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The centring of Muslim women in Islam resides in an intertwining historico-politico-theological narrative of gender reform, first promulgated in a seventh century revelation of the Qur'an. Significantly, the gains derived by the women of Islam's first community, have become lost in the dominance of contemporary androcentric-patriarchal interpretations. The argument advanced by this paper is that Muslim educational institutions have a responsibility in (re)-scripting gender justice as an imperative of the scripture; and in establishing resonance between identities of faith and citizenship. I commence by looking at the disjuncture between what Islam says about gender equality, and how it unfolds under the predominant auspices of a patriarchal gaze. As an example of this disconnection, I focus on the trajectory of the 'women in mosques' campaigns in South Africa, spanning from an apartheid to a democratic context -- noting that despite, or perhaps, because of far-reaching political change, the resistance encountered by Muslim women has remained the same. Thereafter, I turn my attention to an intertwining consideration: the responsibility of Muslim education in (re)-scripting gender justice as an imperative of the scripture; and the obligation of Muslim education in establishing resonance between identities of faith and citizenship.

In post-apartheid South Africa, a foregrounding of democratic citizenship education through broadened and inclusive participation is especially evident in a decentralised school-based leadership, management, and governance system. Policy-wise, the involvement of parents in School Governing Body (SGB) structures is seen as an enactment of representative and collective consultation, key to the democratisation of schooling and education. In practice, however, the wide-sweeping authority of SGBs, has allowed several schools to continue a historical narrative of exclusion and inequality, effectively widening the gaps between historically advantaged and disadvantaged schools, and putting into effect renewed tensions of inequality and inequity. Key questions arise: has the state erred in its trust of SGBs to enact democratisation? Or are there limits to what democratisation can achieve? In considering these questions, the article explores re-considerations of governance so that interpretations of democratisation of schools are not used in the subversion of education as a public good.

The introduction of school governing bodies in South African schools has largely been motivated by a democratic discourse of communal participation, belonging and accountability. How this has been interpreted has seemingly been limited to understandings of parental participation in the daily functioning of schools. In turn, research on school governing bodies has focused extensively on two contrasting narratives, underscored by an imbalance of power -- that is, either the incapacity of parents to fulfil their mandate, or a dominance of parental involvement, which often undermines the principal's authority. Very little, if any, attention has been afforded to the role of school governing bodies in relation to democratising and diversifying schools. By paying particular attention to the roles and responsibilities of parents on school governing bodies, this article considers two inter-related questions. Do current practices and actions of school governing bodies promote or hamper the democratising agenda, necessary for the transformation of schools? How can school governing bodies, and specifically parents, contribute to the transformation of schools that extend beyond parochial conceptions of parental involvement?

The segregation enforced during apartheid has not only ensured widely disparate South African university landscapes, but also framed constructions of activism in historical discourses of racial disenfranchisement and marginalisation. As a result, activism is implicitly and explicitly associated with disadvantaged universities; with black students; and specifically directed at an apartheid government. If there were expectations -- certainly on the side of government -- that the transition to a democratic state would allay student activism, this was not the case. Instead, student activism -- still manifested in a critical mass of black students -- has not only intensified but has degenerated into disturbing displays of destruction and violence. The recent spate of student protests, which centred on matters of access, free education and decolonisation, and more recently, gender-based violence, has provoked defensive, and at times, antagonistic and discouraging responses from universities -- placing students firmly in an opposing discourse. Seemingly, while the political climate has shifted, universities have yet to reconceptualise their institutional, academic and spatial environments into contexts conducive to open and mutual deliberation. Current impressions from university responses suggest that activism, as symbolised through student protests, is out of place in democratic spaces. In considering the relational positioning of universities to activism and, hence, to students, the interest of this article resides, firstly, in how notions of activism might be reimagined within democratic contexts and, secondly, in how universities might reposition themselves from being sites of activism, to being advocates of social, economic and ethical reform.

The belief that we are living in a post-truth age raises a number of complex, paradoxical questions. Does it suggest, for example, that truth no longer matters? Or, that the idea of truth no longer exists? The university, of course, has long been associated with the interests of truth -- not only in searching for truth, but in telling the truth. This is made evident in its emphasis on logic, rationality, deliberation, debate, reason, contemplation, reflection and academic freedom. Truth, and its ensuing perspectives, perceptions, agreements and conflicts, are what makes a university what it is. As such, the university is as enmeshed in versions of truth, as it is in versions of power -- which serves only to confirm the necessity for a continuous interrogation of these truths, and hence, power. In principle, academic freedom infers that both members of staff and students at universities have the right to engage in intellectual engagement and debate, without fear of censorship. In practice, however, when we take stock of academic freedom in spaces of higher education, we see growing patterns of shutting down, and closing off, rather than opening up. The interest of this article, therefore, is to consider how the university can remain discursively open to that which is new, unfamiliar and unpopular, while simultaneously, doing no harm -- either to itself or its students.

We present a distinctive approach to knowledge exchange used in the 'Shared Space' project; an inter-disciplinary researcher-teacher partnership using Allport's contact theory contact theory as a lens to interpret teachers' self-reported practice in the subject Religion and Worldviews (RWE). By so doing, we created new professional knowledge and understanding of how RWE could be used as a vehicle for promoting community relations. At the project's heart was a team of six whose collaboration across the theory-practice divide has proved unusually close and successful. Here we reflect as a team on our relationships, with each other and the project, through a 'Collective Writing' approach, identifying positive experiences, tensions and disagreements, and strategies used to (partially) resolve these. Issues we faced included potentially irreconcilable differences within and across disciplines related to ontology and epistemology. We identify three particular strategies we have used to address them: reciprocal hospitality and embodying Allport's contact principles within a 'community of enquiry'. We conclude that, despite the challenges, we have remained a strong and productive team, literally 'sharing space', by affording each team member equal status; collaborating towards common goals and in ways that have been supported by our respective institutions.

Despite unimaginable geopolitical reform and re-humanisation, which saw South Africa transition from colonialism, to apartheid, and now, to a democracy, Muslim education has retained both its character and content. Overdue questions remain unanswered as it becomes evident that while politics and the world of Muslims have shifted -- locally and globally -- Muslim education in South Africa has remained unchanged ideologically and pedagogically. With Arendt's (1968) seminal essay, 'Crisis in education', at the back of our minds, we ask whether a lack of crisis in Muslim education and hence Muslim communities in South Africa, is, in fact, its crisis? Has the cocooning of Muslim education rendered its educational institutions and communities incapable of self-critique, reflection and interrogation? The Islamisation or integration of Muslim education, we posit -- in light of a skewed understanding and implementation -- has not been responded to persuasively. Put differently, Islamisation, as a recognition that a crisis in Muslim education has unfolded, has not been appropriately understood and its implementation seems to have exonerated a crisis in Muslim education to the extent that such a crisis has been subtly ignored. That is, Islamisation itself presented a crisis to Muslim education with very few, if any scholars, willing to engage with it as a crisis of Muslim education, to which we offer a democratic response.

Universities, in their multiplex roles of social, political, epistemological and capital reform, are by their constitution expected to both symbolise and enact transformation. While institutions of higher education in South Africa have been terrains of protest and reform -- whether during apartheid or post-apartheid -- the intense multiplex roles which these institutions assume have metaphorically come home to roost in the past 2 years. Not unlike the social-media-infused rumblings, coined as the 'Arab Spring', the recent cascades of #mustfall campaigns have brought to the fore the serious dearth of transformation in higher education and have raised more critical questions about conceptions of transformation, and how these translate into, or reflect, the social and political reform that continues to dangle out of the reach of the majority of South Africans. What, then, does transformation mean and imply? How does an institution reach a transformed state? How does one know when such a state is reached? These are a few of the concerns this article seeks to address. But it hopes to do so by moving beyond the thus far truncated parameters of transformation -- which have largely been seeped in the oppositional politics of historical advantage and disadvantage, and which, in turn, have ensured that conceptions of transformation have remained trapped in discourses of race and racism. Instead, this article argues that the real challenge facing higher education is not so much about transformation, as it is about enacting democracy through equipping students to live and think differently in a pluralist society.

By far the most challenging task faced by schools in post-apartheid South Africa, has been the distance educational leaders were mandated to put between the educational institutions and the apartheid legacy of racial discrimination and exclusion. It is therefore not surprising that there are two dominant approaches to educational leadership, namely the transactional and transformational leadership paradigms that were considered as apposite to ensure the implementation of new educational policy and curriculum developments. Indeed, the theoretical debates about educational leadership have extended expositions of the concepts of transactional and transformative leadership that are often perceived as forms of educational leadership that can enhance the democratisation of educational institutions, such as schools. However, after the demise of apartheid all attempts to move beyond authoritative practices have been shown to be undesirable; and the transactional and transformative forms of educational leadership might have too hastily and prematurely abandoned authoritative forms of leadership. Therefore, in this article the authors argue in defence of authority as constitutive of transformative leadership in schools by reflecting on current leadership practices in schools.

Conventional teacher education programmes do not equip practitioners adequately to navigate ethically complex situations that arise in teaching. One initiative responding to this deficit is "Philosophy for Teachers" ("P4T"), a 24-hour residential approach to community philosophy. Piloted originally in England, a further workshop took place in South Africa in October 2017, comprising student teachers, teacher educators and philosophers from three historically different universities in the Western Cape. Significant new insights to emerge included greater clarity on the respective contributions of P4T and other initiatives already applying "P4C" to address professional ethics within teacher education. In particular, P4T re-framed within this new context can be seen to create shared space for reflection on teacher identity and the complexity of difference and "otherness" in classroom practice.

In May 2017, yet another South African university became a site of hate speech. Three students chose to display Nazi-inspired posters, which advertised an 'Anglo-Afrikaner student' event, under the motto 'Fight for Stellenbosch'. That the posters provoked the response which it so obviously sought, was evident in the student outrage, and the swift condemnation from university management. Neither the prevalence of hate speech, nor its predictable responses, is new. The central concern of this article is to consider the extent to which tolerance can offer a plausible response to hate speech. The questions which arise, however, are: Does the right to divergent viewpoints hold the same legitimacy as antagonistic ones? When is the boundary between legitimate and hate speech breached? Does a democracy imply the tolerance of all forms of speech? Or, are there limits to the forms of speech that a democracy ought to tolerate?

While literature on the interplay between educational leadership and context abounds, the attention granted to the experiences of female principals has, to a large extent, treated the construction of women as a homogeneous entity. Consequently, very little, certainly within the South African context, is known about how women in leadership positions construct and enact their leadership identities. Drawing on the experiences of six female principals at public schools, this article investigates the extent to which conceptions of gender give shape to the formation of leadership identity. To this end, the focus of the article is to explore the complex intersections of constructions of identity in relation to female principals; and how these constructions hold particular implications for conceptions of gendered leadership in South African schools.

Curricular reform in South African schools, as initially encountered through outcomes based education (OBE), and most recently in CAPS, has been criticised and interrogated, if not for its epistemology, then for its political desirability. While justifiable questions were and continue to be asked about the pedagogical adaptability of teachers to their new roles as facilitators of pre-determined outcomes, the same has not been said, or asked, about the preparedness of teachers to teach democratic citizenship education. It is necessary, therefore, to consider how prepared teachers are to teach and cultivate the principles of democratic citizenship education. Second, what considerations should be given to teacher identity in relation to democratic citizenship education? And third, how might South African teachers begin to take account of their identities and narratives, so that they might be placed to participate in teaching democratic citizenship education? In response, I argue that the contested nature of teacher identities makes possible particular contributions to democratic citizenship and democratic education, which are necessary for teaching democratic citizenship education.

Education in democratic South Africa has been saddled with the extraordinary task of sanitising a once dehumanising and splintered education system into a singular narrative of social justice and creative, problem-solving individuals. This extraordinary effort has witnessed a pendulum swing from the openness of outcomes-based education, to a less flexible National Curriculum Statement, and recently, to what has been criticised as a too restrictive Curriculum Assessment Policy Statement (CAPS). In its narrow focus on "assessment for learning", CAPS appears to be trapped in a particular understanding of teaching and learning that can be understood only in terms of measurement, thereby discounting education as happening outside that which can be measured. In this article, I contend, firstly, that while education is not averse to measurement, it cannot be allowed to dominate the educative process. Instead, it is possible to reconcile measurement, as expressed through a "language of needs" with a language of "coming into presence", which recognises that learners enter the education arena with their own ideas of what is known and yet to be known. Secondly, I argue, that if a post-apartheid education system hopes to re-humanise its citizens and society, then this will only be possible through cultivating a curriculum, which is understood as a process of socially just encounters--one which is always in becoming, and therefore not necessarily measurable.

That the issue of violence sits uneasily on the conscience of higher education is evident in the view that educated people are as likely as uneducated people to participate in violence. The concern of conscience is equally prevalent in the view that the public role of the university is "the responsibility of a community of thinking". This means that higher education has an equal potentiality and (im)potentiality for violence. In this article, we offer a threefold argument that the university classroom in democratic South Africa offers a relevant pedagogical site to teach citizenship education. First, higher education should be a pedagogical space where deliberative, compassionate and cosmopolitan encounters are cultivated; second, an active citizenship education is needed to prepare students to deal with violence; and third, a citizenship education in becoming seems to be most appropriate to contend with the unexpected challenges posed by violence.

Schools in post-apartheid South Africa appear to be under siege by violence. In turn, school leaders find themselves in the unenviable position of not only having to deal with inadequate educator professionalism and learner underachievement--particularly in previously disadvantaged schools--but are under pressure to find ways to counteract the violence, and to restore schools as safe sites. Among the biggest challenges facing school leaders is that they have not necessarily acquired sufficient training to deal with violent encounters, and often have responded in equally violent and violating ways, which, to some extent, has enhanced the expulsion and alienation of learners. In drawing on our own project work at five high schools in the Western Cape, we explore the challenges school leaders experience in responding to school violence. In questioning the often equally violent responses of school leaders, we contend that they ought to adopt practices of becoming. That is, school leaders should engage in intimate encounters with the other; not based on a desire to change the other, but rather for the purpose of mutually engaging with the other in an effort to inhabit practices of coming into presence that are humane and just.

The teaching profession in South Africa, like elsewhere in the world, is regulated by the specific codes of conduct, as stipulated by the South African Council for Educators (SACE). While common criticisms against SACE include failing to ensure the registration of all teachers, and not adequately dealing with the unprofessional conduct of teachers, it is the question of whether SACE can act as an ethical regulator, which attracts the most attention. Seemingly, there exists a tension between the legalistic approach to ethical deliberation, as contained in SACE, and the real experiences of teachers, which teachers argue, are neither understood nor taken into account by SACE. In considering whether it is at all possible to teach teachers how to act ethically, or how to use their ethical judgement, the article turns its attention to the inter-related practices of deliberation, belonging and inclusion, as manifestations of ethical teaching.

In its hasty retreat from a racialized and racist South Africa, democratic South Africa was intent on embracing the newly formed 'rainbow nation'. It would be a nation free from all forms of oppression, and unshackled by anger and hatred, as made visible in the life of Nelson Mandela -- the first president of a non-racial, democratic South Africa. It made sense to open schools to all races, inviting children, once divided along lines of race, ethnicity and cultures, to share a uniform, share a school and learn together. Admissions determined on the basis of race and ethnicity, were considered part of an apartheid past. Given the newly established landscape of desegregated schools, many teachers opted for posts at schools where they were previously not allowed to teach. This meant, for example, that coloured teachers began teaching at White schools, and Black teachers at Indian schools. Although not in the same numbers as learners, teachers began to migrate across racial lines in terms of teaching posts. This paper draws on research conducted with what the authors refer to as minority group teachers. These are teachers who do not form part of the majority group in the school in terms of race and ethnicity. In exploring the issues of race and ethnicity of minority group teachers at schools, this paper examines how the silence around conversations on race, ethnicity, religion, culture and language -- what its authors call the identity of 'otherness' -- leads to an invisibility that pretends there is no difference. In other words, if the identity of 'otherness' is not discussed, it does not exist. Secondly, this paper explores how this invisibility of 'otherness' experienced by teachers affects their teaching in diverse classroom settings. Thirdly, in exploring a conception of 'otherness', it is not the intention of this paper to advance an argument in defence of deracialized schooling. Instead, it looks for a language that can break the silence around race and racism -- one that is not necessarily constituted by race. As such, this paper argues for a language of 'otherness' that is constituted by conceptions of infancy, potentiality and becoming -- a language that will re-imprint itself on a re-imagined consciousness of post-apartheid citizenship.

The euphoria of the recent Arab Spring that was initiated in northern African countries such as Tunisia, Egypt and Libya and spilled over to Bahrain, Yemen and Syria brings into question as to whether democratic citizenship education or more pertinently, education for democratic citizenship can successfully be cultivated in most of the Arab and Muslim world. In reference to the Gulf Cooperation Council countries (Bahrain, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Oman and the United Arab Emirates) in the Middle East, we argue that unless gender inequality, mostly instigated by religious-tribal and patriarchal perspectives, is eradicated, it would be impossible to engender any plausible conception of education for democratic citizenship in most of the Arab and Muslim world. Our thesis rests on an understanding that, firstly, education in the Arab and Muslim world is located in an impoverished view of education for Muslims; and secondly, that the notable absence of democratic citizenship is enhanced by gender-based discrimination in society especially in the professions and politics. We contend that education for democratic citizenship in the Arab and Muslim world is necessary and ought to be framed along a pluralist imaginary of citizenship. However, considering the continued prevalence of authoritarianism at politico-social levels our argument is that it seems feasible to enhance and at times disrupt the cultivation of national education drawing on some of the features of a pluralist imaginary of citizenship.

Benhabib (2002:134) maintains that, in order for individuals to become democratic citizens they need to be exposed to at least three inter-related elements: collective identity, privileges of membership, and social rights and benefits. Through exposure to these three inter-related items it is hoped that, by means of the teaching and learning of cultural, linguistic and religious commonalities and differences, a participatory climate of deliberation will emerge in which, ultimately, the rights of all people are recognised and respected (Waghid, 2010:198-199). After a decade of implementing liberal conceptions of democratic citizenship education in public schools in South Africa, questions need to be asked about its credibility and success. We commence this article by analysing the Department of Basic Education's (DoBE, 2011) recently produced Building a culture of responsibility and humanity in our schools: A guide for teachers--a practical guide for teachers that can hopefully engender democratic citizenship education in public schools. Thereafter, in reference to a post-graduate teacher training programme at a South African university, we argue for a renewed and enhanced version of democratic citizenship education.