Zambia (Northern Rhodesia until 1964), is located in south central Africa, home to the Victoria Falls and Lake Kariba. Today, it has a population of around 16 million of which it is said that 95% are Christian 2% Muslim, Hindu, and diverse others (Cheyeka, 2015; Phiri, 2015). The education system consisting government, aided, and private schools has been predominantly natural science oriented since independence. It includes primary (Grades 1–7),Footnote 1 secondary (Forms 8–12), and higher levels. Religious Education has been an intrinsic part of the curriculum from the beginning of western schooling at the primary and later at the junior secondary levels. More recently in 2003, it became part of an integrated Social Science offering at the primary level (Grades 1–7) and an optional subject at secondary school (Grades 8–12). Where chosen, it has certified teachers and is studied like other social science offerings through two or three forty minute periods weekly. It provides an attractive option for about a third of all students up to Grade 12 because it is publicly examined and counts like other subjects for entry to higher levels of education. It also forms part of the Religious Studies program at the University of Zambia (UNZA) and at teacher colleges.

In what follows, I will explore how Religious Education related to the social development of the country, focusing especially on how it functioned in the progressively class promoting school curriculum. This will be done using a socio-historical lens, reviewing documents and reports from various periods as they relate to social justice. It is supplemented with the author’s experience as a teacher of religion at various levels in Zambia over a thirty-year period. Emails from students and teachers also provide immediate evidence. The grid used to explore the data comes from the long-standing religious educator, Michael Grimmitt, who developed what are highly used and, at least for me, academically fruitful concepts—‘learning about’ and ‘learning from’ religion. ‘Learning about’ provides factual material on religions whereas ‘learning from’ is self-critical and potentially transformative (Grimmitt, 1987, pp. 164, 225–227; Kristjansson, 2008).

The particular concern about Religious Education’s social role emerges from where today the majority of the population, though largely schooled, has little prospect of formal employment and the potential for wellbeing associated with that (Benajamin et al., 2021; Carmody, 2021a, 2021b, 2021c). It is true however that the country almost achieved universal primary school for all, which is a major achievement. This was initially seen to be a stepping stone to the formation of a just society:

…Heavy emphasis is placed on primary education because universalizing primary education is required by equity considerations: because primary schools promote economic growth in a way that spreads the advantages of such growth to all sectors of the population even the poorest (The Provision of Education for All 1986, p. 181).

While this statement entailed some truth revealing a concern for social justice, it failed to consider the consequences of such overemphasis on primary schooling for the social order.

Today, as a consequence, 60% of the population is marginalized in poverty of varying degrees, high level or extreme for five million and moderate for almost eight million. At the same time, 77% of university students come from the richest 10% of the population, assisted with state bursaries at tax-payers’ cost (Education Public Review, 2015, p. 44). The education system currently delivers middle-income status for a fortunate few. The concern of this paper is: how did Religious Education treat social justice? Though a multi-layered concept, social justice is broadly taken to mean that each person should receive an equitable share of the national common good (Stromquist, 2005; Zajda et al. 2006).

It may of course be argued that, if Religious Education has its own intrinsic aim (Wright, 2005, p. 27), why would it engage with socio-political concerns? They belong elsewhere. Even as a distinctive subject, Religious Education, like all education, is political (Freire, 1985, p. 128). The link between Religious Education and the social order can obviously vary but to be educational, Religious Education needs to prepare students for life (Reiss & White, 2013, pp. 6, 14; Wright, 2007, p. 126). Besides the intrinsic value of the study of religion especially where religion forms a major part of life, as in Zambia, it ought to equip its students to make well-informed choices about their religious or non-religious worldviews, which evidently has social consequences (Carmody & Carmody, 1988; Groome, 2006, pp. 763–777; Pring, 2018, p. 114).

Though social justice has rarely explicitly featured in Zambian discussions of Religious Education because of other concerns, there has been a widely-shared undercurrent pointing to its weak critical element (Cheyeka, 2006; Simuchimba, 2004, pp. 108–117; Mujdrica, n.d; Mwale et al., 2014; Mwansa, 2004, pp. 34–41).

1 Religious Education: a historical review

1.1 Colonial times

For much of the colonial period 1924–1964, the churches adopted a go-it-alone approach—each church ploughed its own furrow towards evangelization. This manifested itself in churches’ use of the primary schools as instruments of their mission where Religious Education was church based (Ragsdale, 1986, p. 33; Snelson, 1974, pp. 157–158). Politically, the churches could be seen to be neutral which was interpreted to be supportive of the status quo, at least overtly (Carmody, 2006; Horton & Freire, 1990, p. 102; Kallaway, 2020, pp. 45–51).

1.2 Post independence: 1964 onwards

Despite ambiguous church support for the nationalist cause, when Zambia gained independence in 1964, the new government invited church cooperation. Within this setting, Religious Education, still largely denominational (exclusively church focused), continued to be part of the curriculum of both the primary and secondary schools that were emerging.

Zambia’s first President, the late Kenneth Kaunda (1964–1991), whose father was a Presbyterian minister viewed religion and Religious Education to have an important role in the new nation but expressed dislike of the denominational approach to it:

…we cannot afford to add religious divisions to tribal differences…I happen to be one of those odd people who feels equally at home in a cathedral, synagogue, temple or mosque (Carmody, 2021b; Kaunda, 1973, pp. 22–23).

The President’s preference to have a potentially socially unifying type of religion and Religious Education left the churches with a challenge. If they wished to keep Religious Education on the curriculum, they needed to re-think its exclusively church framed character. This came to deciding whether they wanted to seize the opportunity to have religion studied in the school or not. It needs to be noted that government through its Ministry of Education was in control (Education Act, 1966, p. 234). In light of possible exclusion of Religious Education from the school curriculum, various churches among which were Anglicans, Baptists, Catholics, Church of Christ, Dutch Reform, London Mission, Seventh Day Adventists agreed to an inter-denominational Religious Education programme (Smith, 1982).

At the same time, in the early years of national independence, The Ministry of Education stressed academic achievement as the way to national development and this was in line with the government’s modernization approach (McCowan, 2015, pp. 31–58). Yet, President Kaunda spoke of creating a nation of equals where division between those who ‘have’ and those who ‘have not’ should be minimal (Kaunda n. d). The Ministry however highlighted the value of academic outcomes to such a degree that religion and moral values were secondary. Though Religious Education remained an academic subject on the school curriculum, its significance compared weakly with natural science. Without great difficulty, the churches realized that Religious Education might be removed. Underlying the tension between the value of study of religion and that of science was the large though latent question of what constitutes reason and how it might be approached educationally (Gelpi, 1997, pp. 62–63; Pring, 2021; Roberts, 2012).

By edging towards a more inter-denominational Religious Education offering, the churches were thus motivated by the need to ensure that the subject would continue to be accepted as part of the curriculum. Through agreeing to have an interdenominational syllabus, Religious Education at both primary and secondary levels moved towards being an acceptable, publicly examinable, academic subject. One might say it approached being a subject like others with the ambiguity which this entails (Hyde, 2013, pp. 36–45).

Through becoming more academic, the form of religion presented became more educational but was more like what has been called ‘civil religion’ where its foundation in specific doctrines and practices was largely overlooked (Bellah, 2006, pp. 4–6; Donoghue, 2001, pp. 106–107; Warrier & Oliver, 2008, p. 5). The interdenominational model nevertheless seemed appropriate when pupils from diverse denominations shared the same classroom and when teachers often came from a church different from that of many of the pupils (Smith, 1982, p. 10).

Religious Education thus gradually achieved a trans-church character. At the same time, it was being undermined nationally by a creeping secularism spurred on by a growing presence of Marxism in the country. At an official level, this meant an increasingly anti-religious atmosphere. This emerged ambivalently from President Kaunda’s concern for the creation of a more egalitarian society through Marxist ideas in a situation where the school system began to foster an elite (Kaunda, 1973, pp. 107–110).

The presence of Marxist ideology as a national route to a more socialist and equitable order brought criticism from the churches but acted as a kind of ‘wake-up’ call to them when it was rumoured that Religious Education might be replaced with political education (Carmody, 2004a, pp. 32–33). Nonetheless, the interdenominational syllabi came to be seen to be the right forum in which to prepare students with more informed and tolerant perspectives to encounter other forms of religion and less clearly ideology. Marxist government rhetoric incited those responsible for Religious Education to include a social justice component. This consisted of such themes as ‘Man in a Changing Society,’ ‘Order and Freedom in Society,’ ‘Life,’ ‘Man and Woman’.Footnote 2 However, having lost touch with its denominational base, Religious Education’s moral imperative was weakened not unlike what has been seen to be the case in England when it adopted a phenomenological mode of delivery (Barnes, 2001, pp. 445–461).

Religious Education then could be said to resemble, in Michael Grimmitt’s words, a ‘learning about’ religion (Grimmitt, 1987, pp. 225–227; Noddings, 2008, p. 369). Pupils learned about beliefs, teachings and practices of different religious traditions in an abstract, impersonal, way (Grimmitt, 1987, p. 225). Though Grimmitt’s view of Religious Education has been chosen for the purpose of viewing the development of Religious Education, there are other ways of seeing it as we have already indicated. Nonetheless, Grimmitt’s paradigm essentially indicates the need for a ‘critical’ component which is echoed in most interpretations of Religious Education in Zambia.

Grimmitt’s notion of ‘learning about’ has value but it tends to centre exclusively on the text and thinly examines, if it does, what the text meant in daily life (Elias, 2006, pp. 9–21; Horton & Freire, 1990, p. 131). A student of the time reveals some of the gap between classroom learning and real life thus:

…I wish I knew the concept of social justice in high school, then I would have passionately championed for it unlike where instead I acted with pity towards others because of my upbringing. I remember having to share a portion of my breakfast with a few classmates who walked long distances to primary school on empty stomachs. (Shandele email October 20, 2021).

As already noted, Grimmitt’s ‘learning from’ religion introduces a self-critical moment in Religious Education, which we contend has been largely absent. For him:

…when I speak of pupils learning from religion I am referring to what pupils learn from their studies in religion about themselves—about discerning ultimate questions and ‘signals of significance’ in their own experience and considering how they might respond to them (Grimmitt, 1987, p. 227).

This challenge where Religious Education remained remote from life and the social order continued beyond the Marxist period. In 1991, The Movement for Multiparty Democracy (MMD) government wished to dissociate itself from Marxism by declaring the country to be a ‘Christian nation’. Though the Marxist threat in the early 1990s was largely past, students still needed a means of critically appraising even this ‘Christian nation’ intervention. They needed to be able to evaluate whatever sources of invasion by half-truths, propaganda, prejudices, and forms of religion which they were meeting. Were they receiving any such critical tools?

2 The nature of Religious Education at university: 1991 onwards

As Religious Education was introduced to the University curriculum in the 1980s, those responsible remained anxious to ensure its respectability as an academic subject. This concern needs to be seen in the light of the creeping modernisation, seminally secularist, approach to education for national development which has been acknowledged. It was also coloured by the Marxist climate that had existed leaving scepticism about the value of religion and its presence as an area of study at the university (Carmody, 2004a, 2004b, 2004c, p. 83).

Though the Marxist-derived paradigm of development had been ambiguously interpreted in Zambia in the late 1970s and 1980s, much of its rhetoric had been adopted by the ruling United National Independence Party (UNIP) and university student groups. This was especially true in UNIP’s autumnal days under the rubric of Scientific Socialism (Marxism Humanism & Christianity, 1979). Even in 1989, despite the demise of the Soviet Union and the break-down of the Berlin Wall, the overall political atmosphere in Zambia still had a Marxist veneer with a lukewarm, if any, welcome for the study of religion at the university especially in political circles.

Though ordinarily Religious Studies would fall under the domain of Humanities, it was located in Languages and Social Science Education (LSSE). Whatever its parentage, it was seen to fall within the domain of Education. This made some sense as its main function was to prepare Religious Education teachers and lecturers even if one would have expected that it should have been located in the School of Humanities. Identifying it as a social science revealed ambiguity about how university authorities understood religion (Moran, 2006, p. 44).

The initial selection of courses in religion offered at the University of Zambia (UNZA) approached religion historically and sociologically and were intended to enhance the background of secondary school teachers. Because religion was presented principally in such a sociological way, it was not a major challenge for the teacher to present it impartiality when speaking of different denominations. Almost anybody could teach this type of religion whatever his/her religious or non-religious background. More central was that it should be treated with academic rigor comparable to what other subjects demanded.

While the study of religion was not, as we have seen, new to the Zambian school system, its nature had shifted to being more educational. One could argue that, within the educational system which operated with its almost exclusive economic development emphasis, Religious Education remained marginal. As in several Western countries, in its efforts to be academic and a subject like others, the study of religion was in danger of being packaged and kept in a neat corner where one might or might not go, depending on how useful one deemed it to be (Groome, 2014, pp. 119–121; Hyde, 2013; Pring, 2020). Though Religious Education held its place as a subject in the curriculum over the years, it struggled to become respectably academic, which may have overshadowed any large-scale concern on the part of those responsible for a socially transformative role.

Within the context of preoccupation to ensure that Religious Education would be acceptable inter-denominationally as well as that it would compare favourably with other subjects, it appears that the patrons of Religious Education failed to satisfactorily distinguish religion from its cultural embodiment in different churches and forms of religion. This accounts for the fact that the study of religion became text book-centred.

One could say that Grimmitt’s ‘learning from’ religion remained weak. What this meant was that pupils were rarely encouraged to ask autobiographical questions. They were not required to engage in personal evaluation of religious beliefs, values and practices (Grimmitt, 2000, p. 35). Thus, there was little emphasis on what pupils learned from their study of religion personally. Almost definitely, Religious Education had an impersonal critical component as other subjects had. However, from the perspective of Religious Education, it did not stretch much beyond this to self or social criticism (Balin & Siegel, 2003, pp. 181–193; Grimmitt, 1987, pp. 226–228; Noddings, 2013, pp. 62–63; Winch, 2004).

3 Religious Education: effective social critique?

Movement in the direction of social critique had barriers. In its scramble to be acceptably academic, Religious Education became embedded in an overall education system that tended to be abstract and textbook-centred. It was thus safely distant from life especially political concerns (Carmody, 2004b, p. 159). In the light of the political situation which had become dictatorial and oppressive in the 1980s, this mode of delivery may have suited the churches. People feared to say what they really felt. Instead, they remained silent or were careful not to be seen to be critical of the state president, Kaunda, or his government (Lungu, 1986; Mwalimu, 2014). As a long-serving teacher of Religious Education from this period recalled:

The following incident happened in my class in Mumbwa Secondary School in 1987…I read an article from the Zambia Daily Mail and asked the class what they thought about it. Since I did not get a good response, I got annoyed. A girl told me after class that I was very unfair to ask them to express their opinion in public. She said that there were many pupils in class who worked for the Office of the President. Anyone who made a critical remark and showed a lack of appreciation of our leaders would be reported. (Mudalitsa n.d, 1)

It appears that what was being delivered in Religious Education needed to be cautious in any political observations. Furthermore, its capacity to induce self-reflection and critique of the social order was greatly limited as churches were insecure in this climate of one party rule. Whatever else, the churches were eager to keep Religious Education located within an increasingly secularist and market-place educational framework (Catholic Bishops, 2009: sec 5).

When the study of religion was approved as a major component of the university undergraduate programme in 1991, additional course offerings such as ‘An Introduction to World Religions,’ were added but they remained largely decontextualized (D’Costa, 2009, pp. 60–62; Hobson & Edwards, 1999, p. 165). The notion of teacher impartiality would ordinarily emerge as a thorny issue when students looked at different religions as it would seem natural for them to ask which form of religion was right and true or truer than others? This did not appear to be a real issue largely because what was being done was to describe some of the main major religions like Traditional African Religion, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism and Zoroastrianism. Their descriptions were treated academically and they rarely touched the question of truth.

The study of religion thus entailed two distinct worlds—that of the classroom and that of life. In school, it was being reduced to ‘learning about’ which is knowledge divorced from inwardness (Freire, 1985, p. 128; Grace, 2002). Such safe distance from ordinary life seems to have been generally true though, at times in the classroom, Religious Education might be expanded from within and enter the domain of ‘learning from’ religion. ‘Learning about’ and ‘learning from’ religion occasionally worked together as had been originally envisaged (Grimmitt, 2000, p. 38; Wright & Wright, 2017, pp. 713–727). Religious Education was nonetheless operating preponderantly within a paradigm where points in examination remained the major priority for students which was in line with the emphasis of education generally in Zambia.

To move beyond this somewhat neutral ‘academic’ stance and be distinctive remained an on-going challenge. It leads to the question of the distinctively educational value of the Religious Education that was taking place (Carmody, 2021a). Limited to ‘learning about’ religion, Religious Education risks misinterpretation of religious data not unlike what might even be true in the study of literature, art, music, social or even natural science. Such learning can resemble the critic of literature who writes his/her critique without properly experiencing what the text is talking about (West & Dube 2000: 93). It could be compared to looking at a stained-glass window from outside. It fails to reconstruct the insider’s world (Jackson, 1997, p. 25; Pring, 2021, p. 2).

3.1 Social transformation

The study of religion at UNZA was perhaps little different to what was offered at most public universities (Nord, 1995, pp. 305–315). It developed in line with the university’s more general exam-focused mode, where narration and memorization featured predominantly (Catholic Bishops, 2009, sec 4). It could perhaps be seen to promote functional religious literacy in so far as it helped navigate the domain of religion and social justice (Hannan, 2019, p. 214).

Something similar was taking place more widely, the Religious Education curriculum included sections on social justice and inclusivity. However, treatment of justice within this setting was minimal as it was a small part of one of the two Religious Education offerings at secondary level. It was moreover embedded in the overall school ‘learning about’ curriculum. Thus, in so far as it happened at all, encountering their own social situations, students approached them through the lens of texts. The Religious Education students would be unlikely to ask if such textual conceptualization corresponded with what they experienced daily (Nurenberg, 2011). The inequity of the education system itself for example featured little, if at all, even though 88% of students in primary school aspire to university education, while only 3–4% have access to it. More was needed for the study of social justice if it was to be seen to be more than a school exercise even questioning the status-quo. (Calvert, 2014; Ela, 1981; Nash, 2004; Sheffler, 1989, pp. 134–135).

Because of approaching the study of social justice in this abstract way, words were weakly linked to the reality. It might be said that students learned more about abstractions and less about the actual reality. This captures the situation where teaching about social justice is close to being academically dead even when it has an important role in peoples’ lives (Nord, 1995, p. 230). What was missing was how to satisfactorily interpret the reality to which the textbook referred.

Learning the basic terms offers a necessary starting point or essential grammar as Grimmitt’s ‘learning about’ indicates. It is a first step, but to truly appreciate the reality under study, the learner has to go beneath the words and rituals. He/she thereby enters the messiness of the real world where for example he/she struggles to find the money for school in a schooling system that is pro-rich. Translating the classroom text to reality has been and remains a major challenge. As a Zambian professor of Religious Education puts it:

My feeling is that our teachers fail to communicate knowledge of social justice in an effective way. Our teachers teach the text-book and give examples from it. They do not bring the subject to the present. When our teachers are teaching they are shy to engage pupils to spell out injustices that they have experienced or that they have observed in school, locality, or country (Cheyeka, 2022).

Such failure to make the school subject truly local and engaging is underpinned when it is contended that the school system is heralded to be egalitarian because of its meritocratic human capital approach (Calvert, 2014). Besides, this sense of ‘alright-ness’ about how the system currently works, one also has to appreciate that for teachers to identify and discuss sensitive issues demands a better educational background than many teachers may possess (Carmody, 2020, pp. 136–137). As Cheyeka (2022) further reflects:

…Two years ago, at a Lusaka secondary school, the head could not accept the behavior of two teachers—their classes were campaign sessions for the President.

This, among other reasons, may account for shyness about discussions of justice in the classroom. Unless teachers are prepared to teach controversial issues, as in the instance quoted, they may be indoctrinating (Freedman, 2007). Yet, of course, those who are educated ought to have the ability to enter and participate in an informed and reasoned discussion about where truth lies (Nord, 1995, p. 224). Hence, the need for this kind of discourse and the importance of good teacher education.

3.2 Pedagogical considerations

For teacher and student, mature interpretive capacity requires Grimmitt’s ‘learning from’ religion along the lines indicated by Wright’s amplification (Grimmitt, 1987, pp. 226–228; Wright, 2007, pp. 201–236). For Grimmitt, this happens through approaching the experience with open mind and in the process the learner attends to his/herself not unlike what Jackson speaks about as reflexivity (Barnes, 2014, p. 200). Grimmitt speaks of the student becoming more aware of his/her assumptions and thereby learns personally from what the other is saying. For Grimmitt, learning becomes autobiographical, as the learner evaluates what is studied in personal terms. It could be seen to be a question of learning to look beyond external phenomena so as to penetrate the real (Wright, 2007, p. 201).

When the learner juxtaposes what the religious tradition he/she is studying is saying about ultimate and social issues with his/her own understanding, he/she is likely to be even fundamentally challenged. Grimmitt notes that learners’ taken for granted meaning can thus be problematized as he/she is encouraged to examine propositions not simply as accepted and perhaps true but to dig deeper and examine the problems and inquiries from which such propositions and doctrines emerge as provisional solutions (Pring, 2019, p. 133).In such ‘learning from’ religion, the emphasis shifts from highly passive reception of data to making what is correctly understood one’s own. The learner begins to recognize his/her own self-transcending voice (Freire, 1996, pp. 68–105; Groome, 2006, pp. 763–777; Poulimatka, 2005; Wright, 2007, p. 201).

The educator’s challenge at this stage has been spoken about as that of moving students from a grasp of narratives and narrative forms being studied to reflection on their own lives as they begin to ask: what would it be like to complete the narrative of my life successfully? (Dunne & Hogan, 2004, p. 9). This inner path to deeper self-reflection and potential self-transcendence opens the way to where the learner develops an assimilative capacity from which to discern the truth of what traditions offer (Carmody, 2015, pp. 505–506; Carmody, 2017, pp. 169–170).

This movement to self-reflection is seen to be central to Religious Education and education in general if it is to help students examine their lives and explore the potential of education for social reform (Krishnamutri, 1966, pp. 15, 64; Noddings, 2006, p. 289; Noddings, 2007, p. 228; Wright, 2007, p. 126). Pedagogically, there is need for students to establish a reflective discourse between their conscious operations and what is hidden by the culture (Hanchin & Hearlson, 2020, p. 263).

4 Churches, justice and Religious Education

Since the principal patrons of Religious Education in the curriculum have been the churches, one may ask why they endorsed such a ‘learning about’ mode of education in Religious Education? As noted, the churches struggled to ensure that Religious Education should form part of the overall curriculum. To do this, they agreed to work together on an interdenominational programme and, despite significant differences, managed to do this. Moreover, they also succeeded in placing Religious Studies on the university syllabus. Both movements could perhaps rightly be seen to be a major achievement.

Part of the cost of this appears to be that the churches became progressively assimilated into the national system of education; hence, they became part of the ‘learn about’ culture (Carmody, 2014, p. 2: Glancer, 2009). Their schools were often top of the league tables, which has made the faith schools highly attractive for students (Berman, 1975; Carmody, 1990). As bishops’ letters indicate (A Pastoral Letter, 2009, pp. 4–5, 8–10; Empowerment Through Education, 2004, pp. 22, 41, 46) there was awareness that such a mode of educating with such high emphasis on academic outcomes was far from ideal as they endorsed much of the self-critical dimension which the government documents Focus on Learning (1992) Educating Our Future (1996) advocated. However, the churches’ appreciation of the importance of a different kind of learning as well as their capacity to influence the direction of education in the country generally seems to have been severely limited. In any event, there is little evidence of much effective follow through from these church pronouncements. It might then be concluded that, though far from ideal, they were not overly concerned so long as Religious Education remained part of the national curriculum (A Pastoral Letter, 2009, p. 6).

The degree to which church authorities were unhappy with the content of Religious Education over the years is far from obvious (Carmody, 2004a). Reservations in general hovered around specific methodological matters rather than on the broader socio-political concern. As a result, any classroom treatment of the political order tended to remain securely distant from the social order in which students and staff lived. We have seen why this may have been accepted in the Kaunda dictatorial era. However, there was no major call for reform of the system when the new MMD more democratic government came to power in 1991.

Churches generally appeared content to support government(s) in the overall drive towards structural adjustment rather than structural reform. This pattern appears to be, with rare exceptions, widespread (Beirne, 1985; Ela, 1981; Grace, 2013; Hunt et al., 2013). Churches’ concern for the less fortunate may have inspired them to make specific demands but there is scant indication that it led them to question the overall social order. Within such a mode of existence, they settled for a piece-meal approach or what has been termed assistentialism without addressing the roots of the inequality (Schugurensky 1998, 21). In large part, it is argued that this happened because of an uncritical acceptance of the mythical notion that schooling is the great source not only of social mobility but of equity and justice (Calvert, 2014; Carmody, 2021a, 2021b, 2021c, p. 3).

5 Conclusion

Though Religious Education constituted part of the school system in Zambia for over a century, its relationship to the politics has tended to be somewhat ambivalent. At first, as an instrument of churches, it remained ambiguously ‘neutral’. As it entered public space almost as a subject like any other, the concern of the churches was pragmatic in so far as they were anxious that Religious Education should feature in the school curriculum. Because of this, it is contended that overtly political advocacy continued to be muted. The churches instead appear to have tolerated the kind of Religious Education that fitted a social order which created, reproduced, and continues to support elite formation.

In discussing this issue of growing injustice, we have spoken of Grimmitt’s ‘learning about’ religion. Few other writers have spoken of the same situation similarly though most have indicated a need for a more ‘critical’ dimension for Religious Education. This forms part of an overarching question: why those responsible for Religious Education, largely the churches and associated groups, did not campaign for a more robust social justice agenda?

While appreciating a degree of apprehension on the part of the churches in face of political reprisal at different points, it has been argued that, more significantly, the creation of an egalitarian community through school operates paradigmatically even though this mode of thinking has progressively been seen to be mythical as social justice is replaced by a blind faith in the market (Burbules & Torres, 2000; Calvert, 2014).