Stud Philos Educ (2014) 33:149–170

DOI 10.1007/s11217-013-9381-4

Theorizing Democratic Education from a Senian

Perspective

Tony DeCesare

Published online: 22 September 2013

 Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2013

Abstract Despite the growing body of literature and general interest in the intersection
between the capabilities approach (CA) and education, little work has been done so far to
theorize democratic education from a CA perspective. This essay attempts to do so by,
first, getting clear about the theory of democracy that has emerged from Amartya Sen’s
recent work and understanding how it informs his CA; and, second, by carefully drawing
out the implications of these aspects of Sen’s thinking for democratic education. Ulti-
mately, I argue that Senian democratic education (SDE) is a composite of various learning
processes that enhance one’s capability for social and political (democratic) participation.
Particular attention is given to the learning that happens through one’s actual engagement
in democratic practices and that which happens through one’s formal schooling. I call the
former of these learning processes SDEp and the latter SDEs. SDEp is democratic life
itself, and its effectiveness both depends on and contributes to the development of a culture
of political participation within society. SDEs is best understood as the process of facili-
tating children’s achievement of democratic functioning, that is, children’s achievement of
certain ‘‘beings and doings’’ associated with the emergence and exercise of their individual
and collective democratic existence.

Keywords Capabilities approach
Amartya Sen
Democracy
Democratic

education

In the thirty-plus years since Amartya Sen’s (1979) groundbreaking lecture titled ‘‘Equality
of What?’’ the capabilities approach (CA)—first conceived by Sen as a new approach to
economic theory and to the measurement and evaluation of human development—has
attracted much attention from scholars, students, non-governmental organizations, engaged
citizens, and public officials. Consequently, it has been developed in various theoretical

T. DeCesare (&)
Indiana University, W.W. Wright Education Building, 4235H, 201 N. Rose Avenue,
Bloomington, IN 47405, USA
e-mail: adecesar@indiana.edu

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directions and adapted for a variety of practical purposes, not only in its original field of
welfare economics, but also in development and developmental ethics, social policy, and
political theory (Robeyns 2005). The last 10 years in particular have also witnessed
increasing efforts to bring CA to bear on the field of education (Saito 2003; Unterhalter
et al. 2007; Walker and Unterhalter 2007). Like its applications in general, applications of
CA within education have been characterized by some variety of purpose: it has been used
as a framework for thinking about such things as educational policy making (Walker
2006); children’s rights (Biggeri et al. 2006; Biggeri 2007); higher education (Walker
2007); girls’ and women’s education and gender equality (Unterhalter 2005; Walker 2007);
justice and education (Walker and Unterhalter 2007; Terzi 2008); and disability (Terzi
2005, 2008; Taylor 2012).1 The quantity and richness of such work have led to at least one
suggestion that a paradigm shift is underway within education—a shift from a ‘‘utilitarian/
consequentialist paradigm’’ to a ‘‘capability approach’’ paradigm (Glassman 2011).
Despite this growing body of literature and general interest in the intersection between
CA and education, little work has been done so far to theorize democratic education
explicitly and thoroughly from a CA perspective.2 This is somewhat surprising given Sen’s
emphasis on the value of democracy, the relationship he draws between the capability for
social and political participation, on the one hand, and well-being and social justice on the
other, and the apparent importance of (democratic) education to one’s enjoyment of this
capability and to the overall quality of one’s democratic life. Thus, in what follows,
I attempt to treat democratic education from a specifically Senian perspective. The task
requires, first, that we get clear about the theory of democracy that has emerged from Sen’s
recent work and understand how it informs his CA; second, it requires that we carefully
draw out the implications of these aspects of his thinking—in addition to the insights he
has offered about education specifically—for democratic education. That, in general terms,
is the goal of this paper. Stated differently, the goal is to develop from Sen’s thinking a
conception of democratic education that is consistent with, and, indeed, follows from, his
theory of democracy and his version of CA.
Ultimately, I argue that Senian democratic education (SDE) is a composite of various
learning processes that enhance one’s capability for social and political (democratic)
participation. Particular attention is given to the learning that happens through one’s actual
engagement in social and political (democratic) practices and that which happens through
one’s formal schooling. I call the former of these learning processes SDEP and the latter
SDES. SDEP is democratic life itself, and its effectiveness both depends on and contributes
to ‘‘the evolution of a culture of political participation’’ within society (Drèze and Sen
2002, pp. 362–363). SDES is best understood as the process of facilitating children’s
achievement of democratic functioning, that is, children’s achievement of certain ‘‘beings
and doings’’ associated with the emergence and exercise of their individual and collective
democratic existence.
I proceed in four parts. First, I introduce CA by positioning it in relation to other
approaches to well-being and justice and by pointing to the value of thinking about edu-
cation from a CA perspective. Moving beyond that general introduction, I highlight the
importance of one characteristic of Sen’s particular version of CA: the fact that he stops

1
Many of these works deal with more than one issue and so defy such neat categorization.
2
Unterhalter and McCowan (2013) make a similar point, saying that ‘‘there has not as yet been a substantial
engagement’’ between CA and ‘‘the debates on citizenship education’’ (p. 136). Their essay attempts to bring
these literatures together. Nussbaum (2006, 2010) has also discussed citizenship education. The connection
between democracy and education from a CA perspective is also discussed in Unterhalter (2009).

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short of specifying a list of capabilities, choosing instead to leave the conceptualization,

specification, and prioritization of valued capabilities open to democratic processes within
particular communities. By doing so, Sen demonstrates his fundamental commitment to
democracy—a particular conception of democracy, as we will see—and its importance to
his version of CA. A deeper exploration of Sen’s emerging theory of democracy and its
relationship to his ideas of justice and well-being form the focus of the paper’s second
major section. In the third section, I argue that what follows from Sen’s thinking about
democracy and CA (and education) is the conception of SDE introduced above—one
composed of the learning that happens through one’s engagement in democratic life and
practices (SDEP) and that which happens through one’s formal schooling (SDES). Finally,
in the fourth section, I focus specifically on SDES, discussing some of its guiding principles
and offering an initial sketch of the ‘‘beings and doings’’ that are essential to the emergence
and exercise of children’s individual and collective democratic existence. I conclude by
suggesting further topics for research and inquiry that might assist in efforts to draw out
more thoroughly the implications—theoretical and practical—of Sen’s thinking for dem-
ocratic education.

(Sen’s) Capabilities Approach and Education

Amartya Sen’s CA has developed as a response to the limitations of other approaches to

evaluating development, individual well-being and the justness of social arrangements.
Thus, a brief discussion both of what CA responds to and why and how it does so is
necessary to establish some of its fundamental characteristics, particularly those that have
been most important to educational theorists. According to Sen (1993), more traditional
measures of well-being and social justice—and here, following Brighouse (2004), I will
focus on preference satisfaction, income, and Rawlsian primary goods—are problematic
for various reasons. The main problem with measuring well-being according to levels of
preference satisfaction is that preferences can be ‘‘adaptive,’’ that is people’s circum-
stances can have the effect of limiting their awareness of possible alternative preferences
and distorting ‘‘their sense of what is in their true interests’’ (ibid., p. 68). As a result, a
person might adapt her preferences in such a way that she can feel satisfied not because she
has achieved a life that she might truly desire if circumstances were different, but because
she has come to accept the real or perceived limits of her situation. If, for example, because
of social or other circumstances, the only life available to a woman is that of a wife and
mother, she may come to feel satisfied with this life not because she would necessarily
aspire to or prefer it even if some other life available to her, but because it seems the only
option that is available given her circumstances (ibid.). Thus, preference satisfaction is
both a potentially inaccurate and an entirely too narrow measure of one’s well-being.
Using income or other resources as measures of well-being is equally problematic.
According to Sen, such a measure falls short primarily because it fails to consider the
important aspect of conversion, that is, one’s ability to turn income (and other resources)
into well-being and freedom. As Sen (1999a) points out, there are ‘‘a number of contingent
circumstances, both personal and social’’ that will affect how well we are able to negotiate
between ‘‘our real incomes and the advantages—the well-being and freedom—we get out
of them’’ (p. 70).3 The following example from Melanie Walker (2006) is useful here both

3
The importance of our ability to convert resources into well-being and freedom (that is, into capabilities)
is also taken up in Brighouse and Unterhalter (2010, especially p. 199).

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because it illustrates the importance of CA’s conversion principle and because it does so in
the context of education:
A disabled child with the same resources and opportunities as an able-bodied child
will nonetheless find it more difficult to convert these resources and opportunities
into capabilities (the capability for mobility for someone who cannot walk, the
capability for enjoying literature for someone who is blind, and so on). (p. 166)
Resources, she concludes, ‘‘are only a part of the story; what matters are the opportunities
each person has to convert their bundle of resources into valued, rationally chosen, doings
and beings’’ (ibid.). Equality of income or resources often fails to translate into equality of
capabilities. Of course, that is not to say that income and other resources are not important
to Sen; however, his focus, as we will see, is not simply on what we have, but rather on
what we can do and be as a result of what we have.
Finally, Rawls’s primary goods are also inadequate measures of well-being relative to
the functionings/capabilities measure that is the hallmark of CA (more on this CA measure
presently). According to Brighouse (2004), Sen criticizes Rawls’s measure of well-being
for reasons similar to those given in the criticism of income. If we treat the primary goods
as Brighouse does—as ‘‘objective goods, the measurement of which takes no account of
the differences between people in their ability to convert them into well-being’’ (ibid.,
p. 70)—we can see clearly that the same main reason for dismissing income as the measure
of well-being does, in fact, apply here as well. However, the shortcomings of Rawls’s
primary goods are not as glaring as those that appear in the case of income. And, in fact,
Sen admits that Rawls’s view of primary goods is, in some way, different from the mere
objective goods of income and other material resources. Indeed, he credits Rawls with
having provided ‘‘a broader picture of resources that people need no matter what their
respective ends are; this includes income but also other general-purpose ‘means’’’ (Sen
1999a, p. 72). Among these general-purpose means are those goods that Rawls emphasizes
in addition to income and wealth: ‘‘rights, liberties, and opportunities…and the social
bases of self-respect’’ (ibid., citing Rawls). Of course, Sen is still critical of Rawls,
claiming that even his important ‘‘broadening of the informational focus from income to
primary goods is not…adequate to deal with all the relevant variations in the relationship
between income and resources, on the one hand, and well-being and freedom, on the other’’
(ibid.). The information base must be expanded even further, especially if it is to account
for an idea that is at the very heart of the CA: the variety and diversity of human beings. In
this light, even Rawlsian primary goods—the broadest and most promising of the three
traditional measures of well-being—are not broad enough or sensitive enough to variations
in actual persons to measure their well-being adequately.
It is in response to the shortcomings of these measures of well-being and justice—
preferences, income, and primary goods—that Sen has developed his CA. According to
such an approach, what matters are the ‘‘freedoms (people) actually enjoy to choose the
lives that they have reason to value’’ (Walker 2006, p. 164, quoting Sen). In other words,
CA evaluates well-being and justice according to ‘‘the actual living that people manage to
achieve’’ and, going beyond that, ‘‘the freedom to achieve actual livings that one can have
reason to value’’ (Sen 1999a, p. 73). The phrases ‘‘actual living’’ and ‘‘freedom to achieve
actual livings’’ point to a distinction between two terms that are essential to a deeper
understanding of the CA: functionings and capabilities. Sen’s own words are helpful in
making the importance of this distinction clearer: ‘‘The concept of ‘functionings’…reflects
the various things a person may value doing or being’’ (ibid., p. 75). These functionings,
Sen says, can range from elementary ones (like ‘‘being adequately nourished and free from

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avoidable disease’’) to more complex beings and doings (like ‘‘being able to take part in the
life of the community and having self-respect’’) (ibid.). The related concept of capabilities
‘‘refers to the alternative combinations of functionings that are feasible for (a person) to
achieve. Capability is thus a kind of freedom: the substantive freedom to achieve alter-
native functioning combinations (or, less formally put, the freedom to achieve various
lifestyles)’’ (ibid.). For example, consider two people—one an affluent person who chooses
to fast, and the other an impoverished person who cannot afford food. Both persons are
likely to be achieving a similar state of functioning, that is, both are falling short of being
well-nourished and doing the things a well-nourished person can do. Yet, we would not
consider their well-being to be equal. Their capability sets are different because ‘‘the first
can choose to eat well and be well-nourished in a way that the second cannot’’ (ibid.). In
other words, even though both are achieving the same level of functioning, the first has the
capability for nourishment and health, even if she is temporarily choosing not to exercise
that capability; the second does not enjoy this capability at all. Thus, a CA analysis of
human well-being and social arrangements is attentive not just to the kind of life one
actually achieves (one’s functionings), but also to the alternative kinds of lives from which
one is able to choose (one’s capabilities).
Sen (2005) provides a similar but more specific example that highlights this point about
the importance of choice and the emphasis on one’s capabilities (over one’s functionings):
he reminds us that during India’s struggle for Independence, Gandhi used fasting as a way
to protest against the policies of the British Raj. Gandhi’s level of functioning as a well-
nourished individual suffered and diminished during such fasts. However, his capability—
his freedom—to be well-nourished did not change (ibid., p. 155). We can see in such
examples how the distinction between functionings and capabilities adds a degree of
precision to our measurements and assessments of one’s actual well-being. This latter
example also helps to demonstrate why most CA theorists argue that, ‘‘where adult citizens
are concerned, capability, not functioning, is the appropriate political goal…Citizens must
be left free to determine their own course after that’’ (Nussbaum 2000, p. 87). It was, after
all, the choice not to enjoy his capability for nourishment that enabled Gandhi to protest,
that is, to act as an agent and to exercise freedom in politically meaningful and productive
ways. And so, if we are to empower adult citizens to exercise freedom and choice and to
act as agents, our political goals must focus on securing certain capabilities for all adult
citizens. We must, in other words, look beyond one’s functioning and identify, instead, the
freedoms a person enjoys to function in alternative valued ways. Indeed, despite the
democratic aspect of Sen’s thinking that will receive the bulk of attention here, this
emphasis on capabilities—that is, ‘‘freedom and opportunity’’—is what makes CA ulti-
mately a liberal theory of (or approach to) politics and justice (Brighouse and Unterhalter
2010, p. 201). It does not prescribe to adults a particular way of functioning or claim that
one way of functioning is more consistent with a good life than any other way. Rather, it
emphasizes the importance of taking account of the freedoms and opportunities (capa-
bilities) people enjoy to achieve the various beings and doings (functionings) they value.
However, in making the transition to an overview of a CA perspective on education,
specifically, it is important to note here that such an emphasis on capabilities rather than
functionings in the political context does not translate perfectly to an educational context
where children and not adult citizens are the focus. CA theorists generally require that
children be treated differently than adults, particularly because the former lack the freedom
of choice and the degree of agency that the latter typically enjoy. Thus, in the case of
children, most capabilities theorists reverse the focus on capabilities over functionings
because, they argue, requiring certain kinds of ‘‘functioning in childhood is necessary for

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capability in adulthood’’ (Nussbaum 2000, p. 90). To put it differently, CA theorists

recognize that ‘‘the levels of actual functionings children achieve have a profound impact
on their capabilities as adults’’ (Anderson 2010, p. 84). Thus, education is seen as one
important means—perhaps the most important means—through which children develop
the functionings necessary for the enjoyment of future capabilities. Brighouse (2004) is
helpful both in clarifying this point and providing examples. Education, he argues, must
force children to function in certain ways
in order to ensure future capabilities for those functionings. Most of us do not learn
truly foreign languages without being forced to in school; nor do we learn complex
mathematics, or how to appreciate Shakespeare without a degree of coercion. What
the capability approach recognizes is that refraining from forcing children to do some
things is tantamount to denying them the opportunities (i.e. the capabilities) to do
those things later in life. (p. 79)
I shall have more to say later about this treatment of children, with particular interest in
what it suggests for a model of democratic education that follows from Sen’s thinking.
First, though, it is important to round out this general introduction to CA by discussing
more explicitly its value to educational thought. In general, taking a CA perspective on
education demands that we ask how our educational policies and practices (1) make
possible the actual achievement of beings and doings that persons have reason to value
(functionings), and (2) expand persons’ freedoms and opportunities to achieve alternative
valued beings and doings (capabilities). In other words, it demands that we ask what one
can be and do and whether one’s freedom to enjoy alternative valued beings and doings has
been expanded as a result of one’s education. For example, in regard to issues concerning
educational equality, a CA perspective would require us to look beyond a simple resource-
based assessment. Taking seriously the conversion principle that informs CA means rec-
ognizing that the functionings one child achieves (and the freedoms she enjoys to achieve
alternative functionings) may be quite different from those that another child achieves with
the same educational resources. Personal and social circumstances affect the way indi-
vidual children are able to convert resources into actual beings and doings. Imagine, for
instance, a child with a fine-motor impairment. She will likely need additional or different
resources—perhaps in the form of an electronic note-taking device or a classroom aid—to
achieve the same level of functioning—being a writer, for example—as a student with
more fully developed fine-motor coordination. According to a CA perspective, such dif-
ferences must be taken into account. Simply equalizing the resources provided to children
is not necessarily a sufficient level of educational equality.
Similarly, measuring educational equality strictly by a preference satisfaction-based
assessment is also limited relative to a capabilities-based evaluation. To make this point,
Unterhalter et al. (2007) ask us to
imagine a situation in which children from low income groups receive only primary
education, and children from high earning families attend primary and secondary
school. If both groups say they are satisfied, because this is what each has come to
expect, then there is no problem in terms of utility or desire satisfaction, as both
groups are apparently equally content. Yet there is something uncomfortable about
this kind of conclusion. (p. 13)
Recalling the earlier discussion of ‘‘adaptive preferences’’ helps make clear the cause of
our potential discomfort here. The children from low income groups in this example might
be satisfied to attain only the level of education that would enable them to achieve just

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those lives that they have been conditioned to expect and even desire. However, once we
recognize that these children’s preferences have been adapted as a response to their
circumstances—thus making their ‘‘satisfaction’’ something more like submission—the
insufficient nature of preference satisfaction as a measure of the quality of one’s education
becomes clear. Indeed, we can also see here how a preference satisfaction measure is
equally insufficient as basis from which to make evaluations of equality across cases as
well. A CA perspective would, in contrast, demand a ‘‘range of more searching questions’’
(ibid., p. 14) with regard to the equality and overall quality of education than does a narrow
focus on preference satisfaction (or, in the earlier example, resources). It would, in
particular, raise questions that enable us to assess educational quality in terms of the degree
to which one’s education expands one’s valued capabilities and to assess equality in similar
terms of capability expansion.
The point here is not to offer a full and comprehensive overview of how CA can be and
has been usefully applied to educational thought and practice.4 It is enough for the present
purposes to demonstrate its general value in deepening our understanding of educational
quality, equality, and social justice; its insistence on working from a wider informational
base for making decisions concerning educational policy and practice; and its usefulness in
evaluating the goals and effectiveness of such policy and practice. This general CA per-
spective is, for the most part, common to all capabilities theorists and those thinkers who
have sought to apply CA to education.
However, in light of this paper’s efforts to explore a CA perspective on democratic
education specifically, it is important to note one aspect of Sen’s version of CA that is
unique relative to some other major theoretical developments of the approach, particularly
that of Martha Nussbaum. Sen and Nussbaum have, of course, collaborated productively
on the development of CA (Nussbaum and Sen 1993), but they have also consistently
disagreed over some aspects of its development and application, particularly how the
formation of a list of valued capabilities should proceed. Though she supports Sen’s overall
project, particularly his identification of capabilities (in general) as the proper informa-
tional basis of interpersonal and inter-societal comparisons related to well-being and jus-
tice, Nussbaum (2003) is clear and pointed in her criticism of Sen’s refusal to specify a list
of capabilities:
I think that [Sen’s arguments] do not take us very far in thinking about social justice.
They give us a general sense of what societies ought to be striving to achieve, but
because of Sen’s reluctance to make commitments about substance (which capa-
bilities a society ought most centrally to pursue), even that guidance remains but an
outline. And they give us no sense of what a minimum level of capability for a just
society might be. (p. 35)
In other words, according to Nussbaum, Sen needs to say more about which capabilities a
just society must guarantee to all its citizens and to what minimum threshold it must
guarantee them. After all, Nussbaum continues, ‘‘One cannot have a conception of social
justice that says, simply, ‘All citizens are entitled to freedom understood as capability’’’
(ibid., p. 48). Nussbaum (2007) has therefore sought to develop Sen’s CA into a more
complete theory of justice. She has done so, first, by developing (from her philosophical
intuition and from dialogue with others) a list of ten capabilities required for living a
human life with dignity, and, second, by arguing that her ten capabilities are ‘‘part of a

4
The literature connecting CA and education has grown to the point where a comprehensive survey of this
literature would be a useful and welcomed project (cf. Robeyns 2005).

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minimum account of social justice: a society that does not guarantee these to all its
citizens, at some appropriate threshold level, falls short of being a fully just society’’ (2003,
p. 40). She has, therefore, not only repeatedly defended her list but also urged Sen to
endorse a specific list if he wishes to fill out and make practicable his own version of CA.
Sen, however, has refused to do so. He is skeptical, in particular, of a priori formulations of
fully-specified and -weighted lists of capabilities, particularly those that make a claim to
universality. Importantly, this does not mean that he opposes lists per se or even that he is as
reluctant as Nussbaum suggests to make commitments about the substance of well-being and
justice. In fact, he has, at various times, discussed and even named specific basic capabilities
that would ‘‘demand attention in any theory of justice and more generally in social assess-
ment, such as the freedom to be well-nourished, to live disease free lives, to be able to move
around, to be educated, to participate in public life’’ (Sen 2004, p. 78). What he does oppose,
however, is the development of ‘‘a cemented list of capabilities, which is absolutely complete
(nothing could be added to it) and totally fixed (it could not respond to public reasoning and to
the formation of social values)’’ (ibid.). Such a list would contradict two claims that Sen has
consistently made relative to list-making—claims that spring from two of his most deeply-
held commitments. First, lists should not be formulated ‘‘without appropriate specification of
the context of their use (which could vary)’’ (2005, p. 157, emphasis added). This claim
follows from Sen’s commitment to plurality and diversity, that is, his recognition that dif-
ferent people and different societies can have different but equally reasonable conceptions of
well-being and justice and so may have reason to value certain capabilities differently than
other societies. Second, lists must be formulated through democratic processes guided by
public reasoning (ibid.). Here, Sen demonstrates his commitment to democracy as the pri-
mary means through which particular peoples must—as a matter of well-being and social
justice—be free to conceptualize, specify, prioritize and publicly demand those capabilities
they have reason to value as individuals and communities.
To be sure, this is not merely an academic difference between Sen and Nussbaum. The
arguments concerning list-formation have been important to the theoretical development
and practical applications of the CA in general (Alexander 2008; Robeyns 2003) and to the
developing relationship between CA and education in particular (Walker and Unterhalter
2007; Walker 2006). And the argument here is that Sen’s commitment to democracy—
evidenced briefly above and expanded presently—has important implications for how we
might theorize democratic education from a CA (Senian) perspective (cf. DeCesare 2011).
Thus, I attempt in the following section to get clearer about the democratic aspects of Sen’s
thinking and their importance to his CA. What follows from the relationship between Sen’s
theory of democracy and his version of CA, I argue, are the general and formal conceptions
of democratic education I introduced earlier—the former being democratic life itself, the
latter focusing primarily on facilitating children’s achievement of democratic functioning.

Sen and Democracy

In an important essay titled ‘‘Democracy as a universal value,’’ Sen directly raises and
answers the question ‘‘what exactly is democracy?’’ (1999b, p. 9). He writes that
Democracy has complex demands which certainly include voting and respect for
election results, but it also requires the protection of liberties and freedoms, respect
for legal entitlements, and the guaranteeing of free discussion and uncensored dis-
tribution of news and fair comment. (ibid, pp. 9–10)

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It is the last of these requirements—the guaranteeing of free and informed discussion—that

seems increasingly to have become the core aspect of Sen’s developing theory of
democracy. In fact, he often defines democracy more simply as ‘‘government by
discussion’’ and identifies it closely with ‘‘public reason’’ (Sen 2009). And he has aligned
himself with the recent ‘‘shift in the understanding of democracy’’ that has ‘‘helped to bring
about the general recognition that the central issues…of democracy are political
participation, dialogue, and public interaction’’ (ibid., pp. 324–326). For Sen, such
practices are constitutive of democracy; they are more fundamental to its definition and
more indicative of its effectiveness than even elections and voting. As he reminds us, ‘‘the
force and reach of elections depend critically on the opportunity for open public discussion.
Balloting alone can be woefully inadequate’’ (2003, p. 29). Indeed, we can say more
generally that, for Sen, democratic practices like public discussion, deliberation, and
dissent are of primary importance relative to any democratic institutions or institutional
structure. The success of democracy—indeed the very nature of democracy—depends not
on ‘‘having the most perfect institutional structure,’’ but rather ‘‘it depends inescapably
on…the working of political and social interactions’’ (Sen 2009, p. 354). It depends, that is,
on how pervasive and effective our democratic practices are within (or against) whatever
institutional structure of governance is in place and, beyond this, with how well people are
able to engage in these practices ‘‘in order to achieve the desired effect’’ (Sen 1999a,
p. 155).
The example of India helps to demonstrate this important point. As Drèze and Sen
(2002) tell us, ‘‘in terms of democratic institutions, India has done reasonably well, and this
may look particularly impressive in the international perspective, given the failure of many
countries to secure even the most elementary constituents of a democratic institutional
structure’’ (pp. 347–348). India has, for instance, an ‘‘impressive electoral system’’ and
‘‘respectable’’ voter turnout and it holds elections that ‘‘are formally ‘free and fair’ in most
cases’’ (ibid., p. 350). However, India’s relatively functional democratic institutions do not
necessarily indicate effective democratic practice; they do not, in other words, indicate that
people are able to make these institutions work for them in their striving for individual
well-being and social welfare and justice. The performance of institutions, after all, is
‘‘contingent on a wide range of social conditions, from educational levels to political
traditions to the nature of social inequalities and popular organizations’’ (ibid.). Because of
problematic social conditions such as ‘‘poorly informed’’ voters and social, political, and
economic inequalities, ‘‘democratic practice in India has been deeply compromised’’
(ibid.). Thus, ‘‘the political challenge’’—in India as in other nations seeking to establish or
improve a democratic way of life—is to create and improve the social-political conditions
that ‘‘make democracy work for ordinary people’’ (Sen 1999a, p. 155).
Understanding democracy in this way—as ‘‘government by discussion’’ and as funda-
mentally constituted by (and assessed according to the effectiveness of) certain democratic
practices—has two important consequences for Sen’s theory of democracy. First, it fore-
grounds what Sen calls democracy’s instrumental, intrinsic, and constructive values.
Second, and related, it challenges the common assumption that democracy is a uniquely
Western (i.e. American and European) idea and value by revealing the historical roots of
democratic practices among non-Western peoples. The recognition of democracy’s three
values and its global roots lead Sen to confer on democracy the status of ‘‘universal value’’
and to declare political-democratic participation a ‘‘basic’’ capability. These aspects of his
thinking demand further attention if we are to understand the theory of democracy that has
emerged from his work, recognize its relationship to his CA and, ultimately, develop a
conception of SDE.

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Democracy has instrumental value in ‘‘enhancing the hearing that people get in
expressing and supporting their claims to political attention’’ (1999b, p. 10). This can best
be understood by considering the reasoning behind Sen’s famous claim that no famine has
ever occurred in a democratic nation. Famines are avoided in democracies, he argues,
primarily because under such governance famine victims are free to initiate and engage in
public discussion (often of a critical nature) that helps ‘‘to draw attention forcefully to
(their) general needs and to demand appropriate public action’’ (ibid., p. 7). According to
Drèze and Sen (2002), famine victims typically compose a small percentage of the pop-
ulation—almost always less than ten percent and very often less than five percent (p. 378).
These victims could never, through their votes alone, significantly threaten those in power
with electoral removal—no matter how free, fair, meaningful and competitive are the
elections. However, when the opportunities and freedoms are in place for public discussion
and criticism (and, it should be noted, a free and active media), issues like famine can be
politicized in such a way that calls greater attention to the crisis and its effects on certain
segments of a population. Sen (2009) makes this point—and the case for democracy’s
instrumental value—decisively in his latest major work:
What makes a famine such a political disaster for a ruling government is the reach of
public reasoning, which moves and energizes a very large proportion of the general
public to protest and shout down the ‘uncaring’ government and to try to bring it
down. Public discussion of the nature of the calamity can make the fate of the victims
a powerful political issue with far-reaching effects on the climate of media coverage
and public discussion, and ultimately on the voting of others—a potential majority.
(pp. 343–344)
Public discussion, in other words, provides opportunities and means through which
victimized citizens can voice their social and political demands, gather the support of
fellow citizens, and work to bring about real political change aimed at the improvement of
their individual well-being and social welfare. It likewise provides opportunities for those
citizens who are not victimized by the same injustice to gain a heightened awareness of the
plight that some of their fellow citizens face. The kind of public discussion of issues that
characterizes democracy, then, serves the dual (instrumental) purposes of giving the
oppressed a voice and raising the public’s awareness of the circumstances of their fellow
citizens’ oppression in a way that creates a kind of ‘‘political solidarity’’ (Sen 1994, p. 36).
Democracy also has, according to Sen, ‘‘intrinsic value for human life and well-being’’
(1999b, p. 10, emphasis added). This claim is based on the idea that the freedom and
opportunities to engage in public discussion and deliberation, to criticize and express
dissent, and generally to enjoy social and political participation make our lives better—
separate from any instrumental value these things might have. Thus, to be ‘‘prevented from
participation in the political life of the community is a major deprivation’’ (ibid.). This
claim, however, should not be confused with the Aristotelian idea that political partici-
pation is necessarily part of ‘‘the good life.’’ As Crocker (2008) reminds us, Sen’s ‘‘concept
of well-being refers to…one’s life going well, and not to a life of realizing one’s ‘highest’
potentials’’ (p. 300). In other words, Sen is concerned with guaranteeing the capability—
the substantive freedom—for political-democratic participation not because it is part of a
particular conception of ‘‘the good life,’’ but rather, and quite simply, because ‘‘our lives
go less well when we are prevented from political activity even if we would not choose it’’
(ibid.).
Importantly, this intrinsic value Sen attributes to democracy also reveals his funda-
mental commitment to agency and the key role it plays in his work. Noting the importance

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of both individual and collective agency, he makes the point that persons and communities
need ‘‘adequate social opportunities’’ through which they can ‘‘shape their own destiny and
help each other’’ (1999a, p. 11, emphasis added). Persons are not to be treated as mere
patients or ‘‘passive recipients’’ of, for example, assistance and development programs
(ibid., p. 53). Rather, they must be recognized and treated as agents. As Crocker (2006)
points out, Sen’s commitment to agency provides the groundwork for further justifying
democracy’s intrinsic value, even though Sen himself is not explicit in providing such
additional justification. Crocker argues (rightly, I think) that ‘‘one reason why being pre-
vented from political involvement is bad is that it means that someone else makes deci-
sions for me, someone else runs my life’’ (2008, p. 300). The idea is that ‘‘individual and
collective agency’’ are themselves intrinsically valuable; and, since such agency is
embodied and expressed in political-democratic involvement, we therefore have good
reason for concluding that ‘‘democracy [itself] is intrinsically valuable’’ (Crocker 2006,
p. 116). The upshot of this aspect of Sen’s theory of democracy is that the improvement of
well-being and the remediation of injustice are not simply matters of guaranteeing persons
certain capabilities—whether constitutionally, legally, or otherwise. Instead, well-being
and justice (also) demand that persons enjoy the freedom and opportunities to participate
as agents in the democratic processes through which valued capabilities are specified,
prioritized, and publicly demanded and, more generally, through which issues affecting
their lives are decided.
Lastly, and perhaps most interestingly, democracy has constructive value. What this
means is that the constitutive practices of democracy are essential to ‘‘the formation of
values and priorities, and we cannot, in general, take preferences as given independently of
public discussion, that is, irrespective of whether open debates and interchanges are per-
mitted or not’’ (Sen 1999a, p. 153, emphasis added). Citizens and societies must be
guaranteed the freedoms and opportunities to engage in public discussion and deliberation
so that they can form (perhaps transform) and express their individual and collective
preferences, needs, values, and aims. It is in and through such discussion that we get
clearer about ‘‘the kind of lives [we]…have reason to value’’ (ibid., p. 18) and perhaps even
allow for the ‘‘emergence of new values’’ (ibid., p. 153). In other words, it is through public
discussion and other democratic practices that we are able to ‘‘learn from one another, and
[help] society to form its values and priorities’’ (Sen 1999b, p. 10). Sen gives the examples
of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, where, after ‘‘much discussion and debate,’’ people have come
to realize ‘‘that a happy family in the modern age is a small family’’ (1999a, p. 151). As a
result of this ‘‘new value’’ in regards to family, fertility rates have dropped, thus increasing
‘‘the quality of life, especially for young women’’ (ibid., p. 144).
This example—and the constructive value of democracy in general—also highlights the
importance of openness and impartiality to public discussion. In our public discussions
about valued capabilities and about the issues that affect our lives we have good reason to
‘‘take note of different viewpoints from elsewhere, reflecting the influence of other
empirical experiences’’ (Sen 2009, p. 130). Doing so requires that we embrace the ‘‘value
of learning from others’’ and develop our ‘‘tolerance of other points of view’’—two social
practices that are particularly important to a conception of democracy that emphasizes
public reasoning and discussion (Sen 2003, p. 31). In discussing the instrumental value of
democracy, we saw how public discussion and deliberation can serve to raise our
awareness of the injustices that others—often a minority of the population—face by
helping to politicize issues in such a way that the majority comes to recognize them as
demanding wide-spread public attention and response. In the case of the constructive value
of democracy, there is a similar effect: through our public interaction and discussion with

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people from other communities—near and far—we come not only to recognize injustices
that others may be facing and to form a kind of ‘‘political solidarity’’; we also—and this is
the unique aspect of democracy’s constructive value—come to recognize, appreciate and
perhaps even adopt other valued ways of living.
Two final points follow from these aspects of Sen’s thinking about democracy. First,
given its instrumental, intrinsic, and constructive values, Sen considers democracy a
‘‘universal value.’’ What he means is that ‘‘people anywhere may have reason to see it as
valuable,’’ regardless of what else they value and, in fact, as a means to understanding,
specifying, and demanding what they value (1999b, p. 12). And the case Sen makes for
democracy as a universal value is not just theoretical, but also historical. Understanding
democracy’s historical roots—the various ways it has and can be practiced—requires that
we ‘‘take an interest in the history of people’s participation and public reasoning in
different parts of the world’’ (2009, p. 322, emphasis added). And, indeed, Sen (2003,
2009) provides strong historical evidence of rich traditions of such things as public dis-
cussion and criticism, the tolerance of and openness to different viewpoints, and deliber-
ation and argumentation in places like India, Iran, Japan, China, the Middle East, and many
parts of Africa. Second, Sen’s conception of democracy forms the basis for his claim that
the capability to engage in democratic processes (i.e. the capability for political partici-
pation) is a ‘‘basic capability’’ (1992, 1999a, 2004). In other words, it is a capability that
(1) has ‘‘crucial importance to people’s well-being’’ in so far that its absence could ‘‘harm
or disadvantage the individual,’’ and (2) is ‘‘foundational to other capabilities as well as
future ones’’ (Terzi 2005, p. 147).

Theorizing Senian Democratic Education

The theory of democracy that has emerged from Sen work and its implications for his CA
to well-being and justice are, hopefully, clear. What remains, however, is to draw out the
implications of Sen’s thinking for democratic education, that is, to formulate a conception
of SDE. To begin, we should recall that, for Sen, political participation is a basic capability
that adults must enjoy, not only as a matter of participating in and potentially remaking
social and political (democratic) life but also, and related, as a matter of human well-being
and social justice. It would be incoherent simply to extend this argument to children given
that the social, political, and legal treatment of children and the responsibility a society has
to them are typically different from its treatment of and responsibility to adults. Particu-
larly relevant to this essay is the fact that children usually do not engage in the same kind
or degree of consequential social-political participation as adults do, nor, in most cases, are
they legally entitled to doing so. As we have seen, CA theorists justify this difference
between children and adults in terms of agency and freedom, arguing that children are not
yet capable of exercising political freedom appropriately or making mature and informed
choices with regard to what they and their communities have reason to value (i.e. what is
and will be good for them). As Brighouse (2004) puts it, from a CA perspective, children
are ‘‘generally taken to be appropriate objects of paternalistic action because they do not
yet fully enjoy the developed capabilities that make paternalism inappropriate’’ (p. 79).
Thus, we are justified in treating them, to some degree, as patients—or, we might say, as
persons who are in the process of developing the capacities and maturity that would
warrant their treatment as free agents. This means that adults (parents and the State, in
particular) often must make decisions for children, that is, on their behalf and in the name
of what is reasonably judged to be in their best interests.

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The upshot of this, as we saw earlier, is that CA theorists tend to emphasize functionings
over capabilities in the case of children, with the general idea being that education and
other childhood opportunities must help—Brighouse might say ‘‘force’’—children to
develop the functionings necessary for the enjoyment of future valued capabilities. In other
words, they must help children achieve certain ‘‘beings’’ and ‘‘doings,’’ the capabilities for
which they are likely to have reason to value in the future. This understanding of children
and their education is generally consistent with Sen’s own thinking on these matters, as
evidenced in a 1999 key note address in which he discussed the importance of the quality
of a child’s life to his or her future capabilities. In fact, in that address, he spoke directly to
the instrumental value of children’s education in relation to their future capability for
social and political participation. He reminded us that ‘‘our ability to live with others, to
participate in social activities, to avoid social disasters, is…deeply influenced by the skills
we form as children’’ (1999c, pp. 4–5, emphasis added). Furthermore, he argued that ‘‘the
success of a democracy depends on the participation of citizens, and this is not a matter of
just ‘gut reaction’ but also of systematic preparation for living as active and deliberative
citizens’’ (ibid., p. 5, emphasis added). These comments are indicative of the fact that Sen
shares many CA theorists’ instrumental and future-oriented view of education—that he
understands education and other childhood opportunities as important means to the
enjoyment of those future capabilities that a child is likely to value. This includes the
capability for social and political (democratic) participation since this is, as we have seen, a
‘‘basic’’ capability that all people have reason to value. Thus, SDE—in the broadest
sense—must concern itself with a person’s capability for democratic participation. In
regard to children, then, we might ask how their schooling prepares them for the future
enjoyment of this capability.
But stopping at this understanding of Sen’s educational thought and formulating from it
both a general conception of SDE and a conception of children’s democratic schooling
would be problematic for two reasons. First, it would lead us to adopt a rather simplistic
conception of children’s education—one that is strictly future-oriented and understood
narrowly as preparation for adult life. This view of education has long been challenged
(and refined) by educational thinkers and, recently, a compelling argument has been made
that it is particularly problematic to think about democratic education in such terms (i.e. as
‘‘preparation’’ for democracy or as the ‘‘production’’ of democratic citizens) (Biesta 2007,
2010).5 Second, and more importantly here, it would cause us to ignore the nuances of
Sen’s own educational (and, indeed, democratic) thought.
To be sure, Sen’s primary justification for compulsory education is future-oriented. We
saw this above, and he expressed the point even more clearly in a 2001 interview during
which he was specifically discussing the applicability of CA to children: ‘‘I think the main
argument for compulsory education is that it will give the child when grown up much more
freedom and, therefore, the educational argument is a very future-oriented argument’’
(Saito 2003, p. 27, emphasis added). But we should not conclude from this, as Sen’s

5
The simplistic and problematic nature of this view of education has found two of its most influential
expressions in the work of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and John Dewey. Rousseau was one of the earliest
thinkers to argue for a more present-focused and child-centered view of education. In Emile (1993), he
admonished those who sought only to educate ‘‘the man in the child, without considering what he is before
he becomes a man’’ (p. 2). He urged his readers to treat childhood as a special and valuable part of life and
not as a time of preparation for adulthood. The idea found expression again in John Dewey’s work,
particularly in his famously stated belief that ‘‘education…is a process of living and not a preparation for
future living’’ (1972, p. 88). In Experience and Education, however, Dewey does ultimately retain a role for
education as a kind of preparation. I address this below (see n. 8).

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interviewer seems to have done, that the educational argument is only a future-oriented one
and that ‘‘when dealing with children, it is the freedom they will have in the future rather
than in the present that should be considered’’ (ibid., p. 26, emphasis added). This is not an
accurate representation of the complexity of Sen’s educational thought. Consider the actual
statement Sen made in direct response to his interviewer’s initial question: ‘‘When you are
considering a child you have to consider not only the child’s freedom now, but also the
child’s freedom in the future’’ (ibid., p. 25). Sen clearly expresses concern—and demands
consideration for—the child’s present as well as future freedom. Indeed, though he rec-
ognizes that it is sometimes necessary to restrict children’s immediate freedom for the sake
of expanding their future freedom, he seems equally to recognize that education must also
enable the exercise of certain freedoms in childhood, not only for the future expansion of
freedom but also for the sake of one’s ‘‘freedom now.’’ On a related note, Sen has also
expressed the ‘‘intrinsic importance’’ of education to the quality of one’s present life; this
is in addition to its instrumental importance to one’s future (Drèze and Sen 2002, p. 39).
Furthermore, he also recognizes education’s ‘‘empowerment role,’’ that is, its role in
cultivating a person’s sense of agency, or one’s ability to act on one’s own behalf (ibid.).
Thus, it is too narrow of an interpretation of Sen’s view on education to say that he
understands it simply as preparation for one’s future (adult) life. Though he clearly
emphasizes the instrumental importance of education, he is just as clearly concerned with
education’s intrinsic importance and its empowerment role—both of which directly affect
one’s present freedom and quality of life. Thinking about democratic education (in the
school sense) from a Senian perspective, then, means being attentive to children’s future
capability for social and political participation; this is, as we have seen, a matter of their
individual well-being (i.e. their future quality of life) and of social justice. But it must also
mean being attentive to the quality of children’s present lives and their ‘‘freedom now’’—
that is, their immediate well-being and the development of their capacities for exercising
freedom and acting as agents.
What further complicates the simple instrumental and future-oriented interpretation of
Sen’s educational thought is that he understands democratic education as more than just the
formal schooling process through which children learn democracy. He recognizes, in other
words, that learning democracy is a life-long process that starts in childhood and continues
throughout one’s adult life. Democracy itself, he reminds us, ‘‘involves a certain amount of
‘learning by doing’’’; we are always learning democracy through our participation in
democratic practices (Drèze and Sen 2002, p. 362). For instance, ‘‘in the context of village
politics, people are learning…to organize, to question established patterns of authority, to
demand their rights, to resist corruption, and so on’’ (ibid., p. 363). In this way, the practice
of democracy itself is educative; it serves as ‘‘a form of wider political education’’ (ibid.).
Thus, while formal schooling is surely one (early and important) part of the life-long
process through which people learn democracy, it cannot be understood as the whole of
SDE; this must also include the educative nature of democratic practice itself.
With these additional aspects of Sen’s thinking about both education and democracy in
mind, we can say that SDE is a composite of the various learning processes that enhance
one’s capability for engaging in democratic practices and the overall social and political
life of the community. It is through such processes that one is continually learning
democracy—or, to put it differently, that one’s democratic existence is continually
emerging, being exercised, refined, exercised again, and so on. Among these various
processes are included the learning that happens during one’s formal school-based edu-
cation and that which happens during one’s ‘‘wider political education,’’ that is, through

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one’s participation in political-democratic practices. I will refer to the former as SDES and
the latter as SDEP.6 Both are integral components of SDE.7
SDEP is the learning that happens through our engagement in political-democratic
practices. In other words, it is not preparation for democratic life; it is democratic life
itself. Thus, such learning depends on (and, indeed, contributes to) ‘‘the evolution of a
culture of political participation’’ (Drèze and Sen 2002, pp. 362–363). According to Sen’s
theory of democracy discussed earlier, we can say that this culture is characterized by such
things as the following: laws that ensure fair and equal treatment of persons, particularly
with regard to their right to participate in the social and political life of the community;
effective channels for participation that are widely publicized and open to all without
discrimination; social and political conditions that encourage public discussion and that
enable all people’s consequential participation in such discussion; an ‘‘unrestrained and
healthy press’’ that disseminates information to the public (Sen 2009, p. 335); provisions
for basic education that equips people with the skills to participate effectively; and freedom
from corruption and dysfunction in elections and other political processes and institutions
(Drèze and Sen 2002, p. 350). It is not my intention to draw out the exact details of such a
culture here. Rather the point is to say that the amount and quality of the learning that
happens through SDEP is, in part, a product of the number and quality of opportunities one
actually has for participating meaningfully and consequentially in the democratic life of
one’s community.
But this should not be taken to mean that a democratic culture must be in place before
people can engage in democratic practices and through them learn democracy. Indeed,
when discussing democratization at the level of a nation-state, Sen is clear that nations do
not become ‘‘fit for democracy; rather [they have] to become fit through democracy’’
(1999b, p. 4). He rejects the idea that there are certain conditions—economic conditions in
particular—that must be met before a nation can be or become democratic. Rather,
democracy is often a means to its own end: democratic practices like public discussion,
deliberation and dissent often beget (more) democracy and continually help to (re)con-
struct democratic life. In other words, such practices are often among those things that help
in the establishment and ‘‘evolution of a culture of political participation.’’
SDES, by comparison, is the part of SDE that focuses specifically on children and their
formal schooling. But this also should not be understood simply as ‘‘preparation’’ for
democratic life in the strict sense. Indeed, it cannot be wholly understood in this way
because, as we have seen, Sen acknowledges that our individual and collective democratic
existence is always emerging, through the process of formal education, through engage-
ment in democratic practices, and so on. Neither our individual nor our collective dem-
ocratic existence is ever static; so long as we are acting democratically, there is always
democratic learning and thus always a reshaping of democratic life in light of that learning.
Thus, SDES does not claim to prepare or produce complete democratic citizens out of the

6
These distinctions are useful in helping to parse out the various components of one’s life-long democratic
education and its contributions to one’s capability for engaging in democratic practices and the life of the
community. They are, however, largely analytical distinctions, and I do not intend to suggest that there is a
clear and definable separation between them or that there should be.
7
This is not, however, to say that they are the only components of Senian democratic education. Indeed, we
might add to the two components I have delineated here the family and the workplace. The social-political
interactions that happen in these spheres of human existence can also be sources of one’s democratic
education (or the opposite). On participatory democracy in the workplace, see Carol Pateman (1970). On the
importance of gender equality in the family to democratic justice, see Susan Okin (1989). These gender- and
justice-related concerns have also, of course, occupied capabilities theorists, as noted in the introduction.

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raw material of childhood. It does claim, however, that children’s formal schooling serves
as a positive instrument for facilitating the emergence and initial exercise of one’s dem-
ocratic existence and that it contributes to one’s ability to help shape and reshape demo-
cratic life.8 In order to do so, SDES focuses on helping children to achieve democratic
functioning, that is, it focuses on facilitating children’s achievement of certain ‘‘beings and
doings’’ that are essential to the emergence and exercise of their individual and collective
democratic existence. It is this aspect of SDE to which I give further attention in the final
section. The goal is to get clearer about its meaning, to discuss its guiding principles, and,
finally, to offer a sketch of the kinds of beings and doings on which it focuses.

Toward a Model of SDES

To begin, it will be useful to discuss further the meaning of this formulation of SDES,
starting with the phrase ‘‘individual and collective democratic existence’’ which I use
instead of, for instance, ‘‘democratic citizenship’’ or ‘‘democratic personhood.’’ There are
two main reasons for this wording choice. First, the use of the word ‘‘existence’’ is meant
to convey the idea that SDES facilitates a democratic way of life, a way of being in the
world, characterized by engagement in the kinds of social-political practices and interac-
tions that are fundamental to Sen’s conception of democracy. Second, by calling this sort
of democratic existence both ‘‘individual and collective’’ I am attempting to do justice to
what Sen calls the ‘‘interpersonal effects’’ of democracy and education (Drèze and Sen
2002, p. 40). What he means is that ‘‘one person’s educational ability can be of use to
another (e.g. to get a pamphlet read, or to have a public announcement explained)’’ (ibid.).
This has obvious ‘‘political significance,’’ demonstrated already in the examples Sen
provides and even more clearly in his observation that an entire community often benefits
from ‘‘the civic attention it receives through the educated activism of a particular group
within that community’’ (ibid.). So, while SDES is certainly concerned with facilitating
each individual child’s achievement of democratic ‘‘beings and doings,’’ it also recognizes
that the individual’s education has important interpersonal and collective benefits.
Another general principle of SDES follows from these first two. As we saw above, one’s
democratic education does not happen exclusively through formal schooling. It happens,
rather, throughout all the various democratic learning processes in which one engages—
with particular emphasis here on one’s schooling and participation in democratic life.
These various components of SDE are deeply interrelated. For instance, SDES is likely to
contribute to the evolution of a democratic culture, thus improving the quality of SDEP
and, in turn, continuing the evolution of democratic culture. Perhaps less obvious is how
SDES also benefits from this cyclical effect; in other words, it may be less obvious how the
democratic culture that develops (or not) within a community can be directly relevant to
and beneficial for children’s formal democratic education. We have seen how, for Sen, the
practice of local democracy can be educative for the adults who participate in it. But it can
be educative in another sense as well—a sense that has more direct relevance for children’s

8
Understood in this way, we can think about SDES as preparation in a similar sense to how Dewey
understands the role of preparation relative to the continuity of one’s educative experiences. In Experience
and Education, he acknowledges that ‘‘‘preparation’ is a treacherous idea’’ when it dominates our educa-
tional thinking, but he also recognizes that ‘‘in a certain sense every experience should do something to
prepare a person for later experiences of a deeper and more expansive quality’’ (1997, p. 47). The claim here
is that SDES ‘‘prepares’’ children for deeper and more expansive democratic experiences or, we might say
more simply, for a richer and more meaningful individual and collective democratic existence.

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democratic schooling (SDES). Democratic practices and the various kinds of individual and
collective forms of democratic existence witnessed (and praised or criticized) in a society
can serve as models that help children understand the emergence and exercise of their own
democratic existence. We can imagine the kinds of lessons children might learn, for
instance, by witnessing an inclusive, civil, and productive town hall (or village) meeting,
during which multiple voices are heard, diverse ideas are expressed and taken seriously,
dissent is welcomed, and individual well-being and social welfare are pursued. Such
lessons are often as (or more) educational than anything that happens inside the classroom.
Thus, the quality of a community’s democratic way of life—characterized in particular by
those things discussed above—is not only important to SDEP; it is also important to a
school’s efforts to facilitate children’s achievement of democratic functioning.9 SDES
emphasizes this educative role for society in relation to the democratic learning that
happens in schools. In other words, it emphasizes the importance of the society’s political
culture to a child’s achievement of democratic functioning.
This is not, of course, to ignore the importance of the school culture itself, which must
similarly provide children with various models of the exercise of both individual and
collective democratic existence. This means being attentive to such things as the inter-
actions that take place between all members of the school community; the ways in which
problems are resolved and school and classroom policies are established; and the general
kind of ethos that develops within the school. It means, overall, conducting democratic
education in an environment and according to means that are themselves democratic. In
other words, SDES also seeks to democratize the school itself, that is, to increase the ways
in which and the degree to which the school environment is conducive to the democratic
way of life and the kinds of democratic practices that characterize Sen’s conception of
democracy.
Democratizing schools in this way would provide children with another model of
democratic life. Furthermore, because a school is a more formally and intentionally edu-
cative environment than are explicitly political fora, SDES also aims to provide opportu-
nities for children to be included as actual participants in the democratic life of the school
in ways that are appropriate to and commensurate with their development. As we have
seen, Sen’s understands education as having an ‘‘empowering role’’; it is partly responsible
for the cultivation of children’s (developing) agency. There are a number of somewhat
traditional ways this can be accomplished in schools: establishing a widely participatory
school government; including children in the formation of classroom and even school-wide
policies; and generally encouraging children’s active and consequential participation in the
school community. These would all be consistent with SDES.
But there is another way of engaging children in the democratic life of the school and
cultivating their individual and collective agency that is worth mentioning here, particu-
larly because it is somewhat unique to a Senian perspective on democratic education. The
school can be a place that provides children with appropriate opportunities to begin
conceptualizing and discussing valued capabilities (both those they value as children and
those they can foresee having reason to value as adults). As we have seen, CA takes valued
capabilities as the substance of justice, and, for Sen in particular, such capabilities must be
specified and publicly demanded through the exercise of democratic practices. Thus, to
engage children in a similar process—a process through which they can at least begin to

9
There are comparisons to be made with other democratic theorists who have recognized the importance of
the larger community to children’s education and growth. One of the strongest expressions of this idea can
be found in Dewey’s Democracy and Education.

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think about the kinds of capabilities they and others have reason to value—is important to
their achievement of democratic functioning. It encourages their individual self-reflection
about the kind of lives they value (and why) and it can expose them to other kinds of
valued lives (e.g. those of their peers) that may contribute to their own understanding of a
good life.
Indeed, the idea that children are capable of meaningfully engaging in such processes
and that they can benefit developmentally from the kind of agential treatment these pro-
cesses encourage is not unprecedented in CA literature (nor, as we have seen, is the latter
point inconsistent with Sen’s education thought). Biggeri et al. (2006), for instance, have
conducted one of the few studies documenting a process through which children between
ages 11 and 17 began to conceptualize valued capabilities. To facilitate this process, the
children were asked to reflect on the following questions: ‘‘What are the most important
opportunities a child should have during his/her life?’’; then, using those answers, the
children were asked, ‘‘how important/unimportant has this opportunity been in your life?’’
and ‘‘in your opinion how important/unimportant is this opportunity for children during
their life?’’; lastly, children were asked to choose from the identified capabilities ‘‘the three
most important’’ for a child to have in his or her life (ibid., pp. 69–72). Importantly, the
authors of this study consider children ‘‘not simply as recipients of freedom, but as par-
ticipants in the process of identifying a set of core capabilities’’ (ibid., p. 60, emphases
added). Thus, they grant children a degree of agency and they empower them to participate
meaningfully in this important process, as a means to trying to express and (re)construct
their present valued capabilities and engaging with others’ valued capabilities. We can also
imagine how a process of this sort might encourage children’s individual and collective
reflection on the future capabilities they and others have reason to value. The point is that
SDES offers children appropriate freedoms and opportunities to participate meaningfully
and consequentially in democratic practices, including—and perhaps especially—dis-
cussions through which children begin to conceptualize their valued capabilities.
With these clarifications and general guiding principles of SDES in place, we must ask
which ‘‘beings and doings’’ are essential to the emergence and exercise of children’s
individual and collective democratic existence. Several such beings and doings seem to
follow naturally from the foregoing discussion. Thus, we can say that to achieve demo-
cratic functioning means:
• Being critically literate Particularly in the dominant language of politics used in one’s
immediate community. This includes being able to access and engage critically with
various sources of social and political information, including newspapers, the internet,
and other media. As Sen puts it, ‘‘illiteracy can…muffle the political opportunities of
the underdog, by reducing their ability to participate in political arena and to express
their demands effectively’’; this ‘‘absence of voice in politics can entail a severe
reduction in influence and the likelihood of just treatment of those who are kept on the
wrong side of the gap’’ (2003, p. 3). The achievement of critical literacy is of the
utmost importance to the emergence of one’s democratic existence and to one’s present
and future participation in the social and political life of the community.
• Being informed about current social-political events at local and global levels This
includes, first, knowing how to access information and assess it critically. It means
being sensitive to and informed about injustice, understanding its causes and effects
and beginning to form a kind of ‘‘political solidarity’’ with its victims (near and far). It
is also likely to require being empathetic to others and exercising imaginative
understanding of others’ circumstances.

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• Thinking critically about local and world history and culture Acting politically and
engaging effectively in the social and political life of one’s communities often requires
that persons develop a critical sense of history at local, national, and global levels. In
other words, it requires that one gain a critical perspective on one’s communities and
their histories—including their laws and constitutions, customs, traditions, develop-
ment, injustices, and so on. Furthermore, this should include an emphasis on the history
of democracy itself. For instance, how democracy has been practiced (and restrained) at
various times and places throughout the world, what democracy has meant to different
cultures at different times, and, indeed, what democracy means to the students
themselves.
• Exercising critical reasoning and reflection about one’s life and the society in which
one lives This includes being increasingly aware of and able to negotiate between one’s
own valued capabilities and the capabilities that other individuals and groups within
one’s community have reason to value. It also means thinking about and discussing
what one’s society itself has reason to value, and how those values are manifest in (or
contradicted by) social customs and practices, political policies, laws, etc.
• Constructing meaning collectively As we have seen, Sen embraces an openness to ‘‘the
value of learning from others,’’ arguing that in our public discussions we should ‘‘take
note of different viewpoints from elsewhere, reflecting the influence of other empirical
experiences.’’ Thus, constructing meaning collectively means engaging in mutual
inquiry and valuing others’ contributions to discussions. It means being open-minded—
particularly about the ways that others (near and far) can inform our understanding of
the world, social-political problems, and our valued capabilities.
• Initiating and engaging in discussions characterized by various forms of communi-
cation This includes hearing others—even and especially those who communicate
ideas that we might disagree with and in ways that might be unfamiliar to us—and
hearing oneself anew through others. And it includes communicating effectively and in
diverse ways with others—for example, using reasoned argument, rhetoric, storytelling
and artistic expression. Finally, it includes being an initiator of discussion about issues
of individual and social concern.
• Taking part in the democratic life of the school and surrounding community This
means, first, being aware of the various channels—both within school and the larger
community—through which one could engage in democratic practices. In schools, it
means children taking advantage of opportunities for school governance, for
participation in deliberations over school issues and policies, etc. In the wider
community, it means being exposed to—and potentially engaging in—various
democratic practices and processes (e.g. town hall or village meetings and public
debates).
It is worth repeating that the claim here is not that the achievement of these ‘‘beings and
doings’’ necessarily prepares one for individual and collective democratic existence.
Rather, the claim is that children’s achievement of democratic functioning can facilitate
the emergence of their democratic existence, provide them with opportunities for its
exercise, help to cultivate their sense of agency, and contribute to their ability to shape and
reshape the democratic life of their communities. It is also important to point out that this
list is not exhaustive; rather, these ‘‘beings and doings’’ seem to be the ones that most
closely follow from Sen’s own thinking—his theory of democracy, his CA, and his edu-
cational thought—and so would seem to occupy a fundamental place in SDES.

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Concluding Remarks

I have attempted to develop a conception of SDE that follows from Sen’s emerging theory
of democracy, his CA, and his educational thought. Ultimately, I argued that SDE is a
composite of the various processes through which individuals and communities continually
learn democracy, and I have given particular attention to two such processes: one’s formal
schooling (SDES) and one’s participation in the social and political (democratic) life of
one’s community (SDEP). The former is a process that facilitates children’s achievement of
democratic functioning, or the beings and doings associated with the emergence and
exercise of one’s individual and collective democratic existence; the latter is the ‘‘wider
political education’’ that happens through one’s participation in democratic life and, in this
sense, is democratic life itself.
But putting these specific conclusions aside, the general goal has been to open up room
for theorizing democratic education from a CA—and specifically Senian—perspective.
This is a task that demands much greater attention, and I want to conclude by briefly
suggesting some areas for further inquiry. First, as this has been more of an exegetical
exercise rather than an evaluative or comparative one, it would be useful to consider more
thoroughly than I have done here how SDE relates to other theories and models of dem-
ocratic education. Second, more work can be done to explore other components of SDE,
including—as I have mentioned above—the democratic learning that happens in work
environments and families. Third, further attention needs to be given to the relationship
between SDEP and SDES and, more generally, between a society’s political (democratic)
culture and its formal schooling. This relationship seems particularly important in light of
how easily the formative work of the latter can be undone by the existence of funda-
mentally non- or even anti-democratic practices in the former. Fourth, regarding SDES in
particular, we need to investigate further how schools can contribute to children’s
achievement of democratic functioning. In other words, where (in which aspects of the
school curriculum) and how (by what pedagogical methods and with the help of what kind
of resources) can children’s achievement of these democratic beings and doings best be
facilitated? Finally, given the global-development focus of Sen’s work and his related
emphasis on global democratization (2003), we can inquire into the ways in which SDE
might ‘‘travel’’ internationally—that is, how it might be part of ‘‘aid’’ or ‘‘assistance’’ to
democratization processes around the globe.

Acknowledgments I would like to thank Barry Bull for his helpful feedback on an earlier draft of this
paper. I have also greatly benefited from the feedback of anonymous reviewers and Gert Biesta, particularly
in helping me to think beyond a narrow school-centered and strictly future-oriented conception of demo-
cratic education.

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