human sciences are invariably

affected by history, Gadamer argued. So too are researchers and the disciplines in which

17

they work. We are best placed to make sense of our life and world if we understand the

broad effects of history.

Developing awareness of one’s historical situatedness is not an easy task,

Gadamer recognized:

To acquire an awareness of a situation is, however, always a task of peculiar difficulty. The very idea of a situation means that we are not standing outside it and hence are unable to have any objective knowledge of it. We always find ourselves within a situation, and throwing light on it is a task that is never entirely finished. (1960/1989, p. 301)

Given this challenge, Gadamer evoked two key metaphors—the hermeneutic circle and

horizons of understanding—the purposes of which are to heighten sensitivity to the effect

of history.

The hermeneutic circle

The hermeneutic circle is meant to convey the inevitable circularity of

understanding. Making sense of phenomena requires gathering “parts” (consistent and

contradictory) until they all can be understood as part of the same coherent “whole,” and

then, in turn, interpreting these “parts” in light of the “whole.” Heidegger (1962) argued

that understanding is always interpretive and used the metaphor of the hermeneutic circle

to describe the interplay between understanding and interpretation. Gadamer (1960/1989)

extended this argument, pointing out that concrete problems always propel the

advancement of knowledge. As such, Gadamer described the hermeneutic circle as

involving understanding, interpretation, and application. The role of the researcher is to

“consider the tension that exists between the identity of the common object and the

changing situation in which it must be understood” (Gadamer, p. 309). The end result is a

unified whole (i.e., a coherent historical narrative). As Gadamer described:

the movement of understanding is constantly from the whole to the part and back to the whole. Our task is to expand the unity of the understood meaning centrifugally. The harmony of all the details with the whole is the criterion of correct understanding. The failure to achieve this harmony means that understanding has failed. (1960/1989, p. 291)

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We always enter the hermeneutic circle with prior understandings of the subject in

question (i.e., “prejudices”). This is not problematic because without fore-conceptions of

the subject we would not know what sort of questions were interesting or relevant and

would have no idea how to go about advancing knowledge (Gadamer, 1960/1989;

Heidegger, 1962). Further, given our embeddedness in history and culture, an ontological

reality to which Heidegger drew attention, there is no way of living in the world

unaffected by what has come before us. That we consider the influence of historical

traditions to be problematic is, paradoxically, a result of the history of modernity that has

positioned tradition as antithetical to reason (Gadamer, 1960/1989). The uncritical

acceptance of dogma is not conducive to reason, Gadamer agreed, but tradition can

potentially also be a source of truth. We should abandon the “prejudice against prejudice”

(1960/1989, p. 270), he argued, and instead acknowledge and scrutinize the fore-

meanings we bring to any investigation. Every effort must be taken at the outset and

throughout the project to elucidate these fore-conceptions so that their legitimacy can be

determined in light of emerging evidence. Thus,

our first, last, and constant task in interpreting is never to allow our fore-having, fore-sight, and fore-conception to be presented to us by fancies and popular conceptions, but rather to make the scientific theme secure by working out these fore-structures in terms of the things themselves. (Heidegger, 1962, as cited in Gadamer, 1960/1989, p. 266)

Horizons of understanding

Gadamer (1960/1989) introduced a second metaphor, horizons, to draw attention

to the importance of seeking to understand a phenomenon in light of its historical

trajectory. In a general sense, “[t]he horizon is the range of vision that includes

everything that can be seen from a particular vantage point” (Gadamer, 1960/1989, p.

302). Inevitably, we see things from the vantage point of our present position. However,

although we are situated in a particular time, with specific practical concerns, we are best

placed to understand a subject if we look beyond what is immediately evident and

concerning. We can study what is before us directly and closely or we can look beyond it

to the horizon, using the contextual surround to give perspective to that which we are

seeking to understand. It is the latter strategy that Gadamer described as being

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characteristic of hermeneutic inquiry and he recommended foregrounding the historic

horizon in the study.

Understanding is achieved by mediating between the present and historical

horizons. The horizon evident from our present position shapes the way we see the world;

however, given our situatedness, the limitations of this view are difficult to discern. For

this reason, Gadamer (1960/1989) prioritized historical study. By casting ourselves into

the past, and endeavouring “to see the past in its own terms” (p. 302), we are better

placed to develop a sound and accurate account of the subject. Not only will looking to

history help us comprehend how the phenomenon has been formed over time, it also will

elucidate the prejudices that imbue the present horizon and affect, often without our

conscious awareness, our current understandings.

Knowledge is achieved when the present and past horizons, which have been

treated as distinct for the purpose of scholarly inquiry, are fused and their

interconnectedness recognized. This fusion of horizons is distinctive of historically

effected consciousness, the overall aim of hermeneutic inquiry. As Gadamer (1960/1989)

described:

In the process of understanding, a real fusing of horizons occurs –which means that as the historical horizon is projected, it is simultaneously superseded. To bring about this fusion in a regulated way is that task of what we called historically effected consciousness. (pp. 306-307)

In this way, hermeneutic study differs from historicism, the latter of which concludes

when an understanding of the past is achieved.

A fusion of horizons enables us to fathom how our current perceptions have been

influenced by history and to recognize that, in spite of our best efforts, our view of

history is always shaped by our present concerns. The resulting account that is developed

is neither timeless nor definitive. It is the best way of understanding the subject at this

time, in this place. This finitude might appear as a limitation, particularly for those who

have embraced the view that the methodology of the natural sciences can be adapted to

the human sciences. However, as hermeneutic philosophy has made clear, the subject

matters of these areas of study are sufficiently different in their ontology as to require

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distinct approaches of investigation. As new problems of application arise, new

interpretations will be proposed. After all, the work of understanding

is never finished; it is in fact an infinite process. Not only are fresh sources of error constantly excluded, so that all kinds of things are filtered out that obscure the true meaning; but new sources of understanding are continually emerging that reveal unsuspected elements of meaning. The temporal distance that performs the filtering process is not fixed, along with the negative side of the filtering process brought about by temporal distance there is also the positive side, namely the value it has for understanding. It not only lets local and limited prejudices die away, but allows those that bring about genuine understanding to emerge clearly as such. (Gadamer, 1960/1989, pp. 298-299)

Applying Philosophical Hermeneutics to this Project

In this section I provide examples of how the historical approach described above

was applied in the present study.

Entering the circle: Becoming aware of prejudices and developing research questions

This dissertation project evolved as I began to question commonly held and

widespread beliefs about social justice and schooling (i.e., “prejudices” that constitute the

“present horizon,” Gadamer, 1960/1989). I had intended to examine the ways educational

processes and structures facilitated or impeded the development of agency in students

based on the view that psychological agency is an important aspect of social justice and

the idea that social justice was a primary aim of public schooling. However, two events

made me question the premises on which the original project had been founded and

ultimately changed the focus of the investigation.

The first event was a session at an education conference in which presenters

proposed various classroom activities and school and district-wide programs intended to

advance social justice. The speakers gave no definition of social justice and could not

explain how they would know if this end had been achieved although this was their focus

(and were not thrilled to have this pointed out). Thereafter, I began to notice that social

justice rarely was defined in educational contexts. As well, I became aware that I could

not define social justice with any specificity either. As I sought to understand this ideal—

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which I did, and still do, support—it became apparent that not only was a lack of

determinacy about social justice in education problematic, but also that there was no

philosophical consensus about the meaning of the term, which had implications for

education.

The second event that changed the direction of the study was my reading of the

earlier-cited passage from Eliot (1948), in which he suggested that efforts to achieve

social ideals through schooling had been to the detriment of education. I had “the

experience of being pulled up short by the text” (Gadamer, 1960/1989, p. 268) and

doubted, for the first time, the current widespread view that social justice was a goal of

public schooling. I recognized that this common perspective was rarely critically

evaluated, except by those already opposed to social justice, which means that adherents

of this ideal quickly discounted these critiques as “ideologically” motivated.

According to Gadamer (1960/1989), Plato’s insight was the revelation that, “[i]n

order to be able to ask, one must want to know, and that means knowing that one does not

know” (p. 363). Even though Gadamer sought to delineate the positive potentiality of

prior knowledge for understanding, he encouraged popular conceptions to be put to a

“state of indeterminacy” (p. 363) for the sake of advancing knowledge. It is by asking

questions, Gadamer declared, that we are able to “open up possibilities and keep them

open” (p. 299). A major problem in education has been that social justice has been

accepted widely and unquestioningly as a fundamental aim. If this study makes any

contribution it will be to encourage those in the field of education to question both the

meaning of social justice and its relation to education and schooling rather than using this

term unthinkingly as justification for any number of programs or policies.

The most important point in achieving understanding is “finding the right

questions to ask” (Gadamer, 1960/1989, p. 301, italics in original) because if questions

are based on faulty premises they will impede understanding. We must seek to expose

any limitations imposed by a question that has been “put wrongly…by retaining false

presuppositions” (Gadamer, 1960/1989, p. 364). Care to formulate good questions should

be taken at the outset of a project, but also we need to be open to the possibility that our

22

questions will need to be revised as their limitations are revealed throughout the inquiry,

or that new questions will result. As Gadamer explained, “[t]he art of questioning is the

art of questioning even further” (p. 367). In line with this point, I amended the second

question of this study once it became apparent that its original form constrained possible

answers. Changing the question mid-study is not disavowed in hermeneutic inquiry as it

might be in some research approaches. This shift is reflective, instead, of the process of

achieving understanding.

Developing historically effected consciousness

Developing historically effected consciousness is an ongoing process that begins

with the recognition that one’s understanding of the subject is affected by one’s current

place in history (“the present horizon”) and the historical trajectory of the subject (“the

historic horizon”). Although past and present horizons are not actually distinct, and

understanding their relation to each other (i.e., their “fusion”) is the eventual goal,

Gadamer (1960/1989) recommended that the inquirer first “project a historical horizon

that is different from the horizon of the present” (p. 306). The historical horizon is

foregrounded in order to facilitate an awareness of present-day prejudices that are

otherwise difficult to discern.

Projecting a historical horizon of social justice proved challenging. First, in spite

of the ubiquity and significance of social justice in contemporary Western culture, there

are few sources that have investigated the history of this concept. I reviewed historical

accounts of social justice (e.g., Brodie, 2007; Burke, 2011; Fleischacker, 2004; Jackson,

2005; Novak & Adams, 2015; United Nations, 2006), as well as works that focused on

the history of justice, more generally (MacIntyre, 1988; Raphael, 2001), in an effort to

develop a historical horizon. However, these sources revealed conflicting accounts of the

roots of social justice. As I will discuss further later on in this project, some (e.g., Brodie,

2007; Fleischacker, 2004; Jackson, 2005; United Nations, 2006) locate the historical

origins of social justice in the writings and activities of Enlightenment thinkers. Others

(e.g., Burke, 2011; Novak & Adams, 2015) trace social justice to the mid-19th century

writings of conservative Jesuit priest, Luigi Taparelli d’Azegio. Considering which of

these historical accounts is correct matters because the history of social justice provides

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the basis for current understandings of social justice that, in turn, legitimates action (or

inaction, as the case may be) in many realms of human activity.

The purpose of hermeneutic research is to make sense of this sort of discordancy.

Gadamer (1960/1989) warned that in the process of seeking understanding one could

expect “rival projects [to] emerge side by side until it becomes clearer what the unity of

meaning is” (p. 267). Indeed, developing historically effected consciousness involves

becoming aware of the historical relationship between divergent interpretations. These

contradictory origin stories are parts of the whole of the history of social justice. The aim,

thus, was to develop a cohesive historical narrative that could explain these discrepant

interpretations (MacIntyre, 1977).

I have proposed that the current ambiguity, pertaining both to the meaning of

social justice and its historical origins, can be understood as representative of the struggle

between different factions of liberal ideology. The conflicting historical accounts began

to make sense as I mediated between past and present accounts. References to social

justice in diverse contexts (e.g., education, philosophy, history, politics, economics,

transcripts of speeches by leaders of social and justice movements, United Nations

documents) made apparent the intertwinement of social justice with the evolution of

liberal political theory and practices, which are further discussed in chapter three.

Although contested at points in history, social justice has been used in particular ways

and as justification for specific institutional initiatives. There are textual and institutional

traces that establish this historical account. However, although the meaning of social

justice has been debated, the historical trajectory of the evolution of social justice (a term

that has both been linked to ideas and used to describe practices) is not free to be

interpreted in any which way. This record is not revisable, even if one disagrees with the

predominant meaning of the concept or associated practices during these eras. The

meaning of concepts do shift over time but, as I will argue more fully later, some

interpretations deviate so far from the ideals that have historically inspired the concept as

to be better treated as alternate and distinct notions. In light of this history, for example,

efforts to advance a neoliberal variant of social justice appear to be opportunistic co-

optation of the concept.

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Making sense of contradictory historical and philosophical interpretations

required determining “the right horizon of inquiry” (Gadamer, 1960/1989, p. 302) for the

questions. A key issue I encountered was deciding how broadly or narrowly to interpret

the concept. Social justice, broadly understood, is an example of societies’ efforts to

justly organize the social order. This concern extends throughout history and across

cultures and implicates educational systems (e.g., as in Plato’s Republic). If this horizon

had been adopted, the historical investigation of social justice would extend far beyond

the scope of the present project. Instead, I opted for a narrower historical horizon. Not

only is the term social justice relatively recent, I reasoned, but also the ideas the term has

been used to convey and practices and institutional forms it has mandated differ

strikingly from those associated with premodern conceptions of distributive justice, a

point that aligns with Fleischacker’s (2004) and Raphael’s (2001) views on the evolution

of distributive justice.

One of Gadamer’s purposes (1960/1989) was to highlight the role of application

in understanding. As he wrote, “understanding always involves something like applying

the text to be understood to the interpreter’s present situation” (p. 308). Indeed,

application was central to the current project. My efforts to make sense of the current

debates regarding social justice in philosophy and history were impelled by practical

concerns in the field of education. According to Gadamer, “application is neither a

subsequent nor merely an occasional part of the phenomenon of understanding, but

codetermines it as a whole from the beginning” (p. 324). As well, the focus on

application influenced the evidence I compiled in developing a historical account. In

contrast to other sources that have focused on shifts in ideas about justice (e.g.,

Fleischacker, 2004; Raphael, 2001), I broadened my investigation to include practical

instantiations of the developing notion of social justice. That is, I was interested in how

the idea was being applied throughout history, not only in how it was being articulated in

scholarly works.

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Limitations of the Results

Apart from the recognition that the results are not timeless or definitive, there are

some limitations of this account that follow from decisions I have made that have

narrowed the scope of the study. For example, I have focused on the history of social

justice in English-speaking Western democratic countries, which has meant that I have

not considered the ways this term has been used in other languages and other contexts

(e.g., by Eastern bloc socialist countries, as discussed by a subcommittee of the United

Nations in a review of international social justice, United Nations, 2006). Nor, as

discussed previously, did I take a longer view of history that would have permitted

contemporary notions of social justice to be contrasted with ancient views of distributive

justice. I also did not consider how forms of justice from non-Western cultures have

influenced contemporary understandings of social justice, a topic meriting further study

given current globalization. These are all interesting topics that could be taken up in

future studies, but they were not my purpose here.

As well, admittedly, the examination of the relationship between education,

schooling, and social justice could be further developed. The primary focus of this project

was, “What is social justice?”, given that an answer to this question is required before

other issues pertaining to SJE can be fully explored. However, although I discuss the

evolving conception of the relationship between social justice, education, and schooling

in each period of history, and discuss the implications for schooling of the view of social

justice I recommend in the last chapter, the second question of this study could be

developed more comprehensively in a future work.

Chapter Overview

In this first chapter, I have introduced problems related to social justice in

education, reviewed previous efforts to resolve these issues, and explained the

philosophical approach that guided this historical inquiry. Below, I provide an overview

of this project.

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The historical account of social justice that is central to this project is developed

in chapters two, three, and four. In each of these chapters I have recounted shifts in

understanding that contributed to the emergence and evolution of social justice and also

have reviewed how notions of education and practices of schooling have changed

alongside the developing concept of social justice in each broad historical period

discussed.

In chapter two, I discuss changes in thought and practice that occurred prior to the

19th century that made possible the emergence of the term and concept of social justice a

century later. I also review Condorcet’s and Wollstonecraft’s ideas about education and,

specifically, their recommendations for public schooling, which were closely associated

with the liberal political project they supported.

In the third chapter, I describe how rising poverty and inequality in the 19th

century caused a rupture in liberal thought, leading to the development of social

liberalism as an alternative to classical liberalism. Eventually, the term social justice

came to be associated with the political agenda of social liberalism and was

institutionalized in various forms. Although social justice was used often in political

discourse between 1930 and 1970, there are few mentions of this term in educational

writings prior to the 1970s, with the exception of references in support of expanding

industrial/vocational educational programs. I examine Dewey’s and Du Bois’ ideas about

vocational education, specifically, and the purposes of education, more generally.

In chapter four, I explain the paradoxical circumstance of social justice that has

developed since the 1970s. In the same period that social justice rhetoric and theorizing

has increased, there has been a concurrent diminishment of political support for practices

and institutions that previously had been associated with social justice and a rise in

economic inequality. I posit that two coeval historical processes—theoretical

proliferation in response to limitations of version of social justice associated with social

liberalism and the rise of neoliberalism—have contributed this conundrum. As a result,

the discursive power of social justice diminished while the institutions developed under

its auspices were being dismantled.

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In the final chapter, I argue that the historical account I have developed provides

the basis for my recommendations that Fraser’s multidimensional framework of social

justice and Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach be considered the best ways of conceiving

of social justice. I briefly explore the implications of these theories for schooling and

offer concluding remarks on the relationship between social justice, education, and

schooling.

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Chapter 2. Precursors to Social Justice

The term social justice was first introduced in the 19th century and did not become

part of the popular lexicon until the 20th century. However, the roots of social justice

originated in the 1700s, a century of extraordinary change.12 Against the backdrop of the

scientific revolution and Protestant Reformation, popular uprisings resulting from

economic and political inequality converged with a new social vision being put forward

by an intellectual class that challenged long-established conventions, traditions, and

sources of power (Gregory, 2012). The ideas of the intelligentsia reflected and reinforced

popular discontent and the culmination of this confluence was political revolutions in

America and France, events with effects transcending their national contexts. The

revolutions revealed the mutability of institutions and long-established hierarchies that

previously had been considered to be divinely ordained and thus unchangeable (Stedman

Jones, 2004). The collapse of these structures and ensuing reconfiguration of society

demonstrated the power of a coordinated collective and bolstered the notion that

individuals were responsible not only for their own actions, but also for the institutional

structures of society. This shift in the social imaginary, along with a growing awareness

and concern for poverty and inequality, laid the foundation for social justice (Brodie,

2007; Jackson, 2005).

In this chapter I discuss early cultural, social, and political contingencies that are

precursors to the later conception of social justice. Specifically, the rise of liberalism,

changing conceptions of poverty and inequality, a new way of thinking about the self and

its relation to institutions, and new institutional forms and possibilities are prerequisite

shifts that contributed to the emergence of social justice and its eventual popularization in

Western culture. At the end of the chapter I review the ideas about education put forward

12 As Fleischacker (2004) points out, some authors trace the roots of social justice back to Aristotle’s description of distributive justice. However, in accordance with the views advanced by those who have examined the historical emergence of social justice (Fleischacker, 2004; Jackson, 2005; Raphael, 2001), I treat this concept as a modern form of distributive justice. The premises that underscore contemporary social justice are sufficiently different from those of ancient accounts of distributive justice to justify treating these forms of justice as distinct.

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by Marquis de Condorcet and Mary Wollstonecraft, two late 17th-century writers who

argued the importance of public education in sustaining the liberal vision. Although they

did not describe their views with the use of the term social justice, which had yet to be

coined, Condorcet’s and Wollstonecraft’s conceptions of education established the

foundation for what came to be known as liberal arts or “traditional” education (Ravitch,

2000) and offer a view of education that could be used to inform social justice education.

Liberalism

The history of social justice is intertwined with the history of liberalism. Although

there are aspects of social justice that are shared by other ideologies (e.g., care for the

poor is a common concern of many religions; the acceptance of state interference for the

common good is characteristic of Marxism), the term social justice in Western

democracies emerged as liberalism was evolving in the 19th century and, right up to the

present day, its meanings and implementations have been rooted mostly in liberal

thought.13

Liberalism is best understood as a historical project aimed at securing freedom for

individuals (Freeden, 2015; MacIntyre, 1988; Taylor, 1995). However, the tradition that

has developed in pursuit of this aim has varied over time and split into diverging and

oppositional factions. Various forms of liberalism differ both in their interpretations of

central liberal concepts as well as the emphases placed on ideals that have developed

alongside freedom and have come to form the repertoire of liberal values: “liberty,

rationality, individuality, progress, sociability, the general interest, and limited and

accountable power” (Freeden, 2015, p. 15). For example, classical liberalism accorded

considerable weight to liberty, rationality, individuality, and limited and accountable

power, whereas social liberalism emphasized liberty, progress, sociability, and the

general interest. Nonetheless, what ties these positions together is a shared commitment

to freedom for the individual.

13 Although, there have been some exceptions; for example, social justice is a term that has been picked up by Marxists and neo-Marxists (e.g., UN, 2006), faith communities (e.g., Pius, 1931), and now proponents of a neoliberal viewpoint (e.g., Messmore, 2010a & b) that, arguably, is outside of the liberal “family” (Freeden, 2015).

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Freeden (2015) identifies five temporal layers in the history of liberalism. The

first layer, which emerged during the 18th century, focused on limiting the power of

oppressive government structures for the sake of individual rights and freedoms. A

second layer, which followed quickly after the first, emphasized the role of the free

market for individual liberty. Freeden describes the third layer, which had its inception in

the mid-to-late 19th century, as “[a] theory of human progress over time intended to

enable individuals to develop their potential and capacities as long as they do not harm

others” (2015, p. 13). Key figures in advancing this layer of liberalism included J. S. Mill

and T. H. Green, and it is these theorists who provided a theoretical foundation for the

political vision of “social justice,” an idea that was institutionalized and advanced during

the subsequent layer. The fourth layer is characterized by a view of society as a state of

“mutual interdependence” (Freeden, 2015, p. 13) in which state social welfare systems

were implemented for the sake of individual flourishing and freedom (e.g., from the

1930s to the 1960s). The final fifth layer focused on establishing the political and social

conditions necessary for tolerance, freedom, and flourishing in a diverse and pluralistic

society (e.g., as in Rawls’ theory of justice). Notably, Freeden describes neoliberalism as

a “misrepresentation of liberalism” (2015, p. 109) because this ideology fails to recognize

or value many core liberal ideals such as sociality and the general interest. Further, even

the liberal values on which neoliberalism is premised (e.g., rationality, individuality, and

liberty) have come to be conceived in such an attenuated form as to make them virtually

unrecognizable within the liberal tradition (i.e., they are understood only as “economic

assertiveness,” Freeden, 2015, p. 109). I will return to this discussion of neoliberalism in

chapter five.

18th century liberalism

In spite of historical differences, all factions of liberalism prioritize individual

freedom (although they understand this concept differently, a point I will return to later).

This concern is not unique to liberalism. The possibilities and limits of human freedom

have preoccupied thinkers for at least two millennia (Cary, 2007). However, in the 18th

century, discussion of human freedom began to be centred on the role of state polity in

constraining the freedom of individuals. Previously the role of the political structure had

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been understood to provide the social conditions necessary to nurture freedom of thought

and will. However, in the early stages of liberalism, the state came to be understood as an

oppressive force whose power limited the freedom of individuals.

Limiting the state’s powers and making it accountable to the populace was the

priority in the first temporal layer of liberalism (Freeden, 2015). The state was

constrained in two ways: first, by according individuals their “natural rights” (i.e., the

inherent rights to one’s property, person, and opinion, bestowed to individuals by God,

Schapiro, 1963) which were prior to the power of the state; and, second, by structuring

the polity so that state powers were accountable to the populace (Olssen, 2010).

The state also was secularized in this transition, undermining the power of

religious doctrines that had held individuals in subservient roles and positions with little

to no possibility for self-determination or expression. From the seventeenth century

onwards, the idea that “a diversity of rival and incompatible conceptions of the good

should obtain the allegiance of a variety of contending parties was […] increasingly taken

for granted” (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 210). The following question came to be of central

concern in this new social order:

What kind of principles can require and secure allegiance in and to a form of social order in which individuals who are pursuing diverse and often incompatible conceptions of the good can live together without the disruptions of rebellion and internal war?” (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 210)

Thus, as MacIntyre (1988) describes it, the liberal project has largely been one of

trying to work out principles that maximize individual freedom without compromising

stability in the social order. Other key liberal concepts, such as sociality and the general

interest (Freeden, 2015), provided counterbalances to the ideal of individual freedom.

The view that justice was the realization of an overarching conception of the

good, which had been a characteristic of premodern traditions, was displaced by a liberal

view of justice that emphasized principles, procedures, and systems that allowed for fair

treatment of individuals, regardless of the comprehensive doctrines to which they

subscribed (MacIntyre, 1988). Further, it was not that these principles were set once and

for all. As MacIntyre recounts:

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liberalism requires for its social embodiment continuous philosophical and quasi-philosophical debate about the principles of justice, debate which, … is perpetually inconclusive but nonetheless socially effective in suggesting that if the relevant set of principles has not yet been finally discovered, nonetheless their discovery remains a central goal of the social order. (1988, pp. 343-344)

Therefore, justice under liberalism is an aspiration the realization of which depends on

ongoing rational debate to determine institutional processes and procedures. Although

these principles of justice have implications for individuals, under liberalism, institutions

and systems could also be judged to be just or unjust.14 This way of thinking has had

implications not only for the way the criminal justice system has been structured in

liberal nations, but also for the ways distributive justice has been conceived, which has

been the subject of much debate.

The economic structure was reconfigured to align with liberal commitments.

Although many Enlightenment philosophers had drawn attention to the limiting and

unjust effects of political and religious structures on individual freedom in the 18th

century, as Schapiro (1963) describes, the discontent of the masses had focused on their

limited economic opportunities. Freedom for individuals had been curtailed by their

inability to participate in the economy. Replacing feudalism with capitalism and the free

market was an intended solution to this problem (the focus of the second layer of

liberalism identified by Freeden, 2015).

The inception of liberalism in the eighteenth century and the ensuing widespread

institutional transformations in Western society enabled the eventual emergence of the

concept of social justice. However, although the rise of liberalism created the conditions

of possibility that enabled social justice, this ideology is not unified. Within this tradition

there are numerous factions that differ in their interpretations of the main aims of

liberalism, ontological assumptions, and political and economic manifestations, although

they all adhere to the same underlying ideals (see Freeden, 2015; Taylor, 1995). Social

14 The extension of justice requirements to a corporate body is not unique to liberalism. The application of justice to institutions and social groups was also evident in cultures that we would now class as “premodern.” For example, Old Testament requirements to implement certain redistributive strategies for the benefit of the poor are institutional requirements (Raphael, 2001).

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justice arose in the midst of and as a result of internal debates within liberalism and this

internal division is key to understanding social justice (discussed in more detail in the

following chapter).

While some factions of liberalism support social justice and make it an essential

aim of politics (e.g., new liberalism, social liberalism), others have been much opposed to

the idea of social justice (e.g., classical liberalism). Therefore, the rise of liberalism in the

Western world was a necessary but not sufficient precursor for the emergence of social

justice. Along with liberalism, the emergence of social justice depended on shifts in

thinking related to poverty, inequality, the self and its relation to the structure of society,

and the role and responsibility of institutions.

Changing Conceptions of Poverty

Although the plight of the poor has been recognized often throughout history,

prior to the 18th century, poverty had seldom been perceived as an issue of justice that

merited social and political upheaval, and certainly not political revolution. However, this

way of thinking about the poor changed in the 1700s. Rather than being thought of as a

condition meriting charity, the result of an individual failing, or as part of an

unquestioned social hierarchy, poverty in the 1700s became a social and moral problem

that could (and thus, should) be eliminated (Stedman Jones, 2004). This new idea about

poverty depended on a changed understanding of people who were poor, as well as a

change in the way society was conceived.

As Stedman Jones (2004) describes, poverty had long been recognized as an

undesirable state that was attributed to individual factors of those who were poor (e.g.,

moral failings, poor decision making, fate, sin, low intelligence, bad luck, or defective

character). As a result, those who were poor were considered fundamentally different

from those in a position to help. During the Enlightenment the view that persons were

inherently dignified by virtue of their humanity (e.g., as in the works of Kant, Rousseau)

gained traction, ultimately contributing to a shift in the way those who were poor were

viewed. However, it was Adam Smith who specifically and directly extended the

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argument of universal dignity to those who were poor. In offering a sympathetic portrayal

of those who lived in poverty and entreating his well-off readers to consider the

possibility that those who were poor were not unlike them or their family members and

friends, Smith played a significant role in changing ideas about poverty (as described by

Fleischacker, 2004 and Stedman Jones, 2004). His notion of poverty was not romantic;

that is, those who were poor were good and bad, smart and ignorant, just like rich people,

he argued. Those who were poor differed from those who were well off in their material

circumstances and opportunities, and sometimes in luck, but people of all economic

classes were essentially the same. Therefore, instead of poverty being thought of as

something that happened to other people who probably deserved it, being poor became a

matter of circumstance to which all were potentially vulnerable.

In the same period, Enlightenment thinkers began to investigate the possibility of

applying scientific methods to resolve social problems (Brodie, 2007). For example,

Marquis de Condorcet, a prodigious mathematician and social theorist, proposed that

statistics and the science of probability could be used to eliminate poverty (Schapiro,

1963). Poverty changed from being an unfortunate and immutable feature of the social

landscape and instead became a potentially solvable problem. If poverty was a dire

condition that could be eliminated and there were ways of ameliorating the plight of those

who were poor, then failure to take steps towards the eradication of poverty was a

perpetuation of injustice. Thus, eliminating poverty became a moral imperative and part

of the “rubric of justice” (Raphael, 2001, p. 236).

Changing Conceptions of Inequality

Another prerequisite for the emergence of social justice was a changed view of

inequality. Inequality, and particularly material inequality, had seldom been considered

an issue of injustice in pre-modern societies. In fact, inequality was often considered just,

a reflection of ordained or inherent differences, as revealed in the following passage from

Aristotle’s Politics:

justice is considered to mean equality. It does mean equality – but equality for those who are equal, and not for all. Again, inequality is considered to

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be just; and indeed it is – but only for those who are unequal, and not for all. (III.9.1280a7)

As Enlightenment thinkers scrutinized traditions, institutions, and established

social hierarchies, inequality also was questioned. A first step in this process was

differentiating between forms of disparity, as was Rousseau’s project in Discourse on

Inequality (1751):

I conceive that there are two kinds of inequality among the human species; one, which I call natural or physical, because it is established by nature, and consists in a difference of age, health, bodily strength, and the qualities of the mind or of the soul: and another, which may be called moral or political inequality, because it depends on a kind of convention, and is established, or at least authorised by the consent of men. This latter consists of the different privileges, which some men enjoy to the prejudice of others; such as that of being more rich, more honoured, more powerful or even in a position to exact obedience. (1751, Introduction, para. 2)

Rousseau goes on to argue that although the first kind of inequality is defensible, the

second is not, and there is an ethical imperative to rectify inequalities of the latter kind.

When Rousseau’s distinctions are considered in light of the conception of natural rights,

the feudal and hierarchical systems that had structured Western society become

questionable. If natural rights are taken as a given, then individuals are rendered

essentially equal in society, regardless of their status or class. Thus, an increasing number

of inequalities that set people apart in “unnatural” ways can be seen as unjust. No longer

was it presumed that disparity reflected natural differences between individuals. An

increasing number of social conventions, economic arrangements, and political processes

were subject to scrutiny for their roles in exacerbating inequalities. Steps to reducing

inequality, including revolution, came to be seen not only as justifiable but as morally

necessary (Schapiro, 1963).

Agency and Structure in the Social Imaginary

The view of social justice that ultimately was popularized in the early to mid 20th

century was premised on the following beliefs. First, the relief of poverty and material,

social, and political equality were important for individual wellbeing. Second,

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institutional structures play a role in the achievement of wellbeing. Third, institutions can

be judged as just or unjust based on their success in achieving these end states

(Fleischacker, 2004; Raphael, 2001). Based on these beliefs, advocates of social justice

sought to curtail structures and practices that perpetuated inequality and instead establish

institutions that contributed to human flourishing. The acceptance of these ideas and

actions depends on two shifts in the modern social imaginary. One concerns a view of the

self that emphasized human agency and thus makes possible the idea that people can,

individually or collectively, change systems and institutions. The second is recognition of

the role of structures in shaping individual and social life.

According to Taylor (2004), people’s understanding of themselves as agents is a

key feature of modernity. He writes:

[People in modern times] already see themselves as agents who, through disengaged, disciplined action, can reform their own lives as well as the larger social order. They are buffered, disciplined selves. Free agency is central to their self-understanding. The emphasis on rights and the primacy of freedom among them doesn’t just stem from the principle that society should exist for the sake of its members; it also reflects the holders’ sense of their own agency and of the situation that agency normatively demands in the world, namely, freedom. (p. 21)

There are two connected features of modernity that precede and are reinforced by the

establishment of persons’ agency: individualism and radical secularity. Taylor argues that

individualism should not be understood as displacing community. Rather, individualism

in the modern social imaginary is a “new understanding of sociality, the society of mutual

benefit, whose functional differentiations are ultimately contingent and whose members

are fundamentally equal” (Taylor, 2004, p. 18). Social life is organized to support rights

and freedoms of individual agents, a structure that forms the basis of liberal sociality. A

second distinct feature of modernity, radical secularity, also contributes to the central role

in society accorded to individual agency. Radical secularity, the “disembedding” of social

understanding from religious beliefs, makes possible the modern view wherein society is

understood as having been established by human agency and thus made changeable by

contemporary action. Together, individualism and radical secularity, which presuppose

and reinforce one another, changed the modern social imaginary. Society is to serve the

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benefit of individual persons, not the other way around. Therefore, if society is unjust,

individual agents have the ability and moral responsibility to reconfigure social

institutions to make them just.

Alongside agency, Taylor (2004) identifies structure is a second and equally

powerful explanatory force in the modern social imaginary. Structures are understood to

exist in various forms (e.g., economic, cultural, demographic) and are forces that operate

“behind the backs of agents” (Taylor, 2004, p. 79). Taylor names separation of the public

sphere from the private sphere and historical valuation of the economy (e.g., as in the

work of Adam Smith) as making possible a view of social life in which structures

become important, since both the public sphere and the economy provide “a place to

stand, mentally, outside of the polity, as it were, from which to judge its performance” (p.

87). As Taylor describes:

Once we discover the impersonal processes happening behind the backs of agents, there may well be other aspects of society that show some law-like systematicity. The invisible-hand-guided economy is one such aspect; other facts of social life or culture demography will later be singled out for scientific treatment . . . ‘Society’ has been unhooked from ‘polity’ and now floats free through a number of different applications. (p. 79)

Therefore, in addition to agency as a means of understanding social life, we also

have “an objectifying account, one that treats social events like other processes in nature,

as following laws of a similar sort” (Taylor, 2004, p. 77). The study of these objectifying

structures became the focus of numerous social sciences and statistics became the means

by which their effects could be made visible.

A modern social imaginary that privileges the agency of persons and recognition

of structures provided a foundation for the conception of social justice that ultimately

emerged. This dual understanding of human life meant that individuals became

responsible not only for their own behaviour, but also for the structures and institutions

that constitute society and themselves. This joint conception of agency and structure

contributed to the 18th century revolutions, 19th century political progressive reform

efforts, and the popularization of the concept of social justice in the 20th century.

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Revolutions

The American and French revolutions made drastic institutional reconfiguration

possible towards the end of the 18th century. The fall of the monarchy in France and the

overthrow of the British forces in America meant that the comprehensive changes that

Enlightenment thinkers had been dreaming about could be achieved. As described by

Condorcet in his treatise on education: “a happy event (the French Revolution) suddenly

gave an immense impulse to human hopes; a single instance put a century of distance

between the man of today and the man of tomorrow” (Condorcet, Sur l’Instruction

publique, VII, 434, as cited in Schapiro, 1963, p. 92). Along this line, in Agrarian Justice,

Paine (1796/1999) writes:

In advocating the case of the persons thus dispossessed, it is a right, and not a charity, that I am pleading for. But it is that kind of right which, being neglected at first, could not be brought forward afterwards till heaven had opened the way by a revolution in the system of government. Let us then do honour to revolutions by justice, and give currency to their principles by blessings. (p. 10, emphasis added)

Economic, political, and religious structures had come to be seen as the enemy of

what was “natural”; they represented tradition, which had impeded human nature and

held back the train of human progress. According to Enlightenment thinkers, “society

was artificial, and its institutions, they believed, were designed to perpetuate abuses, to

maintain despotism, corruption, inequality, prejudices, and, above all, to keep the masses

in ignorance and superstition” (Schapiro, 1963, p. 47). Therefore, rectifying society

required that traditional structures be demolished and then reconstructured in accordance

with the doctrine of natural rights, which was prior to the polity, a “tradition-free”

determinant of the good (Schapiro, 1963).

Many institutional reforms were implemented in the years prior to and preceding

the revolutions. Their aim, often, was a reduction of poverty and of inequalities.

(Although, granted, and as I will discuss further in later chapters, these efforts were very

limited. After all, slavery continued and was endorsed by many as completely just, and

suffrage and the benefits of land ownership, education, and equal status under the law

were not extended to many in these contexts. Wollstonecraft, 1792/2009, whose views I

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will discuss shortly, was a stringent critic of this hypocrisy.) Eighteenth century

philosophers and revolutionaries recognized that the principles of equality embedded in

constitutional documents that had been drafted following the revolutions would not

continue if institutions were not also transformed in line with these principles. For

example, Thomas Paine (1999/1796) advocated basic universal income that would be

funded by an inheritance tax, Mary Wollstonecraft (1792/2009) proposed women’s

suffrage and a state-funded public education program, and Marquis de Condorcet

proposed wholesale political and economic reform, including constitutional amendments,

progressive taxation for the benefit of the poor, the abolition of slavery, education for

women, and reformation of health care and criminal justice systems (as discussed by

Popkin, 1984). As Condorcet warned: “A constitution which establishes political equality

will be neither durable nor desirable if it permits the existence of social institutions

favorable to inequality” (Sur l’instruction publique, VII, 223, as cited in Schapiro, 1963,

p. 202).

Although the political consequences of the French and American Revolutions

were quite different and many of the institutional reforms proposed were not

implemented, the revolutions demonstrated the mutability of institutions. The notion that

unjust structures of power could be dismantled by a revolting populace extended beyond

the borders of France and the United States, and citizens in other countries began also to

question the institutional structures and hierarchies of their own nations.

Education and Liberalism

From the start, education has been central to the liberal project. Education was to

be the cornerstone of liberalism – the process by which citizens would be formed who

could knowledgeably and freely participate in the political process and market. In

contrast to previous education systems that often had been privately arranged or managed

by religious institutions, and that had the intended purpose of separating the upper from

lower classes (e.g., Locke, 1693/1996, Some Thoughts Concerning Education), public

schooling systems were proposed to make the same education available to all.

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Marquis de Condorcet

There was no greater advocate for public schooling in the 18th century than

French philosopher and politician, Marquis de Condorcet. Although numerous

revolutionary thinkers supported this vision, Condorcet provided a comprehensive

defence of this form of education in his Report on Education for the Legislative Assembly

(Sur l’instruction publique), published in France in 1792 (Schapiro, 1963). France’s new

republic was premised on the belief that each individual ought to be able to engage freely

in the cultural, social, economic, and political realms of society. Condorcet believed

education was key to realizing this vision. Without knowledge, skills, and the

development of mind that comes from education, most citizens would continue in

positions of inferiority, unable to take full advantage of their legal, political, and

economic rights. Thus, he began his report with this statement: “Public education is a

duty that society owes to all citizens” (Sur l’instruction publique, as cited in Schapiro,

1963, p. 199).

Although public schooling was necessary for the advancement of the liberal order

Condorcet endorsed, education was intended primarily for the benefit of each individual

student. Condorcet had played a key role in inspiring revolutionary change in France and,

as a member of parliament following the revolution, was responsible for drafting many

constitutional documents. However, in spite of his political commitments, he was

adamantly opposed to using the schooling system to advance any political system, even

that which he had risked his life to establish. Prior to the revolution, Condorcet had been

a staunch critic of religious education, which he alleged discouraged critical thought and

the pursuit of truth. He was equally adamant that political views should not become

dogmatic. This warning is expressed in several sections in Sur l’instruction publique:

The aim of education is not to instill admiration for the existing political system but to create a critical attitude toward it. Each generation should not be compelled to submit to the opinions of its predecessors, but it should be enlightened so that it could govern itself by its own reason. (as cited in Schapiro, 1963, p. 204)

It has been said that the teaching of the constitution of the country ought to form part of public instruction. That is doubtless true providing it is taught

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merely as a fact and as a system to be explained and analyzed. … But to teach the constitution as a dogma that is universally true or to arouse blind enthusiasm for it would result in making the citizens incapable of judging it. To say ‘Behold, this is what you should love and believe,’ would be to create a kind of religion. It would result in chaining the mind, and in violating liberty in its most sacred aspect under the pretext of teaching to cherish it. (as cited in Schapiro, 1963, p. 204)

Condorcet warned of “false prophets” who were intent on “captur[ing] the imagination of

the child in order to stamp on it images that time could not erase, so that the adult would

be attached to the existing political system through blind sentiment” (Sur l’instruction

publique, Schapiro, 1963, pp. 204-205). Robespierre is said to have read this comment as

a personal insult, which it likely was, and never to have forgiven Condorcet for this

statement, ultimately chasing Condorcet to his death during the Reign of Terror

(Schapiro, 1963).

Condorcet had been privy to the abuses of church-sponsored education systems in

France and realized that a public system could easily fall prey to the same problems that

had hindered religious education. He anticipated that teachers who were employees of the

state would be reluctant to openly question the political system on which they depended

for their jobs. Therefore, in order to secure academic freedom, he recommended the

creation of an autonomous teacher’s guild that would take responsibility for hiring

teachers and guiding curriculum decisions (Schapiro, 1963).

In contrast to many Enlightenment era philosophers of his day, most notably

Rousseau, the education system Condorcet recommended was co-educational. Although

some economic, class, religious, and political inequalities had been scrutinized in the 18th

century, disparities between men and women were rarely questioned, justified as a

reflection of “natural differences” (Okin, 1989). Condorcet, however, was adamant that

natural rights needed to be granted to all who were human, regardless of race, class, or

sex. “As women have the same qualities as men they of necessity have the same rights.

Either no one truly has any rights or all have the same ones. And he who is against the

rights of another because of religion, color, or sex abjures his own rights,” Condorcet

wrote (Sur l’admission des femmes, as cited in Schapiro, 1963, p. 190). He attributed

supposed mediocrity in women’s thinking, a frequent argument against co-education,

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suffrage, and holding public office, to the poor education most women received, the

oppressive laws to which women were subject, and powerful social conventions that

prematurely circumscribed girls’ aspirations. Condorcet, with greater feminist insight

than many of his contemporaries, wrote in Lettres d’un bourgeois de New-Haven, “The

kind of constraint imposed on women by traditional views regarding manners and morals

has influenced their mind and soul almost from infancy; and when talent begins to

develop this constraint has the effect of destroying it” (as cited in Schapiro, 1963, p. 192).

In sum, Condorcet considered education to be essential for fruition of the liberal

project. The primary threats to liberalism at this point were assumed to be oppressive

state powers and an economic structure that enslaved many citizens by creating

dependence. The education system Condorcet envisioned was intended to counter these

threats. The bedrock of a liberal sociopolitical order would be a free and rational citizenry

who could exercise their right to vote, would not be duped by self-serving despots, and

could participate freely in the marketplace, enabling escape from the servitude of

feudalism. In line with the doctrine of natural rights, Condorcet assumed that every

individual had potential to be a rational, free, participating member of society. However,

this potentiality depended on access to education. Thus, he recommended a

comprehensive universal public education system.

Mary Wollstonecraft

Condorcet died during the Reign of Terror and neither his plans for

comprehensive institutional reform nor his guidelines for a national educational system

were implemented in France. Further, although post-revolutionary liberal reforms in

France and other countries were based on lofty egalitarian rhetoric, premised on the

doctrine of natural rights, numerous caveats, hypocrisies, and twisted logic meant that

liberal freedoms and benefits were extended to few. Mary Wollstonecraft (1792/2009)

drew attention to the absurdity of attempting to develop a liberal society while denying to

large segments of the population the right to vote, hold office, or receive a quality

education.

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Wollstonecraft (1792/2009) shared many of Condorcet’s political views and ideas

about education. Like Condorcet, Wollstonecraft took seriously the doctrine of natural

rights. If there were rights that adhered to individuals by virtue of their humanity, such as

liberty to reason and happiness, then these applied to all individuals, not just propertied

white men. Further, Wollstonecraft concurred that education was the foundation of a

liberal society, essential for developing citizens who could reason and act with virtue. It

was the height of hypocrisy, she charged, to espouse the virtue of reason while denying

women the opportunity to be educated in such a way as to develop reason, as well as

opportunities to exercise reason through voting and participation in civic affairs. The

failure to extend these possibilities to women rendered them as slaves and positioned men

as tyrants. This arrangement was a blight on the whole society.

Separate education for men and women was justified by appeal to divergent

“natural” dispositions. Given inherent differences between the sexes, it was only fair and

just that the education boys and girls received was tailored to suit their proclivities, many

argued. Boys were taught to reason and participate in civic and business affairs; girls to

sew, dress well, keep a home, and be pleasing wives. This line of thought had been

advanced in popular thought by Rousseau’s educational recommendations but, as

Wollstonecraft (1792/2009) pointed out, he was hardly the only one to hold these ideas.

She goaded those who held fast to these beliefs, writing: “Men, in general, seem to

employ their reason to justify prejudices, which they have imbibed, they can scarcely

trace how, rather than to root them out” (p. 15). Of course women are different than men,

she argued. How could they not be, given the limitations imposed from birth on most

women and the ways they continue to be treated in society? The premises on which the

educational system had been established could not be proven, Wollstonecraft argued,

since women had never been free to develop their capacities in the same way as men: “it

cannot be demonstrated that woman is essentially inferior to man because she has always

been subjugated” (p. 41).

If Enlightenment ideals were to be realized and political gains sustained, men and

women must be treated equally, including their education. Not satisfied with either

private boarding schools or education in homes with private tutors engaged by parents,

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Wollstonecraft proposed the implementation of a national education system of local day

schools. These schools were intended for “younger children, from five to nine years of

age, [and they] ought to be absolutely free and open to all classes” (Wollstonecraft,

1792/2009, p. 176). She envisioned local schools “surrounded by a large piece of ground,

in which the children might be usefully exercised, for at this age they should not be

confined to any sedentary employment for more than an hour at a time” (p. 177). After

the age of nine, children would be streamed according to vocational pursuits. However,

she recommended that the stream for “[t]he young people of superior abilities” (p. 177)

continue to be co-educational, with no class distinctions.

Wollstonecraft was unique amongst Enlightenment thinkers in that she considered

close relationships such as those occurring amongst family members to be a valuable

form of education. Virtue and respect were learned first in the context of particular

relationships before they could be extended more generally to others, Wollstonecraft

argued. The local day schools she recommended would enable children to live at home

with their families. Wollstonecraft believed educational institutions were limited in their

formative abilities and the development of virtue and reason occurred in the context of

the family as much, if not more, than in schools (an argument that has been taken up by

contemporary writers, such as Asma, 2013, Kroeger-Mappes, 1994; and Noddings,

2002). Thus, an education system ought to be designed to support family relationships,

not intended as a replacement. As she wrote:

Public education, of every denomination, should be directed to form citizens; but if you wish to make good citizens, you must first exercise the affections of a son and a brother. This is the only way to expand the heart; for public affections, as well as public virtues, must ever grow out of the private character, or they are merely meteors that shoot athwart a dark sky, and disappear as they are gazed at and admired. (Wollstonecraft, 1792/2009, p. 171)

Summary

The term social justice was not yet part of the lexicon in the 1700s. However, the

historical processes that resulted in the emergence of social justice in the 1800s, and the

popularization of this term and concept in the 1900s, began during the 18th century. Ideas

45

about poverty, inequality, the self, the role of institutions and structures in social life, and

the role of the state all changed in accordance with the historical liberal project of

securing freedom for individuals.

The notion of a public national education system was born in this period. As both

Condorcet and Wollstonecraft argued, if these other social, political, and economic

changes were to stick, basic education for every citizen was essential. Without access to

quality schooling, individuals would not be free, either economically or, more

importantly, intellectually in that they would be dependent on those who had more

knowledge (Schapiro, 1963). Limited and accountable government would be successful

only if citizens understood how government worked and exercised their rights to vote.

Although every individual had the potential to be rational, the development of this

characteristic depended on education.

However, both Condorcet and Wollstonecraft recognized the potential for

oppression in liberal society, generally, and liberal education systems, specifically.

Condorcet was concerned that indoctrination through education was a potential source of

domination. Even if the right to criticize the state was established constitutionally, this

right would not be enacted if individuals were taught to believe that the system of

government they lived under was beyond question. Thus, Condorcet recommended that

the development of rationality and individuality of students be the primary aim of the

educational system. Liberalism needed a rational citizenry if it was to work, but the role

of citizens was not to keep things going as they were, necessarily. Their task in this

political project was to be thinking, critical participants, responsible for continual

progress towards liberal ideals. Wollstonecraft experienced the oppression Condorcet

warned of firsthand. The doctrine of natural rights on which liberalism was founded was

used to justify abuses and inequalities, such as denying women the right to vote and equal

access to quality education. Rationality did not guarantee justice, she pointed out, since

reason could be used to provide arguments in support of ongoing subjugation. However,

rather than attacking the development of rationality as a goal of education, she made an

impassioned plea for educational opportunities that would enable all to develop reason

for the sake of equal social and political participation.

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Finally, both of these authors understood schooling as essential but not sufficient

for justice. Educational institutions were one part of a complex of institutions that all

worked together for just ends. Education had to work in concert with constitutionally

guaranteed rights, a reformed and participatory government structure, and a free market.

As well, as Wollstonecraft emphasized, the family played an important role in the

development of social virtues and this role was not one that the school could, or should,

seek to replace.

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Chapter 3. The Rise and Establishment of Social Justice

Changes in thought and practice in the 18th century precipitated a transformation

to liberalism in Western societies. However, although there was widespread commitment

to the ideal of individual freedom, the keystone of liberal thought, the political

practicalities of this ideal were disputed. It was within the context of debates regarding

conditions necessary for freedom that social justice was born. Rampant poverty and

increasing inequality under governance structures guided by classical liberalism spawned

critique, resistance, and new theorizing that eventually led to a split in liberal ideology. A

new form of liberalism, called “new liberalism” in Britain and “social liberalism” in

North America15 (Dimova-Cookson & Mander, 2006; Freeden, 2015; Kalkman, 2011;

Wempe, 2004), was conceived and the term social justice eventually became the signifier

of the form of distributive justice associated with this ideological faction. Social

liberalism replaced classical liberalism as the dominant political ideology in the 1930s

and maintained its preeminence until the 1970s. During this period, social justice became

a key part of the institutional infrastructure of these countries and became firmly

entrenched in the Western social imaginary.

In this chapter, I will discuss the social problems that confounded classical

liberalism and reformist efforts and ideological challenges that arose in response. I will

recount ideas advanced by J. S. Mill and Green who provided the conceptual basis for

social liberalism and eventually social justice, review the varied conceptual elaborations

of social justice that were published in the early decades of the 20th century, explain the

process by which social justice became associated with social liberalism in the 1920s and

‘30s, describe the institutional manifestations of this concept that ensued, and discuss

limitations of this interpretation of justice. At the end of the chapter, I consider the effect

of this transformation in liberal thought on educational theory, practices, and policies. I

posit that two views of schooling were present in this period, both of which are evident in

15 Herein, I use the term “social liberalism” for the sake of simplicity.

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the present social justice education movement. One view prioritizes the development of

the individual student; the other, the development of the social order.

Classical Liberalism and Its Discontents

The transformations in thought, practice, and political form that took place in the

1700s resulted in the rise of liberalism, which fast became the dominant ideology in the

Western world. Moving into the 1800s, liberalism existed in its classical form, which

supported individual freedom by creating constraints for the state and through the free

market (Freeden, 2015). Limited, secular and accountable government and an accessible

marketplace were intended to counteract the major forces of oppression of previous

centuries.

Although writers such as Condorcet, Paine, and Wollstonecraft had argued that

these political and economic changes only would be effective along side other

institutional changes, the reforms this contingent of writers recommended were, for the

most part, not adopted. A significant factor in jettisoning the social and redistributive

reforms they advocated was a backlash against the sympathetic notions of poverty and

inequality that undergirded their views. The idea that these social problems could and

should be eradicated was challenged by those who argued that people were poor because

they were lazy, morally-deficient, had bad character, made poor decisions, and/or had bad

manners (as described by Stedman Jones, 2004). In contrast to the sympathetic view of

people that were poor advanced in the 18th century, the notion of poverty as an individual

problem that required personally focused interventions for its resolution was resurrected

in the early 19th century. Social programs, it was argued, only would encourage and

exacerbate these undesirable human tendencies.

Further, proponents of this individual understanding of poverty, such as

philosopher and member of the British parliament, Edmund Burke, argued that political

and economic inequalities were unproblematic (Stedman Jones, 2004). Rather,

inequalities were the inevitable result of individual differences and would improve

society by inspiring poor people to work harder. Therefore, the state should not seek to

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reduce disparity in any systematic way. Some, such as Herbert Spencer (1851), went so

far as to contend that those who were poor and disenfranchised and did not take the steps

to rectify their situations would die, which ultimately would benefit society through the

process of natural selection:

Partly by weeding out those of lowest development, and partly by subjecting those who remain to the never-ceasing discipline of experience, nature secures the growth of a race ...Who, indeed, after pulling off the coloured glasses of prejudice, and thrusting out of sight his pet projects, can help seeing the folly of these endeavours to protect men against themselves? A sad population of imbeciles would our schemers fill the world with, could their plans last. A sorry kind of human constitution would they make for us—a constitution lacking the power to uphold itself, and requiring to be kept alive by superintendence from without—a constitution continually going wrong, and needing to be set right again—a constitution even tending to self-destruction. Why the whole effort of nature is to get rid of such—to clear the world of them, and make room for better. Nature demands that every being shall be self-sufficing. He on whom his own stupidity, or vice, or idleness, entails loss of life, must, in the generalizations of philosophy, be classed with the victims of weak viscera or malformed limbs. In his case, as in the others, there exists a fatal non-adaptation; and it matters not in the abstract whether it be a moral, an intellectual, or a corporeal one. Beings thus imperfect are nature’s failures, and are recalled by her laws when found to be such. Along with the rest they are put upon trial. If they are sufficiently complete to live, they do live, and it is well they should live. If they are not sufficiently complete to live, they die, and it is best they should die. (as cited by Zwolinski, 2015, pp. 5-6)

Apart from providing minimal support for charity, which was designed to be

sufficiently unpleasant so as to deter people from seeking these services except in dire

circumstances, governments guided by classical liberalism did not take steps to eradicate

poverty or reduce inequality. The state was concerned primarily with limiting its actions

so as not to infringe on the freedoms of individuals (who were assumed to be rational

actors) and supporting free market conditions (which were assumed to be morally

neutral) so that citizens could exercise their autonomy through suffrage and market

participation. Any meddling by the state was disavowed by proponents of classical

liberalism who worried that more ill than good was likely to come from these efforts. For

example, Spencer considered social planning to be “utterly beyond human grasp” and

warned, “[w]e need feel no surprise, then, that in their efforts to cure specific evils,

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legislators have continually caused collateral evils they never looked for” (Spencer,

1884/1981, as cited in Zwolinski, 2015, p. 12).

19th Century Reformers

As predicted by Condorcet, Paine and Wollstonecraft, the ideal of individual

liberty could not be achieved only by restructuring political and economic systems. As

Condorcet had warned, without supporting social institutions, individuals would not be

able to engage in the political process or the market, nor take advantage of the freedoms

to which they were legally entitled. Absent large-scale institutional change, liberal

society continued to be hierarchical, with large swaths of the population doomed to

abject, intergenerational poverty. Hindered by a lack of private property, no capital with

which to leverage the market, unequal suffrage, inequitable educational opportunities

(and, thus, disparities of knowledge and rationality), poor health, and/or bad luck, many

were unable to use political and market changes to improve their life chances and did not

benefit from liberalism.

Inspired by various doctrines (e.g., Christianity, socialism, utilitarianism), 19th

century reformers intervened on behalf of individuals who were suffering (Fleischacker,

2004; Mill, 1873/2003; Norman, 1987). Although varied in their ideological

commitments, reformers shared the following beliefs: 1) poverty and inequality were

problems meriting structural solutions, 2) structures were malleable and people could,

individually and collectively, change society in positive ways, and 3) the state had some

role to play in facilitating these changes. However, reformers differed in their valuation

of individual liberty. Some, such as those inspired by utilitarianism and Marxism, were

willing to sacrifice freedom for the individual if this would benefit the worse off, lead to

more happiness for all, or result in a more equal society. Others, such as liberals, were

reluctant to expand the powers of the state even if it would benefit those who were

suffering, since they considered legislation to be an infringement on individual liberty, a

principle they would not sacrifice for any reason.

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Utilitarian reform

Benthamite utilitarianism proved an extremely effective ideological guide for

progressive reform. Guided by the tenet of maximizing the most happiness for the most

people, utilitarian reformers made it their aim to identify and change laws and structures

that were deleterious to many. Even critics of this form of utilitarianism, such as T. H.

Green, acknowledged the effectiveness of this theory, writing:

no other theory [i.e., Bentham’s utilitarianism] has been available for the social or political reformer, combining so much truth with such ready applicability. No other has offered so commanding a point of view from which to criticize the precepts and institutions presented as authoritative. (1883/1906, pp. 397-398)

It was an admirer of Benthamite utilitarianism who first used the term “social

justice” in the English language. In 1824, in the book, The Distribution of Wealth Most

Conducive to Human Happiness; Applied to the Newly Proposed System of Voluntary

Equality of Wealth, Irish philosopher William Thompson, wrote:

It is but of late that, even in theory, has been admitted the first principle of social justice, that ‘the sole object of all institutions and laws ought to be to promote the happiness of the whole of the community, or, where there was any incompatibility, that the happiness of the greater numbers should be always preferred to that of the lesser.’ (pp. 314-315)

Decades later, in 1863, J. S. Mill, another utilitarian made another passing

reference to social justice, writing:

society should treat equally well all who have deserved equally well of it – that is, who have deserved equally well period. This is the highest abstract standard of social and distributive justice. All institutions and the efforts of all virtuous citizens should be made to converge on this standard as far as possible. (p. 42, italics in original)

The meaning of social justice was not elaborated in these early references.

However, these writers foreshadow later understandings of the term. Particularly, the

association between social justice and egalitarianism (in various forms) is evident here, as

is the important role of institutions in securing this ideal.

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Marxist reform

Marxist thought was another significant instigator of reform. In developing a

communist philosophy, Marx and Engels (1848) provided an incisive critique of the ills

of the liberal political economy, arguing that poverty and inequality were not mere

contingencies, but rather endemic aspects of capitalism. They proposed class struggle and

revolution as the solutions to these problems, arguing that what was needed was a

fundamental change of the economic structure. Reform efforts that sought to tinker with

the particularities of the system but left the overarching ideological and economic

structures intact were bound to fail. Marx and Engels criticized various types of

“socialists” (e.g., Reactionary, Bourgeois, and Critical-Utopian) for continuing to abide

by liberal norms and advocating redistributive strategies rather than see the necessity of

revolution. For example, Marx and Engels described bourgeois-socialists as those,

desirous of redressing social grievances in order to secure the continued existence of bourgeois society. To this section belong economists, philanthropists, humanitarians, improvers of the condition of the working class, organisers of charity, members of societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals, temperance fanatics, hole-and-corner reformers of every imaginable kind… it requires in reality, that the proletariat should remain within the bounds of existing society, but should cast away all its hateful ideas concerning the bourgeoisie. (p. 31) 16

The changes recommended by socialists would only reinforce and extend the bourgeoisie

and would further entrench a capitalist economic system that was fundamentally unequal.

Although socialists justified their projects as “for the benefit of the working class,” this

phrase had become a perfunctory “figure of speech,” according to Marx and Engels (p.

32).

Marx did not advocate social justice, although he did contribute inadvertently to

the rise of the concept. Marxist writing heightened attention to the problems of poverty

and inequality, and awareness of and concern for these issues increased as the 19th

century proceeded. Workers and their allies began to agitate for change, as Marx

recommended, and revolution seemed a real possibility. Established institutions, wealthy 16 Contemporary social justice advocates might find Marx and Engels’ description and critique of socialists and their activist efforts to be uncomfortably familiar.

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capitalists, and the growing middle class, who all would have lost much if the status quo

had been radically transformed, became increasingly worried about class division and

struggle (Miller, 1999).

For example, the Catholic Church, an institution not known for being a bastion of

progressive thought, took an interest in the plight of the working class in the latter

decades of the 19th century. Indeed, diverging from convention, Pope Leo XIII made the

problem of class inequality the focus of his 1891 papal encyclical Rerum Novarum.

However, Leo’s central concern was social agitation attributed to the growing influence

of socialism/communism (terms used synonymously in this tract) amongst the poor and

working class, not inequality per se. Worried about class division, the potential for

revolution, and calls for increased taxation on private property, he recommended the

creation of private guilds that could advocate for better work conditions and encourage

those employed at various levels within each industry to work together. Although Leo’s

encyclical was against social justice, as the concept ultimately came to be understood in

the 1930s, this text was an important transitional document, which signalled that the

Catholic Church, a powerful institution, had an interest in political and economic affairs,

not just “spiritual” matters. Thus, it prepared the ground for the papal encyclical of Pope

Pius in the 1930s, which specifically advocated the adoption of social justice (as

discussed later in this chapter).

Liberal capitalists also were compelled to reckon with problems of inequality and

poverty as workers, inspired by Marxist doctrine, organized and expressed their

discontent. This backdrop set the stage for the acceptance of redistributive policies and

systems that came to be associated with social liberalism and social justice. Marxism and

the threat of communist revolution, according to Miller (1999),

forced liberals to look more critically at landownership, private ownership of industry, inherited wealth, and other such features of capitalism…What emerges, typically, is a discriminating defense of the market economy in which some existing property rights are criticized and others vindicated, and the state is charged with enacting those reformist policies that will lead to a just distribution of social resources. (p. 3)

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Liberal reform

In spite of growing concerns about poverty, inequality, and class division,

legislative changes intended to ameliorate conditions for the poor were frequently

opposed by liberal politicians because any form of interference by the state in the lives of

individuals was considered antithetical to freedom (Green, 1881/1911). This shifted in

the late 1800s, however, as a new form of liberalism emerged that was able to reconcile

individual freedom with forms of state interference.

Social Liberalism

As MacIntyre (1988) recounts, there are moments in history where the conceptual

and practical resources of the dominant tradition prove inadequate to addressing

conceptual and practical problems that have arisen. In these times, the tradition is

challenged, both by external doctrines with different base understandings and ideals and

also by alternate conceptions internal to the same tradition (i.e., premised on the same

beliefs and worldview). In the latter case, multiple and often competing factions emerge,

even though commitment to core principles remains.

A shift in the dominant tradition of thinking occurred in the 19th century. Unable

to curb poverty and growing inequality, and appease discontented workers, classical

liberalism was challenged and ultimately displaced from its position as the guiding

doctrine. Liberalism continued to be dominant in the West, but it ruptured into two

distinct factions, classical liberalism and social liberalism, and in the early decades of the

20th century, the latter variant supplanted the former.

Social liberalism continued to maintain the central ideological commitments that

were emphasized in classical liberalism (liberty, rationality, and limited and accountable

government), but interpreted these ideals in new ways and added to the repertoire

commitments to sociality and the general interest (Freeden, 2015). Foundational to this

new layer of liberalism was an altered ontological view of human beings. The assumption

that people were inherently rational and autonomous, as per classical liberalism, was

replaced by an ontology that emphasized the social and developmental nature of human

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beings. Social liberalism considered individual freedom a potentiality that only could be

realized in the context of a supportive community with sufficient material resources

necessary for biological growth and sustenance.

This ontological shift gave rise to a new way of thinking about the role of

government. Classical liberalism was premised on the notion of the state as an essentially

coercive force; therefore, the political process was structured to limit its activities.

However, social liberalism had a more nuanced view of state power. It could be

oppressive, but its force also could be marshalled in support of individual freedom. In

particular, legislation could be designed to facilitate the development of individual

capabilities necessary for liberty.

The works of two men – John Stuart Mill and Thomas Hill Green – were

instrumental in developing the ideas on which this new form of liberalism was

established.

John Stuart Mill

J. S. Mill was a devoted utilitarian. However, unlike Bentham, who equated

happiness with base pleasure and was willing to compromise individual freedom if it

meant more pleasure for more people, Mill considered human happiness to be a complex

achievement that varied in terms of quality and was inextricably connected to liberty

(Mill, 1859). For the sake of happiness, the freedom of individuals needed constant

protection from the influence of other people, the state, and social conventions. Part of

defending liberty for each involved imposing constraints on all. Therefore, Mill reasoned,

freedom always presupposed some form of state interference. The challenge, he

explained, was to delineate “the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately

exercised by society over the individual” (1859, p. 6). There was much work to be done

in this regard:

the practical question, where to place the limit—how to make the fitting adjustment between individual independence and social control—is a subject on which nearly everything remains to be done. All that makes existence valuable to any one, depends on the enforcement of restraints

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upon the actions of other people. Some rules of conduct, therefore, must be imposed, by law in the first place, and by opinion on many things which are not fit subjects for the operation of law. What these rules should be is the principal question in human affairs; but if we except a few of the most obvious cases, it is one of those which least progress has been made in resolving. (Mill, 1859, p. 9)

Based on this understanding, scholars and politicians committed to liberty should focus

their efforts on thinking through which constraints could be imposed justly by the state;

not argue against all forms of legislation.

Mill also reasoned that individual happiness was not necessarily antithetical to

social interests. He differentiated higher order happiness from base pleasure and argued

that the former was other-focused, virtuous, and cognizant of the common good (1863).

Therefore, the development of happiness (or interest) of individuals also would benefit

society as a whole. Thus, a liberal state and liberal education should seek to bring

individual interests into alignment with the general good. Successful education, therefore,

would have the following two outcomes, according to Mill:

(2a) The individual won’t be able to conceive the possibility of being personally happy while acting in ways opposed to the general good. (2b) In each individual a direct impulse to promote the general good will be one of the habitual motives of action, and the feelings connected with it will fill a large and prominent place in his sentient existence. This is the true character of the utilitarian morality. (1863, p. 12, emphasis in original)

In sum, Mill argued that a state committed to individual freedom and happiness

must impose some constraints on the populace. Rather than arguing against state

intervention, liberals ought to pay more attention to the forms of legislation that

supported the ideals they sought to advance. Further, Mill sought to demonstrate that the

assumption that individual interests would inevitably conflict with interests of others and

the state was wrong. These could, and should, be aligned.

Thomas Hill Green

T. H. Green, British philosopher, political activist, and instructor at Balliol

College, Oxford, was impressed by Mill’s theorizing. Indeed, Green had much in

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common with Mill. They were both sympathetic to the plight of the poor and working

classes, valued individual freedom, supported expanded public education and welfare

programs, and argued that legislation, at least in some forms, was necessary for freedom.

Of Mill, Green is reported to have said: “‘he seemed to have been such an extraordinarily

good man’” (as cited by Nettleship, 1911, p. cxiv, italics in original).

However, in spite of these similarities, Green was critical of Mill’s continued

adherence to utilitarianism. Although many successful reforms had been inspired by this

doctrine, Green attributed these to the prevalence and severity of the inequalities of

British society in the early 19th century, not to the theoretical worth of utilitarian theory.

Green approved of Mill’s amendments to Bentham’s vision, but argued that this theory

was still marred. Guided by the tenet of “the most happiness for the most people”

utilitarianism was “digging away the ground from under its own feet” (Wempe, 2004, p.

180). As conditions for the majority improved, there would be little impetus for

continued progressive reform, especially if those changes would benefit only a small

number of individuals. Thus, argued Green, enduring commitment to the underlying

principle of utility meant that Mill’s “attempts to come to a better theoretical defence of

state interference were bound to fail” (Wempe, 2004, p. 187).

Green endeavoured to develop a coherent social theory that would be able to

sustain the progressive gains that had been achieved thus far and could continue to inspire

reform efforts. His theorizing hinged on a key ontological shift. Unlike classical

liberalism, Green did not consider human beings to be inherently autonomous, rational,

or free, limited only by external constraints. Rather, Green drew attention to the

developmental nature of individual persons, arguing that their potentiality for freedom,

rationality, and self-determination (which he collectively referred to as “self-realisation”)

only could be achieved if certain social and material conditions were present. Having

political rights and economic possibilities did not ensure freedom. People also needed to

develop capabilities that would enable them to translate their potentialities into idealized

versions of themselves and then contribute to the formation of an idealized version of

society. Since human beings are social creatures with biological needs, self-realisation

depended on the presence of a supportive community and sufficient material goods (e.g.,

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food, housing, health care). The establishment and maintenance of these social and

material conditions might require forms of support from the state, he argued, most

notably in the form of public education (Green, 1877/1911, 1881/1911; Wempe, 2004).

This ontological shift provided the grounds for an enlarged conception of

freedom, which Green referred to as “freedom in the positive sense” (1881/1911, p. 372).

He set forth his reconceptualization in the following passage:

We shall probably all agree that freedom, rightly understood, is the greatest of blessings; that its attainment is the true end of all our effort as citizens. But when we thus speak of freedom we should consider carefully what we mean by it. We do not mean merely freedom from restraint or compulsion. We do not mean merely freedom to do as we like irrespectively of what it is that we like. We do not mean a freedom that can be enjoyed by one man or one set of men at the cost of a loss of freedom to others. When we speak of freedom as something to be so highly prized, we mean a positive power or capacity of doing or enjoying something worth doing or enjoying, and that, too, something that we do or enjoy in common with others. We mean by it a power which each man exercises through the help or security given him by his fellow-men, and which he in turn helps to secure for them. When we measure the progress of a society by its growth in freedom, we measure it by the increasing development and exercise on the whole of those powers of contributing to social good with which we believe the members of the society to be endowed; in short, by the greater power on the part of the citizens as a body to make the most and best of themselves. Thus, though of course there can be no freedom among men who act not willingly but under compulsion, yet on the other hand the mere removal of compulsion, the mere enabling a man to do as he likes, is in itself no contribution to true freedom. (pp. 370-371)

This new way of thinking about freedom had implications for the way the

activities of the state were understood. The state could act to promote individual freedom

and its legislation and programs would not always impinge on individual liberty. Given

that freedom is a constitutive feature of a good human life, and the state has the potential

to support this good, it follows that government also has an ethical responsibility to use

its force in a beneficent way. Specifically, according to Green, legislators are charged

with helping to provide the social and material conditions necessary for the development

of capabilities, all for the ultimate purpose of individual freedom. Based on this logic,

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positive freedom (and not the “ethics of utility,” as per Mill, 1863, p. 12) is the principle

that ought to guide all reform efforts, Green concluded.

The implications of positive freedom for politics were delineated in a lecture to

the Leicester Liberal Association in 1881. As Green identified, liberals often resisted

reform movements and legislated changes “in the sacred name of individual liberty”

(1881/1911, p. 367). Whereas political reformers of the previous generation were

recognized for “[fighting] the fight of reform in the name of individual freedom against

class privilege” (p. 367), reformers in the mid-1800s were often accused of doing the

opposite, that is to say, alleged to be advocating reforms that curtailed individual

freedom. But this view was mistaken, Green asserted. Although the reformers’ tack had

changed in response to shifting social conditions, the fight continued to be for “the same

old cause of social good against class interests” (p. 367). He cajoled audience members to

consider the history of reform. Prior to passing, legislation often seemed paternalistic he

pointed out, citing labour laws, building and workplace safety inspections, and

compulsory schooling as examples. All of these reforms the British public had opposed

decades prior to his speech but they had come to be widely accepted. However, since the

principles underlying the preceding reforms had not been clearly articulated, it was

difficult for both politicians and the public to recognize the continuity and coherence in

progressive legislative changes. Green argued that a commitment to the principle of

positive freedom connected these reforms.

Green’s theory, and specifically the way he reframed the idea of freedom, helped

to dispel the perceived contradiction between state interventions and the ideal of

individual liberty that had hindered the response of liberals to the economic and political

conditions of the 19th century. Legislation intended to eradicate poverty and reduce

inequality were not, according to Green, inimical to human freedom. No longer should

liberal parliamentarians only be concerned with limiting the influence of the state on

individual lives. They should strive to employ the power of the state to support the

principle of positive freedom.

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This reconceptualization of liberalism had much in common with the ideas

proffered by early liberals such as Condorcet and Paine. But in contrast to 18th century

liberal society, Green’s ideas led to institutional changes and, as a result, Green is known

as “the first theorist of the welfare state” (Wempe, 2004, p. 107). Public education, health

care, welfare, pensions, and health and safety regulation for workplaces all expanded as a

result of social liberalism and, by the early 1900s, the role of the state was described

thusly by Monsignor John Ryan, eventual adviser to Franklin Roosevelt:

The function of the State is to promote the social welfare. The social welfare means in practice the welfare of all individuals over whom the State has authority; and the welfare of the individual includes all those conditions that assist in the pursuit of his earthly end, namely, the reasonable development of his personality ... In addition to this, the State is charged with the obligation of promoting social prosperity. That is to say, its task is not merely to provide men with the opportunities that are absolutely essential to right living but also to furnish as far as practicable the conditions of wider and fuller life. (Ryan, 1906, as cited in Halpin & Cook, 2010, p. 19)

Conceptual Elaboration of Social Justice

As social liberalism became more prominent, references to social justice appeared

more often in published works. Unlike earlier vague mentions of the term, early 20th

century authors, such as Willoughby (1900), Addams, (1910), and Hobhouse (1922),

sought to explicate the meaning of social justice. Their varied viewpoints reveal how

social justice, from the start, has been contested in times of ideological and political

transition.

Westel Woodbury Willoughby: Social Justice: A Critical Essay (1900)

The first to explicitly take up the question of the meaning of social justice was

Willoughby, a political science professor at John Hopkins University. With reference to

Green’s work, Willoughby defined social justice as the establishment of a social order in

which individuals could develop capacities needed to realize their ethical potentialities

and, thus, achieve freedom. However, Willoughby valued social harmony over freedom,

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describing “the preservation of the peace” (1900, p. 103) as the overarching aim of all

forms of justice.

The elevation of social harmony over individual freedom in social justice is key to

understanding the form of social justice Willoughby advanced, which deviated from

Green’s account in significant ways. For example, although Green considered the social

context to be essential for the development of individual freedom, Green was aware of

the ways institutions and the state could also hinder this goal and spent years of his life

trying to root out institutional processes that entrenched and exacerbated inequalities (see

Green’s writings on education: 1877/1911, 1878/1911, 1882/1911). In contrast,

Willoughby accepted existing disparities as just, attributing these to differences in

disposition and ethical potentiality, not systemic causes. For example, he thought that

people from some groups, including minors, women, those who do not own property, and

“persons non compos mentis” (Willoughby, 1900, p. 52), should neither be able to vote,

nor hold political office. Willoughby reasoned that although all humans were “beings

with moral possibilities” (p. 36), and thus “entitled to an equality of consideration” (p.

40), individual persons had different “ethical dispositions and capacities” (p. 22), which

meant that some were unable to contribute to the aggregate good. Civil and political

rights for individuals ought, thus, to be accorded based “upon the possession of a capacity

and a disposition to employ them for the attainment of some desirable end” (p. 246).

However, it was impracticable for the state to determine capacities and dispositions of

individual persons. Therefore, he reasoned, members from certain groups who would

obviously be lacking these qualities by virtue of their gender, age, race, culture, or

intellect ought to be politically disenfranchised outright since it was possible to infer

“actual differences in personal capacity” (p. 52) based on group membership. Therefore,

“social justice” required that these persons be barred from political representation for the

sake of the common good and social harmony. He employed the same argument to

support social and economic inequality. Inequality was not problematic in any realm, he

asserted. It merely reflected inherent differences in capability or work ethic, reiterating a

line of reasoning that has been invoked throughout history to defend hierarchical

arrangements in various societies (MacIntyre, 1988).

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As Willoughby’s account reveals, ideas foundational to social liberalism (e.g.,

freedom, potentialities, capabilities, the common good) can provide a rationale for

oppression. The view of the state as a beneficent force, the value placed on social

harmony, and the assumption of cultural homogeneity were a potent mix of ideas that

could be used to justify just about any state intervention, including those based on

prejudiced views. As well, these ideas could be used to suppress dissenting voices if the

ideal of social harmony was elevated above that of individual freedom. Although Mill

and Green opposed the view of the state as an intrinsically oppressive force, as is

characteristic of classical liberalism, both of these writers balanced their positive notions

of state activities with a healthy dose of suspicion (this reticence is evident throughout

Mill’s writing and is apparent in Green’s lectures on education, discussed later in this

chapter). This nuanced take on government initiatives is absent in Willoughby’s

conception of social justice.

Jane Addams: Charity and Social Justice (1910)

Addams, social and political activist, leader of the settlement house movement in

the United States, and co-founder of Hull House in Chicago, founder of the field of social

work, key supporter of the international peace movement, and winner of the 1931 Nobel

Peace Prize, interpreted social justice differently than Willoughby. Although she referred

to social justice often in her books and speeches (e.g., Addams, 1907), her primary

concern was the practical and political deployment of this concept, not philosophical

articulation. However, in her 1910 presidential address to the National Conference on

Charities and Correction, entitled Charity and Social Justice, Addams took up the

question of the meaning of social justice.

There had been a cultural shift, Addams (1910) observed, away from charity and

towards social justice:

If at times the moral fire seems to be dying out of the good old words Relief and Charity, it has undoubtedly filled with a new warmth for certain words which belong distinctively to our own times; such words as Prevention, Amelioration, and Social Justice. (p. 3)

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As she described, social justice had come to signify efforts by activists (“radicals”) to

bring about social welfare legislation and charity that directly provided for individual

needs. She countered this view, however, arguing that social justice and charity were

closely related. As she explained, “[t]hese two groups, as the result of a growing

awareness of distress and of a slowly deepening perception of its causes, are at last

uniting into an effective demand for juster social conditions” (1910, p. 1). Those involved

in charity and social justice should never forget their common purpose and the ways they

could work together for its achievement. Addams reminded her listeners that it was the

work of philanthropists that laid the groundwork for social justice initiatives. Successful

reform depended on “first popular agitation, second, statistical information” (1910, p. 4),

and both of these required close familiarity with social problems that often was gained as

a result of charitable initiatives. Those involved in charity are well placed to argue for

social legislation, she contended, based on their knowledge of injustices. As such, they

ought to see part of their charitable work as obliging the state to fulfill its primary duty:

“to see to it that no member of the community shall actually perish through lack of shelter

or food” (1910, p. 11).

As Addams’ address demonstrates, by the early decades of the 20th century, social

justice was a term that was already being used, particularly by those aligned with a

progressive form of liberalism that called for state intervention for the betterment of

society. Thus, although this concept had not yet widely captured the attention of

academics, social justice was making its mark via the work of activists, politicians and, as

Addams encouraged, philanthropists. This speech also provides an example of an issue

that has continued to belie social justice: Are all efforts of social betterment, including

charity, included under the conceptual banner of social justice or ought this term be

reserved for activities intended to bring about systemic change?

Leonard Trelawny Hobhouse: The Elements of Social Justice (1922)

Over a decade later, British politician and sociologist, L. T. Hobhouse, developed

a more comprehensive theoretical account of social justice that aligned with Addams’

interpretation of the concept. Like Addams, Hobhouse was involved in politics and the

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practical implementation of social justice. However, he considered there to be value in

laying out a theoretical conception of social justice, noting: “The value of theoretical

discussion is in clearing up the conditions of success, in measuring results, in recognizing

elements of success and failure, and planning necessary readjustments” (1922, pp. 20-

21).

Drawing from Mill and Green, Hobhouse defined social justice as an idealized

social order characterized by intrapersonal and interpersonal harmony, the primary

purpose of which was the advancement of individual happiness and freedom. The

explanation of this conception revolved around four issues Hobhouse identified as

fundamental: the association between happiness and freedom, the meaning of individual

freedom, the role of society in the achievement of freedom, and the limits of individual

freedom.

Hobhouse recognized that in spite of Mill’s and Green’s theorizing, liberty still

was most often understood to be the absence of constraint. Although problematic, this

view had persisted because of “the illusion of unlimited potentiality” (Hobhouse, 1922,

p. 47)—that is, the human tendency to imagine all of the things one might do if one were

only free of family, state, church, or social restraints. However, seldom does this type of

freedom lead to the type of fulfillment people imagine, he observed. Further, he pointed

out, we are never truly free of all limits since when external limits are removed we

promptly impose constraints on ourselves. Hobhouse concluded, therefore, that although

a popular aspiration, unqualified individual liberty was not “a coherent ideal” (1922, p.

46). Nonetheless, he recognized that the value placed on liberty made this ideal a good in

and of itself. Freedom was not important because it necessarily improved wellbeing;

freedom was itself “an essential element in the common welfare” (1922, p. 67). Liberty is

valuable beyond the end result of the choices the individual makes and, thus, a critical

aspect of social justice.

According to Hobhouse, self-determination is key to individual freedom.

However, self-determination is complicated by the numerous “factors” of the self (e.g.,

intellect, passion, will) that often are not unified in their intent. Hobhouse asked:

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What is the freedom of man within? What are the internal factors which are to determine him? Notoriously they are various and conflicting, and the freedom of one may be the constraint or destruction of another. A man may be set free from all external restraint only to find himself the slave of a passion. From such slavery ordinary morals tell us that he is to be set free by his will. The will would be free internally if it had mastered all else, but would the man necessarily be free? It is possible that the will itself may be both a hard task-master and a slave – a hard master in repressing spontaneous springs of life and feeling, a slave in rigid adherence to some maxim imposed on it by suggestion that by no means expresses its whole nature. Or we may put it, granted that the will may obtain freedom by perfect mastery, is the will the man, or is the man the whole internal system of thoughts, emotions, imaginings, impulses, conscious and unconscious? (1922, p. 50)

Given the complexities of self, freedom through self-determination does not come from

merely removing constraints designated as external to the self. Freedom, Hobhouse

argued, required harmonizing the various factors of the self into a cohesive whole.

Paradoxically, this “cultivation of personality” (1922, pp. 92-93) depended on the

development of internal restraints, which came about from external impositions. It was

the duty and responsibility of society, he argued, to provide the conditions, specifically

the education, necessary for the development of internal harmony in its citizens. The

fulfillment of this duty necessarily required some constraints.

Not only was society compelled to provide educational experiences conducive to

the development of self-determination, society also was responsible for balancing the

interests of the individual with those of the collective. An ongoing challenge for social

liberalism, Hobhouse recognized, was navigating between “a one-sided collectivism and

a one-sided individualism” (1922, p. 22). The danger in collectively pursing a common

good was that individuals were often crushed in its pursuit, Hobhouse warned. However,

the pendulum can also swing too far in the other direction:

By reaction against the one-sided exaltation of the state we easily reach an equally one-sided individualism. This individualism may be defined as that which attributes to the individual as against society anything which really belongs to him only as a member of society. Outside the domain of theory this is a very common mode of thinking and speaking. (Hobhouse, 1922, p. 25)

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The problematic form of individualism Hobhouse described is premised on an

erroneous ontological conception and has adverse practical implications. Individuals are

social beings and self-determination is contingent on immersion in relationships that

enabled this potentiality, Hobhouse posited. It does not make any sense to think about

human beings in an atomistic way, as some forms of liberalism are prone to promote. For

example, radical individualism was evident in the doctrine of natural rights, which “have

often been attributed to the individual as though they were part of his skin, or one of his

limbs” (Hobhouse, 1922, p. 26). As a result, “the individual is clothed with rights which

are made to dominate instead of securing the common good, and are even divorced from

duties because duties imply social ties” (Hobhouse, 1922, p. 30).

Hobhouse argued that rights, correctly understood, were key to finding harmony

between collectivism and individualism. Rights should not be taken to mean that the

individual has the right to do whatever he or she pleases. Rights imply obligation. Each

person only has rights because of they are a part of a community of persons who agree to

some restraints out of respect for individual freedom. Rights secure liberty for individuals

not by the elimination of restraints, but rather, through common acceptance of limitations

on actions. Unrestrained liberty for one person, as in an absolutist monarchy, would result

in the denigration of liberty for the rest. Restraints for all are the preconditions of

freedom. Thus, the presence of rights automatically infers the embeddedness of the

individual in a collective. As Hobhouse described,“[t]he rights of men are not therefore

conditions precedent to society, but move and have their being in social life” (1922, p.

33).

This modified conception of rights is not a panacea, however. An inevitable result

is that some individuals will use their freedom in ways that are disagreeable or harmful to

other individuals and/or to the society as a whole. Therefore, when the actions of the

individual harm others or the community, or infringe upon the freedoms of others, the

state empowered by a system of rights steps in. In this way, “[l]iberty so understood is

itself the most far-reaching principle of the common welfare, in the name of which it is

that restraints are imposed” (Hobhouse, 1922, pp. 84-85).

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Rights alone will not ensure liberty. According to Hobhouse, the problem with the

common maxim, “to every man full liberty, provided that he does not interfere with the

like liberty of another” (1922, p. 61), was that freedom of action in an interpersonal

exchange depends on equality of the parties involved. Hobhouse used the example of two

individuals in a fistfight to demonstrate this point. Each combatant is equally free to

punch the other. However, the opportunity to punch back hardly feels like freedom to the

weaker person. Better for the weaker person to avoid being punched at all! If the state is

committed to the principle of liberty, it also is obliged to take steps to develop equal

conditions to make freedom in interactions possible.

Hobhouse’s work was highly significant in advancing the concept of social

justice. First, as part of a group of politically active scholars, he played a central role in

the political implementation of Mill’s and Green’s ideas. As a result of the work of

Hobhouse and likeminded politicians, the principles of social liberalism became a

practical reality. Second, Hobhouse’s book clearly connected the ideology and political

agenda of social liberalism to justice, noting, “Justice is a name to which every knee will

bow” (1922, p. 104).

The Popularization and Institutionalization of Social Justice

Social justice became part of mainstream Western culture in the 1930s. The First

World War and 1929 stock market crash and ensuing depression contributed to a public

receptiveness to new political ideas. Politicians who espoused social liberalism were

elected and the concept of social justice was institutionalized. As well, an overt

endorsement of social justice by the Catholic Church in 1931, and Keynesian economics,

which provided an economic rationale and practical guide for the implementation of

social justice programs and policies, helped to establish social justice as a central feature

of the social imaginary in Western democratic societies.

Social justice in politics

In the 1930s, social liberal politicians in many Western nations began to name

social justice as both a descriptor of, and justification for, the programs they sought to

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advance. A paramount example of the way the term social justice was used to represent

the political platform associated with social liberalism is Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1932

speech.

On the campaign trail, Roosevelt presented himself as the social justice candidate

in the upcoming United States election. He contrasted his view with those from the “let

things alone” camp, which he described as founded on the view that “if we make the rich

richer, somehow they will let a part of their prosperity trickle down to the rest of us”

(1932, para. 6). In contrast, the progressive theory of social justice he advanced was

based on the belief that “if we make the average of mankind comfortable and secure, their

prosperity will rise upward, just as yeast rises up, through the ranks” (para. 6).

The basis of Roosevelt’s social justice platform was a promise to work to reduce

poverty, a pressing concern in 1932. Rather than merely providing charity, he committed

to using science to address the core causes of this social problem, likening it to a disease:

Now, my friends, the philosophy of social justice that I am going to talk about this Sabbath day, the philosophy of social justice through social action, calls definitely, plainly, for the reduction of poverty. And what do we mean when we talk about the reduction of poverty? We mean the reduction of the causes of poverty. When we have an epidemic of disease in these modern days, what do we do? We turn in the first instance to find out the sources from which the disease has come; and when we have found those sources, those causes, we turn the energy of our attack upon them. We have got beyond the point in modern civilization of merely trying to fight an epidemic of disease by taking care of the victims after they are stricken. We do that; but we do more. We seek to prevent it; and the attack on poverty is not very unlike the attack on disease. (1932, para. 7-8)

Although he applauded charitable efforts to care for the infirm and needy,

Roosevelt appealed to the American people to set their sights higher and work together to

eradicate poverty at its sources, not just deal with the consequences. The ultimate goal

would be to enable people to be self-determining:

if we set up a system of justice we shall have small need for the exercise of mere philanthropy. Justice, after all, is the first goal we seek. We believe that when justice has been done individualism will have a greater security to devote the best that individualism itself can give. In other

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words, my friends, our long-range objective is not a dole, but a job. (1932, para. 26)

A skilled rhetorician, Roosevelt anticipated and countered the critique that “the

first responsibility for the alleviation of poverty and distress and for the care of the

victims of the depression rests upon the locality” (1932, para. 27). Although he

acknowledged the role of community support, he argued that those affected most

profoundly cannot address problems of poverty and social welfare alone: “the

communities that have the most difficult problem, like Detroit [this speech was given in

Detroit], would be the communities that would have to bear the heaviest of the burdens”

(1932, para. 27).

Finally, Roosevelt argued that not only was social justice a progressive position

aligned with science, but also, it was morally superior. As evidence, he cited religious

leaders who had spoken favorably of social justice, including Pope Pius (whose influence

is discussed in the next section), who Roosevelt described as having made a “radical”

declaration in favor of social justice in spite of representing “one of the greatest forces of

conservatism in the world, the Catholic Church” (1932, para. 35).

This campaign speech, which helped to solidify the notion of social justice in the

imaginations of the American public, ends with the following quote that is etched in

stone in a memorial dedicated to Roosevelt in Washington, D.C.:

And so, in these days of difficulty, we Americans everywhere must and shall choose the path of social justice – the only path that will lead us to a permanent bettering of our civilization, the path that our children must tread and their children must tread, the path of faith, the path of hope and the path of love toward our fellow man. (1932, para. 44)

Roosevelt took office in 1933 and after congressional victories by the Democrats

in 1934 enacted legislation (the “New Deal”) based on the social justice philosophy he

had outlined in this speech. The “New Deal” led to the Social Security Act of 1935,

which included provisions for the unemployed, aged, and families with children, as well

as work relief programs and support for housing (Blau & Abramovitz, 2007).

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Social justice in religion

The endorsement of social justice by Pope Pius in his encyclical Quadragesimo

Anno (1931) contributed to establishing social justice as an important concept in Western

society. Written to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum

Novarum (1891), Pius followed Leo by making social and economic concerns the focus

of his treatise. Pius observed that those who were poor continued to suffer under

capitalism, the threat of communist revolution was still present, and moral degeneracy

continued to be widespread. However, Pius differed dramatically from Leo in his

assessment of the problem and solutions recommended. Unlike Leo, who had opposed

state interference, Pius argued for the inception of social justice, a notion he associated

with state-sponsored redistributive strategies and the regulation of economic affairs. For

example, he wrote:

Just as the unity of human society cannot be founded on an opposition of classes, so also the right ordering of economic life cannot be left to a free competition of forces. For from this source, as from a poisoned spring, have originated and spread all the errors of individualist economic teaching…. But free competition, while justified and certainly useful provided it is kept within certain limits, clearly cannot direct economic life …Therefore, it is most necessary that economic life be again subjected to and governed by a true and effective directing principle… Loftier and nobler principles—social justice and social charity—must, therefore, be sought … Hence, the institutions themselves of peoples and, particularly those of all social life, ought to be penetrated with this justice, and it is most necessary that it be truly effective, that is, establish a juridical and social order which will, as it were, give form and shape to all economic life. (para. 88)

Free market capitalism exacerbated disparity, a social ill and, as such, Pius called

for this system to be “brought into conformity with the norms of the common good; that

is, social justice” (1931, paras. 57-58). Rising inequality must be quelled, he argued,

pointing out that the aims of socialism, which he differentiated from communism, aligned

easily with Christian doctrine.

This papal encyclical proved instrumental in establishing social justice as a key

edict within the Catholic Church, a commitment that extended to other faith communities.

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As Hayek (1976) recognized, the commendation of social justice by religious leaders

gave this political notion moral credence, furthering its influence in society:

[social justice] has gradually been taken over from the socialist not only by all the other political movements but also by most teachers and preachers of morality. It seems in particular to have been embraced by a large section of the clergy of all Christian denominations, who, while increasingly losing their faith in supernatural revelation, appear to have sought refuge and consolation in a new ‘social’ religion which substitutes a temporal for a celestial promise of justice, and who hope that they can thus continue their striving to do good. The Roman Catholic Church especially has made the aim of ‘social justice’ part of it’s official doctrine; but the ministers of most Christian denominations appear to vie with each other with such offers of more mundane aims – Which also seem to provide the chief foundation for renewed ecumenical efforts. (p. 66)

Social justice in economic theory

Another proponent of social justice was economist John Maynard Keynes. There

was much in the capitalist economic system of the early 1900s that was problematic,

according to Keynes. Particularly disconcerting were the high stakes nature of laissez-

faire capitalism, excessive unemployment, and the “arbitrary and inequitable distribution

of income” (Keynes, p. 372, as cited in Elliott & Clark, 1987, p. 382). In contrast to the

prevailing view of the time, Keynes theorized that inequality impeded economic growth.

Therefore, not only did he advocate for redistributive measures, he also argued that

practices that increased inequality, such as raising interest rates and cutting wages during

economic depressions, should be abandoned. These practices were not justifiable when

evaluated on the criterion of either “social justice or economic expediency” (Keynes,

1936, p. 267, as cited in Elliott & Clark, 1987, p. 389).

Keynesian economics achieved full force following World War II (WWII), at

which point Western democratic governments used Keynes’ theory to justify industry

regulations and an expansion of social programs. For example, in describing Canada’s

post-WWII comprehensive social assistance program, Rice (2005) writes:

Keynes's theories provided the foundation upon which governments began to create a mixed economy in which private ownership and production are

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combined with state intervention and regulation to develop a broad-based welfare system. (pp. 362-363)

Social justice and the mid-century interventionist state

The election of social liberal politicians, endorsements from religious leaders and

widespread implementation of Keynesian economic principles came together and social

justice was institutionalized in various forms. As noted by a United Nations

subcommittee:

By the mid-twentieth century, the concept of social justice had become central to the ideologies and programmes of virtually all the leftist and centrist political parties around the world, and few dared to oppose it directly. Social justice represented the essence and the raison d’être of the social democrat doctrine and left its mark in the decades following the Second World War. (United Nations, 2006, p. 12)

The “mark” of social justice included taxation policies and welfare programs

aimed at redistributing wealth and regulatory systems that sought to balance the interests

of capital and labour (Harvey, 2005). For example, in Britain, Attlee’s Labour Party

implemented the “cradle-to-grave welfare state,” as had been laid out in the 1942

Beveridge Report (Brown, 2001, para. 4). In Canada, various social programs (e.g., old

age security, family allowance, universal health care, unemployment insurance, and

pension plans) were implemented following the war forming a comprehensive welfare

program (Hicks, 2008; Rice, 2005). In the USA, McCarthyism stalled the implementation

of new social justice programs in the 1950s, although some initiatives that had been

instituted in the 1930s continued. However, in the 1960s, Lyndon Johnson’s “war on

poverty in America” (Johnson, 1964, para. 18) resulted in expanded voting rights, the

introduction of support for the aged, and the establishment of Medicaid, Medicare, the

Head Start program, and the Neighborhood Youth Corps (Blau & Abramovitz, 2007).

Corporate regulations also expanded in many Western countries in the post-war years

under the auspices of social justice (Drutman, 2015). The frequency of appeals to social

justice in support of welfare institutions, progressive taxation policies, and state

regulations that limited corporate power are evident in even cursory searches of the

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Canadian and British Hansard records from 1930 – 1970.17 18 (Web access to the United

States Congressional Records are not available for these decades.19) As Hayek (1976)

described:

The appeal to ‘social justice’ has nevertheless by now become the most widely used and most effective argument in political discussion. Almost every claim for government action on behalf of particular groups is advanced in its name, and if it can be made to appear that a certain measure is demanded by ‘social justice,’ opposition to it will rapidly weaken. People may dispute whether or not the particular measures are required by social justice. But that this is the standard which ought to guide clinical action, and that the expression has a definite meaning, is hardly ever a question. In consequence, there are today probably no political movements or politicians who do not readily appeal to ‘social justice’ in support of the particular measures which they advocate. (p. 65)

The Absence of Social Justice

In the preface to Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of

Reason (1965/1988), Foucault explains, “I have not tried to write the history of that

language, but rather the archaeology of that silence” (p. xi), highlighting the importance

of paying attention in historical inquiry not only to what is said, but also to what is not

said, to the silence. In seeking to understand social justice, it is instructive to take note of

not only the ways the term was being used, but also the situations where it was not

employed. Particularly revealing are contextual situations where the term “social justice”

might be expected to appear, in retrospect, and it does not. For example, references to

social justice are conspicuously absent in the texts (publications and transcripts of

speeches) of the leaders of brewing justice movements in mid-century America that now 17 A search of mentions of “social justice” in UK Parliament Hansard in the period from 1930 to 1970 reveals 1244 results with an increase in references throughout these decades:

https://hansard.parliament.uk/search/Contributions?endDate=01%2f01%2f1970+00%3a00%3a00&searchTerm=%22social+justice%22&startDate=01%2f01%2f1930+00%3a00%3a00&page=3 18 A search of the Canadian Parliament Hansard produces 221 records of instances where politicians referenced “social justice” in either the House of Commons or the Senate. http://parl.canadiana.ca/search?df=1930&q0.0=%22social+justice%22&dt=1970&so=oldest&identifier=&identifier=&identifier=&lang= 19 https://www.senate.gov/reference/common/faq/how_to_congressional_record.htm and https://www.congress.gov/congressional-record/archive

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often are considered to epitomize social justice. For example, I could find no evidence

that Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, or Betty Friedan, leaders of the civil rights

movement, Black power movement, and feminist movement, appealed to the concept of

social justice to describe or justify their actions or gather support for their causes

(Friedan, 1963; King, 1957, 1963, 1964, 1968; Malcolm X, 1964).

Further, the term was not used in the founding documents of the United Nations

(UN), in spite of the significant involvement of Eleanor and F. D. Roosevelt (FDR) in the

inception of the United Nations in 1945 (United Nations, 2006). Given the importance

placed on social justice in FDR’s political platform, one might expect this concept also to

have been emphasized by the UN. Not only did social justice not appear in the early texts

of the UN, this term was not used in a UN text until 1969, when it was included in a

document “[a]t the initiative of the Soviet Union, and with the support of developing

countries” (UN, 2006, p. 52). For the remaining three decades of the 20th century, the

term was used within the UN to refer to “the distribution of income and wealth, the

distribution of opportunities for work and employment, and the distribution of

opportunities for access to social services, especially education and health,” both between

and within countries (UN, 2006, p. 53). However, within the UN, activities pertaining to

social justice were separated from those related to the advancement of human rights, with

the Soviet Union and developing countries focused on the advancement of social justice

and Western democracies championing human rights. In recent years, this division has

been recognized as being to the detriment of the achievement of both social justice and

human rights (UN, 2006).

The absence of references to social justice by justice movement leaders and in the

UN can be attributed to the limited purview of the concept at this time (a topic I will

discuss further in the next chapter). Since social justice was conceived primarily as an

issue of economic justice amongst citizens of nation states at that point in history (Fraser,

2009), appeal to social justice could be used as leverage against the state in some

situations, but this discursive power was not equally available to all. For example, it

could not be used to draw attention to injustices either premised on notions of recognition

or that occurred across the bounds of nation states. Owing to this limitation, leaders of

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mid-century justice movements often appealed to human rights rather than to social

justice, as revealed in the following passage from Malcolm X’s 1964 speech, The Ballot

or the Bullet:

We need to expand the civil-rights struggle to a higher level—to the level of human rights. Whenever you are in a civil-rights struggle, whether you know it or not, you are confining yourself to the jurisdiction of Uncle Sam. No one from the outside world can speak out in your behalf as long as your struggle is a civil-rights struggle. Civil rights comes within the domestic affairs of this country. All of our African brothers and our Asian brothers and our Latin-American brothers cannot open their mouths and interfere in the domestic affairs of the United States. And as long as it's civil rights, this comes under the jurisdiction of Uncle Sam.

But the United Nations has what's known as the charter of human rights; it has a committee that deals in human rights. You may wonder why all of the atrocities that have been committed in Africa and in Hungary and in Asia, and in Latin America are brought before the UN, and the Negro problem is never brought before the UN. This is part of the conspiracy. This old, tricky blue eyed liberal who is supposed to be your and my friend, supposed to be in our corner, supposed to be subsidizing our struggle, and supposed to be acting in the capacity of an adviser, never tells you anything about human rights. They keep you wrapped up in civil rights. And you spend so much time barking up the civil-rights tree, you don't even know there's a human-rights tree on the same floor.

When you expand the civil-rights struggle to the level of human rights, you can then take the case of the black man in this country before the nations in the UN. You can take it before the General Assembly. You can take Uncle Sam before a world court. But the only level you can do it on is the level of human rights. Civil rights keeps you under his restrictions, under his jurisdiction. Civil rights keeps you in his pocket. Civil rights means you're asking Uncle Sam to treat you right. Human rights are something you were born with. Human rights are your God-given rights. Human rights are the rights that are recognized by all nations of this earth. And any time any one violates your human rights, you can take them to the world court.

Uncle Sam's hands are dripping with blood, dripping with the blood of the black man in this country. He's the earth's number-one hypocrite. He has the audacity—yes, he has—imagine him posing as the leader of the free world. The free world! And you over here singing "We Shall Overcome." Expand the civil-rights struggle to the level of human rights. Take it into the United Nations, where our African brothers can throw their weight on our side, where our Asian brothers can throw their weight on our side,

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where our Latin-American brothers can throw their weight on our side, and where 800 million Chinamen are sitting there waiting to throw their weight on our side.

Let the world know how bloody his hands are. Let the world know the hypocrisy that's practiced over here. (paras. 33-37)

Social Liberalism and Education

Educational policies and practices were influenced by the rise of social liberalism,

which emphasized the moral responsibility of the state in the development and wellbeing

of individuals. Freedom in this faction of liberalism depended not only on limited and

accountable government and protection for the free market, but also, most importantly,

on the development of individual capabilities that enabled self-determination. The

emphasis on personal development for freedom served as justification for state

interventions, especially schooling, that would enable individuals to achieve this ideal.

Thus, the inception of this form of liberalism gave new impetus to establish universal

public education systems in many Western countries.

The most obvious effect of social liberalism was rapid growth of public

schooling. Not only did the number of children and youth attending schools rise, there

also was an increase in diversity of the student population and schools struggled to

accommodate these changes. In response to this influx, numerous structural and

educational reforms were proposed and implemented and schooling changed in

fundamental ways between the late 1800s and mid-20th century (as recounted by Cremin,

1976; Olson, 2003; Ravitch, 2000). My purpose in this section is not to review these

shifts, but rather, to draw attention to two different views of public schooling that arose

during this period and that continue to be present in contemporary educational discourse,

particularly that which pertains to social justice. The first view, evident in lectures on

education given by both Green in the 19th century and in Du Bois’ critique of vocational

education in the 20th century, emphasizes the development of capacities of individual

students. Although schools are tasked with providing this good, they also can function in

ways counter to this overarching aim. Both Green and Du Bois aimed to eradicate

processes in schooling that interfered with the development of student capabilities. The

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second conception emphasizes the potential for schools to shape the social order.

According to this view, schooling, done well, is a force for good in society. Although I

suspect Dewey would not agree with this purpose being granted primacy in schooling, his

theorizing was instrumental in launching this position. In this section, I focus on the

perspectives on schooling found in the writings of Green, Dewey, and Du Bois and also

discuss the surprising absence of references to social justice in the educational literature

in the first half of the 20th century.

State institutions as both beneficent and oppressive, and the challenges of discerning and mediating these effects: Examples from mid-century Britain as described by T. H. Green

Green’s work for the National Education Commission in mid-19th century

England gave him great insight into the functions of education systems. Although he

worked tirelessly for the advancement of public education, and education was central to

his theory of self-realisation, he also observed the propensity for schools to be oppressive

and to reinforce long-established disparities along class and religious lines. As detailed in

several lectures, Lecture on the Grading of Secondary Schools (1877/1911), Two

Lectures on the Elementary School System of England: I and II (1878/1911), and Lecture

on the Work to be Done by the New Oxford High School for Boys (1882/1911), pre-

existing social inequalities influenced and in turn were reinforced by educational

processes.

The British school system in the mid-1800s was disjointed, variable in its quality,

and discriminatory, the result of a complex web of elite (and ironically named) “public

schools,” independent boarding schools, and religious private schools. Although two

national educational organizations had existed in Britain since the early 1800s, their

efforts to build schools and train teachers had been in concert with churches from various

faith groups who took primary responsibility for managing the schools they oversaw.

There was no national curriculum or standard fee structure, and will and ability to enforce

compulsory attendance (imposed by the state) was variable. Private schools had to appeal

to potential “customers” (who also donated to the church, and thus paid the salary of the

teachers and clergy) and this commercial exchange constrained the schools’ ability to

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enforce attendance. As well, teachers often felt pressured to adjust the curriculum

according to the wishes of (paying) parents, even if this meant compromising the

educational value of the curriculum. Although liberal and conservative governments had

tried repeatedly to establish a national oversight body that would work with local school

boards to coordinate education across the country, churches were reluctant to give up

control (Green, 1877/1911). As a result, the piecemeal approach to education continued,

with no standardized curriculum, little coordination among schools of different levels,

and variable levels of attendance across schools.

Family differences also significantly contributed to educational disparities.

Financial means and religious affiliation limited opportunities for some students in the

schooling matrix that existed. As well, the value placed on education in homes exerted a

powerful influence on the imaginations and aspirations of children and contributed to the

ongoing lack of students from “humbler homes” in higher education, Green believed

(1878/1911). If students could not imagine themselves at university, the presence of

scholarships intended to overcome the cost barrier that had been instituted in numerous

institutions would not matter. And, indeed, this was the case. Bursaries for poor students

and those from “nonconformist” (i.e., from a religious group other than the Church of

England) families often remained unclaimed. If one wished to increase diversity at the

university level, one had to make modifications at the most elementary level of

schooling, Green argued. The academic success of bright students would be an

inspiration to others from their respective class or religious backgrounds, thus instigating

a process of social change (Green, 1882/1911).

The relationship between family and schools was not unidirectional, however.

That is to say, it was not just that the educational system exacerbated differences that

already existed between families. Family characteristics and decisions also changed the

system, sometimes in unexpected ways. For example, the national Schools Inquiry

Commission of which Green was a part had recommended that schools be graded

according to the focus of their curriculum, fee structure, and leaving age of students. The

intention of this classification scheme was efficiency. There was no reason why students

who would have a commercial career should be required to study subjects necessary for

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university entrance (e.g., Greek). If students could be grouped according to prior

knowledge and their intended line of work, schooling could be more efficient and the

educational experience could be enhanced. Therefore, as Green recites, the commission

recommended: “Three different kinds of work require three different kinds of school.

Each kind of school should have its own proper aim set before it, and should be put under

such rules as will compel it to keep to that aim” (1877/1911, p. 397). However, the

success of this differentiated system was compromised by the complexities of class.

Parents from the middle and upper classes wanted their children to go to first grade

schools with a reputation for providing the “education of gentlemen” (Green, 1877/1911,

p. 403), regardless of the aptitude or intended vocation of their child. As a result, many

students who attended first class schools left early if a well-paying employment

opportunity in business, which they had always intended to pursue, arose. Not only was

this a waste of a spot in that school that could have gone to a child better suited to that

style of education, it also was to the detriment of the student enrolled, who had not

received an education tailored to their eventual line of work. Parental ambitions and class

consciousness foiled the plans of school reformers and, as Green bemoaned, “It is one of

the inconveniences attaching to the present state of society in England, that all questions

of education are complicated by distinctions of class” (1877/1911, p. 403). As a result,

Green recommended that schools no longer be graded: “Let all designation of grades

among them, which with us always tends to become merely a designation of social

pretension, as much as possible be avoided” (1877/1911, p. 403). All schools should offer

the same educational opportunities and not be distinguished from one another, except at

higher levels.

The overall effect of these historic, religious, cultural, systemic, and family

factors was to reinforce class differences in Britain and to prevent education from being a

“ladder of learning” (Huxley, n.d., as cited by Green, 1878/1911, p. 393). Although

educational outcomes will inevitably vary according to differences of ability, the

challenge Green identified was that in a society rife with inequalities, disentangling

ability from privilege was a nearly impossible task. Contingencies of culture and history

had resulted in an educational system that perpetuated, rather than disrupted, social

inequalities in Britain and the effect of differences early on in schooling carried on all the

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way through the system, resulting in a lack of diversity at universities, even after

scholarships had been instituted to remove pecuniary barriers. As a result:

The lines of education at present do not intersect the social strata, but are parallel with them. A boy is sent to the school which the means of his parents or their social expectations determine, and from it he very rarely emerges, except into another of the same sort, till his education is supposed to be finished. (Green, 1878/1911, p. 390)

Green’s lectures on education provide a counterpoint to the views of a beneficent

state that emerged from his scholarship and were described previously. Although the state

and its institutions (including public schooling) had the potential to be forces that could

work towards liberal ideals of freedom and the general interest, a critical attitude towards

government institutions also was evident in his work. In this way he coupled a suspicious

attitude towards the state and its institutions, often associated with classical liberalism,

with the positive view of the state characteristic of social liberalism.

The hope for society lies in the schooling system: John Dewey and progressive education

As social liberalism grew in influence, the ideas underscoring this ideology

infiltrated education. Belief in the beneficent state grew, concern for the potential for

state institutions to impede individual freedom diminished, and schooling increasingly

came to be viewed as a force for good, both for individuals and for society as a whole.

As the 19th century drew to a close, educational theorists and social reformers

became increasingly preoccupied with three concerns: 1) the potential for the school

system to shape society, 2) the need for an equitable school system that could help

prepare all students to contribute to society, both as citizens and vocationally, and 3)

adjusting educational practice in accordance with findings emerging from the new

sciences of psychology and sociology. These three foci became the mainstay of

progressive education, a movement that drew inspiration from social liberalism,

dominated educational rhetoric, and significantly influenced educational practice in the

20th century (Ravitch, 2000).

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No one did more to establish progressive education than Dewey, a prolific writer

who sought to advance a new vision for education based on insights drawn from

philosophy, psychology, and sociology. Dewey’s ability to transpose the vision of social

liberalism, which was growing in popularity, into the context of education contributed to

the popularity of his ideas at the time and their enduring significance. The wide-ranging

nature of his writing and his predilection for integrating educational binaries meant that

many, even those whose notions were oppositional, used Dewey’s theories in support of

their ideas (van der Ploeg, 2016). As Fallace (2011) observes, “Although few educators

drew upon all the aspects of Dewey’s thought, many drew upon selected portions of his

ideas to supplement the scholars’ own theories” (pp. 488-489).

Proponents of the varied strands of progressivism that emerged alluded to

Dewey’s work as an influence (Labaree, 2005; Reese, 2003). For example, one strand of

progressivism emphasized social efficiency which, practically speaking, meant a

differentiated curriculum that emphasized vocational aims (also called “administrative

progressives”). Another strand, “pedagogical progressivism,” emphasized child-centred

and discovery learning (Labaree, 2005). Proponents of these disparate views nonetheless

shared a “belief in developmentalism, which led them to call for education that was

adapted to the capacities of students at particular stages of intellectual and social growth”

and a “common dissatisfaction with, and often active hostility toward, the traditional

academic curriculum” (Labaree, 2005, p. 10). Labaree goes on to describe how,

[i]n this attack on discipline-based school subjects, the two stood together, although the grounds for their attacks were quite different. Administrative progressives saw academic subjects as an impediment to the acquisition of the useful knowledge needed to play adult social and economic roles, but the pedagogical progressives saw these subjects as an imposition of adult structures of knowledge that would impede student interest and deter self-directed learning. (p. 10)

I suspect that Dewey would not have supported the opposition to subject matter

based teaching that has come to be associated with progressivism, just as he did not

support the divergence between vocational and cultural education, which I will discuss

further later on (see Dewey, 1916/2009, 1938). Nonetheless, Dewey’s writing formed the

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basis for progressivism and, as such, I examine his ideas here, with a particular focus on

the way he implemented ideas of social liberalism in educational contexts.

Dewey considered education to be a keystone of liberalism. However, unlike

Condorcet, who warned against using education to try to advance a particular political

agenda, Dewey believed that education could be used to change the social order. He

wrote:

As a society becomes more enlightened, it realizes that it is responsible not to transmit and conserve the whole of its existing achievements, but only such as make for a better future society. The school is its chief agency for the accomplishment of this end. (Dewey, 1916/2009, p. 20)

The way this would happen, Dewey proposed, was to design the school as an “embryonic

community” (1899/1915, p. 27) that would shape the mind of each child in accordance

with the ideals of the political system. Thus, a transformation of schools would be the

impetus for social change, as Dewey described in Democracy & Education (1916/2009):

we may produce in schools a projection in type of the society we should like to realize, and by forming minds in accord with it gradually modify the larger and more recalcitrant features of adult society. (p. 242)

Unlike Green, who had been concerned with the overarching structure of the

education system, Dewey focused on the inner workings of the school and classroom.

Many of his writings detailed the ways curriculum and pedagogy could shape society. At

the time of his writing, schools were often dismal places. Students sat in large groups and

listened to a teacher lecture from the front of the class, often reading directly from a

textbook (Dewey, 1916/2009). Dewey sought to upend and transform the whole

education process in order to create citizens fitted for a liberal democratic society. Using

the new “science” of psychology as a guide, he recommended schooling be centred on

the psychological make-up and interests of each individual child, rather than on

traditional subject matter. His vision of education was based on his belief that children

learned best when new knowledge was connected to what was familiar and they were

interested in what they were learning. Thus, knowledge should be introduced in a way

that tapped into what they already knew and every effort should be made to capture their

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interest in the subject. Dewey predicted that this transformation would be revolutionary,

writing:

Now the change which is coming into our education is the shifting of the center of gravity. It is a change, a revolution, not unlike that introduced by Copernicus when the astronomical center shifted from the earth to the sun. In this case the child becomes the sun about which the appliances of education revolve; he is the center about which they are organized. (1899/1915, p. 25)

Social changes required the school to modify its approach. Industrialization and

urbanization had disconnected students from activities of production those central to

human survival (e.g., growing food, woodwork) and, as a result, knowledge that students

would have gained naturally on a family farm now had to be taught. As such, Dewey

recommended that “occupations,” broadly conceived, be central curricular organizers.

Schools were advised to seek to integrate abstract knowledge with “hand work and

manual exercises” (Dewey, 1916/2009, p. 152). Not only would this hands-on approach

to learning capture students’ attention, increasing their capacity to learn, it also would

enrich students’ understanding of the world, impart knowledge of the importance of all

occupations to society, and give them respect for the various jobs that people do.

Social justice education in the early 20th century

Although Dewey’s vision of schooling aligned with social liberalism, he did not

make any claims of social justice. In fact, he was suspicious of this term, although he

supported the principles with which it was associated. As he wrote:

The last thirty years has seen an intermittent tendency in the direction of legislation, and to a less extent of judicial decision, towards what is vaguely known as ‘social justice,’ toward formulae of a collectivistic character. Now it is quite possible that the newer rules may be needed and useful at a certain juncture, and yet that they may also become harmful and socially obstructive if they are hardened into absolute and fixed antecedent premises. But if they are conceived as tools to be adapted to the conditions in which they are employed rather than as absolute and intrinsic ‘principles,’ attention will go to the facts of social life, and the rules will not be allowed to engross attention and become absolute truths to be maintained intact at all costs. Otherwise we shall in the end merely have

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substituted one set of formally absolute and immutable syllogistic premises for another set. (Dewey, 1924, p. 27)

The idealism that undergirded social liberalism was discordant with the pragmatism

Dewey favoured, and his hesitation around social justice likely contributed to its absence

in the educational literature in the first half of the 20th century (see Figure 1). Given his

central role within the progressive education movement, his disavowal meant that others

in education did not refer to social justice either (in spite of the increasing prominence of

the term in other institutions).

When social justice was used in reference to educational practices in the early 20th

century it was most often in support of the industrial/vocational education movement,

which was considered at the time to be at the cutting edge of progress. For example,

social and political activists, such as Jane Addams, advocated for a shift towards

industrial/vocational education as part a larger agenda of social and political reform. She

wrote: “Have [the administrators of charity] not a right to demand both that children shall

be properly fed and that public education shall bring forth better fruit, and might not their

concerted action bring about prolonged industrial education and avocation bureaus?”

(1910, p. 9). Addams noted approvingly that the Poor Law Commission in Britain had

advised that boys’ education ought to emphasize “physical and technological training,

that the manufacturing of the unemployable may cease…[and] that the girls be subjected

to a drastic and a long enduring course of training in domestic economy and the care of

children” (Addams, 1910, p. 8). As well, Thomas Nixon Carver, in his book, Essays in

Social Justice (1915), named vocational education as a primary means of achieving social

justice through the redistribution of wealth. Although Carver differed from Addams in his

political ideology (he was pro-capitalist), like her, he considered industrial/vocational

education to be a manifestation of social justice.

Industrial/vocational education was justified by appeals to equity and efficiency.

Schools in a democratic society ought to be designed to serve the employment needs of

all students, not just those destined for college or university. Classical languages,

literature, and advanced mathematics were thought to be irrelevant to most of the

population. Including these subjects in the curriculum was elitist and undemocratic. As

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well, differentiated education, in which students were tracked or streamed, aligned with

the cultural zeitgeist of the time. Industry had benefitted tremendously from streamlining

its processes and reducing waste and it was thought that education likewise would benefit

from the overhaul of its procedures according to the principle of efficiency (Ravitch,

2000). Given the rapid expansion of public education and the challenge of schooling

large groups of children who often did not share a common knowledge base, reforms

intended to make the system more efficient were particularly appealing. These notions

were well received and “[b]y 1910, educators were busily engaged in creating courses

differentiated by the future occupation of each child; the school curriculum would vary,

depending on whether the child was likely to become a farmer, housewife, clerk, factory

worker, salesman, or mechanic” (Ravitch, 2000, p. 81).

Educational tracking according to occupational aim was facilitated by the

inception of the vocational guidance movement. Originating in Boston in the early 1900s

by Frank Parsons, guidance programs provided a “scientific” means of helping students

discern their interests, select suitable courses, and prepare for entrance to the workforce

after graduation (McMahon, Arthur & Collins, 2008). Guidance programs in schools

expanded rapidly, as their focus melded easily with the divergent streams of thought that

existed in progressive education. On the one hand, the focus on each individual’s

strengths, interests, and personality aligned with the humanistic philosophy that underlay

child-centred progressivism. On the other hand, the ability of guidance programs to sort

students into various programs to increase efficiency of the schooling system, all under

the auspices of science, shared the same presuppositions and aims as “administrative

progressivism” that Labaree (2005) identified. Thus, “[a]s school systems put

differentiated courses into place, educational experts advised that only a few students

should prepare for the learned professions, and many schools began to use ‘vocational

guidance’ to direct their students into appropriate programs” (Ravitch, 2000, p. 81). The

task of sorting students was further enhanced by the vocational testing movement, which

followed in the ensuing decades, spurred on in large part by the necessity of finding a

way of quickly sorting military recruits for both war efforts. To this day, counsellors

point to the guidance movement as evidence of their social justice roots. For example,

according to McMahon et al. (2008), “Vocational psychology traditionally played an

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important role in advocating for social justice, through the work of individuals like Frank

Parsons” (p. 21).

Advancement of industrial/vocational education as social justice is ironic, given

that this educational trend, perhaps more than any other, reinforced existing racial,

gender, and class inequalities through schooling, as has been widely noted in recent years

(e.g., see Gordon, 2003; Ravitch, 2000). As Ravitch describes, the large majority of upper

and middle class parents did not want their children to attend schools with an

industrial/vocational focus. This was a type of schooling that was considered to be suited

for students who were unlikely to pursue further studies or enter a professional job after

graduation. These students were often identified according to class or race, or via (biased)

standardized tests, which supported these discriminatory judgments (Nicolas, Andrieu,

Croizet, Sanitioso & Burman, 2013). Tracking was justified with “progressive” rhetoric,

including the term social justice, and industrial/vocational education came to be seen as a

solution for African American, Indigenous, immigrant, and lower class student

“problems” (Gordon, 2003; Milloy, 1996; Watkins, 2001). This form of education, it was

proposed, would prepare students for the type of work to which they were suited,

ensuring they had access to employment, and also would help to assimilate these students

to mainstream culture, contributing to the development of a cohesive social order.

That equality of vocational preparation through education and the streaming

system that resulted was seen to be an issue of social justice is not wholly surprising,

given the economic focus of social justice in the early 20th century. Although the

understanding of education on which these programs were based deviated from the views

advanced by early liberals (e.g., Condorcet, Wollsonecraft, Green), it aligned with the

predominant understanding of social justice at that time. Dewey’s avoidance of justice

discourse (as discussed by Dieleman, Rondel, & Voparil, 2017) meant that the

association between social justice and the advancement of industrial/vocation goals in

education and a differentiated schooling system based on these goals remained

uncontested.

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Social liberalism emphasized the potential for the social order, including the state,

to be involved in creating nurturing conditions necessary for the development of

individual freedom. This focus discouraged critique of state institutions and activities,

which are presumed to be forces for good. The suspicious attitude towards social

orderings, evident in Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, and Mill’s works, and in Green’s

lectures on education, disappeared. Activities of the state were conceived as a means to

cohesion, peace, freedom, and individual development. As such, there was no impulse to

interrogate the reasons for existing social and economic stratification. Differences (class-

based, racial, or other) were conceived as problems to be solved and the aim was to

eliminate them for the overall good of society. This argument, stretched, was used to

condone Canadian residential schools for First Nations’ children that sought to eliminate

an entire culture, partly through education (Milloy, 1996).

Not all educational theorists supported industrial/vocational education and

differentiated educational streams. For example, although Dewey had considered

occupational learning a cornerstone of his schooling methods, he expressed concern for

the way industrial/vocational and cultural/citizenship education were being positioned as

oppositional (1916/2009). Democracy required integration of vocational and citizenship

goals. Noting that separating these schooling aims worked against, not for, the larger

democratic political project he favoured. Dewey rebuked those with a narrow

interpretation of vocational education, writing, “nothing could be more absurd than to try

to educate individuals with an eye to only one line of activity” (1916/2009, p. 235). An

exclusive or primary focus on vocational development in education would replicate pre-

existing divisions in industry and the economy and perpetuate distinctions between

classes, Dewey warned:

there is a movement in behalf of something called vocational training which, if carried into effect, would harden these ideas into a form adapted to the existing industrial regime. This movement would continue the traditional liberal or cultural education for the few economically able to enjoy it, and would give to the masses a narrow technical trade education for specialized callings, carried on under the control of others. This scheme denotes, of course, simply a perpetuation of the older social division, with its counterpart intellectual and moral dualism. (1916/2009, p. 245)

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An educational system whose purpose was to train individuals for a specific profession

was “illiberal,” Dewey charged (1916/2009, p. 150). He was equally critical of those who

held “the widespread conviction that liberal education is opposed to the requirements of

an education which shall count in the vocations of life” (1916/2009, p. 108). Most

susceptible to this are persons who have had “literary training” (1916/2009, p. 239) . A

person with this background will write and argue

repeatedly against the encroachments of a specialized practical education, without recognizing that his own education, which he calls liberal, has been mainly training for his own particular calling. He has simply got into the habit of regarding his own business as essentially cultural and of overlooking the cultural possibilities of other employments. (Dewey, 1916/2009, p. 239)

Critique of vocational education and an advancement of liberal education: William Edward Burghardt Du Bois

African American scholar and activist W. E. B. Du Bois provided a cogent

critique of industrial/vocational education and its associated streaming systems. Born in

1868 in Massachusetts and a graduate of Fisk University, Harvard, and the University of

Berlin, Du Bois taught history, sociology, and philosophy at numerous universities

throughout his career, and was a founder of the National Association for the

Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in 1909 (Johnson, 2000). In contrast to

Booker T. Washington’s accomodationist position and support for industrial/vocational

education for black students, Du Bois fought for full civil rights and equal educational

opportunities. He was not wholly opposed to different streams of education or to the

inclusion of vocational aims as part of education. What he opposed was the replacement

of existing liberal arts curricula with substandard industrial/vocational offerings at black

universities. These changes were motivated by thinking that was inherently racist, he

charged, and ultimately would prevent black students from developing their capacities to

the fullest extent possible.

In a lecture to Hampton Institute in 1906, Du Bois clearly laid out his opposition

to an expanded industrial/vocational education program at a black college. Not only were

black students at Hampton being directed towards agricultural and trades courses (Du

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Bois, 1906/2001), they were expected to take courses based on a new social studies

curriculum designed and taught by Thomas Jesse Jones which had been developed to

facilitate “race development” (Watkins, 2001, p. 107). This new course of study was

implemented to counter the cultural trends of “the Negro and the Indian”:

Slavery and the tribal form of government gave the Negro and the Indian but little opportunity to understand the essentials of a good home, the duties and responsibilities of citizenship, the cost and meaning of education, the place of labor, and the importance of thrift. (Jones, 1905, as cited in Watkins, 2001, p. 107)

Du Bois accused those who proposed abandoning college-level academic courses

in favour of applied courses and the “social studies” proposed by Jones of engaging in

“educational heresy” (1906/2001, p. 28). Faculty at black colleges must not be coerced

into offering a program of study that prepared students for the lives others envisioned for

them, based on racist presumptions, rather than offering a program intended to develop

their full powers and capabilities—the true goal of education. Thus, he argued,

there can be no question – no hesitation: unless we develop our full capabilities, we cannot survive. If we are to be trained grudgingly and suspiciously; trained not with reference to what we can be, but with sole reference to what somebody wants us to be; if instead of following the methods pointed out by the accumulated wisdom of the world for the development of full human power, we simply are trying to follow the line of least resistance and teach black men only such things and by such methods as are momentarily popular, then my fellow teachers, we are going to fail and fail ignominiously in our attempt to raise the black race to its full humanity and with that failure falls the fairest and fullest dream of a great united humanity. (Du Bois, 1906/2001, p. 26)

A liberal arts education would best prepare students to develop their lives to the

fullest extent possible, Du Bois believed. While acknowledging that industrial/vocational

courses had a place, he was staunchly opposed to making these courses the primary or

even exclusive offerings at black universities, recognizing that this curricular

transformation was both a concession to corporate influence and white donors, and also

an explicit effort to shape African American students for the life of servitude to the

benefit of white America.

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Du Bois pressed this issue further in a lecture in 1908 at Fisk University, his alma

mater. He accused the university of “the surrender of college training to the current

industrial fad, without the honest effort and equipment which this entailed” (1908/2001,

p. 35). He recognized that the introduction of vocational education had its place and that

past educational systems had neglected this area of life. However, he was concerned that

vocational education not take over the whole curriculum, noting,

For this momentous change in curriculum, all true educators are looking and preparing; but this does not mean a stampede to industry as a substitute for life—to mechanics as an antidote for thought, or to technique in place of Reason. (1908/2001, pp. 43-44)

There was a place for vocational training in colleges, to be sure, but liberal arts

colleges like Fisk should not succumb to “the bribe of Public Opinion and private

Wealth” (Du Bois, 1908/2001, p. 45), which encouraged black universities to shift their

course offerings away from more traditional academic courses and adopt applied

vocational courses in their place. If this occurs, Du Bois admonished, “we will consent to

call Higher Education that which you know and I know is not higher education”

(1908/2001, p. 45). The following analogy sums up his view:

To do this [make vocational training the focus at Fisk] would be like using a surgeon’s knife for chopping wood. The world needs wood but it has axes for cutting it. There are good and deserving schools for trade teaching. There are but two or three colleges. These colleges are devoted to higher training and they must not be diverted from it. (1908/2001, p. 46)

Du Bois expressed a further concern that the vocational course offerings at Fisk

were not well funded or equipped and were not even able to prepare students adequately

for jobs in the trades. What was actually happening, he alleged, was preparation for

servanthood:

There may often be excuse for doing things poorly in this world, but there is never any excuse for calling a poorly done thing, well done—of denominating a series of lessons in the training of servants, a course in mechanical engineering. (1908/2001, p. 47)

In many ways, Du Bois was an heir of the liberal legacy in education begun by

Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, Mill, and Green. Du Bois treated schooling as a process that

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was responsible both for the development of the individual and a force that could create

and perpetuate inequalities and, as such, must be constantly assessed and critiqued.

Although industrial/vocational education was being presented as a way into society for

black students, and justified as an act of social justice, this was a mirage designed to do

the opposite, Du Bois explained:

The natural temptation for a group in our situation is to look around them upon their neighbors, pick out that which in their inexperience seems to be the cause of success and, advancing and seizing it lightly, try to march on. If the thing which they choose is momentarily popular they will receive for choosing it exaggerated applause; just as they were applauded in 1868 for political acumen because politics were popular, just so today they are applauded for showing signs of industrial shrewdness, because industry is the ruling movement today. (1910/2001, p. 56)

Chapter Summary

The inability of classical liberalism to address pressing concerns of rising poverty

and inequality in the 19th century and the looming threat of communist revolution

provided an opening for a political shift. The ideas of Mill and Green laid a foundation

for a new way of understanding individual freedom and established a theoretical rationale

for state intervention that fit with the liberal paradigm. A rupture occurred in the tradition

of liberalism and social liberalism eventually came to be predominant in Western

democratic countries in the 20th century, with many institutional effects. At this point,

social justice became associated with the agenda of social liberalism and, by mid-century,

this notion had been widely institutionalized and an established part of the lexicon, in

spite of some significant conceptual limitations.

The effects of social liberalism on public education were varied. Although this

form of liberal ideology provided a rationale for the expansion of public education, its

philosophical underpinnings also deterred critique of the state and its institutions, which

were conceived as beneficent forces. Educational injustices, such as residential schools,

segregated schooling, and the inception of vocational streaming programs based on

discriminatory and prejudiced thinking, thrived during this period. Green supported the

expansion of public education but also was cognizant of the complexity of institutional

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functions and the many ways schooling processes reinforced and perpetuated social

inequalities. Dewey’s theorizing offered support for progressive education, in all its

disparate forms. Although Dewey’s purpose was the dissolution of educational binaries,

his work was used to support both positions of many educational dichotomies,

particularly those associated with the progressive education movement. Thus, for

example, although Dewey wrote against the separation of vocational and cultural aims in

education, his work was used to rationalize the inception of vocational streaming

programs in schools in the early 20th century. Vocational tracking was also justified with

reference to social justice, even though these streaming programs targeted marginalized

groups who were deterred from pursuing academic streams. Du Bois provided a forceful

critique of the effect of these processes (especially for African American students) and

called for a return to a form of liberal education focused on the development of individual

capabilities.

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Chapter 4. The Paradox of Social Justice

By the mid-20th century, the term social justice was frequently being used in

political discourse as justification for the welfare state, Keynesian economic policy, and

government regulations. This term had come to represent the form of distributive justice

that was advanced by social liberalism, the prevailing ideological form in Western

democratic countries. However, in spite of the political influence of the term, the concept

had not been taken up as a subject of scholarship.

This situation has changed. Since the early 1970s, theorizing related to social

justice has proliferated and references to social justice have moved beyond the realm of

politics and become abundant in academia and popular culture. Educators (British

Columbia Ministry of Education, 2008; Elementary Teachers’ Federation of Ontario,

2011), health care providers (Canadian Nurses Association, 2009; Hixon, Yamada,

Farmer, & Maskarinec, 2013; Patel, 2015), the media (Jeske, 2013; Media Alliance, n.d.;

The Toronto Star, n.d.), corporations (as described by Schneider, 2014), and even

conservative Foundations (e.g., the Heritage Foundation) proclaim commitments to social

justice and in 2009, the United Nations declared February 20th to be “World Day of

Social Justice.” In the same period of time as expressed commitments to social justice

have increased, support for practices and institutions that historically have been

understood to be manifestations of social justice, such as public healthcare, schooling,

and welfare, has been steadily declining (Harvey, 2005). Indeed, in 2006, a sub-

committee of the United Nations observed that in decades prior to the writing of the

report, “explicit commitment to social justice [had] seriously deteriorated” (United

Nations, 2006, p. 13) around the globe. Influenced by the rise of neoliberalism, many

Western states have gutted their public welfare systems, deregulated industry, and

abandoned progressive taxation policies (Harvey, 2005). The rise in social justice rhetoric

has paralleled the decline in social justice practices over the past half century, leading to a

paradox: as social justice rhetoric has increased, commitment to practices and state

actions that historically have been understood to be expressions of social justice has

diminished.

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The aim of this chapter is to examine the historical factors that have contributed to

this paradox, the presence of which is broadly evident in society and also specifically in

the context of education. My contention is that since the early 1970s two processes, one

conceptual and the other political and practical, have transpired and intersected, giving

rise to the current situation wherein social justice rhetoric seems to be everywhere at the

same time as many social justice practices are disappearing. I will describe each of these

historical processes in turn and discuss their individual and combined effects on the

concept of social justice.

Practice/Theory Dialectic in the Emergence of Concepts

The emergence and evolution of conceptions of justice involve a dialectical

process between practices and abstractions (MacIntyre, 1988). Notions of justice often

appear first as embodied social practices before they are formally theorized. Once

explicitly articulated, concepts and principles become available for analysis and critique,

prompting the explication of alternative interpretations. Practices are often modified as a

result of new conceptualizations, which prompts further theoretical revisions, and so on.

Amendments to ideas and practices are most evident in times of ideological transition.

From 1930 through 1970 the concept of social justice had been embodied in

institutional contexts but had not attracted significant scholarly attention. In this period,

social justice was implicitly understood to mean that “society ought to hold itself

responsible for the particular material position of all its members, and for assuring that

each received what was ‘due’ to him” (Hayek, 1976, p. 79). As Hayek observed, material

equality was the central theme in this interpretation:

The most common attempts to give meaning to the concept of ‘social justice’ resort to egalitarian considerations and argue that every departure from equality of material benefits enjoyed has to be justified by some recognizable common interest which these differences serve. (1976, p. 80)

It was this definition, although nebulous, that had been instituted and firmly embedded in

the social imaginary. Writing in the 1970s, Hayek described how,

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commitment to ‘social justice’ has in fact become the chief outlet for moral emotion, the distinguishing attribute of the good man, and the recognized sign of the possession of a moral conscience. Though people may occasionally be perplexed to see which of the conflicting claims advanced in its name are valid, scarcely anyone doubts that the expression has a definite meaning, describes a high ideal, and points to grave defects of the existing social order which urgently call for correction. Even though until recently one would have vainly sought in the extensive literature for an intelligible definition of the term, there still seems to exist little doubt, either among ordinary people or among the learned, that the expression has a definite and well understood sense. (1976, p. 66)

John Rawls and A Theory of Justice (1971)

Social justice moved from the practical into the scholarly realm following John

Rawls’ publication of A Theory of Justice in 1971. By this point, the limitations of the

predominant social liberal view of social justice were becoming evident. For example,

although social justice provided justification for state interventions, the reach of this

concept was restricted to the bounds of a territorial state. The horrors of World War II

had demonstrated the need for a universal discourse of justice and the United Nations and

its declarations were developed in response. Further, mid-century justice movements

(e.g., civil rights and feminist movements) challenged many of the foundational beliefs of

the social liberal view of social justice. Institutional processes put in place for social

justice progressive ends benefitted some, but not all, and in many cases served to

reinforce and perpetuate existing inequalities based on race and gender. These social

movements challenged the assumption of homogeneity and community cohesion on

which social justice and the associated notion of rights had been founded. Moreover, the

hope that social justice could mitigate the worst excesses of capitalism without disrupting

the existing economic order was challenged. Not all citizens were enamoured with

capitalism, as it turned out, although the Cold War and McCarthyism had suppressed

economic critique. As well, the welfare state was proving to be extremely expensive and

corporate leaders were balking at high rates of taxation and pushing back against the

state, which they perceived as overly enthusiastic in its interventions (to be discussed

later).

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Rawls’ responded to these issues. He developed a philosophic justification for the

interventionist state in a pluralistic democratic society. Given diverse doctrinal

endorsements, consensus regarding political structure is the best we can hope for, he

alleged. Thus, the conception of justice he proposed made space for numerous competing

worldviews by prioritizing the rights of individuals to choose their own goods. As he

explained in his 2001 restatement, political liberalism is, “the most reasonable basis of

political and social unity available to citizens of a democratic society” (p. 32).

Rawls’ account is founded on principles of justice that he contended would be

chosen by citizens who are free, equal, and rational. This premise presents a dilemma. A

citizenry with these qualities presupposes a just social order conducive to the

development of people of this sort. However, according to his theory, a just social

contract is a necessary precondition for this form of society and the type of citizens able

to choose this political structure. In order to extricate the concept of justice from this

“chicken and egg” conundrum, Rawls proposed a now famous thought experiment.

Principles would be chosen from behind a “veil of ignorance” that prevented individuals

from knowing the social position or characteristics of the person they represented (i.e.,

they would be in “the original position,” free from all commitments or categorizations)

(Rawls, 2001). In other words, individuals would choose principles of justice without

knowing how they would benefit from the selected principles (akin to the tactic of having

a cake-cutter choose the last piece). The result would be fair and impartial guiding

principles that could be employed to develop the basic structure of a society.

According to Rawls (2001), the two principles endorsed from behind the veil of

ignorance would be: 1) equal entitlement to basic liberties (e.g., freedom of thought,

liberty of conscience, political representation), and 2) equality of opportunity, with social

and economic inequality only permitted if the arrangement would benefit the least-

advantaged members of society (i.e., “the difference principle”). He specified that in

practice, the first principle would be prior to the second, which is to say that basic

liberties must never be sacrificed, even for the sake of equality of opportunity or to

benefit the least-advantaged. Further, in the second principle, fair equality of opportunity

is prior to the difference principle (Rawls, 2001). Advantage, according to Rawls, is

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determined with reference to primary goods (e.g., income, education), which are the

aspects of social life that enable people to equally participate in the social contract.

Institutional structure (i.e., “the basic structure”) is prioritized in this account

because of its “profound and pervasive influence on the persons who live under

[society’s] institutions” (Rawls, 2001, p. 55). In focusing on the basic structure, Rawls

argued that we are able to treat distributive justice as background procedural justice,

without concern for the eventual outcome. As he noted, “when everyone follows the

publicly recognized rules of cooperation, the particular distribution that results is

acceptable as just whatever that distribution turns out to be” (2001, p. 54).

Rawls’ theorizing contributed to a shift in liberalism. Social liberals in the first

half of the 20th century had focused on establishing an institutional structure that could

contribute to individual freedom and flourishing (as described in Hobhouse, 1922).

Rawls’ account focused attention instead on principles of justice and political and social

conditions necessary for tolerance, freedom, and flourishing in diverse and plural

societies (Freeden, 2015). The analogies and key premises that earlier liberals had relied

on, including “strong organicism, predicated on biological views of interdependence of

living entities and on Idealist and classical notions of harmony” (Freeden, 2005, p. 18)

were abandoned in this new layer. As well, the ontological view of persons as relationally

and socially constituted was supplanted by the individualistic view of the self

presupposed by the veil of ignorance experiment.

Response to Rawls: Critique and Theoretical Proliferation

Rawls’ clear delineation reinvigorated interest in distributive justice and

numerous expositions on social justice in philosophy were developed in the wake of A

Theory of Justice (1971). Rawls’ vision of social justice resonated for some, but also was

subject to critique from those who offered alternative interpretations and/or amendments

to his account. However, as Nozick described, regardless of one’s stance, all ensuing

interpretations of justice had to “either work within Rawls’ theory or explain why not”

(1974, p. 183). Indeed, Rogers (2002) wrote in Rawls’ obituary that although Rawls had

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intended to pursue other interests after A Theory of Justice, “The enormous interest in the

book… and the controversy it aroused, obliged him to spend most of the rest of his life

defending its arguments” (para. 23).

Insofar as the principles that Rawls identified articulated many aspects of the

conception of social justice that had been implicitly accepted for much of the 20th century

(Fleischacker, 2004), some of the criticisms levelled at his theory can be read as

appraisals of the popular understanding of this concept. However, as mentioned earlier,

Rawls’ account also deviated in significant ways from the notion of social justice that had

been developed by earlier liberals. In particular, Rawls’ ontological understanding of

persons differed. As well, the definitive nature of the principles he proposed contrasted

with the social reflexivity and experimentation that characterized earlier views. Rawls’

theory is one instantiation of social justice that is representative of the commitments and

premises of one layer of liberalism – not the totality of liberal thought (as it is sometimes

taken to be). Failure to recognize the situatedness of Rawls’ view contributes to the

tendency to treat liberalism as a static entity, rather than as a historical project (see

Freeden, 2005, 2015). Similarly, when social justice is closely linked to one interpretation

(e.g., Rawls’ account), the historicity of this concept also is masked (Fleischacker, 2004).

Nonetheless, critiques of social justice often took Rawls’ articulation of distributive

justice as representative of the concept.

In what follows, I discuss four major critiques of Rawls’ work: its reliance on

ontological individualism, its presumption of the neutrality of justice, its narrow

interpretation of the concept of social justice, and its nationalist frame, which limits its

applicability. These themes appear in many of the works of theorists who developed their

own interpretations of social justice following Rawls’ 1971 publication.

Ontological critique

Early conceptions of social justice that were linked to social liberalism

emphasized biological vulnerability, inherent relationality, dependence on social

community, and the developmental nature of rationality. However, this view also

assumed that societies were relatively homogenous and that differences of opinion or

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interest could be reconciled via education, dialogue, and participation in democratic

processes, which, it was believed, would lead to social cohesion and widespread

acceptance of democratic virtues. Assimilation was a progressive aim. State interventions

that facilitated this end goal were considered righteous.

Rawls recognized that the assumption of homogeneity that undergirded social

justice was untenable in a multicultural pluralistic society and sought to develop a

theoretical account that could justify progressive state interventions and would be

acceptable even to those with conflicting worldviews. Thus, the central principles of his

account are derived from a thought experiment in which individuals are intentionally

asked to detach themselves from all characteristics, relationships, and social

commitments. His theory, therefore, is premised on a view of persons as individual moral

agents, free to choose rationally their own vision of the good life unencumbered by

culture, history, geography, political systems, or relationships.

The ontological individualism evident in Rawls’ theory has been criticized for the

way it frames social justice. For example, Walzer (1983) argued that human beings are

inextricably entrenched in time and place, and cannot shed this reality as easily as Rawls

presumed. The human “original position,” according to Walzer, is particularized and

embedded, an ontological shift that has implications for the way the problem of social

justice is conceived. As Walzer explained:

The problem is not, most importantly, with the particularism of interest, which philosophers have always assumed they could safely – that is, uncontroversially – set aside. Ordinary people can do that too, for the sake, say, of the public interest. The greater problem is with the particularism of history, culture and membership. Even if they are committed to impartiality, the question most likely to arise in the minds of the members of a political community is not, What would rational individuals choose under universalizing conditions of such-and-such a sort? But rather, What would individuals like us choose, who are situated as we are, who share a culture and are determined to go on sharing it? And this is a question that is readily transformed into, What choices have we already made in the course of our common life? What understandings do we (really) share? (1983, p. 5)

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Rawls’ ontological premise presumed individuals in the “original position” would

inevitably choose the same “rational” ends, a conclusion reproached by MacIntyre (1988)

who argued that there is no objective, detached position of rationality from which one can

make pronouncements about justice. Rationality and justice are interrelated and

constituted by and constitutive of wider traditions of thought, MacIntyre pointed out. As

such, Rawls’ premise of justification is faulty. It is ontologically impossible to assume a

morally neutral stance from which to determine the best principles of justice. The

assumption that this might even be feasible derives from the liberal tradition in which

modern Western society is deeply embedded. Individuals are not free moral agents, able

to shed at whim or by method the history, culture, and traditions that have formed them

(MacIntyre, 1988).

Although many philosophers deride ontological individualism, the alternative

accounts they prescribe are far from uniform. For example, based on his determination

that human beings, social goods, systems of distribution, and forms of justice are all

embedded in culture and history, Walzer (1983) concluded that social justice is a

culturally relative designation. Sandel (2009) and MacIntyre (1988), while agreeing with

Walzer regarding the human condition, adhere to the view that forms of justice, including

social justice, can be judged teleologically and historically and are not relativistic. Okin

(1989) and Young (1990) concur that there are problems with ontological individualism,

but worry that these concerns lead Walzer, Sandel and MacIntyre to embrace a utopian

view of community life that does not take into account forms of oppression and tyranny

that often are part and parcel of community life. Nussbaum (2000, 2011) also disavows

ontological individualism and relativism but, unlike Sandel and MacIntyre, is less critical

of Rawls’ commitment to liberalism. She proposes an Aristotelian-inspired version of

political liberalism and delineates a universal list of ten central capabilities the threshold

achievement of which for citizens of all countries is the measure of social justice. Her

ontological view, shared also by MacIntyre (1999), is that human beings are both

dependent and have the capacity for rationality. Living a life of human dignity depends

on communal supports that enable individuals to develop the capabilities that make

agency possible.

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Critique of presumed neutrality

A second critique levelled at Rawls’ liberal account concerns its claim of

neutrality. The primary purveyors of this argument are MacIntyre (1988) and Sandel

(2009) who both take issue with liberalism, the tradition in which Rawls’ account is

located. The original aim of liberalism was to free individuals from the oppressiveness of

tradition. In pursuit of this aim, proponents of liberalism endeavoured to establish

political and justice systems that were impartial to various goods and that would grant

each individual the freedom to pursue his or her own self-determined life project (as long

as these individual aims did not impinge on the freedom of others). Justice was thus

disconnected from substantive ends and instead tied to allegedly neutral principles and

procedures. The goal “is to enforce an order in which conflict resolution takes place

without invoking any overall theory of human good” (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 344).

MacIntyre (1988) and Sandel (2009) both argue that it is impossible to know how

to act justly apart from doing the hard work of figuring out the ends (i.e., the telos) of

human life, generally and, specifically, of distinct social institutions and practices. From

their perspective, these ends are seen as inevitably and inescapably ensconced within the

worldview of particular traditions of thought. Universally applicable and tradition-free

principles of justice do not exist (MacIntyre, 1988). MacIntyre and Sandel fault political

liberalism for trying, without success, to make foundational questions related to the good

secondary to individual rights. However, disparate commitments continue to undergird

people’s beliefs and actions, but these seldom are debated publicly, owing to the norms of

liberalism. Our public institutions and discursive traditions have developed around the

belief that goods are an individual choice and, thus, we are not sure how to identify or

talk about deep moral commitments that nonetheless persist and continue to be divisive.

As a result, politicians and citizens often revert to the language of the market, a

supposedly neutral discourse, when dealing with contentious issues (Sandel, 2009).

According to MacIntyre’s (1988) and Sandel’s (2009) logic, questions of social

justice are secondary to questions of goods. Social justice cannot be determined by the

application of overarching principles of distribution since the best way of distributing any

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given good depends on the good itself, as well as the nature of institutions and social

practices involved. Rawls’ attempt to circumvent disagreements about what is good by

focusing on rights is futile since visions of the good are essential to claims of justice and

underlie any notion of rights. Rights are a good, and political liberalism is caught in the

untenable position of advancing a valued feature of human life while claiming to be

avoiding the same (although Rawls did address this critique in his 2001 restatement,

acknowledging certain goods upon which political liberalism is based).

Nussbaum (1992, 2000, 2011) also is critical of Rawls’ failure to acknowledge the

conception of the good that underlies his account. Like Sandel and MacIntyre, she asserts

that all theories of justice invariably are based on certain metaphysical assumptions

pertaining to human life and is critical of theorists who do not forthrightly identify the

goods on which their conception of justice is founded. Her theory, the Capabilities

Approach, names living a life worthy of human dignity, which requires agency, as the

ultimate good that grounds the theory and she explicitly delineates the requirements

essential for its achievement (as will be described in more detail in the next chapter).

However, unlike Sandel and MacIntyre, Nussbaum continues to be committed to the

ideals that undergird political liberalism (and Rawls’ account), most significantly, the

belief that citizens ought to be able to hold varying religious and metaphysical beliefs and

that political doctrine ought to be separate from such views. This does not mean that the

political system is completely neutral in its conception of the good, Nussbaum argues.

However, the notion of the good undergirding political liberalism is advanced “for

political purposes only, not as a comprehensive guide to life” (Nussbaum, 2011, p. 90,

emphasis in original). Thus, the sort of view of what makes up a good human life that

forms the basis of Nussbaum’s account is not meant to replace individuals’ religious or

metaphysical commitments. Individuals can continue to subscribe to varying doctrines

and accept for political purposes the view of the good she advances. The needed

correction, Nussbaum suggests, is an explicit articulation and defence of the foundational

goods of liberal thought, not an unrealistic and impossible neutrality, nor complete

abandonment of the liberal project.

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Social justice has been interpreted too narrowly

A third significant theme of critique of Rawls’ work and mid-century

understandings of social justice, generally, is that social justice has been conceived too

narrowly and, as a result, obscures the root causes of many injustices. As Fraser (2009)

explains, for decades social justice was viewed through the confines of the Keynesian-

Westphalian framework which took for granted “the modern territorial state as the

appropriate unit, and its citizens as the pertinent subjects” (p. 13). As a result, social

justice was primarily conceived as a matter of fair distribution of goods and opportunities

within nation states. Although this perspective provided justification for many state-led

social justice efforts, such as the instatement of state regulations that supported the

interests of labour and institution of welfare systems that helped to buoy the lower and

working classes, not all citizens benefited equally from these measures. A limitation of

this frame was its preclusion of claims of justice pertaining to issues of recognition and

identity. Focused on the substance and mechanics of distribution, questions of who was

eligible and ineligible to receive the benefits of this process were not considered. As

Fraser describes, “Engrossed in disputing the ‘what’ of justice, the contestants apparently

felt no necessity to dispute the ‘who’” (2009, p. 13).

The narrow view of social justice prescribed by the Keynesian-Westphalian

framework is in large part due to its focus on distribution as the mechanism of justice. In

The Politics of Difference, Young (1990) explained that although the distributive

paradigm is able to elucidate material inequalities, an important part of social justice to

be sure, it obfuscates injustices in other realms of human life. For example, inequalities

of political representation, in the division of labour within families and society, and of

recognition and valuation of social groups are not evident because the distributive frame

“assumes particular institutions and practices as given” (Young, 1990, p. 8). In this light,

inequalities that are engrained in the processes of these institutions (e.g., division of

labour in families) are obscured, a point also argued by Okin (1989). Young

acknowledged previous efforts to add non-material goods to conceptions of social justice,

however, continued adherence to the distributive paradigm results in “serious conceptual

confusion” (1990, p. 8). Nonmaterial goods cannot be reduced to “identifiable things or

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bundles [that can be] distributed in a static pattern among identifiable, separate

individuals” (1990, p. 8). What is needed, Young argued, is a new paradigm that can

encompass material and nonmaterial goods. Therefore, instead of distribution, Young

proposed that social justice “should begin with the concepts of domination and

oppression” (1990, p. 3) which, when taken as primary, are better able to identify a broad

range of injustices (including distributive injustices).

Young’s (1990) account is but one example in a large body of scholarship that has

drawn attention to the conceptual and practical limits of social justice as it had been

normatively conceived mid-century (some examples: Combahee River Collective

Statement, Eisenstein, 1978; hooks, 1982; Okin, 1989). Collectively, the effect of this

theorizing has been to shed light on the way gender norms and roles, racism, patriarchy,

cultural imperialism, and colonialism have contributed to the creation and maintenance of

social, cultural, and economic injustices. These critiques offered an important conceptual

corrective. If social justice was concerned with rectifying injustices, particularly those

that are perpetuated and maintained at an institutional level, it needed to take cultural as

well as economic issues into account.

As a result, recognition and identity politics began to be emphasized in academia

and popular culture and, by the turn of the millennium, many justice movements

“couch[ed] their claims in the idiom of recognition” (Fraser, 2000, p. 107). The inclusion

of a broader range of issues in this discourse seemed “charged with emancipatory

promise. Many who rallied to the banners of sexuality, gender, ethnicity and ‘race’

aspired not only to assert hitherto denied identities but to bring a richer, lateral dimension

to battles over the redistribution of wealth and power” (Fraser, 2000, p. 107). This shift

brought awareness to injustices that had garnered little attention for most of the 20th

century.

In order to understand the effects of recognition on patterns of inequality and the

political landscape it is helpful to understand the premises on which these claims are

based. According to Fraser (2000), the “identity model” of recognition takes as its

starting point the following Hegelian premise:

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identity is constructed dialogically, through a process of mutual recognition. According to Hegel, recognition designates an ideal reciprocal relation between subjects, in which each sees the other both as its equal and also as separate from it. This relation is constitutive for subjectivity: one becomes an individual subject only by virtue of recognizing, and being recognized by, another subject. Recognition from others is thus essential to the development of a sense of self. To be denied recognition—or to be ‘misrecognized’—is to suffer both a distortion of one’s relation to one’s self and an injury to one’s identity. (p. 109)

Identity politics transposes the dialogical process of subject formation onto the

cultural realm and applies these insights to the process of group identity formation. Thus,

proponents of recognition/identity politics argue that the devaluation of a minority group

by the dominant culture results in the injustice of misrecognition. As a result of

“repeated encounters with the stigmatizing gaze of a culturally dominant other, the

members of disesteemed groups internalize negative self-images and are prevented from

developing a healthy cultural identity of their own” (Fraser, 2000, p. 109). The focus of

the identity model of recognition, thus, becomes creating a political climate where this

type of misrecognition by the dominant group can be contested and the “internal self-

dislocation” (Fraser, 2000, p. 109) that results can be repaired. Those groups who have

been subjected to demeaning misrepresentations are encouraged to “reject such images in

favour of new self-representations of their own making, jettisoning internalized, negative

identities and joining collectively to produce a self-affirming culture of their own—

which, publicly asserted, will gain the respect and esteem of society at large” (Fraser,

2000, p. 110). Only in this way, proponents insist, will social justice be achieved.

The Hegelian dialogical view of subject formation that underscores claims of

recognition offers “some genuine insights into the psychological effects of racism,

sexism, colonization and cultural imperialism” (Fraser, 2000, p. 110). However, it also is

philosophically unsound. Even if the problem of transposing onto the cultural realm a

model intended for individual subjectivity is put aside, the dialogical process of identity

formation requires relational exchange. Thus, a group would not be able to proclaim its

identity on its own terms without input from others. The perspective of the other is

essential to identity development.

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Although the focus on issues of recognition seems to have been intended to come

alongside claims of redistribution, providing a more nuanced understanding of economic

distribution and the effect of culture on inequality, Fraser (2000) alleges that, in

retrospect, these claims have largely displaced concern for issues of redistribution in

social justice theorizing and activism. This supplanting has occurred via two “currents”

(Fraser, 2000). The first treats all claims of injustice as problems of “cultural

depreciation” (Fraser, 2000, p. 110). Thus, misrecognition is abstracted “from its

institutional matrix” and “its entwinement with distributive justice” is obscured (Fraser,

2000, p. 110). The second current connects cultural and economic injustices, but treats

the former as prior to the latter. As a result, “maldistribution is merely a secondary effect

of misrecognition” and “economic inequalities are simple expressions of cultural

hierarchies” (Fraser, 2000, p. 111). The implication is that economic inequalities can be

rectified via cultural means. Therefore, economic redistributive strategies are abandoned

in favour of efforts aimed at rectifying the cultural representations of various

marginalized groups which, it is presumed, will resolve cultural and economic

inequalities in one fell swoop.

The focus on identity instead of economic injustices in the 1980s and 1990s could

not have come at a worse time, according to Fraser (2000). As discussed later in this

chapter, the advance of neoliberalism in the political realm during these decades had the

effect of “radically exacerbating economic inequality” (Fraser, 2000, p. 108). The politics

of recognition, although valuable in identifying cultural inequalities, did not do a good

job of drawing attention to the ways neoliberalism undermined institutional structures

whose purpose was economic redistribution, and undermined solidarity in many groups

and justice movements (e.g., feminist movement, see Okin, 1998). Those who suffered

the worst effects from the increase in economic inequalities in these years were members

of marginalized groups, the same people the politics of recognition aimed to help (Fraser,

2000, 2009).

Equally pernicious is how the focus on recognition has led to a reification of

cultural identities (Fraser, 2000; Nussbaum, 2000; Okin, 1998). When identity is the unit

of justice, a tendency to hypostatize group identities develops. Cultural groups are

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assumed to be univocal and injustices and power struggles that occur within groups are

eclipsed. Reifying group identity, “lends itself all too easily to repressive forms of

communitarianism, promoting conformism, intolerance and patriarchalism” (Fraser,

2000, p. 112). This doubly disadvantages some members of marginalized minority groups

whose oppression within their own cultural group may be concealed.

A further complication of including claims of recognition under the banner of

social justice has been conceptual confusion. It is now widely recognized that social

injustices can occur on various dimensions but it is not clear how to reconcile these

varied, seemingly incommensurable claims (Fraser, 2009). For example, how should

environmental claims be measured against labour solidarity? Or, how should gender

injustices be gauged against religious freedom? As a result of these disparate claims,

current social justice discourse has come to have “a freewheeling character” (Fraser,

2009, p. 49). Moreover, although the expansion of meaning has made it possible to make

an increased number of claims of injustice, social and cultural means of resolution for

these claims have not kept pace. As a result, demands for justice proliferate, leading to a

sense of inundation and, for some, frustration with those who appeal to social justice.

However, in spite of these critiques, recognition remains an important dimension

of social justice and the theorizing directed at elevating this facet in the social justice

discourse has been a helpful corrective to the Keynesian-Westphalian frame (Fraser,

2009). Debate about social justice broadened to include questions pertaining to who was

to receive the goods of social justice alongside questions of what were to be the goods of

social justice. Additionally, as issues related to these two dimensions were debated, a new

area of concern for social justice became apparent: How are questions related to what and

who of justice to be decided? Thus, the issue of political representation also has become

central in considering social justice (Fraser, 2009), as is discussed further in the last

chapter.

Limits of the nationalist framework

The final critique pertains to the nationalist frame that was presumed in early

conceptions of social justice. Over the past century, the concept of social justice has been

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used to mobilize and justify aid for impoverished individuals and marginalized groups

(Brodie, 2007; Fleischacker, 2004; Raphael, 2001). Thus, social justice has been a source

of political power, at least for some. However, the power of this discourse has depended

on the ability of citizens who make up the public sphere to hold those in power to account

through political processes, which have been assumed to be national and democratic

(Fraser, 2009). However, as technological advances have increased opportunities for

global trade practices and movement, the limitations of this view have become apparent.

Actions by transnational corporations, global economic governance structure (e.g., the

World Bank, the International Monetary Fund), and rogue states have the potential to

affect the citizens of multiple nations (Fraser, 2009). As well, civil wars, gang warfare,

rising inequality levels between countries and regions, and climate catastrophes have

meant that many people are state-less, fleeing violence, poverty, and natural disasters.

Social justice conceived solely as a matter to be resolved within the bounds of a territorial

state, part of the “Keynesian-Westphalian” frame of social justice Fraser (2009)

described, is largely impotent in the face of these global forces. Not only is this

conception ineffective at addressing potential injustices that arise, it actually contributes

to their perpetuation in some cases:

the Keynesian-Westphalian frame is now considered by many to be a major vehicle of injustice, as it partitions political space in ways that block many who are poor and despised from challenging the forces that oppress them. Channeling their claims into the domestic political spaces of relatively powerless, if not wholly failed, states, this frame insulates offshore powers from critique and control. Among those shielded from the reach of justice are more powerful predator states and transnational private powers, including foreign investors and creditors, international currency speculators, and transnational corporations. Also protected are the governance structures of the global economy, which set exploitative terms of interaction and then exempt them from democratic control. Finally, the Keynesian-Westphalian frame is self-insulating; the architecture of the interstate system protects the very partitioning of political space that it institutionalizes, effectively excluding transnational democratic decision-making on issues of justice. (Fraser, 2009, p. 20)

How can social justice discourse be leveraged to aid individuals who are either stateless

or in situations where injustices transcend national borders? What institutional forms

would need to be in place for this to occur?

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Even though a nationalist framework of social justice presents limitations in

addressing global injustices, it is not clear that a global alternative is conceptually or

practically feasible. Since articulations of justice and rights inevitably emerge within

particular sociocultural and historical contexts (MacIntyre, 1988; Walzer, 1983), should

not decisions regarding justice be limited to the realms in which they arise? Further, how

are justice claims to be adjudicated outside of territorial states?

One issue to consider is whether any conception of justice, social justice included,

is morally and culturally relative, or whether there are universal norms on which claims

of justice can be grounded. Nussbaum (2000) mounts a strong defense for a universal

conception of justice that begins with a critique of culturally relative notions of justice.

As she points out, opposition to universal views of justice often come from those who

erroneously conflate American expansionism with universalism. However, although

universal views can be imperialist, this is not necessarily the case. As well, the

advancement of relativism is often premised on an “unrealistic notion of culture [that]

imagines homogeneity where there is really diversity, agreement or submission where

there is really contestation. […]Why should we follow the local ideas, rather than the best

ideas we can find?”, she asks (Nussbaum, 2000, p. 49). As discussed previously, cultural

groups are not homogenous. Transferring responsibility for justice to a culture does not

solve the issue of what views within a particular group are taken as representative.

Romantic notions of “culture” and “diversity” conceal power struggles that exist in many

cultural groups. Further, those who condone relativism in justice often do so based on the

view that the preservation of cultural diversity is necessarily a good thing. However, as

Nussbaum argues, there are some cultural practices not worth preserving. For example,

it is not clear that there is interesting diversity exemplified in the practices of male dominance that feminists have most contested. Getting beaten up and being malnourished have depressing similarities everywhere; denials of land rights, political choice and employment opportunities do also. Insofar as there is diversity worth preserving in the various cultures, it is perhaps not in traditions of sex hierarchy, any more than in traditions of slavery, that we should search for it. (2000, p. 51)

It is important to recognize that moral relativism is not the same thing as tolerance

and respect. Many cultural traditions are neither tolerant nor respectful of differences.

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Thus, an appeal to relativism in an effort to extend respect to other ways of life can be

self-defeating: “By making each tradition the last word, we deprive ourselves of any

more general norm of toleration or respect that could help us limit the intolerance of

cultures. Once we see this, our interest in being relativists should rapidly diminish”

(Nussbaum, 2000, p. 49).

Universalist conceptions of justice often are avoided for fear they are

paternalistic. Given that the ability to make rational choices is a central factor of social

justice, according to Nussbaum’s own theory (2011), this is a pitfall of universalism that

she weighs carefully. However, an argument against paternalism for the sake of

supporting the ability of individuals and groups to determine their own values and ways

of life is, paradoxically, a universal endorsement of human freedom, the ability to make

choices, and the opportunity to think for one’s self (Nussbaum, 2000). Therefore, she

concludes, rather than seeking to avoid paternalism altogether, we are better off

acknowledging that conceptions and practices of justice will inevitably be prescriptive

and, as such, seek to articulate the best account possible.

Lack of a normative frame

The increased theoretical attention devoted to social justice since the early 1970s

has brought to light its complexity, which is no longer understood to be primarily a

matter of just distribution amongst citizens (Fraser, 2009). Theories have proliferated,

highlighting the importance of economic, political, and cultural factors in the

achievement of social justice. Additionally, since injustices increasingly transcend state

lines, it has been suggested that social justice ought to be conceived accordingly (Fraser,

2009; Nussbaum, 2011). As the limitations of the former Keynesian-Westphalian frame

of social justice have increasingly been acknowledged, and alternative conceptions

proposed, a broader range of individuals and groups have been able to leverage the

discursive power of the term.

However, ironically, although more people have been able to lay claim to social

justice, the power of the term has diminished as its meaning has broadened. Whereas

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mid-century debates about social justice were predominantly concerned with the goods of

social justice, now there are concurrent debates along two additional dimensions: the

dimension of recognition and the dimension of representation (Fraser, 2009). The

simultaneous contestation along these three dimensions has made it very challenging to

know what social justice “is” or how to mediate demands that seem to be

incommensurable.

Moreover, although there has been a proliferation of social justice theorizing and

discourse, there has not been a concurrent increase in institutional support for practices

and programs that might further social justice, or infrastructure developed to adjudicate

these varied claims. In fact, as discussed earlier, social justice practices have steadily

declined over the same period of time as conceptualizations and rhetoric have increased.

Not only are there fewer ways to resolve issues of injustice (Fraser, 2009), but also, those

institutions that had been designed to bring about social justice (e.g., social welfare

systems, public education, health care) have been undermined since the 1970s (United

Nations, 2006).

A second historical process, the rise of neoliberalism, which has occurred in the

same time period as the conceptual expansion of social justice, has been largely

responsible for the decline of political support for historical social justice practices and

institutions. It is to this topic I now turn.

Neoliberalism and Social Justice

Neoliberalism is a political ideology and movement in which the political process

and all realms of human life are configured in market terms for the purported purpose of

maximizing individual freedom. Although neoliberalism was a marginal perspective for

many decades, in the 1970s its influence grew and it has become the dominant political

paradigm in the West and, arguably, worldwide (Harvey, 2005). Even so, there are few, if

any, self-identified neoliberals. Proponents of this position often insist that they are

advocating a return to classical liberalism, the “true” or “pure” form of liberalism, not

advancing a distinct position (Mirowski, 2018). Given this claim, it is worth juxtaposing

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these two ideologies; through this process, the central tenets of neoliberalism are

revealed.

In spite of proclamations to the contrary, there are marked differences between

classical liberalism and neoliberalism. For example, whereas classical liberals take

market competition to be a natural force separate from political processes, neoliberals

make development of the market the business of the state, dissolving the division

between the economy and the political process. At the root of neoliberalism is the belief

that “the market can be constituted and kept alive only by dint of political interventions”

(Lemke, 2001, p. 193), an idea traced to the post-World War I German Ordo-liberals.

Paraphrasing Foucault’s 1979 lecture, Lemke (2001) writes,

While in the eighteenth century, minimal political invasion was the pre-condition for a functioning economy, for the Ordo-liberals law is no longer a superstructural phenomenon, but itself becomes an essential part of the (economic-institutional) base and thus an indispensable instrument for creating entrepreneurial forms within society. (p. 196, italics in original)

Members of the Mont Pèlerin Society and the Chicago School liberals, proponents of

neoliberalism, radicalized this idea and, owing to their influence, the market has become

a “constructivist and anti-naturalist” project (Lemke, 2001, p. 196). States as well as non-

elected global powers, such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, are

together actively involved in creating and shaping markets for the purpose of economic

development.

Classical liberalism and neoliberalism also differ in their ontological

presuppositions, with political implications. Whereas the former assumes that individuals

are rational autonomous beings who act in self-interested ways in situations where there

is political and market freedom, the latter considers people to be rationally fallible,

incapable of ever knowing enough or processing information well enough, either

individually or in collectives, to make good decisions apart from immediate market

choices based on self-interest (e.g., Hayek, 1976). This assumption precludes social

planning (Olssen, 2009). The market, in contrast, is presented by proponents of

neoliberalism as an optimal “information processor” (Mirowksi, 2018, p. 126) that can be

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employed to help solve social, economic, and political problems and adjudicate

competing truth claims. Therefore, whereas classical liberals limited the power of state

institutions by making them accountable to rational citizens, neoliberals make the state

and citizens subservient to the market. However, since markets need to be created and

maintained (as described above), the power of the state is directed towards this purpose.

Thus, although proponents of neoliberalism talk often of small government and returning

power and freedom to individuals, this is not their intent. Given the neoliberal belief that

people are inherently limited in their abilities to make good decisions, it follows that

citizen involvement in the political process ought to be constrained, replaced by market

forces. As Mirowski describes: “[t]he political goal of neoliberals is not to destroy the

state, but to take control of it, and to redefine its structure and function, in order to create

and maintain the market-friendly culture” (2018, p. 126). The crux of the neoliberal

agenda is displacement of the political process in favour of the economic process, via the

political process. As Mirowski (2018) states: “If that sounds like an oxymoron, well,

maybe that’s the nub of the project” (p. 130).

Although proponents of neoliberalism often present their views as a return to

“true liberalism,” this is not the case. Not only does neoliberal thought differ from

classical liberalism in some very significant ways, it also deviates from the key principles

shared by all forms of liberalism, such as individual freedom, a belief in human

rationality, and limited and accountable government. Owing to this aberration, Freeden

(2015) concludes that neoliberalism is better conceived as an oligarchy, not a new layer

of liberalism.

The rise of neoliberalism in the 1970s

Neoliberalism ascended to ideological prominence in the 1970s. During this

decade, corporate owners and leaders—a group Smith (2014) refers to as the “economic

elite”—combined forces with academic theorists to advance this doctrine. Although

social liberalism had become predominant in the early 1930s, a small group of

economists and scholars, composed largely of members of the exclusive Mont Pèlerin

Society, had kept alive an alternative ideological position. As Friedman (1962/2002)

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explained, those committed to this vision bided their time, waiting for opportunity to

implement their ideals:

There is enormous inertia – a tyranny of the status quo – in private and especially government arrangements. Only a crisis – actual or perceived – produces real change. When that crisis occurs the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, [was] our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes politically inevitable. (pp. xiii- xiv)

The crisis conditions that made possible the displacement of one ideological

system with another occurred in the 1970s, at which point unemployment, inflation, and

oil prices rose sharply and support for social liberalism and Keynesian-guided managed

capitalism declined (Harvey, 2005). There are different explanations for these

occurrences. Some attribute the influence of globalization and the growth of trans-

national corporations, which resulted in states being less able to control their economies

and currencies. Others attribute the shift to a failure of Fordism, which was ill-suited to

the rising global market. The rise in oil prices following the oil embargo in the early

1970s also is often considered to have contributed to the economic challenges of that

period (Smith, 2014). In combination, these factors created ideal conditions for change.

However, in contrast to Friedman’s allegation, the transition to neoliberalism was not

inevitable. The rise of this ideological position was the result of activist efforts by special

interest groups.

Corporate activism

Those committed to “free enterprise” and economic liberalism considered their

ideas and indeed the whole capitalist system to be under attack in the early 1970s.

Corporate regulations were increasing (Drutman, 2015), the share of wealth of the top 1%

was decreasing (Harvey, 2005) and, on the heels of the Watergate scandal and the

Vietnam War, “public confidence in corporate leaders had dropped from 50% in 1966-

1967 to 20% in the 1974-1976 time frame […]This drop was greater than that

experienced by any other public institution” (Smith, 2014, pp. 17-18). Union protests

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intensified, particularly in the UK, as workers agitated for more rights (Jones, 2013).

Socialism was gaining traction:

Discontent was widespread and the conjoining of labour and urban social movements throughout much of the advanced capitalist world appeared to point towards the emergence of a socialist alternative to the social compromise between capital and labour that had grounded capital accumulation so successfully in the post-war period. Communist and socialist parties were gaining ground, if not taking power, across much of Europe and even in the United States popular forces were agitating for widespread reforms and state interventions. There was, in this, a clear political threat to economic elites and ruling classes everywhere, both in the advanced capitalist countries […] and in many developing countries. (Harvey, 2005, pp. 14-15, italics in original)

In a memo to the US Chamber of Commerce, lawyer and eventual justice on the

US Supreme Court, Lewis Powell, warned, “the American economic system is under

broad attack” (1971, as cited in Smith, 2014, p. 19). At risk, Powell asserted, was

“survival of what we call the free enterprise system, and all that this means for the

strength and prosperity of America and the freedom of our people” (as cited in Smith,

2014, p. 20). In response, Powell recommended that corporate owners and leaders unite

and jointly fund long-range efforts to secure capitalist enterprise and their economic

interests. On this recommendation, the Business Roundtable in the USA was formed,

which was dedicated to protecting the special interests of corporate owners. This

consortium collectively pressed for reforms and/or repeals of regulations related to

labour, trade, and environmental policy, and advocated for changes in taxation policies

that would be to their benefit (Smith, 2014).

In the 1970s, corporations also began lobbying to exert pressure on the political

system. In prior decades, businesses had avoided political involvement, mostly hoping to

be left alone by government. However, in response to social movements and the

heightened regulatory climate that had developed in mid-century Western countries,

corporations began to take intentional and active steps to sway the political process in

their favour. Their success was immediate. By the late 1970s, corporate lobbyists had

successfully “killed a major labor law reform, rolled back regulation, lowered their taxes,

and helped to move public opinion in favor of less government intervention in the

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economy” (Drutman, 2015, para 7). Buoyed by this success, corporations steadily

increased their political involvement to the point where, in 2015, corporations in the USA

spent “about $2.6 billion a year on reported lobbying expenditures – more than the $2

billion [that is spent] to fund the House ($1.18 billion) and Senate ($860 million)”

(Drutman, 2015, para 1). While the amount of money lobbyists spend in Canada is

unknown (unlike in the USA, corporations in Canada are not required to report the

amount they spend on lobbyists, Renders, 2014), there is no indication that corporate

influence in the Canadian political situation is markedly different than that of the United

States (Roberts, Clifton, Ferguson, Kampen & Langlois, 2005).

Many conservative foundations and think tanks were founded in the early 1970s

and played a central role in the advancement of neoliberalism. For example, the stated

aim of the Heritage Foundation, established in 1973 as a result of a large donation from

Joseph Coors of the Coors brewing family (Smith 2014), is the promotion of “Free

enterprise, limited government, individual freedom, traditional American values, and a

strong national defense.”20 In Canada, the Fraser Institute, a conservative think tank

whose ideological position is akin to that of the Heritage Foundation, was formed in 1974

with a large donation from T.P. Boyle, vice president and Corporate Controller of the

forestry giant MacMillan Bloedel.21 Organizations such as these played a key role in

conducting and disseminating research in support of neoliberalism. The short briefs they

produced appealed to busy parliamentarians and journalists and paved the way for the

election of conservative governments in the USA, Canada, and Great Britain in the 1980s

(Smith, 2014).

Ironically, in spite of the frequent disavowal of “special interest groups” by

conservative and neoliberal pundits, the ideological position they support came into being

as a result of “special interest groups” that focused on advancing the interest of enterprise

and who worked to change the political landscape to their benefit.22 Coalitions, political

20 http://www.heritage.org/about-heritage/mission 21 https://www.fraserinstitute.org/t-patrick-boyle-fraser-institute-founding-chairman 22 The term “special interest group” is generally used to refer to groups that represent race, cultural, or gender interests. But what are industry lobbyists and Foundations funded by corporations if not “special interest groups”? The application of the terms “special interest group,” “political activism,” and “advocacy”

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lobbyists, and the establishment of think tanks and foundations were instrumental in this

process. By the early 1980s, with the election of governments sympathetic to neoliberal

principles across the Western world, they successfully achieved their political mission.

Undermining the concept of social justice in the name of freedom

The actions of the business community contributed to the ideological

transformation that occurred in the 1970s, but the rapid rise of neoliberalism also

involved theorizing that enabled self-serving corporate activism to be reframed as a fight

for freedom and wellbeing for all. In this battle, the adversary was the interventionist

state while the protagonist was the free market economy. A key battle in this ideological

war was on the conceptual front. Social justice provided moral justification for state

redistributive efforts and regulations, ideas antithetical to neoliberalism. However,

inconveniently for those who wished to advance neoliberal doctrine, social justice was

firmly lodged in the Western social imaginary and, in spite of its limitations, continued to

have widespread support (as evidenced by growing theoretical interest in the 1970s). The

concept of social justice had become linked to powerful ideals of Western culture such as

freedom, wellbeing, and dignity. Undermining social justice and disconnecting this

concept, and the associated practices and institutions, from these ideals was necessary for

the advancement of neoliberalism. Two theorists who took on this task were Robert

Nozick (1974) and Friedrich Hayek (1976).

Nozick (1974) directed his critique at Rawls’ account of distributive justice

(which, recall, was treated by many as synonymous with social justice). The primary

problem with Rawls’ approach, Nozick argued, was that Rawls only conceived of

distributive justice in terms of outcome, not process. Thus, Rawls’ theory was flawed

from the start and the role of the state had been fundamentally misconstrued. As an

alternative, Nozick proposed “the entitlement theory,” the gist of which is “distribution is

just if everyone is entitled to the holdings they possess under the distribution” (1974, p.

151). The state’s only involvement ought to be upholding conditions that ensure justice in

tend to be used to describe only the actions of some non-market groups, whereas those who work to advance the interests of business are exempted from this language. This seems to denote an underlying presumption that their actions are “natural” or not exceptional, in contrast to those who advocate for other non-market interests.

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the acquisitions and transfers of holdings and in rectifying historical injustices that have

transpired (and can be “proven”) with regard to material goods. Any state efforts intended

to shape the outcome of distribution, for example, “through taxation on wages or on

wages over a certain amount, or through seizure of profits, or through there being a big

social pot so that it’s not clear what’s coming from where and what’s going where”

(Nozick, 1974, p. 172, emphasis in original), would be a “violation of people’s rights”

(Nozick, 1974, p. 168). Only the minimal state could be recommended from the

perspective of justice, Nozick concluded, and any form of government regulation or

social welfare policy violated the right of the individual to shape his or her life as he/she

wished. Consequently, in Nozick’s view, Rawls’ account of distributive justice and state

interventions implemented for the sake of social justice were inherently unjust and

antithetical to freedom.

Hayek’s critique of social justice in his 1976 book The Mirage of Social Justice

was similar to Nozick’s treatise, but focused more specifically on the term and concept of

social justice. Hayek identified three main problems with social justice: the inability of

the state to carry out planned redistribution consistently or effectively; the loss of

freedom for individuals that would inevitably result from state-led initiatives; and the

inherent meaninglessness of “social justice.”

Hayek (1976) alleged that in a complex society the state could never have enough

knowledge or understanding to predict social outcomes. Therefore, regardless of a

government’s desire to seek social justice for its constituents, there was no way that it

could guarantee any sort of fair outcome or desired distributive pattern. Rather than

redistributing goods in order to secure freedom and wellbeing, these aims would be better

served by a strong state commitment to “play the long game” of an unrestricted free

market. By so doing, the eventual outcome would be a society in which everyone’s needs

were met. In order for people to make good decisions about the market (i.e., know how to

play the game) there needed to be predictability (i.e., consistency in the rules of the

game) and state interventions prevented individuals from learning how to use market

forces to their advantage. Thus, although short-term plans aimed at helping those who

were poor were well intentioned, their end result would be disastrous. Hayek believed:

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attempts to ‘correct’ the results of the market in the direction of ‘social justice’ have probably produced more injustice in the form of new privileges, obstacles to mobility and frustration of efforts than they have contributed to the alleviation of the lot of the poor. (1976, pp. 139-140)

According to Hayek, not only are social justice interventions counterproductive, they also

are inherently unjust since they impinge the freedoms of individuals. All forms of state

planning would start society down a slippery slope that ended in totalitarianism.

A further problem with social justice was its nebulous meaning. Hayek argued

that the term social justice, in spite of its widespread usage and invocation in support of

government redistributive policies in mid-century Western countries, was essentially

meaningless. He described how his efforts to critique the unworkability of social justice

principles were hindered by the lack of conceptual clarity:

I had tried to show for a large number of instances that what was claimed as demanded by ‘social justice’ could not be justice because the underlying consideration (one could hardly call it a principle) was not capable of general application. The point I was then mainly anxious to demonstrate was that people would never be able to agree on what ‘social justice’ required, and that any attempt to determine remunerations according to what it was thought was demanded by justice would make the market unworkable. I have now become convinced, however, that the people who habitually employ the phrase simply do not know themselves what they mean by it and just use it as an assertion that a claim is justified without giving a reason for it. (Hayek, 1976, p. xi)

Hayek (1976) went on to describe social justice as a term that was “entirely empty and

meaningless” (p. xi), “a quasi-religious belief [with] no content whatever [that] serves

merely to insinuate that we ought to consent to a demand of some particular group” (p.

xi-xii), and a “hollow incantation” (p. xii). In his view, justice could only be “an attribute

of individual conduct” (p. xii). Therefore, to describe the actions of any collective group,

such as the state, as “just” or “unjust” was fallacious. As a result of all of these problems,

Hayek resolved that, “the greatest service I can still render to my fellow men would be

that I could make the speakers and writers among them thoroughly ashamed ever again to

employ the term ‘social justice’” (1976, p. 97).

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The term social justice obviously did not disappear, despite Hayek’s supplication.

And, unlike those who sought to expand the meaning of the concept of social justice

(e.g., to include issues of recognition), Nozick’s and Hayek’s writing did not significantly

impact the discourse on social justice, at least not in the field of education or in the social

sciences. However, their work, along with that of other academics sympathetic to the

neoliberal position (e.g., Friedman, 1962/2002), did provide support for the concerted

efforts of the economic elite who were seeking to advance neoliberal doctrine. Neoliberal

theory legitimized the efforts of those who were advocating on behalf of corporations and

gave corporate activist groups an argument and language that enabled them to present

their ideas as being not just good for a small minority, but actually good for all.

Neoliberal policies were pitched as a means of maximizing human freedom, a powerful

ideal that, despite various conceptualizations, has been at the centre of Western

ideological shifts (e.g., classical liberalism to social liberalism, and social liberalism to

neoliberalism). The combined efforts of theorists and corporate-funded consortiums and

think tanks effectively supplanted the notion of positive freedom that had undergirded

social liberalism with the idea of freedom as choice in the marketplace. This shift had a

discernable effect in politics.

Neoliberal political transformation

By the 1980s the ideological tide had shifted sufficiently to enable those who

supported a neoliberal political vision to be elected in many Western countries. These

elected governments implemented state policies such as deregulation of industry,

privatization of public services, and a withdrawal of support for welfare programs and

public services, such as education and health care. As well, states that supported

neoliberal doctrine worked in concert to establish the Washington Consensus, a set of 10

policy reforms (e.g., deregulation, privatization, trade liberalization)23 that were

“recommended” to developing countries seeking help from International Monetary Fund,

the World Bank, and the US Treasury Department (Williamson, 2004). International

loans became contingent on the adoption of these prescriptions, with the effect that 23 A complete list can be found on the Global Trade Negotiations Homepage: http://www.cid.harvard.edu/cidtrade/issues/washington.html

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neoliberalism spread across the globe. The role of non-elected international organizations

in the implementation of these policies has been instrumental in establishing

neoliberalism as the dominant global political paradigm and has made it very difficult for

citizens to alter the ideological course through democratic means (Harvey, 2005). As a

result, neoliberalism has become hegemonic and intractable, even through changes in

government leadership.

The effects of neoliberalism

Overall, the effect of practices adopted as a result of neoliberalism has been a

redistribution of wealth and power to the benefit of corporations and their leaders. By

1999, the top 1% of income earners in the US had consolidated 15% of total national

income. As well, “the ratio of the median compensation of workers to the salaries of

CEOs increased from just over 30 to 1 in 1970 to nearly 500 to 1 by 2000” (Harvey,

2005, p. 16). In 2013, the Pew Research Center reported that US income inequality,

which has “been increasing steadily since the 1970s” (Desilver, 2013, para 2), was at its

highest level since 1928. The rising inequality is not unique to the United States. A

similar trend is observable in Britain, Russia, China, Mexico, and Eastern European

countries, as well as an increase in inequality on a global scale (Harvey, 2005). Although

proponents of neoliberal theory have been very critical of the redistribution of wealth

from the rich to the poor that happened in the name of social justice, neoliberal policies

have not stemmed redistribution, but rather, reversed the flow of capital (Harvey, 2005).

As Wilkinson and Pickett (2010) have demonstrated, income inequality is a

contributing factor to many social and public health problems (for all individuals that live

in societies with high levels of income inequality, not just those who are poor), including

higher rates of mental and physical illness, a breakdown of community solidarity and

more social distrust, higher levels of anxiety, higher levels of obesity, lower levels of

educational attainment, more teenage pregnancies, increased incidents of violent crime,

higher rates of incarceration, and entrenched intergenerational poverty with fewer

opportunities for social mobility. Insofar as the neoliberal paradigm and its associated

practices have increased inequality, the impact of the neoliberal agenda has not been to

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the benefit of the large majority of citizens, despite the theoretical claims to be a means

of maximizing wealth and wellbeing for all (e.g., Friedman, 1962/2002; Hayek, 1976).

The dominance of neoliberalism has had a disastrous effect on institutional

programs and policies that had been built up in the post-World War II era and were

justified by social justice. There are, of course, political differences among countries and

communities, but an international trend has been budget cuts to welfare programs and

increasing privatization of the services they provided (United Nations 2006; Wacquant,

2008). Even where state commitments to social welfare programs have continued, the

programs offered have shifted to align with the dominant neoliberal ideology. For

example, in Canada, federal programs to address homelessness locate this problem at an

individual level. Focusing on issues of addiction or mental health challenges of homeless

individuals diverts attention from the role of structural factors, such as the elimination of

a federal housing policy and government support for various affordable housing options,

such as co-ops, in the increase of homelessness in Canada (Johnstone, Lee, & Connelly,

2017). Under neoliberalism, those who have less market opportunities available to them

and, as a result, are more likely to make use of social welfare programs have fared

particularly poorly (e.g., women, children, migrants, those who were poor, unemployed

or precariously employed) (Fraser & Gordon, 1994; Wacquant, 2008). In sum, although

neoliberalism is premised on the notion of increased wellbeing and profit for all, in

reality, only a small percent have benefitted from this ideological shift and many have

suffered as a consequence of its policies.

Further, although neoliberalism has promised increased freedom for individuals, it

has become clear that this has not been the case. A significant problem is that freedom in

neoliberal theory is conflated with choice. The problems with considering freedom in this

attenuated way have been rehearsed for over a century, but are worth revisiting here,

albeit briefly. First, the ability to make choices does not develop independently of a

supportive community, a condition that is not equally available to all. A supportive

community is not something that children and many marginalized persons have the

ability to choose in the first place. Second, freedom exercised through choice depends on

what choices are available, and the choices available differ according to socioeconomic

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circumstances. For example, although it has been common to eliminate catchment areas

for schools to supposedly give parents increased choice in schooling options, choices

available often depend on external factors (e.g., Does the family have a car or are there

public transit options that are available and easy to use?). When freedom is conflated

with choice, freedom increases for some who have access to material and cultural capital

that enable them to take advantage of expanded choices, but decreases for others who

were already disadvantaged. Finally, the notion of unqualified, unlimited choice is a

myth. No society ever offers unlimited possibilities for choice since some options

inevitably circumscribe other possibilities. Even neoliberalism, an ideology premised on

the promotion of individual choice, removes some options and discourages some choices.

As Harvey (2005) describes:

While individuals are supposedly free to choose, they are not supposed to choose to construct strong collective institutions (such as trade unions) as opposed to weak voluntary associations (like charitable organizations). They most certainly should not choose to associate to create political parties with the aim of forcing the state to intervene in or eliminate the market. (p. 69)

Neoliberal social justice

In a strange turn of events, a distinctly neoliberal variant of social justice recently

has emerged, in contradistinction to Hayek’s disparagement of the term. In this view,

social justice is an outcome linked to individuals taking personal responsibility for their

lives and exercising individual virtue. It has nothing at all to do with state intervention or

social welfare, which are considered to be unjust transgressions into the domain of

individual freedom. The only role of the state in this version of social justice is the

creation and maintenance of markets that enhance choice options for individuals. As

Brodie (2007) describes, neoliberal social justice

brackets out the influence of structure and systemic barriers…, revolving, instead, around the primacy of individual choices and open systems that empower people to make their own choices about how they will live their own lives. Justice, within this context, demands that economic rewards

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and societal resources are linked to ambition, effort, and the prudent exercise of individual choice. (p. 103)24

For example, in a short article entitled Conservatives do believe in social justice.

Here’s what our vision looks like, posted on The Heritage Foundation website, Anderson

(2017) characterizes social justice as the state of society that occurs when individuals

take responsibility for themselves and their families and participate in small community

or religious groups to care for each other. Key to this interpretation of social justice is the

belief that the state has no business infringing on the decisions of individuals, families, or

in the work of “small societies” for the purposes of establishing social welfare programs,

redistributing wealth, or working to establish equal opportunities. The only role of the

state is to “make markets work better and work for more people by empowering more

people to be market actors – empower more people to take control of their own lives and

flourish” (Anderson, para. 26).25

Proponents of this variant of social justice (e.g., see Burke, 2011; Novak &

Adams, 2015) trace their interpretation to the mid-19th century theological writings of

conservative Italian Jesuit priest Luigi Taparelli d’Azeglio (Taparelli, from herein). As

Burke describes, Taparelli’s purpose was to defend the feudal and Catholic order in Italy

against the encroachment of liberalism. Taparelli argued that although human beings

were equal before God, they were inherently unequal in their natural state. Those who

were superior (in “valor, knowledge, and wealth,” Burke, 2011, p. 34) became rulers, and

deservedly so. Sociopolitical and economic hierarchies were the result of the most

capable rising to the top to rule over others, resulting in a social arrangement that was 24 What Brodie (2007) and I are describing as neoliberal social justice has some overlap with “luck egalitarianism” (Hirose, 2015), the view that systems and structures of justice ought to correct for inequality that arises from unavoidable instances of bad luck (e.g., natural disasters) but not inequality that arises from poor choices (e.g., a gambling addiction). Proponents of neoliberalism have seized on this view to justify policies that advance the marketization of social services. The problem with luck egalitarianism and the neoliberal policies that follow, from the perspective of the social sciences, is that with the exception of very extreme cases it is very difficult to disentangle structural from individual influences. Family and social circumstances in early life, which are not chosen by individuals, influence later decision-making abilities (Martin, Sugarman, & Thompson, 2003). Therefore, inequality that might appear to be the result of poor individual choices can, on closer examination, be understood as having structural origins.

25 The Heritage Foundation has taken a recent interest in social justice, publishing numerous articles on its website, including those by Anderson (2017), Kemp, Andrews, Stroud & Hein (2010), Messmore (2010a & 2010b), Molinari (2017), and Novak (2009). All of these sources advance neoliberal social justice.

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ordained by God. Political structures premised on notions of citizen equality (as in liberal

society) would disrupt this natural hierarchy and, therefore, were heretical and against

justice. Further, Taparelli believed that society, rightly ordered, was composed of “small

societies” that were the foundation of the social order and to which the “large society”

(i.e., the State) was subordinate (Burke, 2011, p. 36). Social justice, according to

Taparelli, was a constitutional arrangement that protected a vision of society in which the

State did not overrule small societies and in which inequality amongst people was

unchallenged and had nothing to do with economic redistribution or equal political rights.

Although Taparelli’s vision of social justice had some influence on 19th century

Catholic theology, it has had little influence on social justice in popular culture, at least in

English speaking Western democratic countries and is not the position that was taken up

by Pope Pius in his influential 1931 encyclical, which aligned with the popular social

liberal understanding of the term. Indeed, Burke (2011) and others (e.g., Novak &

Adams, 2015) argue that the derailment of Taparelli’s vision of social justice was a result

of the undue influence of socialists on Pope Pius, thus changing the direction of Catholic

theology to align with economic redistribution efforts.

Why have Hayek-supporting neoliberals had an about-face and come to embrace

social justice? My contention is that these efforts are a blatant co-optation of the term. In

spite of attempts to destroy social justice conceptually and practically, this notion

continues to be “evocative, emotional and mobilizing” (Chazan & Madokoro, 2012, p.

12) and to hold great appeal for many people. Social justice has deep roots in liberal

Western society and dislodging the concept from the social imaginary has proved a more

challenging task than eliminating associated practices. Thus, the recent turnaround seems

strategic. If the concept is resistant to being destroyed, why not claim and reconfigure the

term in a way that aligns with neoliberalism? The polysemy of social justice that has

resulted over the past 50 years has made it possible for this interpretation of social justice

to become one amongst many.

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The Paradox of Social Justice: The Result of Two Coalescing Historical Processes

Two distinct historical trajectories have coalesced over the past nearly 50 years

with the result that in the same period that discourse pertaining to social justice has

increased, both in academic disciplines and popular culture, there has been a concurrent

decline in substantive support for public institutions that historically have been associated

with the political implementation of social justice. One of these key historical processes

is the proliferation of theoretical accounts of social justice that has occurred since the

1970s. The concept has been broadened and is now (accurately) recognized as being

multifaceted and complex. However, meanings and usage of the term social justice have

become polysemous as a result and it is seldom clear what exactly individuals or groups

are calling for when they invoke it. The predominance of liberalism has presented

challenges for knowing how best to evaluate varied conceptions of justice (points I will

return to in the next chapter) and, consequently, theoretical conceptions have amassed,

including the recent neoliberal variant that stands in contradistinction to all other

interpretations. These multiple meanings have undermined the critical purchase of the

concept.

In the same time period as the normative conception dissolved, a second historical

process was underway, namely, the displacement of social liberalism by neoliberalism as

the dominant political paradigm. Following this ideological shift, many institutional

processes and programs that had been developed under the auspices of social justice were

eliminated or radically altered to align with the neoliberal vision of individualization and

financialization (Brodie, 2007). This, in turn, has led to the widening of material and

social inequalities, both within and between nations, and a myriad of social and public

health problems (Harvey, 2005; Wilkinson & Pickett, 2010).

Together, these two historical developments—theoretical proliferation with no

clear way of discriminating amongst different accounts of justice and the inception of

neoliberalism—have resulted in the current paradoxical situation in which the rhetoric

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and concern for social justice in society are increasing, at the same time as social justice

practices are diminishing.

The Paradox of Social Justice in Education

Social justice in education

The paradox of social justice described above also is evident in education.

Although public education was expanded under the auspices of social justice in the first

half of the 20th century, there were few mentions of the term in the educational literature

at this time. However, as the concept broadened beyond the constraints of the Keynesian-

Westphalian frame (Fraser, 2009), social justice began to receive much more attention in

the educational literature (see Figure 1). Teachers and theorists became preoccupied both

with eradicating schooling policies and practices that exacerbated inequalities, as well as

exploring potential for educational institutions to participate in the achievement of social

justice. These efforts contributed to the “equity movement,” a major theme in educational

reform efforts since the 1960s, alongside the testing/standards-based and school choice

movements (Jennings, 2012).

The focus on equity and social justice has had some positive effects. Certainly,

this emphasis has brought attention to the ways curriculum, pedagogy, and institutional

practices reproduce structural differences in society. As well, there is evidence that some

inequalities in academic achievement between members of some groups have lessened.

For example, both Jennings (2012) and Reardon (2011) note that although racial

disparities in schooling persist, the achievement gap between black and white students in

the United States has declined in the past five decades. Whether this outcome is the result

of equity movement reforms in education or is attributable to changes brought about as a

result of the civil rights movement, or a combination of both, is debatable. However,

increased awareness among educators and researchers of how schooling is implicated in

furthering inequalities cannot have hurt this effort. Indeed, if the rise of talk of social

justice in education is assumed to represent a collective consciousness-raising of

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educators and educationists, the equity movement can be considered to have had some

success.

Increased attention given social justice in education has not been without its

challenges, however. As described in chapter one, there is confusion about the meaning

of social justice, in a general sense, but also specifically as it pertains to education.

Informed by various interpretations, social justice in the realm of education can be

considered the provision of equal access to quality educational opportunities, equal

academic achievement outcomes, equitable post-graduation employment outcomes, the

development of capabilities, and/or the acceptance and development of certain

progressive attitudes or values amongst students. It is not at all clear what social justice in

or through education would look like or how the effects of policies, programs, or

practices could be assessed. Given the potential for educational systems to reinforce

inequalities, historically (e.g., see Du Bois, 1906/2001) and more recently (e.g., see

Bourdieu & Passseron, 1994; Lareau, 2011; Oakes, 1985), it is essential to consider the

possibility that practices, regardless of intent, might be discriminatory. Critical

interrogations of educational processes related to social justice are particularly crucial,

given that the term social justice can be, and is, used to support nearly any educational

program or policy.

Neoliberalism and education

The effects of neoliberalism on education and schooling have been widely

documented (e.g., Apple, 2006; Atasay, 2015; Baltodano, 2012; Brogan, 2016; Blum &

Ullman, 2012; Clarke, 2012; Connell, 2013; Davies & Bansel, 2007; Down, 2009; Hursh,

2001; Klees, 2008; Lakes & Carter, 2011; McGregor, 2009; O’Flynn & Petersen, 2007;

Rutkowski, 2007). Although the interpretation and implementation of neoliberal practices

vary according to specific geographical and institutional locations, some effects on

systems of education are discernable across contexts.

As described previously, the overarching aim of neoliberalism is to expand the

logic of the market to all realms of human activity. Therefore, neoliberal states endeavour

to extricate themselves from the direct provision of all public services, including

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education. Instead, they facilitate the development of a plethora of schooling options

(e.g., private schools, voucher systems, charter schools, magnet or mini school programs

embedded in the public system), in order to institute a schooling marketplace that can be

governed according to market logic (Ball & Lund, 2010; Brighouse, 2000). These

differentiated choice programs are supported by policies that encourage families to

“shop” for schools. For example, the dissolution of catchment boundaries makes school

choice possible (Rowe & Lubienski, 2017; Thrupp, 2007) and the publication of

standardized test results give families a way of comparing schools in the marketplace

(despite a myriad of problems with the results from standardized tests, Ravitch, 2014,

2016). Public schools increasingly have been subjected to threats of closure if they are

not at capacity (Poole, 2007; Ravitch, 2016), the result of austerity politics, forcing them

to become active market participants and compete for students/customers. In sum,

education under neoliberalism is positioned as a commodity that is available in a market

of schools instead of as a public good. This marketization of schooling will be to the

benefit of students and society, the public is assured. Not only will families be permitted

to choose the most suitable school and program for their children, the inception of a

market of schools also will improve the overall system since substandard educational

institutions will close for lack of “customers.”

However, in contrast to what is alleged, there is evidence that the majority have

not benefited from these policies. In a comprehensive meta-analysis of educational

outcomes in the United States, Reardon (2011) describes how the gap in academic

achievement between children from rich and poor families has been increasing since the

1970s. Reardon concludes that “[t]he achievement gap between children from high- and

low-income families is roughly 30 to 40 percent larger among children born in 2001 than

among those born twenty-five years earlier” (2011, p. 91). Indeed, he notes that in 2001

the difference in academic achievement between children whose families are in the 90th

percentile of family income distribution and children whose families are in the 10th

percentile was “more than twice as large as the black-white achievement gap” (2011, p.

91). This is not to say that there is no longer a disparity between black and white

students’ academic outcomes in the United States, only that income has become a

significant mediator in the effect of race on academic achievement. In the analysis of

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these results, Reardon contends that the rising impact of family income levels on

educational outcomes is due neither to the correlation of income with parental education,

nor to an increase in the differences between those in the high and low income category,

but rather to the increasing importance of family income for academic success. As he

notes, in 2001 “a dollar of income … appears to buy more academic achievement than it

did several decades ago” (2011, p. 104).

That income has become a determinant of academic outcomes in recent decades is

not surprising in a context where increased emphasis is placed on the provision of more

schooling options. As Green described in his lectures on education in the mid-19th

century (1877/1911, 1882/1911) and Lareau (2011) has demonstrated more recently,

families are not equal in their ability to take advantage of increased school choices, and

income and associated levels of class play large roles in the resulting inequitable

outcomes. Obviously, increased income gives families more schooling options when

families must pay for schools. Richer families can choose to send their children to private

schools where they are less likely to be in classes with children with behaviour or

learning problems (Berliner, 2013). However, even when there are no costs associated

with increased choice options, or enrolment costs are subsidized, access to schooling

options are likely to be unequal. For example, means of transportation limits school

choice. Since the number of children from poor families in one’s school is a significant

predictor of educational attainment and outcome (Berliner, 2013), if a child lives in an

area that is predominantly poor and that child’s family does not have the means to get

them to another school outside of their immediate neighbourhood, increased school

choices are of little help. In fact, this situation may actually be harmful to children whose

families cannot take advantage of alternative options, since families who do have means

will choose to send their children elsewhere, reducing the number of students in the local

school from higher income families.

Accessing different school programs also is affected by nonmaterial familial

differences. As Lareau (2011) documented in an extensive ethnographic study, families

with higher income levels tend to have access to information about how the schooling

system works that is not easily obtained by families she designates as low or working

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class. Navigating a schooling network that is made more complicated by various choice

options, including application for special programs and bursary funds, is easier parents

who understand this system and have time to help their children understanding and make

decisions about school choice. Students from the upper/middle classes also benefited

from having parents who had knowledge of the educational system and could

communicate easily with teachers and administrators and act as advocates, often without

their children’s awareness. For these reasons, differentiated educational systems tend to

perpetuate class and income inequalities (Connell, 2013; Oakes, 1985) and end up

fulfilling “a social function quite analogous to that which befell nobility titles in feudal

society” (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1994; p. x).

Although I think there is ample evidence that expanded schooling options in a

neoliberal context have increased inequality in educational experiences and outcomes,

differentiated streams of schooling and more school choices are not, in and of

themselves, inherently unjust (as argued by Brighouse, 2000). There are many reasons for

streaming. Students have different interests, capabilities, prior knowledge, and post-

secondary and occupational goals and it is logical to try to group students together

according to these factors, both for the sake of the learners and teachers. Indeed, this type

of differentiated educational system was put forward by Plato as being the most just and,

likewise, proposed by the British national commission on education of which Green was

a part. Du Bois also did not oppose some forms of differentiated education and even went

so far as to suggest that segregated schooling was a good option for black students in the

mid-1930s given the discrimination they were likely to face in mainstream schools (Du

Bois, 1935). Brighouse, Green, and Du Bois all argue that the development of student

capabilities that eventually enable students to have agency is the purpose of schooling

and insofar as differentiated schooling options do not interfere with this aim, there is no

problem with making choice programs available.

Two enduring challenges have complicated the implementation of differentiated

educational programs. First, as observed by Green in mid-19th century Britain (see

discussion in the previous chapter), and Lareau (2011) 150 years later, a primary

determinant of students’ placement is their parents’ aspirations, which correlate strongly

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with class. Second, and relatedly, deciding how to classify students into different streams

without merely replicating class differences is a problem for which a solution has yet to

be found (despite ongoing efforts in psychology to develop tests for this purpose). As a

result of these issues, differentiated schooling programs, especially at early levels, seem

to function mostly to exacerbate existing inequalities, currently along class lines (Yoon &

Gulson, 2010).

Neoliberal social justice and schooling

The transformation of education into a market good often is justified with appeals

to equity and justice. This tendency is vividly illustrated in the documentary Waiting for

“Superman” (Chilcott & Guggenheim, 2010). In this film, public schools in the USA are

described as “failing,” the result of poor quality teachers protected by zealous unions.

Described as inadequately staffed and resistant to standardized testing (which is equated

with being resistant to accountability), public schools are portrayed as pathways to

poverty and incarceration. In contrast, private and charter schools are characterized as

employing good teachers who help children overcome the myriad challenges associated

with poverty. Families with means can opt out of the broken public system by sending

their kids to private schools. Families who are poor do not have this option and are at the

mercy of lotteries for admittance to overprescribed charter schools. The solutions,

according to this film, are increased standards-based testing to ensure that each school is

adequately performing its job, dissolution of teachers’ unions so that poorly performing

teachers can be fired and good teachers hired, and, failing a wholesale transformation of

the public system, increased publically-supported alternative schooling options for those

who do not have the financial means to send their children to private schools.

The educational problems and solutions put forward in Waiting for “Superman”

(Chilcott & Guggenheim, 2010) reflect a view that has become common in many

Western countries. Poor educational results often are attributed to incompetent teachers

and the institutional structures that protect their jobs. Standardized testing and the

marketization of schooling, which supposedly will weed out failing schools, are

presented as solutions (Ravitch, 2014). Right and left-leaning governments have both

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embraced these views and have defended their efforts to enhance school choice through

policy decisions and expanded standardized testing, even in light of evidence that neither

more options nor buckling down on assessments will solve the underlying problems (see

Ravitch, 2014, 2016, who supported standards-based testing in the 1990s and early 2000s

and now has recanted her support for this strategy, arguing recently that neither increased

school choice nor standards-based testing will improve education).

Of particular interest is the way social justice rhetoric has been used to defend

policies that arguably are counter to social justice, at least in the traditional social liberal

sense of the term. Over the past five decades there has been convergence of the three

movements Jennings (2012) describes has having dominated educational reform: school

choice, standards-based testing, and equity. Evidence from researchers such as Berliner

(2013) and Ravitch (2014, 2016) demonstrates that school choice and standardized

testing programs reinforce the neoliberal vision of schooling, which results in widening

disparity along income and class lines. Nonetheless, these reforms often are justified by

appeal to equity and social justice. Waiting for “Superman” (Chilcott & Guggenheim,

2010) provides one example, but this tendency also is apparent on the websites of

conservative foundations. For example, McFadden (2011), on the American Federation

for Children website, explains, “the bishops of Pennsylvania see school choice as a

defining social justice issue for our time” (para. 2). On the Acton Institute website,

Klesney (n.d.) argues, “school choice is a reform that truly serves social justice” (para. 4).

He goes on to write:

Is it socially just to force poor families to send their children to failing schools, simply based on the locations of their homes? Is it just to force taxpayers to continue funding failing projects with no input on how their taxes are to be used? Is it just to place a bureaucratic system as a higher priority than children? The answer to all of these questions is a resounding ‘no.’ (para. 13)

Ironically, however, although progressivism is the tradition that has promoted

social justice as a goal of schooling most enthusiastically, progressive education also has

played a role in the convergence of neoliberal philosophy and practices and social justice

in schooling. This seems counterintuitive but the emphasis on changing the social order

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through schooling in progressive education has made it seem as though social inequalities

and problems are a failure of the schools. This view has been picked up by neoliberal

proponents keen to paint the public education system as a failure and encourage

privatization.

As argued in the first chapter, in the past few decades, social justice increasingly

has come to be seen as an aim of education, generally, and teaching, specifically.

However, although education has been considered an important part of social justice for

nearly a century (e.g., see Hobhouse, 1922), little attention was devoted to the

achievement of social justice in or through schooling prior to the 1970s, as evidenced in

educational literature. In contrast, the idea that schools had a role to play in shaping the

social and economic order was a popular topic in the first few decades of the 1900s (e.g.,

see Counts, 1932, Dare the School Build a New Social Order?). As a result, the notion

that one of the purposes of schooling is establishing a social order of a particular sort has

become firmly entrenched in Western culture, generally, and is promoted in faculties of

education and teacher training programs. From the 1970s onwards this belief often has

been expressed with reference to social justice, a recent iteration of the progressive notion

that schools have a responsibility for the formation of society (a view which Eliot, 1948,

lamented).

Educators are not the only ones connecting schooling to social justice. Politicians

also now often link social justice to education, as demonstrated by the following

quotations:

Great teaching is about so much more than education; it is a daily fight for social justice. (Arne Duncan, United States Secretary of Education, October 9, 2009)26

Without good education there can be no social justice. (David Cameron, leader of the Conservative Party in Britain, and eventual Prime Minister, 2007, as cited in Smith, 2012, p. 2)

26 https://blog.ed.gov/2011/08/education-is-social-justice/

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Although it is logical that education is integral to social justice, current rhetoric

obscures the varied aims of schooling and reinforces the belief that social justice is the

responsibility of educational institutions. Social problems, therefore, can be cast as a

failure of schools. As income inequality and social problems widen (Wilkinson & Pickett,

2010), educational institutions appear to be constantly failing. This supposed failure of

public schools stands in contrast to corporations, which are thriving under neoliberalism.

Thus, it is unsurprising to see the ease with which rich philanthropists with a background

in business have been welcomed into education as saviours (Ravitch, 2016).

Another problem with closely linking the schooling system to social justice is that

this association diverts attention from the role of the larger sociopolitical and economic

context in the achievement of any social ideal. Regardless of how one defines social

justice, it is not possible for schools to achieve this end unilaterally. Schools play a part in

changing the social landscape. But like any specific institution in a society (e.g., families,

banks, the justice system, various government programs, religious institutions) schools do

not have the capacity to bring about wholesale cultural, political, economic, or social

change. The achievement of social justice, regardless of how this term is defined, requires

the involvement of multiple institutions.

Further, the focus on schools as a means of achieving social justice diverts

attention from the significant effects of structural factors on schooling processes and

academic outcomes. It is much more likely that social and economic conditions will

impact schooling than the reverse. As Berliner (2013) has demonstrated, “about 20% of

the variation in achievement test scores” (p. 5) can be explained by “in-school factors,”

including teachers’ skills and stability, school leadership and resources, peer groups,

available special services, and course offerings. In contrast, 60% of the variance in these

scores is explained by “out-of-school variables, including family income, neighbourhood

safety, access to health care, food security, family stability, and early education”

(Berliner, 2013, p. 5). Although there are exceptions (which are a frequent subject of

books and movies), teachers and schools often do not have the capacity to help children

overcome these sorts of challenges.

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Academic inequality is largely attributable to factors outside of schools. The

widespread failure to recognize this fact is the reason that the majority of academic

reform efforts over the past four decades, which have focused largely on in-school factors

(such as high-stakes testing), have been unsuccessful (Berliner, 2013). Berliner concludes

that since rising levels of income inequality and poverty are variables accounting for a

lack of academic success in the United States, efforts to improve schooling results should

target out-of-school factors. He describes “decent paying jobs, and a low unemployment

rate” as “the single best school reform strategy I can find” (Berliner, 2013, p. 21), but

also names government support for poverty eradication programs, improved housing

policies, and “a bussing policy based on income, not race, so that no school had more

than about 40% low-income children” (Berliner, 2013, p. 22) as educational reforms that

might actually make a difference. He writes, “citizens calling for school reform without

thinking about economic and social reforms are probably being foolish” (Berliner, 2013,

p. 22).

Others have supported Berliner’s conclusion. Kozol (1991) and Thrupp (1999)

describe the effect on students of urban planning and taxation structures, which results in

low-income housing “ghettos” and impoverished schools. Anyon (2014), concurs,

contending that so-called “failing urban public schools” in the United States are,

a logical consequences of the U.S. political economy—and the federal and regional policies and practices that support it. Teachers, principals, and urban students are not the culprits—as reform policies that target high stakes testing, educator quality, and the control of youth assume. Rather an unjust economy and the policies through which it is maintained create barriers to educational success that no teacher or principal practice, no standardized test, and no ‘zero tolerance’ policy can surmount for long. It is for this reason that I argue macroeconomic mandates continually trump urban educational policy and school reform. (p. 5, italics in original)

In sum, neoliberalism, through the elimination of support for welfare programs

and progressive taxation policies, as described earlier in this chapter, contributes to

unequal schooling experiences and outcomes. Many educators and researchers have

brought attention to the negative impact of these factors on schooling parity. However,

the increase in interest in social justice in education may also be, inadvertently,

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supporting neoliberal viewpoints that ultimately negatively impact schooling. The

frequent claims of social justice by educators and educationists makes it easy to attribute

social problems and inequalities (that presumably are evidence of a lack of social justice)

to problems with schooling and teachers. It becomes easy, therefore, to frame the public

system as “failing,” even in the face of evidence to the contrary (Berliner, 2013) and to

argue that shutting down this public system and creating private alternatives is a matter of

equity and social justice. Progressive education claims that began over one hundred years

ago have set the stage for both unrealistic expectations for what the school system can

accomplish. Schools cannot, unilaterally, transform society. As well, claiming social

justice as an educational mandate ignores the fact that schooling is only one part of social

justice and that larger economic and political structures are critically important

determinants of both social justice and academic outcomes. As argued above, no

institution is wholly responsible for shaping the social order. Further, out-of-school

factors are much more likely to impact in-school factors than the reverse. Schools play an

important but limited role in the achievement of social justice. However, tying social

ideals closely to schooling and teachers has the double advantage, from a neoliberal point

of view, of both giving a reason to privatize education and diminishing the importance of

economic and political systems in the exacerbation of inequalities. All of these effects are

facilitated by the current confusion about the meaning of the term social justice, which

can be co-opted to serve a number of political and educational aims.

Chapter Summary

Since the early 1970s, a paradox in social justice has developed. While social

justice rhetoric has increased, practices that historically have been understood to

represent social justice, and the combined effect of which was to mitigate economic

inequality, have declined. As a result, social justice appears to be simultaneously

ubiquitous and in decline. Part of the explanation for this paradox might be that

individuals and groups are calling for social justice in the face of decreasing support for

welfare systems and labour interests and reduced corporate regulations. However,

historical processes pertaining to social justice have transpired, intersected, and

significantly contributed to this paradox. Given the theoretical expansion of the concept

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and the various injustices this term can now be used to represent, increased social justice

rhetoric owes at least partly to its expanded meaning and the polysemy in its usage that

has resulted. Neoliberalism undoubtedly has contributed to a decline in social justice

practices and the evident rise in income inequality. A recent development has been the

co-opting of the term social justice to represent and advance the neoliberal agenda.

However, absent a way of distinguishing amongst the various interpretations that have

proliferated, the neoliberal account, although contradictory to most historical

understandings and practical manifestations of the term, stands as one amongst many.

This paradoxical situation is evident in education, where interest in social justice

has expanded, while policies that undermine educational equity have also gained traction.

In spite of resistance from many educators (as demonstrated by Berliner, 2013 and

Ravitch, 2016), politicians who support various ideological positions have been keen to

implement reform efforts that support the neoliberal agenda of privatizing schools, often

under the auspices of equity and social justice. However, in the absence of a clear

understanding of the meaning of social justice, it is difficult to demonstrate how some

conceptions of social justice in schooling might be better than others or to evaluate

programs or policies for their effect on social justice. The history of progressivism in

schooling, which frequently has emphasized the ability of schools to shape the social

order, has made it easy for those outside of the school system to pin the rising levels of

inequality and evident social problems on schools, further supporting the denigration of

the public system.

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Chapter 5. Discussion and Concluding Remarks

What, in the end, is the best way of thinking about social justice? And, what is the

relationship of social justice to education and schooling?

In the first chapter, I proposed that social justice was a historical product. Thus,

knowledge of the emergence and development of social justice over time is needed to

make sense of the current conceptual confusion about this notion and to find a resolution

to the associated practical consequences as seen in education. In chapters two through

four I provided an overview of the historical trajectory of social justice. In this final

chapter, I discuss how a “historically effected” (Gadamer, 1960/1989) understanding of

social justice can shed light on contemporary conceptual and practical issues. Based on

the historical account developed in the preceding chapters, I recommend Nancy Fraser’s

(2009) principles of social justice and Martha Nussbaum’s (2000, 2011) Capabilities

Approach as the best ways of thinking about social justice at this point in time. I consider

the implications of these theories for education and discuss the relationship between

social justice, education, and schooling.

“Historically Effected” Understanding of Social Justice

Justice is a powerful force in society. Hobhouse (1922) saw this clearly, noting,

“Justice is a name to which every knee will bow” (p. 104). However, although often

spoken of as though transcendent, MacIntyre (1988) reminds us that conceptions of

justice are embedded in larger, more encompassing historically and culturally specific

traditions. They are, therefore, intertwined with metaphysical beliefs, notions of practical

rationality, and social, economic, and political practices. As a result, understanding

justice requires comprehending these wider traditions.

As I have sought to demonstrate in this project, social justice is a form of

distributive justice the emergence and development of which have been closely

intertwined with the progression of liberalism, at least in English speaking Western

countries. When social justice is recognized as constituted by and constitutive of the

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liberal tradition, we are able to identify the ideals that underlie this notion, understand

reasons for the past and present contestation about the meaning of the term, and clarify

the conditions that have enabled multiple interpretations of social justice to co-exist.

Ideals of social justice

As discussed in chapters two and three, the central ideal of liberalism is freedom

for the individual. It is this ideal that also undergirds social justice. However, individual

freedom is not the only value in the liberal tradition or in social justice. As Freeden

(2015) describes, liberalism is best characterized as a historical project whose aim has

been the realization of a shared repertoire of values (“liberty, rationality, individuality,

progress, sociability, the general interest, and limited and accountable power,” p. 15). In

spite of an overarching commitment to these principles, liberalism is not a unified

worldview. These ideals have been interpreted in varied ways during different historical

periods (or “layers,” as Freeden describes them). As well, how they have been prioritized

has shifted over time. Variations in interpretation and emphases of these ideals have

resulted in different historical factions of liberalism.

Social justice emerged in history as a response to dissatisfaction with previous

efforts to achieve freedom for individuals. Classical liberalism limited state power by

making government accountable to (at least some) individuals and instituted a free

market. These shifts were intended to remove political and economic barriers to

individual liberty. However, this approach failed to recognize the developmental nature

of rationality and other capabilities that were necessary for individuals to take advantage

of the changed structures. In contrast, social liberalism emphasized the developmental

needs of individuals. A central feature of this faction of liberalism is the view that some

state interventions are necessary to help individuals develop the capabilities to exercise

freedom. Social justice was the term adopted to represent this idea. Thus, social justice

combines a commitment to the ideal of individual freedom with commitments to

sociability, the general interest, and a developmental view of rationality and individuality.

This amalgam of ideals has had a significant historical impact (e.g., it gave rise to

the welfare state), but also has been problematic. In spite of Green’s efforts to argue that

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individual freedom always is tied to the common good, and vice versa, there has

continued to be tension between these principles. Certainly, finding a balance between

individual freedom and the general interest (or common good) has proven difficult

without sacrificing one to the other. Determining where to draw the line between these

ideals takes time, effort, and dialogue, and is not efficient. However, the alternatives are

worse. For example, there have been times when freedom for some individuals has been

sacrificed in favour of what has been determined to be in the general interest (e.g., as in

tracking Indigenous and African American students into vocational/industrial education

programs for “cultural assimilation”). These educational programs were justified with

appeal to social justice. The common good is important for creating conditions for

individual freedom. However, as Fraser (2009) has pointed out, also important to

consider is who is part of the “common” and how decisions are made regarding what is

“good” for all. The opposite problem is now evident in the neoliberal variant of social

justice. This view prioritizes individual freedom over state-supported programs intended

to promote the common good (e.g., public education, healthcare, and welfare) and

considers all coordinated state initiatives to be oppressive and the beginnings of

totalitarianism. This ideological stance has widened income inequality and caused an

increase in associated social and health problems (as discussed in chapter four).

Is there a way of reconciling the seemingly opposing ideals that undergird social

justice? Perhaps not, although their countering effects might ultimately advance both

individual freedom and the common good, helping us navigate between radical

individualism and oppressive collectivism. Mill’s, Green’s, and Hobhouse’s efforts

towards this aim are instructive in moving forward (as discussed in chapter three).

Contestation about social justice

Social justice is a divisive notion in Western society. Some people support its

advancement passionately and unquestioningly. Others oppose any mention of social

justice and deride those who use the term. This contrariety is understandable in light of

the historical association of social justice with liberalism, a tradition marred by internal

conflict. Social justice is a product of a significant rupture within liberal doctrine. The

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concept of social justice was initially established to describe the political agenda of social

liberalism, the faction opposed to classical liberalism. Although social liberalism shares

an underlying commitment to the same ideals as those who prefer classical liberalism, the

political imperatives of these two ideological factions are contradictory in many ways.

For example, state intervention is a valued and central part of social liberalism whereas

the state is viewed with suspicion and considered an enemy of individual freedom in

classical liberalism. This discord continues to pervade contemporary social justice

discourse. Underlying this conflict about social justice are divergent interpretations of

freedom and its primary obstacles.

The history of social justice reveals that it has become a “cultural keyword”

(Williams, 1985). Some terms or phrases, Williams explains, provide “ways not only of

discussing but at another level of seeing many of our central experiences” (1985, p. 15).

Insofar as these keywords can be used to advance a certain ideological view of the world,

they become central in political struggle. Fraser and Gordon (1994) further explain this

point, noting,

[a] crucial element of politics, then, is the struggle to define social reality and to interpret people’s inchoate aspirations and needs […] Particular words and expressions often become focal in such struggles, functioning as keywords, sites at which the meaning of social experience is negotiated and contested. (p. 310)

In times of ideological and political contestation, different meanings of cultural keywords

will appear and there will be struggle over the “correct” meaning of the term. This

semantic debate is not independent of social struggles within the wider surround. Indeed,

as Williams (1985) argues, “some important social and historical processes occur within

language” (p. 22, italics in original).

The confusion and emotionally charged discourse about social justice that

pervades our culture makes sense when we understand social justice’s status as a cultural

keyword. Disagreement over the meaning of the term is both reflective of, and

contributes to, the dispute within liberalism. As a result, the term social justice thrusts

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users into a historical ideological and political struggle, whether they recognize this or

not.

Multiple interpretations of social justice and challenges evaluating varied accounts

Liberalism is premised on the belief that individuals ought to be free to decide the

good(s) of life for themselves. Although the nature of individual freedom and conditions

necessary for its enactment are disputed, human freedom as an ideal continues to be

widely valued and given primary importance, with implications for the way justice is

conceived and administrated. In liberal societies, systems of justice are founded on

principles and procedures that are deemed to be as impartial as possible with regard to

metaphysical commitments. This system is designed to protect individual rights

(MacIntyre, 1988).

There is a contradiction inherent in liberalism, however. Although developed as a

counter to traditions that oppressed individuals, liberalism has itself become a tradition

with its own vision of the good, the key feature of which is individual freedom

(MacIntyre, 1988). Ironically, therefore, the commitment to individual freedom gets its

force from tradition. However, the fact that liberal thought is indeed founded on a

distinctive view of what constitutes a good human life is concealed by both the original

historical impulse and nature of the good promoted by liberalism. Thus, liberalism is

seldom recognized as a constituting cultural force. Instead, its adherents often consider

their worldview to be neutral, in contrast to other stances that are at best viewed as

influencing and, at worst, as coercive (Taylor, 1991).

The current confusion about social justice is rooted, in part, in this liberal history

and conundrum. All forms of justice are premised on notions of what it means to lead a

good human life. Although initial conceptions of social justice were founded on an

explicit and idealized vision of the good (e.g., as in Green’s works), Rawls’ theory

reframed social justice in “impartial” procedural and principled terms acceptable to a

pluralistic liberal society. However, social justice is very clearly prescriptive regarding

the good and does not make a great deal of sense apart from explicit articulation of a

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moral position. Dislodged from a comprehensive vision of the good, social justice loses

its substantive meaning and becomes susceptible to multiple and even contradictory

reinterpretation and redefinition. And, indeed, this is what has happened. The term can

now be used in varied ways in support of nearly any political project.

This commitment to individual freedom means that there is reluctance both in

culture and in many academic disciplines to take a stand on issues that encroach on the

right of individuals to shape their lives as they see fit. Although philosophers debate

metaphysical assumptions underlying social justice, including conceptions of the good

and ontological presuppositions, those who apply these theories in practical realms (such

as in education) tend to either blithely ignore different viewpoints, vaguely referencing

social justice without committing to a specific definition, or acknowledging different

theories but treating all as equally plausible. Some have suggested that one’s preferred

conception is a matter of personal preference (“relativism”). Others have looked for ways

either to classify or integrate the insights from varied perspectives (“perspectivism”)

(MacIntyre, 1988). However, relativism breaks down at the most foundational level of

logic and perspectivism fails to recognize that the genuine adoption of a perspective

“commits one to its view of what is true and false and, in so committing one, prohibits

one from adopting any rival standpoint” (MacIntyre, 1988 p. 367) and thus is an

impossibility.

That relativism and persectivism appear the only available options is a legacy of

the Enlightenment in Western culture. Although both are a response to devastating

critiques of the Enlightenment ideal of objectivity, their appeal is based on continued

adherence to the same Enlightenment premises, albeit an inverted version:

While the thinkers of the Enlightenment insisted upon a particular type of view of truth and rationality, one in which truth is guaranteed by rational method and rational method appeals to principles undeniable by any fully reflective rational person, the protagonists of post-Enlightenment relativism and perspectivism claim that if the Enlightenment conceptions of truth and rationality cannot be sustained, theirs is the only possible alternative. (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 353)

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Further to these fundamental flaws, a critical issue for social justice theorizing is

that neither relativism nor perspectivism addresses the issue of a lack of consensus

regarding the best way of thinking about social justice. Both are able to accommodate a

proliferation of accounts and the problems associated with a lack of normativity,

including the challenge of defending some conceptions, practices, and institutional forms,

persist. If we wish to continue to uphold the ideals that historically inspired the inception

and development of social justice the solution is not to continue to try to integrate more

and more diverse theoretical viewpoints. Restoration is more likely to come from

evaluation of interpretations. What is needed is a way of overcoming some of the

problems of liberalism without abandoning the ideals that originally inspired liberal

thought and social justice. A crucial step in this direction is to discriminate among

theories of social justice. Some, surely, are better than others. But what are the grounds

on which this judgement is to be based?

A Best Account of Social Justice

As discussed in chapter one, although there is no method or form of reasoning

free of the influence of tradition, a “best account” can nonetheless be discerned. As

MacIntyre (1977, 1988) has explained, evaluating different interpretations of justice

requires comprehension of their historicity. We need to consider how concepts emerge

and develop within the parameters of possibility of the predominant tradition. Moreover,

there is no way of escaping contextual influence in the process of evaluation. Inquiry is

invariably “tradition-constituted and tradition-constitutive” (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 354).

Therefore, determination of a best account depends not on transcending history and

tradition, but rather, on seeking to understand this immersive context and the

epistemological crises that have shaped our current understandings and social practices.

The inquiry is not independent of the history of the subject matter in question. It is part of

the same historical narrative. Thus,

the standards of rational justification themselves emerge from and are part of a history in which they are vindicated by the way in which they transcend the limitations of and provide remedies for the defects of their

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predecessors within the history of that same tradition. (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 7)

A best account, therefore, is that which is able to a) “narrate how the argument has gone

so far” (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 8), and b) resolve problems that confound other

explanations.

Given that social justice in Western contexts is entwined with the liberal tradition,

a best account must grapple with the historical influence of this tradition and be able to

restore the possibility of achieving underlying aims and principles and shore up

weaknesses that impede their successful implementation. As well, the world has changed

since social justice first emerged and there are new threats to individual freedom and new

structures of oppression that result from globalism. If this concept is to continue to be

relevant it must be able to resolve the following two pressing issues: first, the need to

restore normativity to the concept while remaining cognizant of its complexity and,

second, the need to extend the concept beyond the nation-state framework in order to

address serious injustices occurring as a result of globalization.

There are two theories that meet these criteria and which together provide a best

account of social justice: Nancy Fraser’s framework of social justice, as outlined in her

2009 book, Scales of Justice: Reimagining Political Space in a Globalizing World, and

Martha Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach (Nussbaum, 2000, 2011).

Nancy Fraser’s framework of social justice

Fraser’s (2009) intention is to restore normativity to social justice discourse

without diminishing the reach of its application and to extend the relevance of this form

of justice to global contexts. She proposes three principles, each of which addresses a

fundamental question pertaining to social justice: “What is the good of social justice?”

(principle of participational parity), “Who is owed social justice?” (all-affected principle),

and “How are we to make decisions related to all aspects of social justice?” (all-subjected

principle).

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According to Fraser (2009), the ability of each individual to participate equally in

social and political life is the primary aim of social justice. Injustices can occur along

different dimensions (e.g., redistribution, recognition, representation). However, for the

sake of normativity, Fraser recommends that all injustices be considered in terms of the

principle of participatory parity, which “overarches the three dimensions and serves to

make them commensurable” (2009, p. 60). All claims of social injustice, therefore, are

assessed in terms of their effect on a person’s ability to participate socially and politically

on equal grounds with their peers in institutional and political arrangements.

The all-affected principle determines who is eligible to be considered for the

benefits of social justice. In the past, this question has been settled by citizenship.

However, given the rise of global injustices, Fraser (2009) argues

all those affected by a given social structure or institution have moral standing as subjects of justice in relation to it. On this view, what turns a collection of people into fellow subjects of justice is not geographical proximity, but their coimbrication in a common structural or institutional interaction, thereby shaping their respective life possibilities in patterns of advantage and disadvantage. (p. 24)

This transformation would permit individuals affected by, for example, the actions of a

transnational corporation or the International Monetary Fund, to be able to claim injustice

and seek redress, regardless of nationality.

However, a complication arises from this reconceptualization: how are claims to

be adjudicated outside of the political infrastructure of nation states? Historically, public

opinion has been central in the administration of social justice in democratic countries.

Elected or appointed officials are accountable to public opinion. Heretofore, the “public”

has, “tacitly assumed the frame of a bounded political community with its own territorial

state” (Fraser, 2009, p. 77). As a result of this premise, corporations, states, or individuals

whose actions cause injustices that cross national borders are beyond the reach of

influence of the public sphere. Whereas globalization has extended the ambit and power

of transnational institutions, the influence of the public sphere has been diminished as a

result of the same process. If social justice is to continue to be a concept that enables

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individuals and groups to hold powerful institutions to account, the parameters of the

“public” need to be transformed. Fraser proposes the all-subjected principle as a solution:

the all-subjected principle holds that what turns a collection of people into fellow members of a public is not shared citizenship, or coimbrication in a causal matrix, but rather their joint subjection to a structure of governance that set the ground rules for their interaction. For any given problem, accordingly, the relevant public should match the reach of the governance structure that regulates the relevant swath of social interaction. Where such structures transgress the borders of states, the corresponding public spheres must be transnational. Failing that, the opinion that they generate cannot be considered legitimate. (p. 96)

The functioning of this reconfigured public sphere depends, as well, on “new

transnational public powers, which can be made accountable to new democratic

transnational circuits of public opinion” (Fraser, 2009, p. 99). An appropriately expanded

public sphere requires global governance structures that are able to gather, empower, and

enforce public opinion across national boundaries.

Fraser’s (2009) principles of social justice resolve the problem of a lack of

normativity without attenuating the reach of the concept. She envisions a new governance

structure that would enable individuals to continue to hold global institutions to account,

which was an initial impulse behind liberalism. Fraser’s principles remind those in the

field of education that social justice is in large part determined by institutional structures

not by what goes on in schools and in faculties of education alone. However, although

this account helpfully focuses attention on the institutional matrix required for social

justice, it offers little guidance concerning the individual qualities necessary for

participation in social and political life, or the conditions required for their development.

Since the formation of individuals is a primary aim of education, this theory’s lack of

specific guidance in this regard is significant for those who work in the field. For this

reason, I recommend Fraser’s theory be used in concert with Nussbaum’s Capabilities

Approach.

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Martha Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach

A second theory that meets the criteria for a best account is Martha Nussbaum’s

Capabilities Approach (CA), described as a theory of “basic social justice [in which] the

key question to ask, when comparing societies and assessing them for their basic decency

or justice, is, ‘What is each person able to do and to be?’” (Nussbaum 2011, p. 18). Like

Fraser, Nussbaum aims to establish a normative standard of social justice that overcomes

the limitations of other frames. However, rather than focusing on the principles and

institutional structures necessary for justice, Nussbaum takes each person as an end in

and of him- or herself and posits that the metric of justice is a minimum threshold of

capabilities for each person.

Capabilities are components of life the presence of which enable a person to

achieve desired functionings (i.e., what a person is actually able to do or be) (Nussbaum,

2000). Although both capabilities and functionings are important, Nussbaum describes

capabilities as better indicators of social justice than functionings because the former

accounts for agency, a central feature of a good human life and, thus, social justice.

Individuals often translate capabilities into functionings (e.g., the provision of food, a

capability, is eaten for nourishment, a functioning). However, one is not able to

determine whether social justice has been achieved based on evidence of a functioning

alone. There are different reasons for malnourishment, for example. One person may be

starving for lack of access to food; another because they are fasting or on a self-imposed

hunger strike. In the first case, the capability is absent. In the latter two cases, the

capability is present although the functioning is not. This information is critical in

determining social justice. Nussbaum’s focus on capabilities sets her theory apart from

other accounts that tend to focus on functionings which undoubtedly are easier to

measure, as assessment does not involve gathering subjective accounts such as are

required to appraise capabilities. However, Nussbaum also does not advocate an

exclusive focus on individual preferences, noting that the historical and cultural context

forms people’s subjectivities. Therefore, someone raised in a context of grave poverty

will want and hope differently than a person who has developed in a setting with ample

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opportunities (Nussbaum, 2011). This insight is reflected in the different categories of

capabilities she defines.

Nussbaum (2000) differentiates among three levels of capabilities: basic, internal,

and combined. Basic capabilities are innate human features (e.g., the ability to see or

hear) that can be converted into functionings. The conversion from basic capability to

function is usually fairly direct but may require the presence of certain social conditions

for development of the associated functioning. Internal capabilities are “developed states”

(Nussbaum, 2000, p. 84) of the person whose cultivation depends on immersion and

nurture in a social community. For example, the ability to use language is an internal

capability, as it requires certain social conditions for its development. Combined

capabilities are “internal capabilities combined with suitable external conditions for the

exercise of the function” (Nussbaum, 2000, p. 85, italics in original). For example,

language is an internal capability that does not become a combined capability unless

individuals are permitted to speak. Internal capabilities and combined capabilities often

overlap, since appropriate external conditions are almost always necessary for the

development of internal capabilities. However, in situations of sudden political

transformation these sometimes become disconnected. For example, prior to the Taliban

taking over in Afghanistan, many women had been educated and lived with relative

freedom, enabling them to develop the capabilities necessary for the exercise of agency.

However, the Taliban severely changed the socio-political conditions so that the exercise

of these capabilities for women was no longer possible. Thus, these women were likely to

have internal capabilities, the result of having been educated and having opportunities for

social participation, but no longer were able to enact their agency. Similarly, a shift in a

political system that suddenly grants citizens equal rights and opportunities does not

mean these citizens necessarily have the capabilities to take advantage of this

transformation. In line with her commitment to both individual development and a

context of freedom, Nussbaum posits that combined capabilities are those that determine

social justice.

A society must be committed to both provide the conditions necessary for the

development of capabilities as well as their enactment. Given the inherent sociality and

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initial vulnerability of human beings (MacIntyre, 1999), individuals cannot achieve

capabilities individually. The state, as a powerful corporate entity, therefore, has a

responsibility to help secure the social, economic, and political conditions necessary for

the development and enactment of capabilities (Nussbaum, 2011). The list of capabilities

Nussbaum proposes she describes as “central constitutional principles that citizens have a

right to demand from their governments” (2000, p. 5).

Although Nussbaum’s approach is similar to Sen’s (2009) view of social justice,

her account differs in that she identifies ten central capabilities whose minimum threshold

achievement for each person is the key metric of social justice (whereas Sen leaves the

determination of capabilities to each community and/or nation to work out). These central

capabilities are: 1) life, 2) bodily health, 3) bodily integrity, 4) senses, imagination and

thought, 5) emotions, 6) practical reason, 7) affiliation with others, 8) living with concern

and in relation to other species, 9) play, and 10) political and material control over one’s

environment.27 Nussbaum asserts that this set of capabilities furnishes each person the

ability to be self-determining and live a life of human dignity. However, whether or not

individuals choose to transform these capabilities into functionings is up to the

individual. Achievement of social justice depends on a minimum threshold achievement

of all ten central capabilities (i.e., more of one does not compensate for less of another

and they do not all have to be realized to an equal level).

Although all of the central capabilities are important, there are two that Nussbaum

describes as “play[ing] a distinctive architectonic role” in that they “organize and

pervade the others” (2011, p. 39): affiliation and practical reason. It is possible to achieve

other measures of wellbeing, such as nourishment, good health, or control over material

resources. However, if individuals have no choice in these matters or are not given

opportunity to share these experiences with other people, they are less likely to be

experienced in a form that is commensurate with human dignity.

27 Nussbaum explains and expands each of the above capabilities in her books Women and Human Development (2000, pp. 76-80) and Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach (2011, pp. 32-34) and this cursory summary does not adequately capture the depth of these capabilities. I refer those interested in her ideas to the original sources for a more thorough treatment of these capabilities.

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Nussbaum’s approach shares many of the same foundational premises as Rawls’

theory of justice. For example, like Rawls, Nussbaum is deeply concerned with

respecting the rights of individuals to subscribe to varying religious and philosophical

doctrines and she describes her theory as a form of political liberalism (Nussbaum, 2011).

Nussbaum also shares Rawls’ positive view of freedom and endorses the idea that a

certain level of material and social resources are prerequisite for individual liberty and

dignity.

Nussbaum diverges from Rawls in some fundamental ways that are intended as

corrections to the problems she and others have identified in his theory. One difference is

that instead of taking primary goods and freedoms to be a measure of wellbeing,

Nussbaum (2011) focuses on capabilities, which she describes as a broader and more

comprehensive measure of justice. Conceiving of social justice in terms of fair

distribution of resources is problematic for a number of reasons, she alleges. Some people

need more resources to achieve the same level of wellbeing (for reasons as varied as

being pregnant, having a disability, living in a rural location where education and health

care is not readily accessible). As well, focusing on the fair distribution of goods obscures

obstacles that frequently get in the way of people taking advantage of opportunities

available to them. Some individuals “neglect to avail themselves of opportunities that

they in some sense have (such as free public education, or the vote, or the right to work)”

(Nussbaum, 2000, pp. 68-69). As Bourdieu’s (1998) concept of habitus illustrates,

inequalities do not exist simply at the level of material goods. The effect of disparity is

internalized as well, embodied and expressed through dispositions, tastes, and

subjectivities. Although inequalities never originate in the psychological realm they have

psychological consequences and expressions. These differences, when erroneously

interpreted as innate, have been used throughout history to rationalize hierarchies of

power and inequality (MacIntyre, 1988). Capabilities are a much better, albeit more

complex, indication of social justice than material goods or access to resources because

they take into account differences in development and subjectivity that result from

unequal social, economic, and political conditions and inhibit access to opportunities and

resources.

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Nussbaum also differs from Rawls in that she bases her approach on a universal

claim of the good for human life, whereas Rawls sees his approach as “grounding a

consensus only within a particular Western tradition of political philosophy” (Nussbaum,

2000, p. 67). Inspired by Aristotle, Nussbaum (2011) asserts that there are two qualities

that define human beings, regardless of culture: a physical, mental, and emotional

vulnerability and a capacity for rational agency. As a result, human flourishing depends

on the presence of certain material and social conditions necessary for survival and

development, as well as a political structure that enables individuals to exercise their

agency. The notion of combined capabilities is premised on this ontological position.

Nussbaum’s forthright identification of the good of human life is markedly

different than Rawls’ account and a point for which he has been criticized (as discussed

in the previous chapter). Nussbaum, by contrast, does not shy away from taking an

explicit moral position, pointing out that every political view, including political

liberalism, is based on some conception of what it means to lead a good life; she differs

only in her acknowledgement of the moral and ontological presuppositions that underlie

her theory. Further, she argues that political views must be based on some universal

values if we are to avoid falling into the illogicality of moral relativism. However, she

seeks to define a conception of the good that is broadly appealing and acceptable even to

those who hold different doctrinal and religious commitments. As such, she presents her

theory as a form of political liberalism (Nussbaum, 2011).

Although Nussbaum is clear in her support for Aristotelian essentialism

(Nussbaum, 1992) and the ten central capabilities she identifies as necessary for a life

worthy of human dignity for all, across cultures, she describes Aristotle’s philosophy as

an inspiration, not an absolute guide, and deviates from his views in some significant

ways. In particular, she is critical of Aristotle’s limited definition of citizenship. As

Nussbaum describes:

[Aristotle] was happy with a system like that of the Athens of his day, in which only free adult nonimmigrant males were citizens and in which slavery was practiced. And he would favor even more exclusions than Athens practiced: manual laborers, farmers, and sailors were to be excluded from citizenship in his ideal city. (2011, p. 128)

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This stands in marked contrast to the idea of human equality embraced by Nussbaum in

which all human beings are considered to be equal, regardless of gender, ethnicity, or

class. In this regard, Nussbaum is much more like the Stoics, another theoretical

influence she names, who “taught that every single human being, just by virtue of being

human, has dignity and is worthy of reverence” (Nussbaum, 2011, p. 129).28

Nussbaum’s theory has been criticized for attempting to amalgamate Aristotle’s

teleological view of justice with Rawls’ political liberalism, despite the fundamentally

oppositional tenets of these accounts (Olssen, 2010). For Aristotle the good is connected

to the essence of the entity (e.g., all oak trees have the same good, all horses have the

same good, all human beings have the same good, etc., and their good is, respectively, to

become as oak-tree like as possible, as horse-like as possible, as human-like as possible).

Thus, the good for each depends on the essence of each, and what is right depends on

what is good. For Rawls, however, goods follow rights. In Rawls’s theory of justice it is

the right of each person to define what is good for him- or herself and what is to be

defended, above all else, is the right of the person to choose this good. Thus, for Rawls,

the good life can take many different forms, depending on the choices people have made.

Nussbaum defends a form of universalism in which what is good for all people,

by virtue of their essence, is the right and ability to exercise agency in their lives.

However, she also recognizes agency as developmental; that is, a potentiality, not an

inevitability. Therefore, the goal of her theory of social justice is the assurance of

political and material conditions and institutional supports that enable the development

and exercise of internal capabilities necessary for agency. In brief, the CA advances a

version of essentialism (as recommended by Aristotle) where the key feature of human

essence is agency (as per Rawls), which necessitates the presence of certain material,

social, and political conditions for its realization (as per Green).

28 However, Nussbaum does not embrace Stoicism completely, disavowing their overemphasis on the role of the soul and mind in human freedom, with the result that they did not necessarily challenge unjust institutional structures or seek necessary material provisions for all (Nussbaum, 2011). If freedom is primarily an internal condition, as the Stoics believed, it is entirely possible for instances of injustice, such as slavery or poverty, to coexist with freedom.

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Nussbaum makes a contribution both to social justice theorizing and to liberalism.

In combining the ontological and developmental premises of social liberalism with

Rawls’ pluralistic concerns, she corrects for problems in both layers of liberalism. Her

theory is not based on an assumption of cultural homogeneity, as was social liberalism.

The universal account she proposes is tied to the limitations and potentials of the human

body, not cultural values. Like Rawls, she recognizes the pluralism of society, but

corrects for the ontological individualism that undergirds his view. Moreover, her theory

corrects a fundamental problem of liberalism, specifically, the failure to articulate

explicitly and claim the goods on which it is based. In so doing, Nussbaum creates a new

way forward for those who wish to uphold liberal values but have been hindered in

defending them by the previous failure of this tradition to identify an explicit moral

conception on which they can be founded.

Fraser and Nussbaum’s Contributions to Social Justice in Education

Fraser and Nussbaum’s conceptualizations of social justice can be used as guides

for understanding social justice in educational contexts. However, comprehensive

elaboration of the educational implications of these two paradigms of social justice is

beyond the scope of this project. Consequently, I offer only cursory remarks here.

Fraser’s framework of social justice is intended to offer a normative conception of

social justice that can address pressing justice issues that occur along multiple dimensions

and the effects of which increasingly cross national boundaries. Her view is not meant to

inform educational policy or practice directly. Nonetheless, some insights into how social

justice can be interpreted and evaluated in educational contexts can be gleaned from the

paradigm she recommends.

First, in light of her key principle of participational parity, the primary

contribution to be made to social justice by systems of education is preparing students to

participate as peers in their sociocultural and political context. Schooling processes and

programs should be evaluated for their adequacy in fulfilling this task. The key question

for educators interested in social justice, therefore, is: How will educational policy,

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curricula, pedagogies, or programs prepare individuals to participate on an equal level

with their peers, not only in national contexts, but also on a global scale?

Second, Fraser’s framework is a reminder that the achievement of social justice

depends in large part on institutional arrangements outside of the realm of education. The

all-affected and all-subjected principles point to the necessity of reconfigured global

structures and systems if social justice is to be possible. This insight goes against some of

the social justice claims made currently in and about schools. Social justice ought to be of

interest to educators, of course, but the discursive power of this concept depends largely

on political structures that permit individuals affected by and subjected to harmful

institutional arrangements and global processes, not on the socialization or academic

achievement of children alone. Indeed, locating social justice solely within schools

diverts attention from forces of injustice that Fraser identifies, which are growing on a

global scale. A prime example of this is increasing economic inequality, the effects of

which have been reducing significantly parity in schooling (see Berliner, 2013, Reardon,

2011, and Wilkinson & Pickett, 2010).

Finally, Fraser’s reconceptualization of social justice as a matter of international

concern has implications for the curriculum. The present emphasis on local issues,

particularly at the early primary levels in the social studies curriculum (e.g., Egan, 1983),

does a disservice to the global awareness and knowledge of history and geography that is

necessary if social justice, a complex and multifaceted concept, is to be understood. Too

often it seems that social justice initiatives in schooling focus on socialization at the

expense of knowledge necessary to make sense of global arrangements of power.

Nussbaum’s CA provides more specific guidance to educators interested in social

justice. Although not offering curricular or pedagogical instructions, this theory is easily

transposed into the educational field. Indeed, education is described as being “[a]t the

heart of the Capabilities Approach since its inception” (Nussbaum, 2011, p. 152), since

education plays a key role in the development of capabilities.

Nussbaum’s list of central capabilities can become a guide for determining social

justice activities in educational contexts. Given the breadth of capabilities, social justice

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initiatives can take a variety of forms and provide the mandate for a broad range of

educational goals and activities. However, as with Fraser’s framework, Nussbaum’s

theory is a reminder that a matrix of functioning institutions is required for the

achievement of all the capabilities, of which schools are but one. Different institutions

will be more significant in the achievement of some capabilities than for others. For

example, hospitals and health care institutions will play a central role in the achievement

of life and bodily health, a judicial system and police force will be important in securing

bodily integrity and granting opportunities for political and material control, and families

and close community groups are key in the development of emotional attachments and

affiliations with others. Schools, although contributing to all of the capabilities in some

respects, have a crucial role to play in the achievement of the following:

Senses, imagination, and thought. Being able to use the senses, to imagine, think and reason—and to do these things in a ‘truly human’ way, a way informed and cultivated by an adequate education, including, but by no means limited to, literacy and basic mathematical and scientific training. Being able to use imagination and thought in connection with experiencing and producing works and events of one’s own choice, religious, literary, musical, and so forth. Being able to use one’s mind in ways protected by guarantees of freedom of expression with respect to both political and artistic speech, and freedom of religious exercise. Being able to have pleasurable experiences and to avoid nonbeneficial pain. (Nussbaum, 2011, p. 33, italics in original)

Practical reason. Being able to form a conception of the good and to engage in critical reflection about the planning of one’s life. (Nussbaum, 2011, p. 34, italics in original)

These capabilities should remain at the fore of social justice initiatives in schooling,

given that there are few, if any, other public institutions specifically designed to facilitate

their development.

Second, although education is central to the CA, schooling and education are not

equivalent to social justice, a message conveyed by politicians in recent decades and

often reiterated by educators. The development of capabilities is the aim of social justice

and education has the potential to contribute to this process. This reorientation reminds us

that schooling is not an “unqualified good” (Unterhalter, Vaughan & Walker, 2007, p. 4).

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In emphasizing capabilities, this approach “opens a space in which we can be critical of

school processes within a normative framework” (Unterhalter et al., 2007, p. 4) while still

valuing and advocating for schooling (as was done by Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, Green,

and Du Bois).

A final contribution of the CA is its reminder that agency is not choice, and vice

versa. Nussbaum describes agency as a constitutive feature of a good human life and the

nexus of the CA. However, the development of agency supersedes choice in her

approach. Therefore, some choices, particularly regarding healthcare and education, are

curtailed for children and parents if deemed to go against the development of capabilities.

For example, as a matter of social justice, children are not permitted to opt out of

education. Nor, for that matter, are parents given complete control over their children’s

education or are children permitted to take complete control over their own education. As

Nussbaum (2011) writes:

Education is such a pivotal factor in opening up a wide range of adult capabilities that making it compulsory in childhood is justified by the dramatic expansion of capabilities in later life. Where children are concerned, then, the state’s commitment to the future capabilities of its citizens, together with its strong interest in having informed and capable citizens, justifies an aggressive approach; compulsory primary and secondary education, up to at least the age of sixteen, plus ample support and encouragement for higher education. (Children are also treated asymmetrically in areas such as health and bodily integrity: we should tolerate less deference to individual—or parental—choice here than in the case of adults.) (p. 156)

With regard to schooling, choice of the family is secondary to development of the

capabilities of the individual. The CA highlights the problem with current rhetoric that

emphasizes family choice in schooling as a matter of social justice. Providing choice in

educational options is not inherently unjust (as per Brighouse, 2000), but the ultimate

good of education, and therefore the focus of social justice in schooling, according to the

CA, is the development of capabilities of the individual child. The right of parents to

make schooling choices ought to be subordinated to the development of capabilities of

children, particularly with regards to social justice. Insofar as choices do not impede the

overarching goal of a minimum threshold level of all capabilities for all, school choice

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should be permitted. However, parental choice is not an unqualified goal or an aim of

social justice. Therefore, if school choice is determined to contribute to levels of

capabilities deemed to be below an acceptable level for some children, school choice

should be curtailed.

Social Justice, Schooling, and Education

The primary goal of this project was to address the question, “What is social

justice?”, and the bulk of this work has been devoted to this aim. However, the following

crucial question remains: What does social justice have to do with education and

schooling?

As I have tried to show in preceding chapters, there have been differing

perspectives on the relationship between social justice, education, and schooling, even

amongst those who shared a commitment to the notions and ideals associated with social

justice (i.e., held a positive view of individual freedom and supported social welfare

programs intended to aid the development of capabilities necessary for individual

freedom). Prior to the late 1800s, writers such as Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, and Green

had treated public schools as one of many institutions necessary for the achievement of

public goods, including education. Their focus had been to delineate the type of

institutional structure that could provide equal access to this public good for all citizens.

Thus, in their view, the implementation of social justice (although the term had yet to be

coined) was a precursor to quality schooling and the opportunity to receive an education,

not the reverse. However, as described in chapter three, as the social liberal vision

became widely adopted in the schooling system, this relationship was flipped. The idea

that schools could be used to establish a social order became pervasive. It is this view that

is predominant in Western education and that undergirds SJE and it is this perspective

that I wish to challenge.

There are several problems with treating social justice as an aim or outcome of

schooling and/or education. I have described many of these issues elsewhere in the

project so here only summarize these critiques. First, when social justice is considered to

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be an aim of schooling and/or education, attention is diverted from structural factors that

contribute to inequitable schooling experiences and academic outcomes (e.g., a lack of

state support for housing, unemployment, health care). As a result, schools and teachers

are blamed for widening inequalities, public schools are described as “failing,” and a

withdrawal of state funding seems justifiable. Private alternatives are proposed as the

solution. Thus, ironically, the idea that social justice is an outcome of schooling furthers

the neoliberal quest to privatize and marketize the schooling system.

Second, although schools undeniably have a variety of purposes (Barrow, 1981),

socialization (i.e., the acceptance of certain attitudes or values) often seems to be

prioritized over education (i.e., the development of the intellect or mind) in SJE. I

recognize that it is hard to distinguish socialization from education. Human life, including

knowledge, is always value-laden (Heidegger, 1962; Taylor, 1989) and teaching social

conventions and values is part of schooling. There is no way to educate without

socializing (although it is conceivable to socialize without educating). That being said,

problems arise when socialization, and not education, is emphasized in schools. Although

socialization happens in many contexts (e.g., families, community centres, places of

worship, sport organizations), schools are the only public institution devoted to

education. Thus, displacing this purpose for other ends has significant social

consequences. Further, Condorcet’s warnings against political indoctrination ought to be

heeded. Although he was an ardent supporter of liberalism and one of the architects of the

French Republic, he was adamant that schools not attempt to sway students’ attitudes

towards this system. The ultimate principle toward which liberalism is geared is

individual freedom, not the advancement of any ideological or political position,

Condorcet asserted. An overarching commitment to freedom means that we risk

producing citizens through schooling who disagree with the political structure educators

prefer (including, potentially, social justice). However, as Hobhouse (1922) explained,

[t]he price we pay for [liberty] is that so far as a man is free to do right he is also free to do wrong. He cannot be free to make the best of himself without also being free to reject the best, and those who seem to suggest the contrary are, I fear, trying to get the best of two incompatible worlds. We may make a man conform outwardly to what we consider the best

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standard or we can let him decide for himself. But we cannot at once leave the decision to him and be certain that he will conform. (p. 75)

The residential school system as well as industrial/vocational education and

socialization programs geared towards black students in the early 1900s, which Du Bois

(1906/2001, 1908/2001, 1910/2001) argued vehemently against, ought to be a stark

reminder of the danger of supplanting educational goals of schools in favour of other

aims. As historically evident, the best of intentions and accompanying lofty rhetoric do

not ensure quality schooling or social justice. There is an advantage, I believe, to

combining a commitment to state supports (as per social liberalism) with a suspicion of

state activities (as in classical liberalism). This combination of commitment/suspicion is

revealed in the writings of Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, Mill, Green, and Du Bois and it

seems a better approach to take to SJE than unquestioning support for the advancement of

social justice in/through schooling.

In sum, I support a view of schooling that considers the education of individuals

to be its primary goal, not the advancement of a sociopolitical or economic order of a

particular kind, even a kind I would endorse. This view of schooling aligns with the best

way of thinking about social justice and allows us to be cognizant of how rhetoric has

been used in the field of education, at times, to support unjust institutional forms and

practices. Attempts to inculcate a predilection for social justice through schooling may, in

fact, end up interfering with the actual contribution that schools can make to social

justice: education.

Concluding Remarks

Presently, there is both much enthusiasm about social justice in educational

contexts and also much confusion about what the term social justice means. This lack of

conceptual clarity is evident in vague references to social justice as well as in the

multitude of educational policies and programs justified by appeal to this concept. It is

expected that there will be different views as to what sorts of educational strategies will

best contribute to social justice. However, efforts to determine the contributions of varied

approaches to social justice in schooling are hindered by a lack of consensus regarding

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the meaning of the term. Answering the question, “What is social justice?,” therefore, is

of primary concern.

The lack of clarity about social justice is an issue that is not unique to the field of

education. There are multiple philosophical conceptions of social justice that have been

proposed and defended and social justice has become a “cultural keyword” (Williams,

1985); that is to say, a word or phrase the meaning of which is contested as part of a more

encompassing ideological and political dispute. The polysemy of social justice has

contributed to the current paradoxical situation where interest in social justice is growing

at the same time as practical investments in social justice programs are declining. It is

hard to defend institutional practices intended to advance social justice when the meaning

of the term is uncertain.

Guided by philosophical hermeneutics, a tradition that emphasizes the importance

of “historically effected consciousness” (Gadamer, 1960/1989) in advancing knowledge

in the human/social sciences, the focus of this project is developing a historical account

of social justice in English-speaking Western democratic societies. As I have attempted

to argue, this history not only can help to explain the current confusion but also can

provide grounds on which some conceptions can be determined to be better than others.

Social justice is a term that emerged within the context of liberal doctrinal

debates. As a result, this project is concerned much more about political ideology than

initially anticipated. As described in chapter two, shifts in thought and practice in the 18th

century made the eventual emergence and popularization of social justice possible.

However, although these notions were established early on in the history of liberalism,

they did not gain traction until late in the 1800s. Decades of reform efforts and Marxist

critique and associated worker discontent and agitation had drawn attention to problems

with the Western political and social system, premised on classical liberalism. In

particular, it became apparent that the value of individual freedom, interpreted as a lack

of state intervention and support, enabled abject poverty to continue and exacerbated

growing inequality. Against this backdrop, Mill’s and Green’s efforts to reconcile the

popular liberal ideal of freedom with social interest and state-supported welfare programs

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were well received, ultimately spawning a new faction called social liberalism, which

became the predominant political ideology in Western countries in the mid-20th century.

Social justice became associated with the political agenda of this form of social

liberalism and was established as a preeminent force as a result, responsible for justifying

the inception of the welfare state, Keynesian economics, and redistributive tax policies in

many Western nations.

However, the social liberal understanding of social justice had some significant

limitations. The power of social justice, historically, has been to create a discursive space

in which individuals can call to account institutional structures, including the state, for

their role in oppressing individuals (Brodie, 2007). However, the political leverage of

social justice was unavailable to segments of the population because of an emphasis on

economic justice within the bounds of territorial states and an idealistic notion of

cohesive community, which served to suppress dissension and critique. As a result,

human rights discourse arose in parallel and served a similar purpose for groups whose

injustices were outside of the range of social justice at the time.

The conceptual limits of social justice were not widely addressed until the 1970s,

following the publication of Rawls’ A Theory of Justice (1971). Not only did Rawls offer

a justification for state interventions that acknowledged cultural pluralism, he also

articulated explicitly and succinctly principles of social justice and, as a result, these

became available for scholarly critique (Fleischacker, 2004). This reinvigorated academic

interest in accounts of distributive justice and, specifically, social justice. A positive

effect of this scholarship has been an enhanced understanding of the limitations of

previous notions of social justice, which is now understood to be a multidimensional and

complex concept (Fraser, 2009). However, the broadening of the concept has also meant

a loss of normativity in social justice discourse. Although social justice talk has

increased, the lack of a normative frame in combination with an absence of institutional

structures designed to resolve disputes has resulted in an accumulation of calls for social

justice. As well, the lack of normativity has enabled all sorts of versions of social justice

to emerge, including recent efforts to advance a neoliberal variant of social justice that

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goes against all of the ideals that inspired social justice in the first place, as well as ideals

central to liberalism (Brodie, 2007; Freeden, 2015).

The consequences of the conceptual confusion about social justice have been

particularly problematic given the rise of neoliberalism over the past half century.

Despite its limitations, the conception of social justice within the Keynesian-Westphalian

frame had been an effective means of rallying public support against institutional

injustices that led to economic disparity (Fraser, 2009). This efficacy diminished as the

concept broadened. Further, attention to identity politics displaced the focus on economic

injustice that previously had been the predominant concern. Neoliberalism, however, has

increased inequalities primarily in the economic realm, in part by withdrawing support

for public institutions and policies that once served a redistributive function. Therefore, in

the same period as economic disparity was increasing, attention was diverted from

economic social justice to the politics of recognition and identity (Fraser, 2000).

As I have argued, two historical trajectories—the broadening of the concept of

social justice and the rise of neoliberalism—have intersected to give rise to the current

situation wherein claims of social justice are on the rise at the same time as political

support for the institutional and governance structures that had been built up under the

auspices of social justice are diminishing. The result has been widening inequality,

especially in the economic realm. This same effect is evident in education where

academic inequalities related to family income are increasing in spite of much talk of

social justice (Reardon, 2011). The focus on social justice in education has been

ineffective in countering forces that have exacerbated inequalities in schooling. Further,

the emphasis on social justice in educational contexts in recent years has likely diverted

attention from the role of other structural factors in the perpetuation of disparity in

education.

As I have tried to show, the history of social justice helps to make sense of the

current situation. The ideals underlying social justice are apparent when we consider the

historical emergence of this concept. As well, contemporary debate about social justice

and the proliferation of views are understandable in light of the historical development of

165

social justice. As Gadamer (1960/1989) and MacIntyre (1988) have argued, the grounds

on which various accounts can be judged emerge from the historicity of the concept.

Evaluations of various accounts of justice also are ensconced within tradition and, thus,

are part of the same historical process (MacIntyre, 1988). There is no purely objective

position available from which one might judge different approaches. Nonetheless, as

MacIntyre proposes (1977, 1988), a best account can be discerned by taking seriously the

embeddedness of conceptions of justice in history and culture. The best account is one

which can explain conceptual and practical changes that have occurred over time in the

given context (i.e., can make sense of the historical emergence and development of the

term/concept) and can overcome hurdles or challenges that confront and impede other

accounts. In this case, I have argued that the need to restore normativity without

attenuating the reach of social justice and the need to conceptualize justice in a way fitted

to the realities of globalization are urgent hurdles to be overcome.

Two accounts meet these criteria: Fraser’s framework of justice, based on the

participational parity, all-affected, and all-subjected principles (Fraser, 2009) and

Nussbaum’s Capabilities Approach (2000, 2011). Although neither of these theories is

specific to education, both bear implications for social justice in this field. Fraser’s

framework makes the ability to participate equally with one’s peers the metric of social

justice and, thus, educators interested in furthering social justice in their work ought to

take this as the good they are seeking to advance through schooling. As well, this theory

is a reminder that the achievement of social justice depends on much more than

schooling, which is but one part of the achievement of social justice. Nussbaum’s theory

makes a threshold level of capabilities the measure of social justice. The central

capabilities she proposed can be used to guide curricular and policy decisions. I have

argued that the capabilities of senses, imagination and thought, and rationality, are those

that schools have a particular responsibility to help foster. Notably, Nussbaum’s theory is

“sufficientarian” (Hirose, 2015) and, as such, allows for some disparity in outcomes

while nonetheless requiring a minimum level of capabilities for each individual in the ten

areas Nussbaum identifies. Whereas Fraser’s theory reimagines global governance

structures necessary for social justice to continue to have relevance, Nussbaum’s theory

166

provides guidance on the forms of development necessary for individuals to take

advantage of this structure.

Fraser and Nussbaum’s theories provide an antidote to claims of schooling and/or

education being social justice. They also highlight the fact that socioeconomic and

political conditions are much more likely to impact academic processes and outcomes

than the reverse (Berliner, 2013). Progressive education has implanted in the social

imaginary the largely unrealistic expectation that schools can change society.

Neoliberalism has reinforced this idea because it makes it seem as though public schools

are constantly failing, a perception that facilitates the neoliberal political aim of closing

public institutions. In recent years, public schools often have been held responsible for

the existence of social disparities and problems that schools did not cause and do not

have the capacity to resolve unilaterally (Anyon, 2014). Of course schools should serve

to make a difference in the lives of their students and society as a whole and undoubtedly

can improve in attempting to meet this aim. However, educational gains would be much

easier to achieve if students’ families had access to safe and stable housing, good quality

and affordable food, decent paying jobs for parents, adequate health care, and quality

early childhood education.

Talk of social justice in education sometimes makes it seem as though this social

ideal will be achieved through schooling. However, this claim conceals the determining

role of socio-political and economic inequalities in academic outcomes. For this reason,

those in the field of education would be advised to be judicious in their invocations of

social justice. As I have argued, educators committed to social justice would be better to

follow the lead of early liberals (e.g., Condorcet, Wollstonecraft, Mill, Green, Du Bois)

who treated schooling focused on education as an outcome of a just socioeconomic and

political structure, rather than inferring that social justice is an outcome of schooling or

education.

In conclusion, education through schooling plays an important role in social

justice, but it is not social justice in its entirety. It is my hope that the historical account

and analyses I have offered contribute to further critical considerations of the relationship

167

between social justice, education, and schooling. If I have succeeded, a further goal is to

help temper claims of social justice in educational contexts, both for the sake of

schooling and education, and also for social justice.

168

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