Building Solidarities through Public Education: National,
Multicultural and Cosmopolitan?
Will Kymlicka (Queen’s University Kingston)
Abstract:
In most countries, the education system seeks to instill two kinds of solidarity: a thick sense of national solidarity with one’s
co-citizens, and a thinner sense of global solidarity with all of humanity. Many commentators argue that we need to rebalance
these two forms of solidarity, de-emphasizing national solidarity and re-centering global solidarities. More radical
commentators argue that we should abandon ideas of national solidarity entirely as inherently exclusionary and outdated. I will
suggest that we in fact need both kinds of solidarity, although our conception of education for national solidarity needs to reflect
our multicultural realities.
Keywords:
citizenship education; cosmopolitanism; human rights; migration; multiculturalism; nationalism; solidarity
Solidarities: National, Multicultural and
Cosmopolitan1
Public education has historically promoted two forms of
solidarity: (1) a bounded national solidarity, often tied to
ideas of being a “good citizen” of the nation-state, and to
associated ideas of loyalty and patriotism; and (2) an
unbounded global solidarity, often tied to ideas of universal
human rights, and to associated ideas of respect for shared
humanity and human dignity. Other levels of solidarity inbetween the nation and the globe have sometimes also played
a role in education, most obviously in recent efforts to
promote solidarity within the EU,2 but also in earlier efforts
to promote pan-Africanism or pan-Arabism. However, in
general, debates about solidarity have typically revolved
around the dialectic between national and global solidarities.
For many commentators in these debates, there has been
a fundamental imbalance in the significance accorded to the
two levels of solidarity. National education systems have
prioritized national solidarity as a political imperative, while
treating global solidarity as a largely symbolic afterthought.
Moreover, national solidarity has often been defined in
narrow and assimilationist ways, defining the nation in terms
of the majority’s language, race, religion and culture, while
ignoring or stigmatizing minorities. Traditional conceptions
of national solidarity are therefore seen as both occluding our
obligations to the world outside our national borders and
creating injustice to minorities within those borders.
For these and other reasons, it is now widely agreed that
traditional conceptions of national solidarity, and the models
of citizenship education based on them, are inadequate to the
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realities of diverse 21st century classrooms and societies, and
to the challenges of an increasingly mobile and
interdependent world. However, there remains a deep
disagreement about whether our aim is to rehabilitate
national solidarity, so that it can continue to play a legitimate
role alongside global solidarity, or whether the very idea of
national solidarity is irredeemably flawed and obsolete.
In this short paper, I want to make a case for retaining a
role for national solidarity, albeit in a significantly revised
form, and more generally, for retaining the idea that public
education should promote both national and global
solidarities. I cannot respond to all of the worries people have
about national solidarity, but I will focus in particular on the
challenge raised by global mobility. Traditional ideas of
national solidarity were defined for a more sedentary world
and are often steeped in narratives about how national
citizens are “rooted” in particular national homelands.3 Do
these ideas make any sense in a world on the move?
This is a complicated question, in part because different
modes of migration have different relations to national
citizenship. Some migrants become citizens: they are able to
naturalize and thereby gain rights of membership in the
political community where they reside. In traditional
countries of immigration, there is a relatively clear path for
some immigrants to become citizens. These immigrants are
admitted as permanent residents, and having made their life
in a new country, they have a right to naturalize after a period
of residency (e.g., 5 years), and thereby be included in “the
people” in whose name the state governs.4
The challenge to ideas of national solidarity in this
context seems clear: we need to revise inherited conceptions
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of “the nation” or “the people” to recognize the full diversity
of all those who are members of society. Conceptions of “the
people” have historically been tied to exclusionary and
homogenizing narratives of nationhood, privileging majority
ways of belonging while denigrating or rendering invisible
minority identities and contributions. A central task of
citizenship education is to replace older exclusionary ideas of
nationhood with a more inclusive conception which
challenges inherited hierarchies of belonging, and which
insists that society belongs to all its members, minority as
much as majority. All members have a right to shape
society’s future, without having to deny or hide their
identities. Minorities, on this view, including minorities
formed through the permanent settlement of immigrants, are
not “guests”, “visitors”, “aliens” or “foreigners”, but are
“members” and “citizens”.
This has been a long-standing goal of multicultural
education, to create a more multicultural conception of
nationhood and national belonging. Multicultural education
has been subject to waves of enthusiasm and skepticism, and
I’ll return to the skepticism below. But it’s worth
emphasizing that multicultural education – at least on this
traditional understanding - rests on the assumption that
immigrants settle permanently, and thereby qualify as
“members” of “the people”. Contemporary states are
grounded in ideas of popular sovereignty: it is “the people”
who are the bearers of sovereignty, which they exercise
through the state, and permanently-settled immigrants should
be seen as members of the people in this sense. Multicultural
citizenship education tells us to acknowledge the diversity of
the members of our society, but this is tied to the assumption
that immigrants have indeed settled for long enough to pass
the relevant threshold of membership, transitioning from
being visitors to being members.
This is not necessarily true of temporary migrants. Most
people do not think that tourists, international students,
business visitors, or seasonal workers necessarily have a
legitimate claim to political membership. Tourists who visit
for one month, or international students who come to study
the local language for six months, do not typically have a
right to naturalize, or to vote in elections. They are indeed
more like “guests” or “visitors” than “members” or
“citizens”.
Moreover, temporary migrants often do not wish to be
treated as members or citizens, insofar as “membership”
often entails obligations as well as benefits. Members may be
subject to both formal legal obligations (e.g., jury duty) as
well as informal social expectations (e.g., to become
competent and informed about national politics). As Ottonelli
and Torresi note, these formal and informal obligations may
not be desired or welcomed by temporary workers. Given
their “temporary migration projects”, they may prefer to be
seen as visitors, and may not wish to be recruited
involuntarily into the obligations and expectations of national
solidarity (Ottonelli & Torresi, 2012).
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Temporary migrants therefore do not “fit” within most
accounts of national belonging, even within explicitly
multicultural accounts of nationhood. This is clear in the
multiculturalism policies adopted in Canada and Australia,
which restrict their programming to citizens or permanent
residents, and which exclude temporary workers (such as the
seasonal agricultural workers who come to Canada from
Mexico at harvest time). Since these groups are not citizens,
and are not eligible to become citizens, they are not seen as
members of the multicultural Canadian nation.5
To say that temporary migrants are excluded from
multicultural national citizenship is not to say that they lack
claims of justice. They may be visitors not members, but they
are human beings, and as such have claims based on their
shared humanity. And this of course raises the second level
of solidarity I noted earlier, based on universal
humanitarianism rather than bounded national solidarity.
Whether or not someone is a member of the nation, we must
always respect their shared humanity, and avoid treating
them in ways that are dehumanizing or degrading. We cannot
enslave visitors, subject them to torture or to degrading work,
or treat them in ways that violate their human dignity. This
second level of cosmopolitan solidarity is often expressed
through the idiom of universal human rights, owed to all
individuals in virtue of their intrinsic moral status, and one of
the central tasks of education is to inculcate respect for
human rights and human dignity. Given the rapid rise in
various forms of temporary, circular, forced and irregular
migration, it is more important than ever that students learn
to respect the basic human rights of all people, including the
temporary visitors in their midst, the asylum-seekers at the
border, and the displaced and oppressed half-way around the
world.
So we might think of civics education in an age of
migration as having two strands. First, there is citizenship
education in the narrow sense, which focuses on how
members of the people exercise their popular sovereignty.
This requires some account of how a society determines who
qualifies for membership, including how long-settled
immigrants become members, and I would argue that
requires a distinctly multicultural conception of national
belonging. Second, there is human rights education, which
focuses on an ethics of respect for human dignity, and which
is inherently cosmopolitan, applicable whether or not the
person is a member of our society, no matter how temporary
their stay, or indeed whether they are present in the country
or not.
This combination of (multicultural) national solidarity
and (humanitarian) global solidarity can be found in accounts
of civics education around the world. From Cambodia to
Canada, many educators seek to both expand our conception
of national membership to acknowledge all those who have
settled permanently and made their life in the country (i.e.,
we need a multicultural ethic of political membership); and
simultaneously to strengthen respect for the human rights of
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all, even those who are just temporarily resident or whose
rights are at risk in neighbouring or distant countries (i.e., we
need a cosmopolitan ethic of human rights).6
While both strands are present in many countries,
enthusiasm for the multicultural citizenship strand has
waned. There are several factors that explain this. One is
skepticism about whether national narratives of membership
can ever be truly transformed in a multicultural direction. In
several countries, earlier moments of openness to
multiculturalism seem to have closed, and more
homogenizing national narratives have been reasserted (e.g.,
in France, the UK, Germany). So an earlier enthusiasm about
the possibility of generating a compelling multicultural
conception of nationhood has faded.7 This pessimism seems
particularly acute in the Old World countries of Europe, with
their deeply embedded national identities, and some
commentators have speculated that multiculturalism only
works in New World countries founded as “nations of
immigrants”.
I do not share this pessimism. Embracing multicultural
conceptions of nationhood may be difficult in the Old World,
but it was difficult in the New World as well. Canada today
may be seen as a beacon of multiculturalism, but until the
1960s, it defined itself as a British settler society, and had
racially discriminatory immigration policies and
assimilationist education policies designed to maintain this
self-identity. The shift towards a multicultural national
identity was deeply contested and was by no means
predestined to succeed (Adams, 2007). And I would suggest
that, notwithstanding fashionable talk of the “death” and
“retreat” of multiculturalism in Europe, there are comparable
examples of a steady shift toward multicultural nationhood.8
However, even if multicultural citizenship is politically
feasible, it faces a second challenge. Global migration has
changed in a way that makes it more difficult to distinguish
“permanent” migrants owed multicultural citizenship from
“temporary” migrants owed cosmopolitan human rights. The
very distinction between permanent and temporary migration
is being challenged by scholars who argue that we are living
in a world of “super-diversity” with a multitude of legal
statuses that are neither wholly temporary nor wholly
permanent, but rather have varying degrees and levels of
conditionality and precariousness (Vertovec, 2007). This is
reflected in calls to replace the old term “age of migration”
with the new term “age of mobility”. People no longer
migrate permanently from country X to country Y; rather,
they move repeatedly. They may become domiciled, but do
not “settle”. And one of the consequences of super-diversity,
commentators argue, is that a multicultural conception of
national citizenship is increasingly obsolete (Fleras, 2015).
People can no longer be neatly divided into permanent
“members” and temporary “visitors”: we are all just human
beings who find ourselves in a particular place at a particular
moment, all subject to risks of dislocation to global economic
and environmental trends, all in various states of mobility.
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Both of these observations challenge the view that the
best response to global migration is to combine multicultural
national citizenship (for members) with universal human
rights (for non-members). If multicultural citizenship
requires being able to identify which newcomers have settled
permanently and thereby become members, then the
proliferation of conditional legal statuses, and the realities of
circular and temporary mobility, mean that fewer newcomers
will secure the protections of citizenship. And even those
fortunate few who secure legal citizenship may find that they
only achieve a second-class citizenship, constantly at risk of
being judged alien or inadequate according to exclusionary
narratives of nationhood.
Given these trends, skepticism about multicultural
citizenship is understandable. But what is the alternative?
One option is to give more weight to cosmopolitan human
rights, and to reduce the importance of membership rights.
States may continue to restrict national citizenship to those
newcomers who permanently settle, but we can try to
minimize the political significance of this membership status.
Even if migrant labourers are not eligible for national
citizenship in, say, Austria, this should not affect their labour
rights, their health care, or the education rights of their
children. These should be seen as fundamental human rights,
regardless of membership status. In this way, we can shrink
the importance of national citizenship, and expand the
importance of universal human rights. The goal is not to
expand the Austrian state’s view of who is a member of the
Austrian nation or people, as the multicultural citizenship
approach would seek, but rather to insist that national
membership should not determine people’s treatment across
a range of important issues. The goal is not necessarily to
enable them to become citizens, but rather to strengthen the
rights they are owed as human beings – in effect, to reduce
the price that non-members pay for their lack of political
membership.
A more radical suggestion would be to get rid of ideas of
membership entirely, and to base civics education entirely on
universal human rights. On this proposal, we would only
recognize universal rights owed to human beings as such,
without any attempt to distinguish members from nonmembers. We would not ask Austrian children to think about
their obligations to non-members; nor would we encourage
them to have a more multicultural conception of membership
in the Austrian nation: rather, we would encourage them not
to think in terms of membership at all.
This pure cosmopolitan is a powerful strand in
contemporary political theory, precisely because of growing
skepticism that multicultural citizenship can respond to the
intransigencies of nationalism or the realities of global
mobility. And so it is worth asking, can cosmopolitan human
rights education take the place of multicultural citizenship
education? Can we do without a politics of national solidarity
grounded in membership and belonging, and rely instead on
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a cosmopolitan solidarity grounded in respect for our shared
humanity?
There are both pragmatic and principled objections to
pure cosmopolitanism. Pragmatically, if it is difficult to ask
national majorities to embrace inclusive conceptions of
national membership, it seems utopian to ask them to stop
caring about membership at all. There are also pragmatic
worries about political stability. A cosmopolitan
commitment to universal human rights tells us nothing about
where political boundaries should be drawn. The Universal
Declaration of Human Rights provides no guidance on
whether there should be 2 countries in the world, or 20, or
2000, or where their internal and external boundaries should
be drawn. A cosmopolitan might respond that any such
boundaries should be seen as arbitrary, but it’s not clear that
a democracy can function if its members view their
boundaries this way. A stable democratic community
requires that people have a sense of belonging together. For
example, Norwegians feel that it is right and proper that they
form a single political community which governs its
members and its national territory, and that it would be wrong
and unjust if Norwegians were subdivided or annexed. If the
residents of Norway did not have this sense of belonging
together – if they felt that they were just a random group of
individuals thrown together in a randomly-drawn territory –
there would likely be interminable disputes about jurisdiction
and boundaries.
And this in turn raises principled questions about whether
“nations” or “peoples” have rights to self-determination and
territorial sovereignty. Cosmopolitans tend to be dismissive
of ideas of rights of self-government, but I would argue it is
perfectly legitimate for the Norwegians – or the Navajo– to
think of themselves as peoples with rights to self-
determination, including the right to govern themselves and
their national homelands, which in turn includes the right to
make choices about various streams of permanent and
temporary migration. 9 If so, then we are inevitably back to
ideas of membership, and to distinguishing those settled
immigrants who are owed membership rights from those
visitors who are owed universal human rights.
This suggests that human rights education and
cosmopolitan solidarity cannot bear all the weight of civics
education. Around the world, two distinct problems
continually arise: some permanently-settled groups are
wrongly denied their membership rights because they do not
fit into the received national narrative; and other temporarilysettled immigrant groups are denied their basic human rights.
Cosmopolitan human rights education addresses the latter but
not the former. Educating students to respect the basic rights
of all people, regardless of their membership status, is a
fundamental task. But so long as democratic politics is tied
up with ideas of membership and belonging, then we also
need to educate students to think about membership in an
ethically responsible way, including how to critically
evaluate the traditional criteria by which membership has
been recognized.
This was – and remains – a central task of multicultural
citizenship education. The task is not to transcend or evade
the distinction between members and non-members, but to
think in a critical and ethically responsible way about the
diversity of people that belong to society, and the diversity of
ways in which they legitimately express that belonging. 10
Multicultural citizenship education has run into headwinds,
but I would argue that it remains an essential part of civics
education, alongside calls for more cosmopolitan human
rights education.
References
Adams, M. (2007). Unlikely utopia: The surprising triumph of Canadian pluralism. Penguin.
Antonsich, M., & Petrillo, E. R. (2019). Ethno-cultural diversity and the limits of the inclusive nation. Identities, 26(6), 706–
724. https://doi.org/10.1080/1070289X.2018.1494968
Banks, J. A. (Ed.) (2017). Citizenship education and global migration: Implications for theory, research, and teaching.
American Educational Research Association. https://doi.org/10.1111/aeq.12271
Bauböck, R, & Joppke, C. (Eds.) (2010). How liberal are citizenship tests? Robert Schuman Centre for Advanced Studies,
EUI Working Paper RSCAS2010/41.
Carens, J. (2013). The ethics of immigration. Oxford University Press.
Fleras, A. (2015). Beyond multiculturalism. In S. Guo & L. Wong (Eds.), Revisiting multiculturalism in Canada (pp. 311–
334). Sense. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-6300-208-0_19
Lawrence, B., & Dua, E. (2005). Decolonizing antiracism. Social Justice, 32(4), 120–43.
Kymlicka, W. (2013). Multiculturalism: Success, failure, and the future. Transatlantic Council on Migration.
Kymlicka, W. (2015). Solidarity in diverse societies: Beyond neoliberal multiculturalism and welfare chauvinism.
Comparative Migration Studies, 3(1), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40878-015-0017-4
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Kymlicka, W. (2017). Multiculturalism without citizenship? In A. Triandafyllidou (Ed.), Multicultural governance in a mobile
world (pp. 139–161). Edinburgh University Press.
Kymlicka, W. (2019). Civics education in an age of mobility. In E. Huynh (Ed.), The future of education (pp. 10–14). Institute for
Public Policy Research.
Kymlicka, W. (2021). Nationhood, multiculturalism and the ethics of membership. In L. Orgad & R. Koopmans (Eds.),
Majorities, minorities and the future of nationhood. Cambridge University Press (in press).
Ottonelli, V., & Torresi, T. (2012). Inclusivist egalitarian liberalism and temporary migration. Journal of Political
Philosophy, 20(2), 202–224. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9760.2010.00380.x
Rawls, J. (1985). Justice as fairness: Political not metaphysical. Philosophy and Public Affairs, 14, 223–251.
Teo, T.-A. (2021). Multiculturalism beyond citizenship: The inclusion of non-citizens. Ethnicities (early view).
Vertovec, S. (2007). Super-diversity and its implications. Ethnic and racial studies, 30(6), 1024–1054.
https://doi.org/10.1080/01419870701599465
Recommended Citation
Kymlicka, W. (2021). Building solidarities through public education: National, multicultural and cosmopolitan? On Education.
Journal for Research and Debate, 4(10). https://doi.org/10.17899/on_ed.2021.10.3
About the Author
Will Kymlicka is the Canada Research Chair in Political Philosophy at Queen’s University in Kingston, Canada. He is the coeditor of The Strains of Commitment: The Political Sources of Solidarity in Diverse Societies (OUP, 2017), and co-director,
with Irene Bloemraad, of a new program on Boundaries, Membership and Belonging, funded by the Canadian Institute for
Advanced Research.
This paper draws upon an analysis I prepared for the “Future of Education” project of the Institute for Public Policy Research (Kymlicka, 2019).
See, for example, the European Solidarity Corps, managed by the European Commission, and aimed at youth between the ages of 18 and 30
(https://europa.eu/youth/solidarity_en).
3
To take just one example from my field of political philosophy, John Rawls suggested that when theorizing social justice, we should begin with a picture of
society “as a more or less complete and self-sufficient scheme of cooperation, making room within itself for all the necessities and activities of life, from
birth until death. ... [C]itizens do not join society voluntarily but are born into it, where, for our aims here, we assume they are to lead their lives" (Rawls,
1985, p. 233). Migration, for Rawls, was seen as an exception, and the principles for managing migration are to be sorted out after first defining principles of
justice for the “normal” case of sedentary citizens for whom “all the necessities and activities of life from birth to death” occur within national boundaries.
4
For the idea that political citizenship should track social membership, and why this entails that long-settled immigrants have a right to naturalize, see
Carens (2013). Carens argues that length of residency should be a sufficient condition for a right to naturalize, and opposes further conditions, such as
language tests or employment status. For a good overview of these debates, see Joppke and Baubock (2010).
5
For a defense of this traditional linking of multiculturalism to national citizenship, see Kymlicka (2017). For a critique, see Teo (2021).
6
For an overview of citizenship education around the world illustrating these dimensions, see Banks (2017).
7
See Antonsich and Petrillo (2019) for an interesting discussion of the Italian case.
8
See Kymlicka (2013) on the resilience of multiculturalism in many European countries.
9
Lawrence and Dua (2005) argue that cosmopolitan defenses of migrants’ rights to freely settle anywhere ignore indigenous rights to govern themselves and
their territories.
10
For some reflections on a new ethic of membership which recognizes diverse ways of belonging and participating, see Kymlicka (2015, 2021).
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