Last November, the Mattone Center co-hosted a regional conference of the International Consortium for Law and Religion Studies. The conference, “Education, Religious Freedom, and State Neutrality,” brought together scholars and jurists from the United States and Europe to compare approaches to these subjects in their respective countries. Participants were invited to submit short reflections. Ariel J. Liberman (Auburn University) submitted the following reflection, which we are delighted to publish here.
I. Introduction: ‘Hate’ Despite Inclusive Education Policy
Recent years have seen great exertions from educational ministries across North America and Europe to emphasize inclusivity in the context of public school. Expressly designed with an aim of combatting discrimination against religious, national, ethnic, and sexual minorities, legislation on inclusive education has been broad and targeted, and involved systemic redesign as well as substantive curricular reforms. The project is noble and necessary in theory and in practice; there is an avowedly civic benefit to introducing such educational curricula in nations which prize pluralism and require collective engagement from a diverse citizenry. And yet, despite many visionary efforts, ‘inclusivity’ seems to effectively stop at the theoretical. For instance, we have seen marked increases in incidents of expressed ‘hate’ on school grounds. As a focal point for this paper, we might direct our concern particularly at the rampant hate speech – or even physical violence – directed against religious minorities (as one example) that are taking a political visage. These incidents present a unique problem: more than just immature religious bullying, they exemplify emboldened student proclivities to ‘other,’ exclude, peers on the basis of identity. Worse, we are seeing these students excused for doing so on grounds of free expression, activism, or national values. Schools, in other words, are permitting the incubation of hate; inclusivity is relegated to theory and curricula, never practiced.
The rising global tide of antisemitism in education offers an example. Such ‘hate’ against Jews often stems from a perceived political, historical dual-loyalty to their community, or, more contemporarily, connection to the State of Israel. Across the world, the denial of Jewish identity, the expression of antisemitic tropes disguised as political speech, and the marginalization of Jewish voices in educational spaces have become mainstay, legitimated by teachers in classrooms as anti-Zionism.
Consider one example out of California. By 2022, dozens of states in America had championed ‘inclusive education’ policies, with California having served as a thought-leader championing the advent of mandatory ‘ethnic studies’ curricula across lower schools dedicating to educating students on “marginalized groups” and their contributions to America. The proposal raised expressly that “school curricula must not only provide content knowledge but must also equip students with the tools to promote understanding as community members in a changing democratic society.” And, yet, by some accounts California boasted the highest percentage increase in antisemitic incidents across K-12 classroom spaces in the country. A great percentage are attributed to the equating of Jews with the entity of Israel at a time when hostilities in that region received international media attention. More, teachers were supportive, excusing absences and touting their own positions on grounds of protecting democratic engagement and perceived political expression. To them students coalesce as young Americans exercising constitutional freedoms to stand with Palestinians. This is laudable and patriotic, deserving protection despite virulently hateful overtones.
I seek to raise for discussion the problem of hate in schools – legitimized by teacher and administration in our primary and secondary education either affirmatively or by silence – and disguised as political expression or aligned with advocacy. I try to discuss it as a function of ‘inclusive education’ policy and ask: how can hate, as expressed by children – even in ‘inclusive’ environments– be protected, encouraged, and defended under the color of national values and in spite of ‘inclusive’ educational efforts? Is it a necessary evil to protect other important pillars in education, particularly academic freedom?
There are a few normative arguments that I hope to raise in taking the above position. First, I argue that there exists a fundamental dissonance between the vision of inclusive education espoused at the highest legislative levels in many nations and the practical realities of implementation of ‘inclusive communities’ at local levels. It is this dissonance that allows ‘hate’ to remain in schools – even ensuring that ‘hate’ thrives. In addressing the issue, I argue in favor of top-level mandates that expand the of principle of ‘inclusive education’ at the primary and secondary level to contemplate ‘teach-not-to-hate’ curricula, representing a larger social and moral imperative to combat expressions of hate which justifies necessary limits on ‘academic freedom’ – or, in the case of K-12 schooling – local implementation and teacher discretion in content instruction.
II. Teacher Responsibility in Incubating ‘Hate’ in Lower School Contexts
Teachers are responsible for so much of a child’s identity and values formation. The public-school space uniquely checks lessons learned in the home, church, or community; at school, one learns to be a citizen in a broader sense. Research further affirms the relationship between teachers’ attitudes, self-efficacy, and the ultimate implementation of any top-level education policy. They are responsible for teaching inclusively and cultivating inclusive environments. And, by extension, I posit they are responsible for excising hate in the classroom. This, I trust, is not too radical a view.
But what does it really mean to be responsible for inclusivity? There are varied definitions of ‘teacher responsibility,’ and most carry both internal and external dimensions. Internally, to be ‘responsible’ is to believe (or at least buy-in) in the inclusive education project. Externally, the teacher must be held accountable to it by some measure. Turning back to the problem of permitting or justifying ‘hate’ in primary and secondary school spaces, we might analyze the phenomenon as a function of teacher responsibility.
One explanation for administrators permitting ‘hatred’ – as speech, as physical violence, as intimidation – against selected students on the basis of their identity could always be that teachers simply do not really believe in the idea of ‘inclusion,’ or the policy project. But this, I would wager, is not the case. When it comes to addressing incidents of hate, teachers must objectively respond as trained professionals. Yet, what constitutes ‘hate’ is adjudged by a highly individual measure. Qualitative research supports that “teachers [experience difficulty] distinguishing appropriate speech from hate speech, [or else] will not necessarily recognize subtle forms of hate speech or trivialize the phenomenon.”
Their own prejudice emboldens them to engage – or, if not engage, then witness without intervening – in the ‘hate.’ In Ontario, Canada, for instance, “nearly 16% of reported incidents of antisemitism involved anti-Israel actions or activities supported or organized by teachers or school administrators.” In 2024, a major rights group in Berlin, Germany assessed the 20% of their caseload involved addressed incidents of Islamophobic expression by educational staff. Put another way, where teachers are the ultimate arbiters of what constitutes hate.
Additionally, teachers’ own internal impression of what should constitute ‘hate’ is often colored by the endorsed positions of the teachers’ unions and local associations to which they belong. it is these local associations and unions which often have a principal role in evaluating and engaging teachers, and, from a policy perspective, influencing the implementation of top-level inclusive education policy regimes (environmental and curricular). This thereby impacts the ‘external’ dimensions of the teacher responsibility calculus. In other words, teachers’ unions often provide the lenses by which teachers and administrators judge teachers’ reactions to ‘hate’, and even their determinations as to what is ‘hate.’
In an American congressional hearing on antisemitism, one witness reported that “teachers’ unions have a significant role in spreading [hateful] ideologies” by encouraging and endorsing the “introduction of antisemitic and anti-Israel content into the classroom.” In California, particularly, one union encouraged teachers’ use of an unapproved ‘Teach Palestine’ curriculum which problematically characterized Zionism, touted Jewish global conspiracy tropes, and related these back to American experiences of settler-colonialism. The union actively combatted legislation aimed at blocking such antisemitic materials in classes required for students’ graduation, and upheld that, as a union, they “have the right to support Hamas as part of its political activism.”
In these ways, both ‘belief’ in the project of inclusion and the ‘measures’ by which we can assess teachers’ activities have become compromised. Teachers, in many ways, are preempted from appreciating certain manifestations of ‘hate’ on campus or reacting to it with appropriate severity. Further, they become unable to secure a classroom environment which allows for effective, inclusive engagement with “hate” so long as they engage such curricula which alienate Jewish students.
This reality impacts the project of a truly inclusive education. I argue therefore that policy regimes which overly defer ‘responsibility’ to teachers, administrators and local boards in executing plans for ‘inclusive education’ projects is not only ineffective in actually assuring against the persistence of ‘hate’ in schools but potentially offers an invitation for fostering this hate. It is the position of this author that ‘responsibility’ in determining curricula in certain areas be subsumed back to higher levels.
III. Measuring A Social and Moral Imperative in Lower Schools Against Teachers’ Academic Freedom
What I propose is a top-down legislative mandate for a ‘no-hate curriculum,’ an affirmatively imposed obligation on teachers and local boards – under threat of financial sanction – to vet curricula which may nurture hate and exclusion, combat physical incidents of hate, and promote inclusivity in a broader sense. But is this appropriately contemplated as part of the broader inclusive education project? Let us first focus on one major concern: that such a mandate has repercussions on academic freedom.
Recently, California has played host to a path-breaking attempt to legislatively combat the rising tide of ‘hate’ in their primary and secondary school spaces. Assembly Bill 715 (AB 715), the Antisemitism and Civil Rights Bill, was passed by the legislature in September 2025, and signed by the Governor in October 2025. A brief glimpse of AB 715 draws one’s focus to the bill’s outright prohibition of instructional materials which “would subject a pupil to unlawful discrimination,” expansion upon law that “afford[s] all persons in public schools . . . equal rights and opportunities in the educational institutions of the state,” assurance that teacher instruction be “factually accurate and align with the adopted curriculum,” and setting of broader guideposts which articulate the bounds of “discriminatory bias.” AB 715 represents an attempt at broadly proscribing the contours of ‘inclusive education;’ it is a statement that some ideas ought not be introduced in schools, and that certain principles ought be prioritized.
I will outline those principles in a moment but first let us consider the chief opposition to AB 715. The California Teachers Association (CTA) offers one scathing rebuke: a failure to honor a full, robust interpretation of teachers’ academic freedom. CTA reads ‘academic freedom’ as meaning “the ability of educators to ensure that instruction includes perspectives and materials that reflect the cultural and ethnic diversity of all of California’s students,” and contemplating “the rights of educators to assist students in developing critical thinking skills by exploring and discussing divergent points of view.” The provisions of AB 715 which delimit instructional materials on the basis of “factual accuracy” introduces a subjective standard which inherently privileges some students’ points of view over others, they argue. Mara Harvey notes that a teacher’s work requires “trust, nuance and open dialogue. [AB 715] undermines a real fight against antisemitism by conflating legitimate political debate with hate speech.”
Indeed, it is derivative to some extent of the discussions in the higher education sphere in the United States and Europe. Such restrictions, some argue, will simply discourage teachers and students from engaging in controversial discussion on Israel, reading materials, or having their beliefs on the subject challenged. And, yet, unlike the case for higher education, the case for robust academic freedom at this schooling levels remains unconvincing.
This position comes down, in many ways, to a question of balancing values. The educational principles at play are myriad: instillment of factual, descriptive knowledge, prevention of discriminatory conduct, but also moral and civic objectives. Morally, such legislation posits that a priority in early school is to cull that impulse to hate, to teach with a mind toward connecting. Complimentarily, a civic goal is to empower freedom of religion and bolster freedom of expression, though without isolating, vilifying, demeaning fellow citizens. It is in our civic interests to live harmoniously together, and to educate children toward coexistence. Further, such initiatives maintain that educating for coexistence, preserving child’s safety and well-being, and fostering connection through learning, ought to be weighed more heavily than other values, like a teacher’s academic freedom.
AB 715 has its flaws, but it is a guardrail against material and instruction which isolates fellow students. They promote, implicitly, the value of co-existence citizen-to-citizen. Of course, this does not mean shying away from difficult conversations or engaging controversy in the classroom. Rather, students ought to learn about injustice, protest, resistance alongside values like honesty, respect, empathy, temperance, responsibility, and kindness. When the student is set to engage “sensitive geopolitical issues,” the goal shifts away from galvanizing them toward a position on an issue and toward facilitating conversation and understanding.
In short, as the identities of future citizens are being forged, certain educational and civic values ought to take prescience over curricular protection. It belies the assumption that children need first be educating in how to navigate conflict as a part of a broader civic ecosystem with diverse citizens, without hate, before being invited to engage in taking sides in a controversial debate. School, ought to be foremost a place of safety; it ought to be a check modulating minds towards harmony as a civic virtue for the sake of peace coexistence in a democracy.
IV. Conclusion: National Prescriptive Mandates and the Inclusive Education Project
Taken together, these ideals – the reality of heightened incidents of hate in primary and secondary school spaces, the failures of teacher ‘responsibility’ in effectively ensuring inclusive environments, and a demand that primary and secondary school spaces primarily honor civic values of coexistence– counsel in favor of prescriptive mandates like California’s AB 715. AB 715 is also unique in its effort to allocate resources toward ensuring proper enforcement of this new view on ‘inclusive education’ at a higher level. it is geared to actively fight existing antisemitism on school grounds. This bill, in particular, establishes a new Office of Civil Rights and funds an Antisemitism Prevention Coordinator. It also requires districts to investigate and take corrective action when discriminatory content is used in education. the power of this prescriptive mandate also lies in returning authority from local teachers and to statewide actors over those ‘external measures’ by which one responds to ‘hate.’
But perhaps we must go farther than AB 715 does. More than simply prohibiting certain cirricula (i.e., ensuring a ‘no-hate curriculum), legislative action ought to oblige affirmatively that teachers ‘teach not to hate;’ they ought to channel a clear social, moral and civic imperative to ‘teach not to hate’ in schools. On this score, Germany’s legislative history on antisemitism offers interesting guidance.
In 2021, Germany’s Standing Conference of the Ministers of Education and Cultural Affairs issued a joint recommendation which mobilized a clear definition of antisemitism to provide “orientation for dealing with different forms of antisemitism, describes their effects and highlights prevention and intervention measures.” Directed at “classroom teachers and other educators at schools of all kinds and levels,” the recommendation is distinctive in its discursive tenor – bringing educators into conversation with legislators, rather than projecting a top-down mandate, but moored in a more concrete ideal of a hate-free school. “Open, free and democratic societies based on the rule of law,” the recommendation maintains, are seriously threatened by antisemitism, and indeed any form of hate, and the “schools’ mission [is to] instill maturity and a sense of responsibility in children and young people” to prevent and combat hate.
The recommendation offers specific guidance on how administrators and teachers effectively combat antisemitism on the ground, prescriptions for fighting ‘hate’ by way of cultivating “civic courage and argumentative strategies” and emphasizing the essentiality of a “respectful and open learning environment.”
While detractors of this recommendation and other pieces of legislation proffer similar counterarguments previously discussed, the profundity of Germany’s formally articulation hatred’s manifestations and affirmation of a democratic obligation to avoid it, is striking. Is this a model to which legislators should take heed? Or is this too much of an infringement on academic freedom?
While the extent and definiteness of any prescriptive mandate is open to debate, the broader notion that such a ‘prescriptive mandate’ is needed, is clear, Obvious tensions will arise, but the position more satisfies the ultimate objectives of education for a plural democracy. and principally ensures a more accurate realization of the vision of ‘inclusive education.’