This year, we’re celebrating the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence in a time of political division and widespread pessimism. That makes it an especially propitious moment to think hard about civic education and civic optimism. Today, Ashley Berner, the director of the Johns Hopkins Institute for Education Policy, and I discuss why civic hope is so important and what educators can do to cultivate it.
—Rick
Ashley: A few weeks ago, The New York Historical hosted an event called The Democracy Project: Confronting the Global Crisis of Governance. One of the panelists commented that democratic society requires “civic optimism.” This prompted me to start researching civic optimism and the related idea of “civic hope” and to think through what schools can do to foster it.
First, though, what does civic optimism even mean? A recent study of middle schoolers’ participation at a civics summer camp defines civic optimism as “an unresentful awareness” of how difficult it is to make political and social changes, coupled with a commitment to “pragmatically” engaging in the messy process, anyway. I thought that was really well put. I like the coupling of “unresentful” and “pragmatic,” along with a commitment to engage in democratic processes, however uneven and imperfect.
How does civic optimism differ from civic hope? One scholar of grassroots citizenship, Rodrick P. Hart, described the difference as follows: Civic optimists have a faith that things somehow will get better, while those with civic hope recognize that, with effort, things can—but not necessarily will—improve.
Whether we call it optimism or hope, though, it makes sense that a realistic, future-focused disposition supports democratic behaviors like voting, writing elected officials, and supporting a peaceful transfer of power. Cynicism and despair don’t. Neither does ideological outrage.
Rick, you’ve written recently about the consequence of outrage, a sort of Nietzschean will to power that plagues both left and right in K-12 and higher education. Our friend Ian Rowe has written, conversely, about the narratives of despair that swirl around popular culture, particularly around issues of race and inequality. Civic hope seems to me an antidote to both. What’s your take?
Rick: Ashley, you’ve offered a really useful way to think about civic education. Dating back to when I taught high school civics in the last century, I’ve seen way too many advocates and teacher trainers who seemingly viewed despair and resentment as cheat codes for stoking student passions when it comes to civics, history, and current events.
Telling teens they should feel aggrieved is the easiest thing in the world. I mean, adolescents are wrestling with anxiety, mood swings, depression, confusion, and anger. That’s how they’re wired. The challenge for educators is to channel those impulses in healthy ways, to help students appreciate why it’s worth voting, volunteering, engaging in civil debate, and being active in their communities.
University of Pennsylvania psychologist Jeremy Clifton has discussed the power of “primal beliefs” and cautioned that a fixation on trauma and imminent disaster can distort our understanding of the world. My colleague Robert Pondiscio has noted how this doom-laden worldview plays out in the classroom. He imagines the life of an 8th grader named Maya, who “reads a novel about a suicidal teen in English, studies systemic racism in social studies, watches a climate disaster documentary in science, and works on a gun-violence ‘action civics’ project,” all while “her teachers head off to professional development on trauma-informed pedagogy.” Yet, for all this, he muses, “Almost no one will consider the possibility that we are the ones traumatizing students.”
Civic optimism gets at exactly this dynamic. Schools need to help students understand their civic inheritance and empower them to make the most of it. That requires a sense of proportion and possibility.
Ashley: You’re reminding me of the process of earning my doctorate in history, which necessarily involved both panning out to look at civilizational change across time and space and also zooming in to examine particular events and social movements and the factors that enabled them. It’s impossible to go through that training without coming to grips with both sides of the human experience: human evil (Hitler and Mao) and natural catastrophe (the Black Death), and also human courage and beneficence (William Wilberforce’s fight to abolish the slave trade).
When we turn to U.S. history, civic hope seems to require an honest evaluation of the persistence of human cruelty—whether individual or collective—and the ongoing struggle to overcome it in our country’s story. My institute reviews social studies materials through a trademarked process, and we have seen our share of curricula that lean too far toward the extremes. The good news is that we have also found really excellent offerings that provide the kind of balanced approach that’s more likely to create civic hope.
One of my favorite examples of this both/and approach is the Educating for American Democracy project, which was animated by the manifest need for civic knowledge and an “ideologically, demographically, and professionally diverse” collaboration. The EAD focuses on big questions—such as how ideas about rights shaped the American Revolution or how we engage with hard chapters in American history—utilizing primary sources in a spirit of generous inquiry.
It remains the case that, for most young Americans, civic hope doesn’t have a chance to even get off the ground. History and civics are seldom taught in elementary schools, and many high school history textbooks are poorly written and omit key narratives that could build attachment to the American project. But as we recently discussed, nonprofit providers and increasing numbers of foundations are stepping up to fill these gaps, both in schools and outside of them. And that gives me hope.
Rick: You’ve sketched a pretty good blueprint for responsibly promoting civic optimism. Step one: Take civics instruction seriously. Step two: Employ instructional materials that provide rich, rigorous historical content. Step three: Ensure that teachers are knowledgeable and committed to mastery. Step four: Cultivate a sense of civic empowerment in students.
As you note, we’ve fallen far short on much of this. That’s why it’s heartening to see these attempts to elevate our game. Yet, I can’t help but wonder how serious we really are about doing better.
In particular, I’m not sure younger and older Americans still have a shared vision of the American project. I mean, youth are drowning in public debt because we (their parents and grandparents) refuse to either curtail entitlements or pay our own way. Tribal allegiances have warped the machinery of government, with too many adults in positions of influence treating time-tested institutions like personal platforms.
We’ve given teens and twentysomethings good reason to question how sincere we really are about our institutions and values. I’d certainly be skeptical of educators yammering about principles when civic leaders so blatantly disrespect those values in practice. Indeed, I might see faith in democratic norms as a sucker’s game, one rigged for those naïve enough to ignore what’s in front of their eyes.
That’s one reason why I’m frustrated by the U.S. Department of Education’s approach to the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Instead of modeling a broad-based civic alliance, the department’s “250 Civics Education Coalition” is a partnership between ED, the proudly MAGA America First Policy Institute, and 40-plus right-leaning organizations to promote “patriotic” history. Patriotism is swell. I’m a fan of many of the organizations in question, including AFPI. But this should be an effort that works to span our partisan divides. As one who harshly criticized Biden-era efforts to wield the Department of Education for ideological ends, I’m troubled by the decision by the Trump administration to double down on the trappings of partisanship.
You’re right to see cause for hope. But making that a reality requires leaders committed to doing better, to putting civic education before political posturing and tribal affinities. On that count, I fear that too few public leaders are up to the challenge. Which, to bring us full circle, is why healthy civic optimism is so vital.
This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.