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THE FALSE RIGHT TO AUTONOMY IN EDUCATION

Lucas Swaine
Department of Government
Dartmouth College

Abstract. The ideal of personal autonomy enjoys considerable support in educational theory, but
close analysis reveals serious problems with its core analytical and psychological components. The core
conception of autonomy authorizes individuals to employ their imaginations in troubling and unhealthy
ways that clash with sound ideals of moral character. Lucas Swaine argues in this essay that this gives
grounds to deny that the core conception of autonomy should be promoted in democratic education.
What is more, according to Swaine, young citizens appear to have no right to be educated, in public
schools, for the purpose of becoming autonomous individuals of the kind he describes and criticizes in
this account.

Introduction: Autonomy in Educational Theory

Numerous philosophers and political theorists celebrate autonomy,1 and var-
ious educational theorists follow suit.2 However, close analysis reveals serious
moral difficulties for personal autonomy and its place in democratic education.
In this article, I propose that the ideal of personal autonomy, as it is commonly
conceived, is unsound and unworthy of promotion in education. I argue that edu-
cators should avoid promoting that ideal and should instead assist young citizens
to forge critical skills and capacities that cohere with fundamental ideals of moral
character. I begin by identifying and outlining the nature of moral character, noting
the moral importance and relevance of strong moral character and distinguishing it
from what I call the ‘‘core conception’’ of personal autonomy. I subsequently point
out a series of special problems for that conception of autonomy, and I contend that
they sink the idea that people have a right to be educated for autonomy of that sort,
if the right is construed to entail a positive duty on the part of the state to provide it.
The word ‘‘autonomy’’ comes from ancient Greek, providing the overarching
meaning of ‘‘giving laws to oneself.’’ I shall discuss autonomy in a way that

1. See, for example, Richard Dagger, Civic Virtues: Rights, Citizenship, and Republican Liberalism (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1997); Will Kymlicka, Multicultural Citizenship: A Liberal Theory of
Minority Rights (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 81, 83, and 91–92; and Henry S. Richardson,
Democratic Autonomy: Public Reasoning about the Ends of Policy (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2002), 134 and 137. Compare with Lawrence Haworth, Autonomy: An Essay in Philosophical
Psychology and Ethics (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1986); Gerald Dworkin, The
Theory and Practice of Autonomy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988); and Bernard Berofsky,
Liberation from Self: A Theory of Personal Autonomy (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995).
2. See Amy Gutmann, Democratic Education, revised ed. (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University
Press, 1999); Eamonn Callan, Creating Citizens: Political Education and Liberal Democracy (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1997); Meira Levinson, The Demands of Liberal Education (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1999); Ian MacMullen, Faith in Schools? Autonomy, Citizenship, and
Religious Education in the Liberal State (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2007);
Rob Reich, Bridging Liberalism and Multiculturalism in American Education (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2002); and Christopher Winch, Education, Autonomy and Critical Thinking (New York:
Routledge, 2006).

EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

© 2012 Board of Trustees University of Illinois
108 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

respects this general understanding. I do not intend to attack classroom autonomy,

a teaching structure offering students choices of different media through which to
present ideas.3 I have no quarrel with learner autonomy, either, which calls more
broadly for students’ ‘‘active and independent involvement’’ in their education.4
Nor do I intend to discuss educational autonomy in the sense of the self-governance
of institutions of higher learning, important though that kind of autonomy may
be.5
I mean to pick out and discuss a neat and unadorned conception of personal
autonomy, one that corresponds to an ideal that its advocates affirm. To be clear,
by ‘‘autonomy’’ I mean a condition in which one rationally assesses one’s beliefs,
aims, attachments, desires, and interests. I shall call this the core conception
of autonomy. The core conception has psychological components: it involves an
attitude that one’s commitments and ends are revisable, and a disposition to
investigate such elements periodically.6 This does not imply that an autonomous
person could examine every element of him- or herself at once, however; that
would be too burdensome. It simply implies that beliefs, attachments, interests,
and so forth can be examined and improved. This understanding of autonomy
also allows for degrees, and it permits, as appropriate, that people can count as
more or less autonomous. I take it that it may be necessary for autonomy that a
person is not forced to choose options, and that an autonomous person is careful
when facing notable or important choices. There may be other criterial elements
or necessary conditions of autonomy, but those are not my focus in this article,
and one can set them aside for present purposes.
On the face of it, the core conception of autonomy sounds excellent: With
it, individuals employ rational assessment to achieve reflective endorsement
of their commitments, aims, attachments, and desires.7 Rational assessment

3. See Richard Ryan and Martin Lynch, ‘‘Motivation and Classroom Management,’’ in A Companion to
the Philosophy of Education, ed. Randall Curren (Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell, 2003), 260–271.
See also Candice R. Stefanou, Kathleen C. Perencevich, Matthew DiCintio, and Julianne C. Turner,
‘‘Supporting Autonomy in the Classroom: Ways Teachers Encourage Student Decision Making and
Ownership,’’ Educational Psychologist 39, no. 2 (2004): 97–110.
4. Leslie Dickinson, ‘‘Autonomy and Motivation: A Literature Review,’’ System 23, no. 2 (1995): 165.
See also Stefanou et al., ‘‘Supporting Autonomy in the Classroom.’’
5. Mary Warnock, ‘‘Higher Education: The Concept of Autonomy,’’ Oxford Review of Education 18, no.
2 (1992): 119–124.
6. See Michael Merry’s discussion of the ‘‘open-minded disposition’’ of autonomy in Merry,
‘‘Indoctrination, Moral Instruction, and Nonrational Beliefs: A Place for Autonomy?’’ Educational
Theory 55, no. 4 (2005): 401–402; and Winch, Education, Autonomy and Critical Thinking, chaps. 3, 6,
and 7.
7. See generally MacMullen, Faith in Schools? See also Elizabeth Anderson, ‘‘Practical Reason and
Incommensurable Goods,’’ in Incommensurability, Incomparability, and Practical Reason, ed. Ruth

LUCAS SWAINE is Associate Professor in the Department of Government at Dartmouth College, 211
Silsby Hall, Hanover, NH 03755; e-mail Lucas.Swaine@dartmouth.edu. His primary areas of scholarship
are political philosophy, normative and historical political theory, and religion and politics.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 109

actively involves the individual’s use of reason; the autonomous person becomes
his or her own locus of analysis, individually thinking through what is right
and wrong and coming to his or her own conclusions about how to proceed.
Autonomy advocacy is prompted by quite reasonable concerns: by employing
searching rational assessment, autonomy allows one to become increasingly free
from potentially deleterious influences. It also holds promise of a more authentic
personality, given that forces beyond one’s control can sometimes generate and
maintain a person’s desires and attitudes. But autonomy is not biased toward
rejection or affirmation of the status quo, and neither does it preclude its possessor
from having commitments of various kinds.8 Instead, an autonomous person
shines the light of day on his or her beliefs and commitments, proceeding carefully
and rationally, and deciding individually whether to affirm, modify, or reject them.
This can be done with the understanding that it might take time to make changes,
realizing that often one cannot immediately modify or dispatch elements simply
by willing to do so.
The core conception of autonomy provides a normative ideal that many
theorists and philosophers of education think people should aspire to achieve. It
is supposed to be good for students and youth, and salutary for adult citizens in
liberal democracies. As Eamonn Callan and John White suggest, the ‘‘mainstream’’
position ‘‘sees autonomy as an ideal for mature persons, and children as being
gradually prepared for an autonomy that lies substantially in their future rather
than their present.’’9 The idea seems to be that the more autonomous a person is,
the better. Even in cases where theorists add other criteria to the core conception
of autonomy, or where they wish to affirm liberal values and ideals, the central
idea of broad-based critical assessment resonates with them.

The Nature of Moral Character

With the core conception of autonomy in view, I turn to the nature of
character. I aim to be lucid in elaborating the idea of character; this will help to
bring character and autonomy into proper relief. In his book on the subject, Joel
Kupperman suggests that character ‘‘approximates what a person is,’’ most notably

Chang (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1997), 92; Shelley Burtt, ‘‘Comprehensive
Educations and the Liberal Understanding of Autonomy,’’ in Citizenship and Education in Liberal-
Democratic Societies: Teaching for Cosmopolitan Values and Collective Identities, ed. Kevin
McDonough and Walter Feinberg (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 193; R.F. Dearden,
‘‘Autonomy and Education,’’ in Education and the Development of Reason, ed. R.F. Dearden, P.H.
Hirst, and R.S. Peters (Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1972), 333–345; and Harry Brighouse, ‘‘Civic
Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ Ethics 108, no. 4 (1998): 741.
8. Compare with Brighouse, ‘‘Civic Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ 728.
9. Eamonn Callan and John White, ‘‘Liberalism and Communitarianism,’’ in The Blackwell Guide to
the Philosophy of Education, ed. Nigel Blake, Paul Smeyers, Richard Smith, and Paul Standish (Oxford:
Blackwell, 2003), 98; see 96–97, 99–101, and 107. See also Winch, Education, Autonomy and Critical
Thinking, 109; and Anders Schinkel, ‘‘Compulsory Autonomy-Promoting Education,’’ Educational
Theory 60, no. 1 (2010): 99–102.
110 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

when it comes to areas of life ‘‘that concern major choices.’’10 Kupperman also
provides a helpful definition of ‘‘character’’: ‘‘X’s character is X’s normal pattern
of thought and action, especially with respect to concerns and commitments
in matters affecting the happiness of others or of X, and most especially in
relation to moral choices’’ (Character, 17). He adds the observation that character
varies along two axes: strength and goodness. ‘‘Strong character,’’ he suggests, is
character that is ‘‘strongly [sic] resistant to pressures, temptations, difficulties,
[and] expectations’’ (Character, 14). Strength of character is not the same as good
character; the ‘‘deeply wicked’’ have strong character, Kupperman notes, but their
character will correctly be called bad.
Kupperman argues that the strength and goodness of character matter
significantly to the values and actions available to a person (Character, 7 and
115). Character ‘‘narrows options,’’ increasing the number of things ‘‘one simply
could not do’’ (Character, 140).11 Those with little to no character will be morally
unreliable; Kupperman contends that a person with weak character has at best a
‘‘qualified loyalty to anything’’ (Character, 7 and 137). This description fits well
with Robert Audi’s reflection that character consists of ‘‘deep-seated’’ dispositions
to act in certain ways, ‘‘for an appropriate range of reasons.’’12 As far as the
formation of character is concerned, Kupperman argues that people solidify and
maintain their character not by endorsing or rationally deciding on each of their
character traits, but instead by following along with the character that they develop
(Character, 50 and 51). These points allow that formation of character can count
as an achievement and that people can ‘‘build’’ character by taking on projects,
shouldering commitments, and so forth (Character, 50).
With this idea of character in place, one can furnish a working account
of strong moral character. Consider first the components of moral character,
by which I mean character that is morally good.13 There are various ways
in which people can possess and display moral character, but one observes
notable commonalities among people with character of this sort. These include
truthfulness,14 trustworthiness, a willingness to uphold rightful commitments,
and nonparticipation in cruelty. Moral character therefore includes both positive
as well as negative components, inasmuch as its elements prompt individuals to
think, feel, and act in particular ways on certain issues, and induce them not to

10. Joel Kupperman, Character (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), v and 13. This work will be
cited in the text as Character for all subsequent references.
11. Compare this observation with Character, 52–53, where Kupperman notes that acting ‘‘out of
character’’ is a possibility.
12. Robert Audi, Moral Knowledge and Ethical Character (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997),
160. For a related view, see R.M. Hare, Essays on Political Morality (New York: Oxford University Press,
1989), 97.
13. When I refer to ‘‘good’’ or ‘‘bad’’ character, I mean to describe character that is morally good or
morally bad, respectively.
14. Compare with Hare, Essays on Political Morality, 54–55 and 97.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 111

do so on others. Some elements of moral character pertain to a person’s role as a

citizen, too: moral character for citizens of democratic societies entails respect for
fellow citizens, readiness to tolerate others, and a concern for justice.15
Building on Kupperman’s description of strength of character, it seems quite
reasonable to propose that an individual with strong moral character possesses
robust dispositions to be truthful and trustworthy, and respectful of others, and
that this individual does not merely have flimsy versions of those dispositions or
inclinations (Character, 16, 140, and 155).16 Additionally, those with strong moral
character will have their thoughts, feelings, and actions guided and constrained in
various ways. For example, someone with strong moral character will not be prone
even to consider devising a scheme of manipulation and lies to achieve a personal
goal, especially in contexts where serious moral issues are at stake. Similarly,
people with strong moral character have powerful inclinations to be respectful of
others: they will be considerate and reliable when it comes to their commitments,
even when they are put under various forms of pressure, and their speech and
action will reflect such inclinations and dispositions, accordingly.
There is more to the matter than this, however. For an individual with strong
moral character will be a person for whom it is also the case that there are some
things he or she is simply not willing to consider doing. First, such individuals
will not even be willing to consider performing some actions — these actions will
be out of bounds, as it were. The patterns of thought and emotion of those having
strong moral character cover not only their cogitations and imaginings, but their
deliberations, as well. This is important because what a person is prepared to
deliberate is included under the rubric of moral character. One needs to make
room for the idea that a person might have a character flaw if it were common for
that person to deliberate whether to exact revenge for peccadilloes, for instance.
Second, a person with strong moral character will be someone for whom there
are some things he or she is not willing to do. It is quite plausible that strong
moral character modifies and regulates one’s willingness to act.17 This includes
what Harry Frankfurt describes as forming the will to act in a certain way, and
then actually attempting to perform the action.18 There are many examples of
things that a person with strong moral character will not form the will to do: these
include cheating on one’s spouse or stealing a valuable item from someone. Being

15. The points I make here should apply at least within democratic society; other forms of polities may
emphasize some different elements or virtues of citizenship.
16. Compare with Audi, Moral Knowledge and Ethical Character, 160; and George Sher and William J.
Bennett, ‘‘Moral Education and Indoctrination,’’ Journal of Philosophy 79, no. 11 (1982): 665–677.
17. Even if it were the case that many citizens lack strong moral character, that would not weigh
heavily against the normative case I present here. See, for example, John M. Doris, Lack of Character:
Personality and Moral Behavior (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
18. See Harry G. Frankfurt, ‘‘Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person,’’ in The Importance of
What We Care About: Philosophical Essays (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 181–182;
and Harry G. Frankfurt, Necessity, Volition, and Love (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 80.
112 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

unwilling to perform actions such as these is part of what it means to have moral
character in the first place.
These limitations on the deliberations and actions of people with strong moral
character become clearer when one considers extreme actions that individuals
may have opportunities to perform in the course of daily life. By an ‘‘extreme
action,’’ I mean simply behavior that greatly exceeds the boundaries of moral
permissibility; extreme actions are those that one would correctly describe as
deeply morally wrong. Under this description, actions of an extreme kind fall well
outside of socially acceptable parameters, and they constitute serious violations of
the rights of others (that is, they are not mere infringements of rights). Examples
include such terrible acts as raping a person, killing someone for the thrill of the
experience, and performing cruel and painful acts on an unwilling victim. It should
be noted that the physical acts comprising extreme actions are not intrinsically
problematic in each and every case. The context factors into whether the action
is extreme. For instance, it matters greatly whether one has gained meaningful
consent in performing a sexual act that involves another person. With the other
party’s consent, many sexual acts are morally permissible; but without it, the act
in question becomes impermissible and wrong.
It might appear that people with strong moral character actually would not
have their thoughts or actions structured in the ways that I propose. This criticism
would miss its mark, however. First, it would be quite odd to say that a person
had strong moral character if that person were occasionally to act in vicious
or profoundly immoral ways. There is a sense in which it might take a person
with strong character to carry out a high school massacre, given the intestinal
fortitude that such an action would require. But one could hardly call that person’s
character morally good. Second, while I acknowledge that other conceptions of
moral character exist, they are not at issue here, and they do not jeopardize
the argument at hand. This is because the tectonic version of moral character
that I advance includes ordinary components that fit with broad, universal moral
ideals. These elements of character are suitable for inclusion in a wide variety of
conceptions of the good, and they cohere with, and can be defended by, sound
moral principles and arguments.19

Autonomy, Character, and Imagination

I have thus far outlined a core conception of personal autonomy and discussed
the nature of moral character. I move now to examine the extent to which the
two values are accordant. The core conception of autonomy and moral character
are not readily compatible, and this becomes apparent when one considers the use
of the imagination among individuals who possess significant levels of personal

19. See generally Lucas Swaine, The Liberal Conscience: Politics and Principle in a World of Religious
Pluralism (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006); Lucas Swaine, ‘‘Demanding Deliberation:
Political Liberalism and the Inclusion of Islam,’’ Journal of Islamic Law and Culture 11, no. 2 (2009):
88–106; and Lucas Swaine, ‘‘The Ascendent Liberal Conscience: A Response to Three Critics,’’ Critical
Review of International Social and Political Philosophy 14, no. 4 (2011): 521–529.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 113

autonomy, so conceived. The problem is that the core conception of autonomy

coheres with no clear way of limiting use of one’s imagination to healthy ends.
Quite to the contrary, pursuit of autonomy seems to give license to unhealthy
imaginings on the part of those who seek it, and that allowance cuts against
standards of moral character.
An autonomous person must analyze a wide variety of prospective and
possible actions, according to the popular core conception I have described.
The autonomous individual’s analysis, in turn, requires preparedness to
sympathetically imagine a broad range of other ways of existing, whether or not
the person ultimately chooses to pursue them.20 This means that an autonomous
person must remain open and ready sympathetically to imagine, and to assess,
even behavioral paths that run afoul of fundamental moral dictates. There are
three reasons why this is so. First of all, even the fundamental practices and norms
endorsed by social and political institutions, which the actor currently endorses
or abides, could be morally deficient. Rational assessment is supposed to assist
individuals in sorting out which norms and practices to affirm or reject, just as
it means to give justificatory grounds for one’s commitments.21 Second, norms
that an individual has previously adopted might not work as well as others would:
even fundamental social practices could turn out to be comparatively infelicitous
when considered alongside other possible ways of living. Third, norms that have
served an actor well can become unsuitable due to social transformations or as a
result of changes to the actor him- or herself, over time. For the actor committed
to the pursuit of the core conception of autonomy, these considerations provide a
strong directive to remain open to a wide variety of other possible ways of acting
or being, at least with respect to sympathetically imagining and assessing them.
I do not dispute that people should be capable of imagining actions that grate
harshly against fundamental moral principles. The human imagination is a lively
and wonderful faculty, one that people rightly employ in various ways across the
normal course of life. The capability of imagining immoral or hurtful behavior is
important for engendering sympathy and empathy, for instance. Imagination also
facilitates understanding of others’ motivations, intentions, desires, and purposes;
and it assists people in thinking through why, or whether, the actions of others
may be morally good or bad, prudent or imprudent, and so forth. The use of one’s

20. Consider Callan’s contention that education should foster ‘‘sympathetic and critical engagement’’
with the beliefs and values of others, even when it comes to ways of life that seem repugnant (Creating
Citizens, 133; see also 148, 149, and 152–153). See also Callan and White’s discussion of ‘‘tighter
criteria’’ for autonomy, involving ‘‘greater critical reflectiveness about possibilities’’ (‘‘Liberalism and
Communitarianism,’’ 101). For related views, see Dickinson, ‘‘Autonomy and Motivation,’’ 167 and 168;
Brighouse, ‘‘Civic Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ 733 and 735; Winch, Education, Autonomy and
Critical Thinking, 52, 74–75, 93–94, 112–115, 141, 186n28; Colin Wringe, ‘‘In Defence of Autonomy as
an Educational Goal,’’ in Education, Autonomy and Democratic Citizenship, ed. David Bridges (New
York: Routledge, 1997), 115–116, 120, and 122–123; and Swaine, The Liberal Conscience, 97–98.
21. See John Stuart Mill, On Liberty (1859), ed. Elizabeth Rapaport (Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett,
1978); and Lucas Swaine, ‘‘Deliberate and Free: Heteronomy in the Public Sphere,’’ Philosophy and
Social Criticism 35, no. 1–2 (2009): 199–203.
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imagination seems crucial for counterfactual reflection and analysis, furthermore.

People often do well to think imaginatively when facing strategic or moral
problems of various kinds. And if it were morally wrong for people to imagine
immoral or extreme actions, that would cast a pall on sensitive engagement
with novels, theater, and related arts; such a determination would even have
implications for judges and psychologists, along with people in similar professions
who often must employ their imagination to try to put themselves in the shoes of
others.22
The problem is that these uses of the imagination do not exhaust the kinds
of imaginings that the core conception of autonomy authorizes an individual to
employ. First, they are different from trying to imagine what it would be like to
perform an extreme action, and critically assessing the prospects of performing
that act. Second, and notably, imagining the suffering of others is different from
attempting sympathetically to imagine what it might be like to be someone who
delights in performing extreme actions, such as rape or murder. Interestingly, such
use of the imagination would be misdescribed as ‘‘cold calculation,’’ because it
entails flexible emotional outreach to the other ways of acting or being that one
considers. Third, normal use of the imagination is different from trying to keep
oneself receptive imaginatively to the possibility that one might become a person
who enjoys or who is otherwise fulfilled by performing extreme actions. And
here one can add a psychological point about autonomous individuality: all other
things being equal, the more strongly an individual possesses the attitudes and
dispositions of the core conception of autonomy, the more likely this person will
be to engage in periodic rational assessment of the kinds I have described.23 Most
people’s imaginings will not travel so far into dark territories. But autonomous
individuals seem to empower and permit themselves to employ their imagination
in these ways, and this distinguishes them from others.
It is hard to know just what to make of someone committed to being open and
receptive to imaginings of the worrisome kind I have mentioned. A disposition
to try sympathetically to imagine what it might be like to be a fulfilled rapist, a
clever and vibrant murderer, or something similarly terrible looks like an acute
defect in character, and it is telling that a person with strong moral character
would be strongly disinclined from engaging in mental activities of that sort. It
also appears mentally unhealthy to think imaginatively about extreme actions in
this way, even if one never deliberates whether to rape or murder someone, or
never ultimately decides to attempt to perform such actions. Indeed, I suspect not

22. See Martha C. Nussbaum, Poetic Justice: The Literary Imagination and Public Life (Boston,
Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 1995); John D. Lyons, Before Imagination: Embodied Thought from
Montaigne to Rousseau (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2005); and John Kekes, The
Enlargement of Life: Moral Imagination at Work (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2006).
23. On this point, see Winch, who suggests that action depends on ‘‘settled dispositions’’ and
‘‘independence of judgement’’ within a particular normative context (Education, Autonomy and Critical
Thinking, 43).
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 115

only that such imaginings are not morally good, but also that one would rightly
think less of a person who takes time to try to visualize such things.
It would be unfair to suggest that the core conception of autonomy requires
the autonomous individual to mull over each and every intrusive thought, instead
of quickly assessing or dispatching such ideas. But by the same token, sympathetic
imagining cannot be a quick or cursory process. An autonomous individual’s
imaginings must be sustained, during periodic rational assessment, even with
respect to extreme possibilities, in order to take proper account of alternative
options and possibilities. Furthermore, it is important to consider the various
kinds of outcomes that might result from such imaginative exercises. It is
certainly plausible that a person will be more likely to begin deliberating on
extreme actions, or to perform them, the more open and sympathetic that person
is to considering those actions’ prospects. In contrast, a person possessing strong
moral character should be less prone to performing extreme acts, because that
person will be emotionally and volitionally disinclined even to consider doing
such things, and will put the thoughts out of his or her mind quickly, if they do
arise. And it is not clear why an individual should do anything to the contrary,
from the point of view of morality or personal well-being. This casts serious
doubt on the core of personal autonomy, and it brings the ideal’s moral value into
question.
It is of course true that liberal autonomy theorists are committed to values
other than personal autonomy. After all, there is hardly an autonomy theorist who
says that democratic citizens should just be autonomous. Most also gaze upward
to a constellation of values that includes toleration, equality, justice, fairness, and
respect for persons. As Callan notes, almost every liberal argument for autonomy
acknowledges ‘‘the need for a sense of justice that constrains the realm of choice
within which autonomy tracks the good.’’24 But the core conception of autonomy
does not cohere with these other liberal values and ideals, and it appears that
actual, sustained pursuit of the core conception risks undermining crucial liberal
commitments. Autonomy theorists seem wrongly to have assumed that high
levels of personal autonomy are morally unproblematic, and their views are all the
weaker for it.
I readily concede that there are empirical questions that need to be addressed
here. These include whether there may be a behavioral connection between
imagining sympathetically the prospects of extreme acts and performing actions
of that kind. But one suspects that those who do engage in such imaginings will be
more likely willfully to break fundamental moral responsibilities and requirements
than those who engage in no such mental activities, all else being equal. This
suspicion lingers even if one allows, as is appropriate, that an autonomous person

24. Eamonn Callan, ‘‘Autonomy, Child-Rearing, and Good Lives,’’ in The Moral and Political Status of
Children, ed. David Archard and Colin M. Macleod (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 140.
Callan subsequently states, ‘‘if anyone’s linguistic intuitions suggest that autonomy is properly ascribed
without regard to moral criteria, I shall happily accommodate them’’ (140).
116 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

should not (and need not) possess any bias in favor of rejecting his or her current
commitments. And the point remains despite Christopher Winch’s airy postulate
that a ‘‘worthwhile life [is] something, we assume, an autonomous person should
aim for.’’25 It may well be the case that autonomous individuals will frequently
act in morally acceptable ways, at the conclusion of their imaginings and rational
analyses. And they might regularly refrain from violating the rights of others. But
autonomous individuals could decide to act in very harmful ways, as a result of
their imaginative procedures and calculations about what they should do, and this
presents a conundrum that autonomy theorists have not adequately considered or
resolved.

Is There a Right to Autonomy in Education?

Given the problems for the core conception of autonomy that I have identified,
in relation to its apparent incompatibility with moral character, there is reason to
think that advocacy of that ideal in education could be counterproductive and even
injurious. By this I mean that if educators were broadly to promote the dispositions
and attitudes of the core conception of autonomy that I have described, they could
produce unanticipated and deeply troublesome results.
I submit that students in public schools should not be encouraged to develop
the dispositions and attitudes of the core conception of autonomy. Citizens
ought not to be egged on periodically to subject fundamental moral principles
to such free-ranging, unconstrained rational analysis. Naturally, I do not suggest
promulgating some sort of Platonic ‘‘noble lie’’ to citizens. For there is good
reason to believe that cardinal liberal principles and values are sound and broadly
applicable to people,26 and educators can justifiably engage and impart those
principles and attendant values in democratic education.27 In addition, children
and youth could usefully be encouraged to build moral character, in the course
of their schooling and development, as a concomitant of what I propose here. It
is not that educators should adduce no reasons for the ideas that it is wrong
to steal, to hurt others gratuitously, or to be cruel to others. Neither do I
suggest that the critical attitudes and dispositions emblematic of autonomy
are completely wrongheaded; there might be some special version of personal

25. Winch, Education, Autonomy and Critical Thinking, 83; see also 85–86, 89–91, 94, 96–106, 112,
117–119, and 123.
26. See generally Swaine, The Liberal Conscience.
27. There will of course be limits as to how and when those values may permissibly be promulgated
to students. See Swaine, The Liberal Conscience, 95–98 and 131. For contrasting views, see
Stephen Macedo, Diversity and Distrust: Civic Education in a Multicultural Democracy (Cambridge,
Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2000), 237–240 and 328n34; and James Bernard Murphy,
‘‘Against Civic Schooling,’’ Social Philosophy and Policy 21, no. 1 (2004): 221–265. See also Merry’s
discussion of ‘‘antiracist education’’ and the lack of need to teach racist perspectives as part of
proper moral instruction (‘‘Indoctrination, Moral Instruction, and Nonrational Beliefs,’’ 411); Sher and
Bennett, addressing the moral permissibility of ‘‘directive moral education’’ (‘‘Moral Education and
Indoctrination,’’ 667); and Winch, Education, Autonomy and Critical Thinking, chaps. 9, 11, and 13.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 117

autonomy that can repair and overcome the shortcomings of the core conception.
It is just that it is not necessary for educators to encourage students to question
fundamental moral ideas in ways that undermine or violate central elements
of moral character, and educators should not aim to facilitate that kind of
autonomous assessment at the expense of the formation of good character in
young citizens.
These points militate against the notion that young citizens have a right, in
the form of an entitlement, with a correlative duty on the part of government,
to be educated to become autonomous.28 This holds at least with regard to the
public schooling of children and youth.29 The problem here is intensified by the
fact that high levels of the core conception of autonomy, when possessed by a
sufficient number of people in a liberal polity, may have pernicious effects and
potentially be destructive of rightful political order. Quite frankly, it is frightening
to think what might become of society if most democratic citizens were to begin
subjecting basic norms and values to analysis of the sort I have described. One
need only imagine what conclusions many citizens might reach if periodically
they tried imaginatively to assess whether to harm someone for the fun of it,
whether to steal for personal advantage, and so forth. Being autonomous does not
mean that one is smarter, more moral, better at reasoning, or more circumspect,
after all.30 Highly autonomous citizens could easily make mistakes in reasoning,
coming to crazy conclusions about what morality requires of them. Alternatively,
they might put too much weight on self-interest, or on various unreasonable
considerations, in thinking through moral responsibilities they are supposed to
have, leading them to conclude that they need not follow the law or behave in a
basically moral manner.
What reason is there to think that democratic citizens would not do these
things, were they actually to achieve high levels of the core conception of auton-
omy? Lest one try to import a sanguine a view of human nature to this analysis,
I note that many people are already disposed to act in immoral ways. After all,
internalized constraints on action often directly conflict with people’s conceptions
of self-interest, and moral principles regularly stand at odds with what a person
desires to do. With this in view, it is hard to see why liberal government has a
moral duty to assist children or youth to develop into autonomous people or to
try to ensure that young citizens grow to become autonomous individuals of the
sort I have depicted. An argument to that effect, along with empirical evidence
to support it, is wanting; and there is no cause to believe that the core concep-
tion of autonomy is a value essential to democratic legitimacy, either, when one

28. Compare the view proposed by Dagger in Civic Virtues.

29. The use of private education to develop autonomy in children or youth is an independent issue,
and the same is true with regard to homeschooling. Regardless of whether parents have a moral right
to promote the core conception of autonomy in their children, through such educational means, the
arguments I provide here give weight to the idea that they should not undertake to do so. Compare with
Schinkel, ‘‘Compulsory Autonomy-Promoting Education,’’ 102–103 and 114.
30. See Swaine, ‘‘Deliberate and Free.’’
118 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

puts its shortcomings alongside the more positive deliberative and participatory
capabilities of heteronomous citizens.31
The question whether young citizens have a right to be educated to be
autonomous is distinct from the issue of whether they have a right to an educa-
tion. The latter question is settled and uncontroversial, although naturally there
remains contestation over what the components of a basic democratic education
happen to be. I fully agree that children’s education should be a priority in a democ-
racy and that the proper education of children and youth is central to legitimating a
liberal political order. Liberal democratic polities should be able to stand up to the
scrutiny of their members; and to that end it is very important that citizens learn
how to think critically, as part of their normal schooling. Michel de Montaigne
provided some sensible, helpful guidance on this front: he advised that children
should be encouraged carefully to examine subject matter, to sift through evidence,
and not to take people’s word simply on authority or trust.32 Adhering to these
practices can help to make knowledge and judgments a person’s own, Montaigne
noted. A person who proceeds in this way does not simply follow others.33
I make no equivocation on the nature and importance of critical capacities,
because helping students to develop their critical skills and abilities is not the
same as promoting the core conception of autonomy. Students should be encour-
aged by educators to develop their analytical skills and abilities as part of a proper
educational plan.34 They should be taught to be receptive to reasons and to develop
healthy dispositions in that respect. Proper critical capacities also include under-
standing and appreciating the value of logic and evidence; these components serve
as part of a well-rounded curriculum, one that does not press children or youth
to venture into the more sinister realms of personal autonomy. Furthermore, edu-
cators could fruitfully employ the simple measures I suggest: (a) they can refrain
from engendering the attitudinal and dispositional elements of the core conception
of autonomy, whereby students would be encouraged imaginatively to assess even

31. See Swaine, ‘‘Demanding Deliberation’’; Swaine, ‘‘Deliberate and Free’’; and Lucas Swaine,
‘‘Heteronomous Citizenship: Civic Virtue and the Chains of Autonomy,’’ Educational Philosophy
and Theory 42, no. 1 (2010): 73–93. For a related view, see William A. Galston, Liberal Purposes: Goods,
Virtues, and Diversity in the Liberal State (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 221–224 and
250–253.
32. See Michel de Montaigne, Essays of Montaigne, vol. 1, trans. Charles Cotton, ed. William Carew
Hazlitt (London: Reeves and Turner, 1902), 169; see also 171.
33. Compare Montaigne, Essays of Montaigne, 150, with Mill, On Liberty.
34. See Sharon Bailin and Harvey Siegel, ‘‘Critical Thinking,’’ in The Blackwell Guide to the Philosophy
of Education, ed. Nigel Blake, Paul Smeyers, Richard Smith, and Paul Standish (Oxford: Blackwell,
2003), 181–193. The authors include discussion of the category of ‘‘creative thinking’’ (186–187). By
way of contrast, consider the distinctions Merry draws between moral instruction and indoctrination
(‘‘Indoctrination, Moral Instruction, and Nonrational Beliefs,’’ 409–412); David Bridges, ‘‘Personal
Autonomy and Practical Competence: Developing Politically Effective Citizens,’’ in Education,
Autonomy and Democratic Citizenship, ed. Bridges, 153–164; Winch, Education, Autonomy and
Critical Thinking, chaps. 3 and 4; John Arul Phillips, ‘‘Redesigning Instruction to Create Autonomous
Learners and Thinkers,’’ in Education, Autonomy and Democratic Citizenship, ed. Bridges, 261–271;
and Brighouse, ‘‘Civic Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ 732–733.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 119

fundamental moral commitments, values, and norms in ways that undermine

moral character; (b) they can encourage students to think hard and well about the
subject matter that is before them and to be skeptical of claims made without evi-
dence; and (c) where appropriate, educators could discuss fundamental moral prin-
ciples, and encourage decent interpersonal behavior, in ways that support the view
that extreme actions are wrong.35 Each of these elements fits with an educational
outlook well suited to preparing students for the possibility that they might have to
revise their commitments or attachments, without engendering a fallibilistic atti-
tude toward fundamental moral principles or a disposition to engage periodically
in sympathetic imaginings and analysis of the kind described previously.
I note that educational theorists seem actually to want to affirm the measures
I suggest. They seem simply to have been made giddy in their endorsement of
high-minded ideals of personal autonomy for citizens. The core conception of
personal autonomy does not fit well with a liberal system of values, in the end,
and so educational theorists who argue for that kind of autonomy must reconsider
the implications of what they advocate.
I do not have space to produce a blueprint for character education
programs in schools or to elaborate on strengths and weaknesses of existing
curricula or methods of instruction. However, it is clear that existing character
education programs remain quite controversial. Character education enjoys
staunch advocacy,36 but various authors have raised serious questions about
its effectiveness.37 And some of the moral or ethical concerns about civic
schooling apply to character education programs, as well.38 Nevertheless, even
if comprehensive moral education at public schools were neither realistic nor
morally astute, promoting rudiments of moral character in public schools is a less
problematic endeavor. This is because, first of all, advancing fundamental elements
of moral character is not the same as promoting civic virtue. Moral character has
no intrinsic connection to such values as patriotism or political participation, for

35. One version of this view can be found in Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals (1797), in
Practical Philosophy, ed. and trans. Mary J. Gregor (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996),
363–603. Kant discussed the need for a ‘‘moral catechism’’ in the teaching of ethics, at least with respect
to schooling during children’s early years (591–597).
36. See Thomas Lickona, ‘‘The Return of Character Education,’’ Educational Leadership 51, no. 3
(1993): 6–11; Thomas Lickona, ‘‘Eleven Principles of Effective Character Education,’’ Journal of Moral
Education 25, no. 1 (1996): 93–100; and Matthew Davidson, Thomas Lickona, and Vladimir Khmelkov,
‘‘Smart and Good Schools: A New Paradigm for High School Character Education,’’ in Handbook of
Moral and Character Education, ed. Larry P. Nucci and Darcia Narvaez (New York: Routledge, 2008),
370–390.
37. See, for example, Alfie Kohn, ‘‘How Not to Teach Values: A Critical Look at Character Education,’’
Phi Delta Kappan 78, no. 6 (1997): 428–439; James S. Leming, ‘‘In Search of Effective Character
Education,’’ Educational Leadership 51, no. 3 (1993): 63–71; and James S. Leming, ‘‘When Research
Meets Practice in Values Education: Lessons from the American Experience,’’ in International Research
Handbook on Values Education and Student Wellbeing, ed. Terence Lovat, Ron Toomey, and Neville
Clement (New York: Springer, 2010), 91–110. For a contrasting approach, see Nucci and Narvaez, eds.,
Handbook of Moral and Character Education.
38. See Murphy, ‘‘Against Civic Schooling.’’
120 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

instance. Instead, the elements of moral character that I have described include
such personal traits as honesty, reliability, respectfulness, and nonparticipation in
cruelty. Second, it is hard to see how those values are morally partisan; and third,
educators regularly promote such values among their pupils, in the normal course
of school studies and in student interactions, which gives further reason to believe
that the modifications I propose are not unreasonable or quixotic. And so it seems
fair to conclude that educators in public schools can and should promote the
central components of moral character and that teaching ought to be in harmony
with the formation of these broadly applicable moral values in children and youth.

Four Objections and Replies

I turn now to four objections to the argument I have provided. A first objection
to the concerns I have raised about autonomy might be that a disposition to engage
in deep and extensive rational assessment, including sympathetic imaginings of
extreme actions, is not an essential element of autonomous existence. John
Christman has done some interesting work in this area.39 However, it is not
clear why a state of being should be called autonomous if it does not include
adequate motivation to undertake periodic rational assessment of one’s various
desires, beliefs, commitments, attitudes, and values, and if the assessment does
not seek to plumb the depths of personal possibilities and social mores. There are
three reasons for this. First, it is hard to see how one meaningfully gives laws or
guidelines for action to oneself if one does not engage in such analysis. Neither
the person in question, nor any observer, has an obvious reason to believe that
the putatively autonomous actor has provided him- or herself with the laws he or
she has adopted if that actor has not engaged in considerable rational reflection
on them. Second, Christman’s view requires too little of the autonomous person.
For him, a person is autonomous if he or she would not feel alienated from beliefs,
commitments, and desires after rational reflection on them.40 That leads to curious
conclusions. Notably, Christman’s formulation seems to allow that someone could
count as autonomous even if that person reached old age without ever having
rationally assessed his or her life plans, values, commitments, or goals. However,
autonomous people must at least periodically push past their standing emotional
and intellectual positions and critically assess these because of their analytically
prior commitment to avoid being lulled into acceptance of potentially inauthentic

39. See John Christman, ‘‘Autonomy and Personal History,’’ Canadian Journal of Philosophy 21, no. 2
(1991): 1–24; John Christman, ‘‘Defending Historical Autonomy: A Reply to Professor Mele,’’ Canadian
Journal of Philosophy 23, no. 2 (1993): 281–290; John Christman, ‘‘Autonomy, Self-Knowledge, and
Liberal Legitimacy,’’ in Autonomy and the Challenges to Liberalism: New Essays, ed. John Christman
and Joel Anderson (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 330–357; and John Christman, The
Politics of Persons: Individual Autonomy and Socio-historical Selves (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 2009).
40. Christman, The Politics of Persons, 155; see also 142–148 and 156–163. See also Christman’s
suggestion that the proper test for the acceptability of a personal characteristic is ‘‘one where the person
does not feel deeply alienated from it upon critical reflection’’ (143; emphasis removed).
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 121

or stultifying social norms.41 Third, decoupling the idea of autonomy from the
attitudes and dispositions I have described leaves autonomy dangerously close to
heteronomy. It is not that there is something wrong or inherently deficient with a
heteronomous existence,42 but rather that autonomy needs to be more demanding
in order conceptually to distinguish itself from heteronomy, which clearly it must.
As a second objection, the advocate of autonomy might insist that autonomous
people can indeed possess bedrock beliefs and values that structure and limit their
actions. For example, Meira Levinson suggests that ‘‘some (even many) actions
may rightly be beyond the pale’’ for an autonomous individual.43 An established
rule not to perform certain kinds of actions is consistent with the central criteria
of autonomy, the objector may say, and it does not run afoul of demands of
moral character. Autonomous people could therefore retain their ability and
disposition to engage in searching rational assessment, all the while affirming
some fundamental values and beliefs.
But this objection cannot hold. For the advocate of autonomy cannot coher-
ently maintain that he or she has previously decided, following reflective analysis,
not to rationally assess or deliberate on certain acts or classes of actions. This is
clear in cases when actors are presented with significant opportunities for self-
advancement or growth, but where received social norms dictate that taking the
opportunities would be injurious and wrong. A person’s prior decision to decline
such opportunities, even under those conditions, could have been generated or
maintained by sources that the individual would not endorse, upon reflection. Not
even the individual’s negative emotional responses to the idea of committing an
extreme action appear immune from analysis in situations like these. In addition,
claiming that one should not or need not deliberate whether to perform certain
kinds of acts would make it too easy for autonomy, for that would allow the
autonomous person to follow social norms precisely when he or she may be most
likely to rationalize inauthentic or conformist behavior. It would be peculiar to
say that an autonomous actor could cordon off classes of actions from analysis and
remain autonomous.
Furthermore, the fact that one has autonomously endorsed some restraint or
aversion does not mean that one remains autonomous after having done so. To
take one example, the person who takes his own life might have autonomously
decided to perform a suicidal act, but he is hardly autonomous after having acted.

41. Compare with Meira Levinson, ‘‘Is Autonomy Imposing Education Too Demanding? A Response
to Dr. De Ruyter,’’ Studies in Philosophy and Education 23, no. 2–3 (2004): 224–225; Richardson,
Democratic Autonomy, 62; and Reich’s conception of ‘‘minimalist autonomy’’ (Bridging Liberalism
and Multiculturalism in American Education, 99–112). MacMullen criticizes Callan for shying away
from some of the more demanding implications of autonomy (Faith in Schools? 55–60; see also 23 and
25).
42. See Swaine, ‘‘Deliberate and Free’’; and Swaine, ‘‘Heteronomous Citizenship.’’
43. Levinson also proposes that there ‘‘may’’ be times when a person is ‘‘forced to’’ rethink his or her
bedrock values, however, which is confusing (‘‘Is Autonomy Imposing Education Too Demanding?’’
224); and Levinson, The Demands of Liberal Education, 30–31.
122 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

Alternatively, consider the less dramatic case of the autonomous individual who
decides to begin dating someone, subsequently developing a strong affective bond
with that person and finding it difficult rationally to assess the relationship.
Experiences of the latter kind are common and familiar, and they diminish the
autonomy of the actor. Even for an autonomous individual, so conceived, it is
quite plausible that it would be difficult to return to examine various emotional or
psychological constraints, after erecting them, because of the subsequent strength
of the attachments, their seeming centrality to the actor’s identity, or due to other
emotional or attitudinal barriers that have arisen. For the idea of autonomously
endorsed constraints on thought, feeling, or action to be plausible, the advocate
will need to outline the functionality of this notion in a psychological sense.
One needs an account of how such barriers can be autonomously cultivated and
endorsed, over time, without interfering with the periodic deep rational analysis
that autonomy requires.
A third objection takes a different approach. Here, the objector might insist
that a person should employ deep and broad rational analysis to affirm or revise,
or to jettison, various personal commitments, values, desires, and ends. The very
elements of one’s moral character ought to be included here, the objector may
propose, because parts of character that appear to be morally good could in fact be
otherwise. Those who refrain from engaging in autonomous analysis risk allowing
themselves to mistreat others — even to behave, perhaps unwittingly, in cruel
ways. Alternatively, those who fail to employ deep rational reflection might over-
look injustices in which they or their society participate. Without autonomous
reflection, individuals might acquiesce to life in a society marked by systematic
racial discrimination or maltreatment of women, for example, practices that might
have become so normalized that people pay them no notice. With this in view,
the objector may propose, the core conception of autonomy shows its necessity
and point. Not even strong moral character inures one from accepting hateful
or immoral social norms and practices, and so it falls to autonomous rational
reflection to help to keep people away from such deficient ways of existing.
This is a strong objection, but a response is available. First, one agrees that the
capacity for serious, sustained critical assessment is good both for individuals and
for liberal society. At the individual level, it is desirable to think hard about a wide
variety of issues, to ponder moral problems, to think imaginatively about one’s
commitments and life course, and to cogitate on life’s meaning. Furthermore, indi-
viduals can naturally be expected to raise and vigorously discuss such questions
in their interactions with others. And such interactions have many benefits: they
help to provide grounds for people to affirm or reaffirm their beliefs; discursive
engagements can lead people to modify and improve their views; and so on.44
But the issue is not whether citizens of liberal democracies should occasionally
question social practices, or contemplate the nature of moral values, or critically

44. See generally Swaine, The Liberal Conscience; Swaine, ‘‘Demanding Deliberation’’; Swaine,
‘‘Deliberate and Free’’; and Swaine, ‘‘Heteronomous Citizenship.’’ See Mill, On Liberty. Compare
with Brighouse, ‘‘Civic Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ 737–739ff.
Swaine The False Right to Autonomy in Education 123

engage with others’ comprehensive doctrines and conceptions of the good. Rather,
it is whether young citizens should, in the course of public education, be prompted
by educators to engage in the kind of periodic self-analysis that plumbs the depths
of moral principles and values and whether they should be induced to do so by the
cultivated disposition individually to question a very broad register of personal
possibilities. I have given reason to think that encouraging such activities looks
like a bad and unsound idea, at both the individual and social level, especially
where it runs afoul of the formation or maintenance of moral character. The
alternative approach I have outlined could be employed to foster a more morally
sound and salutary kind of rational analysis in citizens, one that facilitates astute
rational reflection and analysis within limits of character. In any case, there
remains no clear, cogent argument why it would be good to encourage high levels
of the core conception of personal autonomy in a democratic citizenry, and there
is certainly no obvious right of citizens to be educated to become people who
embrace and pursue that ideal of autonomy, where such a right would involve a
duty on the part of liberal government to provide an education of that kind.
As a fourth and final objection, one might propose that even if high amounts
of the core conception of autonomy were undesirable for persons, the ideal of
autonomy should not be scuttled. The objector might suggest that, to the contrary,
because autonomy is a matter of degree, it makes sense that people should develop
some autonomy and take pains to avoid an excess of it. Autonomy seems to be in
kind with other goods such as food, sleep, or vitamins, one might say, to the extent
that having an appropriate amount of each is good for a person, whereas too much
is bad. Furthermore, one notes that some autonomy theorists do seem ultimately
to call for less than full autonomy in citizens; what is wrong with advocating for
the development of a partial or modest amount of autonomy in the education of a
democratic citizenry?
This objection also appears powerful, but it too is misplaced. First of all, one
notes the dearth of analysis on how much autonomy is good for persons and
where the limits on its goodness happen to be. Second, neither has there been
adequate discussion of whether some particular kind of autonomy squares with
central requirements of moral character. Given the psychological and analytical
components of the core conception of autonomy, elements central to a wide range
of theories of personal autonomy, one needs to provide an argument about how
attitudes and dispositions, as well as different kinds of critical assessment, can
be delimited under a workable conception of autonomy. And this holds for other
ideas of autonomy, too, such as those that define autonomy as self-governance
or self-control, personal efficacy, independence of mind, self-identification, or the
ability to exercise or respond to reasons.45 Whether they expressly affirm the core
conception of autonomy, each of those versions of autonomy risks permitting or

45. See Nomy Arpaly, Unprincipled Virtue: An Inquiry into Moral Agency (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2003), 117–130; and Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), in Practical
Philosophy, ed. and trans. Gregor, 37–108; Kant, Metaphysics of Morals, 365–603.
124 EDUCATIONAL THEORY Volume 62 Number 1 2012

even requiring actors to engage in the problematic mental activities that I have
discussed here. Sympathetic imaginings on the prospects of extreme actions are
not ruled out by the standing views of autonomy, in other words, even if autonomy
advocates do not wish to admit it. As such, attempts to carve out more ‘‘minimal’’
conceptions of autonomy are star-crossed and inauspicious, even ironic, because
they express standards nearer to a morally defensible version of heteronomy than
autonomy.46 Third, because pursuit of autonomy authorizes one to engage in
sympathetic imaginings that run afoul of fundamental moral norms, the case I
provide cuts against both promotion and facilitation of the core conception of
autonomy in education,47 at least with regard to the putative right to have one’s
autonomy promoted or facilitated by government in public schooling.
Conclusion
It is true that those who possess good character traits sometimes adopt or
countenance illiberal social and political practices. But encouraging citizens to
develop high levels of the core conception of autonomy is not the way to solve or
assuage that problem. A better way to address such issues is by working to build
and to maintain strong moral character in citizens. Encouraging the development
of citizens with strong moral character can provide a solid ground for a decent and
forward-thinking society, one that respects parameters of right.
This is not to say that a society with more people possessing good, strong
character would have no controversies or differences. That does not follow from
what I have argued; and a society that abides fundamental principles of liberty
of conscience, and that encourages the inculcation of moral character in people,
would be diverse in a wide variety of ways. Such a society could also promote
healthy citizen interactions between people living in different social networks and
milieus, to increase understanding of other ways of life than one’s own. And when
citizens of character come to realize that they have adopted or affirmed a morally
deficient value or practice, they will be motivated to work to change the situation.
These elements of what I call a liberalism of conscience provide a way to preserve
and ameliorate a liberal polity over time. The principles and prospects of a liberal
theory of this kind are superior to others, including those views advocating a false
right to autonomy in the education of a democratic citizenry.

46. See Reich, Bridging Liberalism and Multiculturalism in American Education, 91–92; and Callan,
Creating Citizens. See also Swaine, ‘‘Deliberate and Free’’; and Swaine, ‘‘Heteronomous Citizenship.’’
47. See generally Harry Brighouse, On Education (New York: Routledge, 2005); Harry Brighouse,
Social Choice and School Justice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000); and Brighouse, ‘‘Civic
Education and Liberal Legitimacy,’’ 725, 728–734, 741, and 744. See also Schinkel, ‘‘Compulsory
Autonomy-Promoting Education.’’

THE AUTHOR THANKS John Christman, John Kekes, Ian MacMullen, Michael Merry, James Bernard
Murphy, Nancy Rosenblum, and Natalie Stoljar for insightful comments and suggestions on the
arguments in this article. Thanks are also owed to Anne Newman, Olivia Newman, Sarah Stitzlein, and
the editors and referees of this journal, for their very helpful suggestions and remarks.