Abstract
This article presents a dialogue between Marek Tesar, Professor at the University of Auckland, and Yulida Pangastuti, a researcher and lecturer at Universitas Gadjah Mada, exploring the reconceptualisation of early childhood education in Indonesia. The conversation delves into the integration of indigenous perspectives, addressing global crises through education, promoting gender equality, and the theoretical foundations and critiques of ideas that shape contemporary early childhood education. The discussion emphasises the importance of incorporating local wisdom and values into educational practices, fostering environmental stewardship and resilience, and challenging traditional gender roles to create more inclusive and equitable learning environments. Theoretical insights from postcolonial and feminist theories demonstrate their critical role in deconstructing colonial legacies and patriarchal structures within education. The article aims to contribute to the ongoing dialogue on creating educational frameworks that respect and utilise diversity, promote social justice, and empower all children. Drawing on diverse theoretical perspectives and practical strategies, this dialogue offers a comprehensive approach to rethinking early childhood education in ways honouring cultural relevance, sustainability, and equity.
Yulida, it’s wonderful to connect with you again. I’ve been following your work since you completed your PhD at the University of Auckland. How have things progressed for you at Universitas Gadjah Mada (UGM)?
Hello Marek, I am also pleased to reconnect again with you. Discussing early childhood education always feels like coming home, so thank you for this opportunity. Moving to sociology is important but also not an easy path: sociology produces many critical theories and debates. Nevertheless, childhood issues, specifically early childhood in education contexts, are still under-discussed due to the broad spectrum of issues covered by the discipline, especially within the tradition of sociology in Indonesia. However, I want to see it from a more liberating perspective of “pushing the boundaries” by using the freedom to develop outside the prescribed tradition of Indonesian early childhood education (Aslanian, 2022). I am grateful to be where I am now. Maybe by being in sociology, I can connect early childhood education and put it in dialogues with broader perspectives and interests, creating building blocks for awareness and advocacy.
I’m glad to hear that. Your thesis on finding all stakeholder voices in Indonesian early childhood and the expansion of early childhood education was a significant contribution to the field. It speaks to and opens up possibilities about reconceptualising early childhood education in Indonesia, South East Asia, and post-colonial space. How do you think the global and local contexts intersect with this important concept of reconceptualisation (Yelland et al., 2021)?
That is a critical question for me. In Indonesia, the local context is deeply rooted in community values and indigenous knowledges, practices, languages and ontologies—these are embedded in practices we do and live with every day. However, as my research also demonstrates, global educational paradigms often overshadow these local contexts, become more important, and shape the future of Indonesian childhoods (Abebe et al., 2023). These paradigms travel to places like Indonesia through the hearts and minds of international development organisations (Penn, 2011) and global education movements (Pangastuti, 2023). Through these networks, ECE is proposed using models that might have been proven successful in the West that require specific consumption pattern (Penn, 2005). In addition, the ECE’s importance is often conveyed through representations of medical-scientific findings on how a child’s brain and synapses grow. However, these global networks of actors are unaware, to say the least, of how these multiple layers of knowledge are enacted in and affect Indonesian contexts. Like other Global South countries, Indonesia has complex relationships with the West. Hence, the interactions between global and local are never neutral; they also shape what is perceived as “good” or “better” in Indonesia.
For me, reconceptualising early childhood education means an obligation to deconstruct our practices and unpack the knowledge we learn in ECE. This task is needed to critically determine to what extent these elements of global and local contexts have shaped our ECE practices and whether or not these dominant perspectives have diverted our intention from empowering our children and their communities, respecting their identities, dignities and values, to a set of authorised mechanisms that systematically subjugate and marginalise. This challenging task will disrupt many normalised practices and highlight the complexities of narratives. Sometimes, people do not want complexities because we have been taught to see them as chaos, disorder, and disobedience. But we should not fear complexities because Indonesia is indeed a complex society. Another part needed in reconceptualising is the opportunity to reflect critically on our practices and evaluate what we want from the process. This process is important to cultivate agentic teachers and learners. In other words, reconceptualising early childhood education is only possible if we acknowledge and integrate these varied reflexive narratives into our educational frameworks and challenge the dominant paradigms.
Part 1: Integrating indigenous perspectives
Yulida, your prior comments closely align with the call for papers we’re responding to, which emphasises the need to question our practices and consider whose interests are served. The hegemony of developmental psychology (and educational sciences and international aid agencies) is shaping the universal concept of a child in Indonesia, which often marginalises diverse cultural contexts. How do you see this playing out in Indonesia?
In Indonesia, there is a tendency to adopt Western educational models, sometimes leading to a disconnect with the local cultural context. For instance, “developmental milestones” don’t always align with how children grow and learn in Indonesian communities. By reconceptualising early childhood education, we can develop more inclusive practices and be representative of our cultural realities.
Fascinating. The reconceptualist movement, as highlighted by Sally Lubeck, urges us to challenge and dream simultaneously: We must interrogate existing paradigms and imagine new possibilities (Lubeck, 1996). Can you envision this in practical terms within Indonesian education?
Thank you for reminding me of Sally Lubeck. Her work has contributed significantly to the strong emergence of critical perspectives on ECE. By saying, “To reconceptualise is to be angry and to dream” (Lubeck, 1991), she highlights how “reconceptualisation” becomes a double-blade strategy we need for change. It urges us to question and dismantle inadequate practices. Meanwhile, the dream is to hope and to be creative in building better systems. This strategy can only be used simultaneously—the anger fuels the drive to challenge and change, while the dream inspires the vision to create and innovate.
The most fundamental task is to stop and dismantle the deficit thinking model from Indonesia’s ECE system. This model has been backed for a long time by pseudoscience, which spreads through unequal networks from the global discources down to grassroots levels. This paradigm perpetuates culture and class-based marginalisation while preventing us from questioning how schools have been positioned in a structure that reproduces inequality (Valencia, 2010). In Indonesia, the deficit model has been discussed limitedly at the scholarly level (see Adriany and Tesar, 2022). Still, we need to push more to raise this awareness and offer a better practice that relies on a more inclusive approach sensitive to our heterogeneous identities. This task will be daunting, but it also demands us to think creatively and identify where to start—the beginning of the dream, and I would like to start with the curriculum.
The curriculum is a vital frontier for change. We need a curriculum—in the broadest sense—that allows teachers to incorporate the diversity of values and wisdom and an empowering system to support this effort toward social justice. One of the most frequently mentioned approaches could be the development of culturally responsive curricula, which is desperately needed. If children could reflect their culture in the curriculum, it would validate their experiences. It fosters a sense of pride and belonging, which is important in opening up possibilities for new experiences. This means creating educational materials and activities that reflect the local community’s values, stories, and practices. For example, in Indonesia, traditional folktales can be used as a teaching tool to convey moral lessons and cultural values. These stories engage children’s imaginations and connect them to their cultural heritage (Adriany et al., 2020).
Nevertheless, It is critical to remember that for a long time, education in Indonesia, through examination and text-book teaching, taught children to recognise rigid “boundaries” that separate what is “right” or “accepted” from what is considered “wrong” and “condemned” (Leigh, 1999). Hence, a simple term like “culture” can be problematic and limiting because it has been refracted through the narrow perspective of the authority in power (i.e. state, intelligentsia, or traditional elite), resulting in the marginalisation of the culture of everyday life (Heryanto, 2018). Teachers, due to their gender, age, and sociopolitical economy, are often excluded from this process, relegating teachers to the passive meaning-making position who are also “obedient.” This status also shapes Indonesian teachers’ subjectivities. As Bjork’s (2005) critique, Indonesian teachers’ autonomy is minimal despite the rhetoric on decentralised education and school autonomy, ECE teachers remain controlled by discourses of “quality” (Formen, 2018), insensitive professionalisation schemes (Yulindrasari and Ujianti, 2018), and discriminative regulations.
I argue that to create an inclusive curriculum oriented toward social justice, we must consider the “big things” like character development, national identity, competencies, and so on. However, we must also recognise the urgent need for the opportunity to interpret and reflect at the practice level and engage in continuous dialogue with the political agenda. Without this dialogical process, ECE curriculum reform will remain superficial and alienate children, teachers, and communities from everyday education practices. The system should allow the participation of the community beyond the structural domain of education. For example, professional development programs run by indigenous communities can help teachers develop these competencies and create more culturally responsive classrooms. This is particularly important in postcolonial contexts like Indonesia, where attempts to align knowledge systems with market competition have become pervasive, marginalising and devaluing our local knowledge.
So here is my dream: One day, Indonesian ECE teachers will have good resources (including for themselves) so that they can integrate their community’s knowledge and practices, including the indigenous ontology, into learning so children understand their cultural heritage and identities, narrowing the gaps between home and school environments (Gibbons et al., 2024). Indonesia today has a robust civil society movement due to our long history of repression. We use civil society as the “third sector” to strive for our welfare and social justice ideologies. In part, this can explain the strong presence of community-based ECE, whose history has even preceded the existence of Indonesia as a nation-state. Community-based organisations like Aisyiyah own more than 20,000 private kindergartens and playgroups (Suara Aisyiyah, 2021). I have also seen many other big and small organisations that insist on promoting more inclusive approaches and critical theories to ECE learning. Through their insistence, I see a possibility always to question or at least balance the state’s policy and resist the universalising practices. At the heart of this is the principle of democracy, not in a narrow yet popular understanding of “one man, one vote,” but as a mechanism that can guard the possibility of alternative thinking and practices of ECE.
Yes, community involvement, including parental, is crucial. In New Zealand, we’ve seen similar approaches to integrating Māori and Pasifika perspectives in early childhood education through the Te Whāriki curriculum (Ministry of Education, 2017). It’s about creating an educational framework that respects and uplifts indigenous knowledge systems; once the system is in place, it supports further developments.
Exactly. Seeing how Te Whāriki has successfully integrated Māori perspectives is inspiring. My partner and I decided to enrol our child in a Māori ECE while living in New Zealand. We learned many things from the experience. Our most important takeaway is our faith in how such a model is possible. What happens with Te Whāriki is not an exoticisation but an integration of worldview, values and practises. We also learnt that Te Whāriki is not exclusively meant only for the Māori. Every learner in New Zealand can understand it and get important lessons from it. Isn’t it funny how we often fear Indigenous cultures, judging their cultures as a singularity, hence not having the capacity beyond their communities, yet we are so accustomed to seeing the Western colonial schooling system as something natural and universal that we rely on it for our children’s education? In this case, Te Whāriki’s presence contests such a dominant view. From Te Whāriki, we learnt the inclusivity of Māori culture—that we feel like part of the school’s community, and everybody in New Zealand, regardless of ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds, can learn from it and take it as an influence of our worldview.
I believe Indonesia can learn from New Zealand’s Te Whāriki. ECE learning should be nuanced and contextual. Research on Indigenous early childhood in Indonesia has shown that Indigenous children do have roles in their cultural structures, while education is not pursued through Cartesian Logic but aimed at spiritual development through the use of symbolism and aesthetics (Wijaya Mulya et al., 2022). For example, Indigenous Javanese education was organised to train children’s feelings, souls, and characters over mere logic and reason to resist Western influences and feudalistic injustices (see Dewantara, 1967; Sagita Krissandi et al., 2023) or how symbols and rituals help the children of Sasak in Lombok identify themselves as part of the “Sasak” and provide them with opportunities to become agentic members of their communities (Amigó et al., 2022a).
We can never exclude these cultural practices from our lives. Culture remains an important part of our children’s lives, including education. However, too often, Javanese cultures in schools are limitedly represented through exoticised practices of children wearing traditional costumes and alienating Javanese Language subjects. Failing to contextualise it in relevant and relational contemporary contexts, Javanese culture will only become an outdated lesson about the history of noble culture in a romanticised past.
We need a curriculum that can facilitate plural epistemologies and native pedagogies that can help children with a sense of belonging instead of alienating children from it (Amigó et al., 2022a). Based on the experience of Te Whāriki, language is indeed important. Still, beyond that, philosophical values should become the heart of integrating local-cultural values into our ECE curriculum. Without proper articulation in the curriculum, we take our culture for granted.
However, I must admit that Indonesia’s situation is complex. Unlike in New Zealand, historically, the relationship between the indigenous and settlers in Indonesia is more elusive. The complexity is due to the colonial experiences that affect the discourses of indigeneity. Even to solve the question of who the Indigenous people are. The answer depends on who gets to represent the “Normative Identities” or the “Self” and the one who gets marginalised—the Other. Data show that at least 4.7 million people are currently members of 2161 customary law entities (Data Indonesia, 2024). In Indonesia’s context, this population is relatively small but fragmented, making the entities an easy target for predatory politics (Rosser, 2016), especially with the direct election system from the president down to the village government. There has been an indication of a proliferation of deeply divided ethnicised polities (Aspinall, 2011), meaning that indigenous communities have been mobilised for instrumental reasons and not necessarily for empowerment.
Should we give up on these cultural complexities? I do not think we can or should. The most apparent thing is that Indonesia is a highly heterogeneous society; hence, it is impossible to organise learning by imposing a homogeneous process without reducing it to one-sided, ineffective learning (Reed and Beveridge, 2021). The growing global environmental challenge we face today also raises the question about the limit of ECE as a neoliberal project of individuation of competition (Duhn et al., 2019). We cannot go in this direction anymore. On the contrary, we need an ECE system that can take part in creating sustainable and resilient communities.
The question is how? Well, despite some recent democratic regressions, Indonesia still practices decentralisation. The opportunity exists in the education system, with the school autonomy. The government must develop a national inclusive curriculum that encourages genuine local, national, and global reflections. As mentioned before, the government must allow authority of interpretation, which means the opportunity to recognise the community’s identity and historical experiences. We also need to promote support at the local level to help teachers operationalise their interpretations, including collaborative work with community leaders, including senior elders, tribe leaders and others. In several places, there have been some initiatives for this. But I also put my hope in civil society. There has been some innovative revitalisation of cultures across the countries, led by young indigenous people. They utilise oral histories, archives, and digital technologies to run some culture-based schools to fight cultural disconnection. However, the challenge is consolidating these fragments and creating the demands to push for more concrete actions on ECE at the national government level. Complicated, right? Well, it explains the complicated colonial layers that shape the politics of Indonesian Indigenous identities.
Part 2: Promoting gender equality in early education
I wonder about our conversation with your colleagues some time ago about how we must always consider the role of gender research in shaping young children’s education. Gender biases can be deeply ingrained, and early education is a critical period for addressing these biases and promoting gender equality in Indonesia.
Absolutely. We need to read, understand and translate knowledge from the gender research that challenges traditional gender roles and stereotypes. Educators must be aware of their biases and work actively to create a gender-inclusive environment (Warin and Adriany, 2017). Promoting gender equality in early childhood education is essential for developing a society that values and practices equality early on. In early childhood, children form their identities and understand social norms. Addressing gender biases early can prevent the perpetuation of stereotypes that limit the potential of all children (MacNaughton, 2000). Some debates in Indonesia were around gender-neutral language and materials, avoiding language that reinforces gender stereotypes and ensuring that classroom resources, such as books and toys, represent diverse gender roles. Storybooks that feature male and female characters in various roles, like scientists, artists, and caregivers. This allows children to see that all activities and professions are accessible to everyone, regardless of gender—one of many examples.
However, discussion about gender in ECE should not and must not be limited only to children. There is also a dimension of the gender of the carers, which refers to the ECE teachers and parents. We cannot hide from the fact that ECE has been instrumentalising women’s caring work—a form of re-traditionalisation of women’s roles through social policy (Molyneux, 2006; Pangastuti, 2023). For a long time, ECE workers have been dominated by women, not by coincidence but by a systemic internalisation through social norms, policy, and even the narratives of international development. We should also actively critique how the system tends to rely on and even exploit women through maternalist discourses. In the context of Indonesia, I have shown how the expansion of ECE has politically instrumentalised women’s maternalistic positions and trapped them as cheap and even unpaid labour (Newberry, 2014; Pangastuti, 2023). Hence, if we only look at children within the dynamic of learning, we would lose the comprehensive insights of ECE as a systematic mechanism that perpetuates gender blindness.
Aspiring to social justice, we must raise awareness about gender in ECE beyond children’s interest. It is very easy to ignore the reproduction of maternalistic labour that fundamentally supports ECE. Such a perspective reminds me of Bown et al. (2011) concept of “Dark Matter.” They use this metaphor to describe the “gravitational pull” of the maternalist discourses that remain dominating ECE policy, so ingrained that it becomes too difficult to disrupt, making it difficult to disentangle the biases in ECE. The maternalisation of ECE brings some dire consequences to women as educators. First, there has been a perception among policymakers that ECE teachers do not need complex skills because teaching in ECE is assumed to be an extension of domestic caring work, which traditionally is women’s responsibility (Marpinjun and Ramsey, 2017). Secondly, the Law on Education System (No. 23/2003) and Law on Teacher and Lecturer (No.14/2005) still exclude educators who teach at playgroups, daycare centres, and community-based ECE. This legal discrimination means a failure of the state to recognise and protect some ECE teachers, which I find highly inconsistent with the discourse of expansion, where the State encouraged everyone and mobilised women to participate in creating ECE centres.
That’s an important point. Educators’ awareness and active engagement in promoting gender equality can significantly impact children’s development. This is where a reconceptualist movement has a lot to say.
Indeed. There are many things to be done. Sometimes, I feel gender in ECE is so overlapping that nobody takes care of it. In Indonesia, ECE is thought to be a strict education issue. Hence, the responsibility falls to the Ministry of Education and its decentralised units. In this realm, parents and teachers are perceived as gender-neutral. There is no indication of empowering feminist contribution in our current formal ECE policy.
Meanwhile, most feminist activists are still occupied with traditional feminist issues, such as violence against women and women’s labour participation. This job division between what is considered as “education issue” and a “feminist issue” leaves a gap that perpetuates women’s traditional roles in ECE. This gap is where the reconceptualist thoughts can critically bring marginalised voices to the forefront, including those from the Global South (Baldini et al. , 2024). This shift has been critical in challenging the dominance of perspectives, amplifying minority voices and ensuring that our educational practices are inclusive and equitable (Cannella and Viruru, 2004).
Integrating these global issues in Indonesia into early childhood education is powerful. It prepares children for academic success and meaningful participation in society. How do you see the role of educators in this process?
Critical and reconceptualist educators play a pivotal role in this process. I want to put a hopeful perspective on this case. Foucault (1980) says power comes with resistance. Despite all its shortcomings, the expansion of ECE has also given opportunities for the proliferation of ECE studies and critical scholars in teacher training universities. I am quite happy that I see more critical minds growing daily out of this process. They are trained to be reflective and understand their political presence governing the children’s interactions and co-production of learning experiences. Good interactions can challenge existing stereotypes and promote more equitable attitudes among children; educators should feel confident to facilitate these interactions and create a classroom culture that values diversity and inclusivity (MacNaughton, 2000). They must be supported with space, trust, and collaborative attitudes (Arndt et al., 2021).
Part 3: Theoretical foundations and critiques
We already discussed how including diverse perspectives enriches the discourse and practices in early childhood education. However, there are other matters: cultural relevance, environmental education, support for displaced communities, and theoretical foundations.
Yes. By addressing these areas, we can contribute to creating an educational landscape that is just, equitable, and reflective of diverse cultural contexts. It’s about dreaming of a better future and working toward making it a reality, step by step, one day at a time. That’s how it feels in Indonesia, at least! Continuing to push the boundaries and imagine new possibilities for early childhood education. I learned about theories through Western education. The theoretical foundations of reconceptualist early childhood education draw heavily from critical theories, poststructuralism, and postcolonialism, among other frameworks (Malone et al., 2020). These theoretical underpinnings challenge traditional views of childhood and advocate for a more nuanced understanding of children’s experiences and identities. I often wonder if this is only a Western dream.
Yulida, let’s delve deeper into the theoretical foundations that underpin reconceptualist early childhood education. What are your thoughts on how these theories critique traditional models?
Education is a very powerful discourse, so virtuous that it can be circulated widely without critical examination and so fundamental that people who question it can be labelled as regressive or anti-development. For example, Roem Topatimasang (1998), a community education activist, describe it as “Sekolah itu Candu” that schools are so addictive for individuals, families, and societies that without education, we will not have any hope in this world—how the philosophical intention of education has been eroded and replaced by banal procedures and standards that categorise learners, instead of assisting them, and produce stigmas.
Early childhood education in Indonesia has spread through a similar process, through marketing campaigns by the government, private sectors, and donors working together as joint forces, carefully using the socio-economic structure of Indonesian society to justify their expansion. In this incredibly tight space, reconceptualise offers an alternative to thinking and imagining. The reconceptualise movement critically examines the dominant developmental paradigms that have been traditionally shaping early childhood education (Adriany and Tesar, 2022). These paradigms often portray children as passive recipients of knowledge with a universal development path based on Western middle-class norms (Peters and Tesar, 2018). In contrast, reconceptualist theories perceive children as active agents in their learning, with diverse developmental trajectories influenced by their cultural, social, and historical contexts (Cannella and Viruru, 2004).
That’s a critical distinction in post-colonial Indonesia. Poststructuralist theory, for instance, challenges the idea of fixed identities and emphasises the fluidity and multiplicity of children’s experiences (Tesar et al., 2021a). How do you see poststructuralist ideas contributing to early childhood education?
Poststructuralist theory has significantly influenced reconceptualist thought by deconstructing the binaries and essentialist categories that often define childhood. It highlights how power relations and discourses shape our understanding of children and childhood (Foucault, 1980). This means recognising how children experience and construct their worlds rather than adhering to a single, normative development model (MacNaughton, 2000). There has been a growing number of post-structuralist ECE scholars in Indonesia. Adriany and Formen, whom I referenced above, are great Indonesian scholars who use this theoretical outlook. Post-structuralists have helped them deconstruct and unpack many taken-for-granted practices and normalised standardisations. However, post-structuralists do not grow without critique. For example, Heryanto (1995) emphasises, “No Indonesian needs any erudite philosophy or cultural criticism, French or otherwise, to tell them that power is everywhere” (p. 40). Heryanto reminds us, Indonesian scholars, about the difference between Indonesia as a post-colonial site and Foucault’s traditions of examining European democratic society, where “power” has to be so immersed in micro-regulations of everyday life (i.e. Foucault’s description of the school bell or the soldier) that the citizens can be disciplined subjects of governmentality through a panopticon surveillance—which is not in the case of Indonesia.
From the mid-1960s to the late 1990s, Indonesian people were governed by one of the world’s toughest and longest authoritarian regimes. Hence, to us Indonesians: “power presents itself in excessive violence and naked brutality” (Heryanto, 1995: 40). We have an acute awareness of the state’s power as coercive and are expected to recognise this disciplining force and the immediate consequences for any disobedience. The apparent presence of power explains why realist-structuralist views have become the prominent representation of critical analysis of Indonesia (Philpott, 2000). For example, during the New Order period, Thomas (1981) has already pointed out that ECE teachers inevitably were practically the State’s disciplining tool for children to be obedient citizens who could recite Pancasila—the State’s philosophy, and memorise the State’s version of Indonesia’s nationalism history. These authoritarian experiences make it difficult to “unsee” these practices from a coercive power point of view.
However, the brutal history of coercion does not mean that poststructuralism has no place. This is wrong and quite the opposite. Yet, poststructuralism needs a translation. It cannot work as a generalised process. It needs rigorous interrogation from postcolonial perspectives (Bertoli et al., 2024; Tiffin, 1988) to account for historical contexts and its legacy of oppression. Language is probably one of the most critical fronts that needs poststructuralists’ greatest attention. It has been the most critical site for “social engineering” throughout Indonesia’s development trajectory (Heryanto, 2005). Expanding on what Heryanto said, I think language is also powerful because it is spread through a web of networks, and almost everyone can use it; hence, we do not immediately feel the presence of the Authority. Instead, language blurs the linear direct relationship between authority and subjects. This is a very important direction, especially for ECE critical scholars who often have to swim against the current of ECE as essentially “good” things. Post-structuralists can critically unpack the power of ECE as what Li calls a benevolent discourse (Li, 2007) expressed through linguistic and aesthetic forms that can be morally difficult to confront openly (Heryanto, 1995; Heryanto and Lutz, 1988). The most excellent example is shown by Formen and his analysis of Indonesia’s ECE policy. In his work, Formen show how terms like “quality” or “standards” in Indonesia’s ECE have imposed and permeated a sense of governmentality, of how “good” teachers will strive and know how to meet those requirements without even questioning it, and organise themselves to be different from those who cannot (Formen, 2018). With the same post-structuralist rigour, he identified developmentalism, religiosity, and human capital as competing discourses in Indonesia’s ECE policy (Formen and Nutall, 2014). This process is very important to see ECE: what has been concealed by which discourse, by whom and through what network.
Of course, this opinion has its limitations. Language as discourse is not the only post-structuralist presence in Indonesia. There are other emerging trends in different fields. But I only express what I see in ECE today.
Another key influence is the postcolonial theory, which critiques colonialism’s legacies in education systems. How does postcolonial theory inform your work in Indonesia?
Postcolonial theory provides a framework for examining how colonial histories continue to shape contemporary educational practices. It challenges the dominance of Western knowledge systems and advocates for including indigenous and marginalised perspectives (Said, 1978). Postcolonialism helps to understand the contexts of Indonesia better, especially in terms of understanding the strategy of representing reactions and resistance while still living with the consequences of being the subjects of certain oppressive discourses. Postcolonialism, as Young (1998) writes: “offers a politics rather than a coherent theoretical methodology” (Young, 1998: 5). Young’s statement indicates postcolonial theories as a flexible space of theorisation as long as such mechanisms provide a systematic method of illuminating the oppressions or the political creativity mobilised to resist them without confronting them. As I mentioned before, through postcolonial theories, I can re-situate the poststructuralist theorisations, wrestling against its Eurocentric biases (Young, 1995).
Another important feature of postcolonialism that inspired me is the postcolonial interpellation. The postcolonial perspective believes that colonisation is never complete as no one can ever be fully colonised—referring to the incomplete colonial subjectification process, which brings the possibility of political resistance that goes unidentified and thus undetected by the colonial master, thus removing the risk of putting themselves in danger (Ashcroft, 1995). The best example is Spivak’s (1988) argument that “the subaltern cannot speak”—that marginalised groups cannot be understood within the dominant discourse. They can claim their identities and position in the structure only when they learn to speak with the grammar of their master. Once they achieve mastery of the language, they can enact their selves and become “appropriators” who imitate, mimic, and mock—resistance to the dominant authority (Bhabha, 1994). I saw this type of resistance in almost every ECE setting I visited in the country. Teachers ignore the curriculum result matrix, mobilising their knowledge to create activities for children; school principals make foolish excuses for not registering their schools, refusing to be controlled by government standards. Postcolonialism helps me understand ECE centres as active entities, taking roles in delivering and shaping knowledge with children and their communities.
These theoretical foundations provide a robust framework for rethinking early childhood education. They challenge us to consider whose interests are served by traditional models and to imagine new possibilities for more inclusive and equitable practices—one of the powers of reconceptualist thinking.
Absolutely, Marek. Drawing on these diverse theoretical perspectives can develop a more holistic and nuanced understanding of childhood. This not only benefits individual children but also contributes to the creation of a more just and inclusive society.
It’s fascinating to see how these theories intersect and inform each other. Feminist theory also plays a significant role in reconceptualising early childhood education. Can you elaborate on this?
I believe feminism is an organic ally and a key to understanding ECE through a critical lens. As Goldstein (1993) emphasised: “the division between education feminism and early childhood education feels artificial and awkward” (p.4). What is often surprising is how narrow the narratives of ECE can be in the hands of developmentalists and economists. The feminist lens in ECE can help identify several issues:
First, feminist theory contributes to reconceptualist thought by highlighting the importance of gender equity and challenging patriarchal structures within educational settings. It advocates for an inclusive approach recognising all children’s diverse experiences and identities, regardless of gender (MacNaughton, 2000). This means creating classroom environments that promote gender equity and encourage children to explore various interests and activities. It also involves providing educators with the tools and training to recognise and challenge their biases and support all children in developing their full potential. By fostering a more inclusive and equitable approach, feminist theory helps to create educational settings that empower all children (Warin and Adriany, 2017).
Second, as I have elaborated before, Feminist Theory examines and problematises labour reproduction in ECE. In the context of neoliberalism, for example, feminists have questioned the perception that places children at the centre of ECE interventions as independent beings, as subjects of development and inter-generational poverty alleviation, as if they can exist on their own, separated from others (Pangastuti, 2023). To broaden the perspective and remove the exploitative nature, ECE interventions should adopt the relational approach that understands children as vectors and is connected dyadically with their primary caregivers, families, and others. Through this perspective, the discussion of ECE development can be more inclusive and remove the current predatory scheme where children’s needs are the only priority regardless of their environmental conditions. Feminists believe that the benefits of ECE for children should not compromise the rights of the teachers and stigmatise the mothers. By thinking inclusively using this theorisation, the interests of children and their caregivers can be presented as comprehensive, interlinked, mutually beneficial, and indivisible.
Feminist postcolonial theories also help to explain the phenomenon. Feminist postcolonial theory encourages us to question how colonial narratives have constructed gender roles and to explore indigenous gender systems that may offer more egalitarian models (Mohanty, 1988). In particular, feminist postcolonial theories examine how global colonialism and patriarchy intersect to shape educational experiences. This perspective is important in Indonesia, where colonial histories and traditional gender norms hierarchise women to become part of the oppression structure. Postcolonial interrogates the idea of early childhood caring practices, encourage us to see it as unnatural due to colonial hierarchisation experience. The theory argues that the rampant mindset that subjugate poor women in ECE is inseparable from the “Othering” practices embedded in the women-to-women relationship, between the Dutch colonialist educated women and indigenous Javanese female elites in their efforts to “uplift” other women who come from lower position in their hierarchy, framing them as deficient “Others” (Gouda, 1995).
These theoretical foundations provide a robust framework for rethinking early childhood education. They challenge us to consider whose interests are served by traditional models and to imagine new possibilities for more inclusive and equitable practices. How do you see these theories playing out in Indonesia?
In practical terms, integrating feminist and postcolonial theories involves several steps. For instance, we have implemented classroom projects that highlight the contributions of women and indigenous leaders in various fields. These projects help children see diverse role models and understand that leadership and expertise come in many forms (Narayan, 1997). We also incorporate discussions about power and privilege into the curriculum, helping children understand how historical and social factors shape individual experiences. This includes activities that explore concepts of fairness and justice, encouraging children to think critically about their roles in promoting equity (Mohanty, 1988). We offer training sessions focusing on recognising and addressing gender and colonial biases, using reflective practices to assess and improve teaching strategies continually. This helps educators create more inclusive and supportive learning environments (Hooks, 2000). By embracing feminist and postcolonial theories, we celebrate diversity and actively work toward social justice. This approach helps to dismantle the systemic inequities that often persist in traditional educational models, fostering a more inclusive and equitable learning environment for all children.
Part #4: Intersection of feminist and postcolonial theories
I really enjoy your powerful thoughts, Yulida. How does feminist theory intersect with these postcolonial efforts, particularly in addressing gender dynamics in early childhood education?
Feminist theory provides a critical lens to examine and challenge gender inequities often entrenched in colonial and postcolonial contexts. In Indonesia, traditional gender roles and stereotypes can limit children’s opportunities and self-expression. Feminist theory helps us understand how these dynamics operate and offers strategies to promote gender equity from an early age. Activities that challenge traditional gender roles and encourage children to explore various interests and skills, regardless of gender (Myers et al., 2023).
That makes sense—so in that case, how do you navigate the potential tensions between promoting feminist principles and respecting cultural traditions that may have deeply rooted gender norms in Indonesia?
Navigating these tensions requires a delicate balance and a respectful, dialogic approach. It’s important to engage in conversations with communities about the value of gender equity while also respecting cultural traditions. This involves listening to and incorporating the perspectives of community members, particularly women and girls, who often have nuanced understandings of their cultural contexts (Mohanty, 1988). For instance, we approach gender equity not as an imposition of external values but as a collaborative process of reimagining roles and possibilities within the cultural framework. We highlight examples of strong female figures and gender-equitable practices from within the culture to show that gender equity is not a foreign concept but an integral part of the community’s values. It’s about finding common ground and co-constructing solutions that are culturally relevant and empowering (Narayan, 1997).
That’s a thoughtful approach. How do you see the role of intersectionality in addressing the complex interplay of race, class, gender, and other identities in early childhood education?
Intersectionality is key in understanding and addressing the multifaceted nature of children’s identities and experiences. Early childhood education means recognising that children’s lives are shaped by multiple, intersecting factors such as race, class, gender, ability, and ethnicity. These factors can create unique challenges and opportunities for each child (Tesar, 2021b). To operationalise intersectionality, we should adopt inclusive pedagogies that cater to all children’s diverse needs and backgrounds. This involves creating learning environments that are accessible and welcoming to children from various socioeconomic backgrounds, abilities, and cultural contexts. We also incorporate diverse narratives and perspectives into the curriculum, ensuring that all children see themselves represented and valued. For example, we design flexible and adaptable activities to different learning styles and needs. We also foster an inclusive classroom culture where differences are celebrated, and all children are encouraged to share their stories and experiences. This approach enhances equity and enriches the learning experience by exposing children to various perspectives and ideas.
That sounds like fantastic initiatives. Finally, what are your thoughts on the future directions of postcolonial and feminist theories in early childhood education (Tesar et al., 2021c). How can we continue to evolve and expand these frameworks to address emerging challenges.
The future of postcolonial and feminist theories in early childhood education lies in their continued evolution and responsiveness to emerging global challenges. In Indonesia, we still need to keep deconstructing, unpacking, and identifying resistance. As we face climate change, digitalisation, and increasing migration, these frameworks must adapt to address new complexities and intersections. For postcolonial theory, this means continuing to challenge the dominance of Western paradigms and advocating for the inclusion of diverse voices and perspectives. It also explores how colonial histories intersect with contemporary global issues, such as environmental degradation and migration, and their impact on children’s lives (Smith, 1999; Said, 1978).
For feminist theory, it means expanding our understanding of gender beyond binary notions and embracing a more inclusive and intersectional approach. This includes addressing issues such as LGBTQ+ rights, digital equity, and the impact of new technologies on gender dynamics. It also involves advocating for policies and practices that promote gender equity at all levels of education (Butler, 1990; Hooks, 2000). However, in practice, this means fostering a culture of continuous learning and reflection among educators, policymakers, and researchers. It involves creating spaces for dialogue and collaboration where diverse perspectives can be shared and integrated into educational practices. Ultimately, the goal is to create an inclusive and equitable educational landscape that empowers all children to reach their full potential.
Thank you, Yulida. Your insights have been incredibly valuable. I look forward to continuing our collaboration and exploring these important issues further.
Thank you, Marek. It’s been a pleasure discussing these topics with you. Let’s continue together to push the boundaries and imagine new possibilities for early childhood education.
Footnotes
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
