Inclusion for all? : an analysis of inclusive education strategies for marginalised groups in Nepal

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Inclusion For All? An Analysis of Inclusive

Education Strategies for Marginalised

Groups in Nepal

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‘Inclusion For All? An Analysis of Inclusive

Education Strategies for Marginalised Groups in

Nepal’

Master of Science Thesis

MSc International Development Studies

July 2018

Samuel John

10855157

Word Count: 27,943

Supervisor: Dr. Simone Datzberger

Second Reader: Dr. Tina Harris

Graduate School of Social Sciences

University of Amsterdam

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Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Simone Datzberger for all of her support, feedback and patience during the writing process. I would also like to thank Dr. Tina Harris for her advice and support prior to and during the fieldwork period. I am grateful to all my respondents who kindly gave their time during fieldwork, in particular I would like to thank Phil Palmer for facilitating my visit to Damgade school, and Simone Galimberti for his assistance in introducing me to additional respondents. A big thankyou also to Shiva Dhakal and Rakesh Shrestha for accommodating me and helping me to find my bearings in Kathmandu. Completing this thesis would have been impossible without the ability to talk through ideas in coffee-fuelled study sessions, and for that I am grateful for the support of all my friends and classmates. Lastly, I would like to thank my mum for her grammatical wizardry and for being a constant source of support.

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Abstract

Education is a major element of development focus in Nepal, and is seen as a primary vehicle for change that has long attracted the attention and funding of donors and (I)NGOs. The global mantra of ‘inclusive education’ has entered mainstream government and donor policy and (I)NGO strategy as a way of addressing the various forms of exclusion that remain ingrained in the country’s social fabric; particularly regarding girls, lower caste Dalits and children with disabilities. This thesis focuses on how the rhetoric of ‘inclusion’ at the policy level is being interpreted and translated to practical strategies among key stakeholders in Nepal’s education sector. It aims to answer the central research question as to why inclusive education strategies for marginalised groups in Nepal have been limited in their application, as is evidenced by their continued exclusion from the education system. Its contribution and relevance is drawn from Nepal’s ongoing transition to a federal state structure, creating considerable upheaval and restructuring that affects all of the relevant stakeholders and provides a unique contextual moment for analysis. It explores the main challenges faced by Dalits, girls and children with disabilities, and analyses some of the proposed strategies put forward by the government and (I)NGOs working in the education sector. This is done through a textual analysis of key policy documents and primary data, gathered through 23 semi-structured interviews with various education stakeholders at both ends of the policy-practise dynamic in the Kathmandu Valley. Drawing on existing theories of inclusive education, it analyses these strategies based on their adherence to the concepts of ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ inclusion. The former focuses on strategies that enable access and enrolment of margainlised groups to education, and the latter on the quality of education and other factors aimed to keep marginalised children from dropping out once enrolled. It argues that strategies of primary inclusion can only have lasting impact if they are complemented with auxiliary inclusion, and vice versa. With a few exceptions, it finds that the government has a preference for ‘primary’ inclusion, whilst non-state actors tend to prefer ‘auxiliary’ inclusion strategies. In addition, it finds that these strategies are adopted both internally to the classroom and school environment, and externally to the wider community, necessitating a contextualised analysis of inclusive education. Through this analysis, it finds three key limitations to the application of inclusive education strategies; a lack of coordination between relevant stakeholders; government inefficiency in a time of political upheaval as the country transitions to a federal republic, and a tendency for education stakeholders to frame inclusion as primarily a socio-economic issue to the neglect of other confounding factors.

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List of Abbreviations

AI Auxiliary Inclusion

CSO Civil-Society Organisation CWD Children with Disabilities

DoE Deparment of Education (Nepal) EFA Education for All

GPE Global Partnership for Education

HRC Human Rights Council

IEPPD Inclusive Education Policy for Persons with Disability 2072 INGO International Non-Governmental Organisation

NCE National Campaign for Education NGO Non-Governmental Organisation

OECD Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development

PI Primary Inclusion

SDGs Susainable Development Goals STC Save the Children

USAID United States Agency for International Development

UN The United Nations

UNDP United Nations Development Programme

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List of Figures

Figure A: Perspectives on Inclusive Education page 23

Figure B: Conceptualising Primary and Auxiliary Inclusion page 25

Figure C: Conceptual Scheme page 29

Figure D: Categories of Respondents (Simplified) page 32

Figure E: Multiple Layers of Discrimination page 50

Figure F: Inroducing ‘Internal’ and ‘External’ dimensions of Inclusive Education page 62

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Chapter 1: Introduction

Multilateral acceptance of education as a basic human right has in recent decades been accompanied by efforts to improve the access and quality of education for all children. Forms of exclusion remain ingrained in the social fabric, of which the education system can serve as a microcosm for the wider social milieu. Because of this, it is also perceived as a primary vehicle for change and empowerment that will eventually permeate through the rest of society. Nepal, like many developing countries, suffers a twin crisis of access to and quality of education, particularly in relation to children from lower caste backgrounds, girls and children with disabilities. The government has acted on this partly through matching its own policy rhetoric to that of Sustainable Development Goals1_{, specifically Goal 4: to ‘Ensure}

inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all’ (UN 2018)2_{and in a recent}

pledge to increase the education budget from 11% to 20% of GDP (Setopati 2018). The ongoing transformation from a unitary state to a federal republic also entails a devolution of powers to the municipal and provincial levels that are intended to improve the provision of state services, one of which is the provision of an education system that is inclusive to all.

While the discrimination of marginalised groups, its effect on the education system, and the stark contrast between rural and urban education have been well documented (Devtoka and Upadhyay 2015; Khanal 2015; Bhandary 2017), there has been less focus on the strategies adopted by the state and non-state actors to address these patterns of exclusion. The post-earthquake and transition-to-federal context also provides a significant set of ‘ruptures’ that ‘necessitate partial or complete re-evaluation of previously held knowledge, practises and beliefs’ (Shakya, 2015), reinforcing the value of collecting primary data from the field and providing a unique contextual moment for analysis. That the country is in a state of flux could potentially provide a springboard for actors in education to evaluate and implement new strategies. However, the atmosphere at the moment appears to be one of confusion. In many aspects of governance, changes outlined at the policy level often lack a clear definition of how this translates to the implementation level. Provincial offices still need to be set up from scratch, and the government is struggling to fund the expansion in human resources needed to implement devolution to the municipal level. Even high-ranking civil servants appear unclear as to what exactly their role will be under the federal system (CLU3_{). INGOs and donors}

are also conflicted, torn between the current mantra of ‘state-led development’ (Booth 2012) and wanting to continue working in education in a context with little or no firm leadership from the state. (DEU; ILU3).

1_{The SDGs are a UN-roadmap of international targets to achieve by the year 2030 (See Chapter 6).} 2_{For example, see ‘}_{Inclusive Education Policy for Persons with Disability’ 2072 (2016)}

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1.1 Research overview

The public education system in Nepal remains plagued by problems of low quality4_{, low motivation}5_{, low}

pass rates6_{and high drop-out rates}7_._{While this affects the school-age population in general, certain}

sectors of society have been disproportionately affected. This research focused on these affected groups, defined by three major forms of marginalisation that occur in Nepal’s schools; caste-based, gender-based and physical and mental disability-based. It addresses the following questions:

Why have inclusive education strategies for marginalised groups in Nepal been limited in their application? (Chapter 6 and Conclusion)

1. What are the main contextual factors surrounding public education in Nepal? (Chapter 2)

2. Why, and in what ways, have marginalised communities been excluded from public education in Nepal? (Chapter 5)

3. What strategies have been implemented by the government, NGO and aid sectors and why? (Chapter 6)

The forms of marginalisation addressed are not mutually exclusive, and double or triple forms of discrimination are very common. Neither are they exhaustive of all forms of marginalisation in Nepal. The rationale for focusing on them specifically and not on other forms such as religious and ethnic discrimination is based on their applicability at the country level. Specifically, while particular forms of religious and ethnic discrimination may exist in certain parts of Nepal, gender-based, caste-based and disability-based discrimination are more widespread, and receive greater focus from the relevant stakeholders in the capital (the majority of the fieldwork was conducted in the Kathmandu Valley). What follows is a brief summary of each of the forms of exclusion, and an overview of some of the strategies used that will be expanded on later in this thesis.

1.1.1 Marginalisation based on caste

The Dalit caste8 make up an estimated 13% of Nepal’s population, spread out throughout the country

(HRC 2015). According to the Human Rights Council, Dalits constitute a group of communities who; ‘…by virtue of atrocities of caste-based discrimination and untouchability, are more backward in social, economic, educational, political and religious fields, and are deprived of human dignity and social justice’ (HRC 2015). Collectively,

4_{This is evidenced in high student-teacher ratios, 60:1 in lower secondary level for example (DoE 2018), and by the} average literacy rate of 64.7% (UNDP 2017).

5_{See Chapter 5}

6_{This is illustrated by the disparity between the pass-rates of final-year examinations between private schools} (89.8%) and public schools (33.75%) (Acharya and Leon-Gonzalez 2016

7_{Net enrolements drop from 97.2% in the final grade of primary school to 18.2% in the final grade of secondary} school (DoE 2018).

8_{Dalits themselves are a heterogenous community composed of 26 inner castes (HRC 2015), with differences in} language and culture (Khanal 2015). While the experience of discrimination is similar between these groups, there is also a general tendency for Terai Dalits to be disproportionately disadvantaged in comparison to their Hill Dalit counterparts (HRC 2015). This also correspondents partly to the urban/rural divide discussed in chapter 3.

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Dalits form the poorest community in Nepal in terms of income, consumption and human development, with roughly 42% living under the poverty line compared to a national average of 25.2% (ibid). A large proportion of Dalits depend on elementary occupations, exploited in some instances by traditional labour systems which offer only minimal payment, often in the form of rice or grains (HRC 2015). Caste discrimination was also highlighted in the post-earthquake relief phase, as aid distribution was given to Dalits last or withheld from them altogether (Pariyar 2015; Folmar et al. 2015; Nelson 2015). In schools, explicit forms of discrimination such as Dalit children being made to eat and play separately from higher caste children are becoming less common but do still exist in some more rural and conservative areas (Bhandary, 2017: 76, Folmar 2007, Nightingale 2011). Implicit or passive forms of discrimination surrounding Dalits, such as de facto segregation of ‘Dalit schools’ are more common, as shall be discussed in Chapter 5.

1.1.2 Marginalisation based on Gender

Educational disparity between men and women remains a significant issue, evidenced through varying literacy rates (72% for men, 49% for women (UNESCO 2012) and by the percentage of the population that has received secondary schooling (41.2% of men, 24.1% of women (UNDP 2017). Previous efforts have had some successes, demonstrated by similar youth literacy rates for boys and girls (84% and 80% respectively( UNESCO 2012), and through achieving gender parity in primary-level education (DoE 2018; GPE 2018). However, high dropout rates remain a problem, particularly in secondary school. In some rural areas, child marriage continues to be the largest obstacle to girls’ completion of higher education, with married girls ten times more likely to leave school than their unmarried peers (Girls not Brides 2016). Coupled with the socio-economic strains of rural communities, girls may be kept at home so their brother(s) can go to school or placed in a public school while the brothers go to private, as there is more of a perceived ‘investment return’ in boys (NLU7). Girls, meanwhile, are considered as an economic strain, partly due to marriage dowries. Many government schools also lack separate facilities for boys and girls, sanitary products for girls are very rare, and in the most conservative communities menstruation has a negative stigma that translates to segregation and humiliation in the classroom, greatly reducing the incentive for adolescent girls to come to school (Bhandary 2017).

1.1.3 Marginalisation based on disability

The 2015 constitution has been hailed as Nepal’s first ‘disabled-friendly’ constitution (NEU2), from which other ’progressive’ policy changes such as the Disability Act (2016) have followed. Disability has become a major focus of inclusive education, and there are now quotas for public sector jobs to include persons with disability, as well as women and lower-castes (See Articles 22, 23 and 83 of the 2015 Constitution). The main difficulty has been the translation of ‘progressive’ policy rhetoric into tangible change on the ground. For example, the current education policy is to transition towards ‘integrated’ schools9_{. These are}

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said to include more longer-term benefits such as social inclusion, preparedness for society, wider visibility and acceptance of disability, but in the short and medium term this is limited by lack of financial, infrastructural and human resources and existing stigma towards people with disabilities (see Chapter 3). This stigma exists in both rural and urban settings. In some of the more isolated, conservative rural communities, disability continues to be interpreted as a sign of ‘bad karma’, or punishment for a sin in a previous for life, which is seen as a mark of shame upon the family (Bell 2016). Disabled children are likely to remain hidden indoors, particularly if they are a Dalit family and/or the child in question is female, adding a further barrier to inclusive strategies and data collection (see Chapter 5). In urban areas, disability is still seen as mostly synonymous with ‘inability’. The religio-cultural stigma is less common, but more prevalent is the opinion that disabled people are an economic burden. In cases of numerous children and limited resources, families will tend to focus on sending the ‘healthy’ boys to better schools, as in a similar way to girls in rural communities, there is less ‘investment motive’ to send disabled children to school (PLU2).

1.2 Overview of ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ inclusion strategies

Drawing from previous theories of inclusion, this thesis introduces the concepts of ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ inclusion, corresponding basically to the current education mantra of ‘access’ and ‘quality’ in education respectively (see Chapter 3). Broadly, it finds that the government and major donors tend to focus on ‘primary’ inclusion strategies that address the accessibility of schooling, both in terms of physical infrastructure and provision of relevant resources in the classroom (braille books for blind children, for example) and in terms of enabling students to access school through the provision of financial scholarships (as outlined in Articles 23-24 of the 2015 Constitution). This approach has had some successes in terms of enrolment rates, and primary-level attendance and completion in particular have increased (DoE Flash Report 2017-2018). However, in secondary schools, success stories in enrolment figures tend to mask gaping problems, as less than half of all children enrolled will reach the final grade of high school, of which a similar proportion manage to pass their final exams (NLU7).

A lot of (I)NGO work in the area is focused on ‘auxiliary’ inclusion, largely in the form of ‘holistic’ approaches which aim to reduce family dependence on children for child labour whilst also increasing community acceptance of marginalised groups. These approaches, whilst having an impact in certain areas, are limited by the low quality of Nepal’s education system. This is particularly relevant to children with disabilities, where a focus on physical accessibility and community acceptance is helpful but ultimately redundant if the school lacks trained teachers and relevant resources. While some NGOs are involved in teacher training in areas such as disability-inclusion and child-centred learning, this is only being adopted on a small-scale, to the effect that only a ‘handful’ of Nepal’s 35,000 schools could be said to be actually inclusive (PLU2). While the federal restructuring is intended to bring about new forms of accountability

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and flexibility in education at the municipal level, this is also limited by confusion as to the precise powers of each federal body, which are already experiencing problems of underfunding (NLU6).

1.3 Thesis Overview

This thesis is primarily focused on the ways in which marginalised groups are excluded from Nepal’s public education system and the successes and limitations of some of the ‘inclusion’ strategies adopted by key stakeholders within the current context of political upheaval as the country shifts to a federal structure. Data has been collected and analysed from a mixture of document analyses and from interviews conducted with (I)NGO workers, teachers and civil servants (see Chapter 3 for methodology and Annex C for a full list of interviewees). The majority of the research was conducted in Kathmandu, due to the high concentration of relevant stakeholders based in the capital. A small case study of a village school was also carried out during the course of the fieldwork. The following chapter (2) explores in greater depth the contextual factors surrounding Nepal’s education system, addressing the first of the research sub questions. The thesis continues with a theoretical framework (Chapter 3) which discusses what is meant by ‘inclusive education’, its theoretical and philosophical background, and how its application can be conceptualised into ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ forms of inclusion. Chapter 4 discusses the research methodology and quality criteria. Chapters 5 and 6 focus on the primary data; the former addresses the second sub-question of why and in what ways marginalised groups have been excluded from Nepal’s public education system; whilst the latter deals with the third sub-question, with an overview and analysis of current strategies being used by some of the key stakeholders in inclusive education. Drawing from the findings, it introduces a further dimension of ‘internal’ and ‘external’ inclusion that complements the primary and auxiliary forms of inclusion outlined in Chapter 3. Finally, the conclusion addresses the central question, and finds that the new federal structure, whilst having the potential to implement education-inclusion strategies that are adaptive to specific local diversities and needs, is currently in a state of flux and is a source of considerable confusion among education stakeholders, forming a significant barrier to successful implementation of inclusion policies. In addition, it finds that a general focus on ‘primary’ inclusion strategies that enable access and enrolment of marginalised groups to education are not being adequately reinforced or coordinated with ‘auxiliary’ inclusion strategies, which are more concerned with the quality of education leading to a greater school ‘survival rate’ of not only marginalised groups, but of school-age children in general.

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Chapter 2: Contextual background

This chapter explores the contextual background that addresses the first of the research sub-questions and provides added nuance to the discussion of the following chapters. It starts with a brief overview of Nepal and continues with a more detailed discussion of contextual factors; including the long-term impact of the 2015 earthquake, Nepal’s shift from a unitary to federal state structure, and its dependence on foreign aid and status as a ‘fragile state’. These factors have either directly or indirectly impacted Nepal’s education system, with implications for inclusive education strategies.

2.1 Overview

Nepal is a landlocked country sandwiched between India and China. Its population, based on the 2011 census, is 26.5 million, divided into 125 distinct ethnic groups and 123 languages. Demographically, it has a relatively young population, with 40% being under the age of 16 (Lohani 2018). Geographically, it is divided into three regions; Terai, Mountain and Hill. The southern Terai (plains) region bordering India is a largely agricultural region home to 50% of the country’s population, including substantial minorities with kin and cultural ties across the border. The Mountain region encompasses a large section of the Himalayan range, home to 7% of the population, predominantly in isolated villages, with cultural and religious similarities to neighbouring Tibet. The political and economic heart of the country is the Hill region, dominated by the Kathmandu Valley at its centre. While there have been improvements in life expectancy, mortality rates, sanitation and drinking water and literacy rates since 1990, high levels of inequality persist between the ‘Hill Elites’ and largely impoverished communities in the mountain and Terai areas (Bell 2016). Nepal’s GNI, at $720, is roughly half that of India’s, and about sixty times smaller than the UK’s (Brown 2017).10_{Nepal remains one of the poorest countries in Asia, with 16.4% of the population still}

living below $1 dollar a day (Karkee and Comfort, 2016). Its imports, valued at around $6.6 billion, are roughly ten times what it exports, with nearly two-thirds coming from neighbouring India.

Nepal’s public education system is divided between primary (grades 1-5) and secondary education (grades 5-10). To complete secondary education, students are required to take the ‘Secondary Education Examination’ (SEE) examinations11, after which they can choose to complete higher secondary education

(grades 11-12) which is also a prerequisite for tertiary education. The country currently has 35,223 schools, of which 29,630 (84%) are public, 5593 are private and 735 are religious (regulated privately, but

10_{$1570 and $43,430 respectively}

11_{Up until 2017, these examinations were referred to as ‘School Leaving Certificate’ examinations, or ‘SLCs’.} Respondents referred to SLCs and SEEs interchangeably, but both refer to the final-year examination held from March-June annually.

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use the national curriculum) (Regmi, 2017: 14). Since the abolishment of the monarchy in 2008 and the adoption of a new constitution in 2015, the government’s education focus has been on ‘fundamental reforms’ such as decentralisation, community involvement and teacher development, in a drive to improve school performance (Regmi 2017). The School Sector Reform Plan 2016-2023 (SSRP) is currently the core document of the Ministry of Education, and directly imitates SDG4, stating that it; ‘seeks to ensure that the education system is inclusive and equitable in terms of access, participation and learning outcomes’ (Global Partnership for Education 2018). The quality of education has also been described as ‘an increasingly important concern in contemporary Nepalese society’, potentially due to the anticipated returns to education in the global labour market (Acharya and Leon-Gonzalez 2016: 1).

2.2 The impact of the 2015 earthquake

Nepal’s recent history has been described as a ‘…long-term entanglement of different slow and onset crises’, of which the most recent was the 2015 earthquake (Lord 2017). The earthquake and its aftershocks killed an estimated 9000 people, left 5000 people permanently disabled, displaced 2 million people from their homes and flattened half a million buildings, including 13,000 schools. (Sharma 2016; Warner et. al. 2015). It also occurred at a time of significant political upheaval, in which Nepal was struggling with political transition and an ongoing peace process that began after the civil war (1996-2006) and the abolishment of the monarchy in 2008. Frequent cabinet changes and stalemates over the formation of a new constitution effectively meant that the country had ‘23 governments in 24 years’ (Senchurey 2015), which was further exacerbated by longer-term issues such as chronic inequality, ‘rampant corruption’ and the lack of effective government, particularly at the local level (Sharma 2016; Regmi 2017: 188). A recent article described Nepal as a ‘fragile state’ trapped in a ‘distribution coalition’ that ‘…favours the interests of the political elites ruling the country’, which is at a disconnect to the needs and requirements of the people (Lohani 2018). In 2017, for example, the government was criticised for leaving citizens to ‘fend for themselves’ and doing little to help while millions of Nepalis ‘struggled through two monsoons and two bitter winters’ (Brown, 2017), in temporary shelters that are little more than ‘tents and tin-sheds’ (Amnesty International 2017a: 4) 12_{. This was}

illustrated by one respondent, who commented:

‘…the President is K.P. Oli [the Prime Minister]s girlfriend, who just spent $900,000 on a bullet-proof car […] That amount of money would’ve rebuilt 20-30 villages plus their schools, minimum.’ (NEU3).

Three years after the earthquake, only 16% of the $3 billion in reconstruction funds received by the Nepalese government has been spent (Sangroula 2018)13. The National Reconstruction Authority, the

agency set up to distribute the funds, was criticised in 2017 as being ‘barely functioning’ (Brown 2017). It is unclear what percentage or amount of this funding is expected to go into the reconstruction of affected schools and classrooms, most of which are still operating as ‘Temporary Learning Centres’ (

NLU3

); but it

12_{Under one estimate, only 5% of affected houses have rebuilt, while only a further 20% are in the process of} rebuilding; with 75% still in temporary shelters (NLU3).

13_{Part of this has gone to ‘reconstruction grants’ (around $2500) given to affected households. However, these have} been criticized as being barely enough to cover the cost of clearing the rubble (RCRD)

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was commented that most of the attention so far has gone on urban schools and schools in popular (trekking) areas that are more likely to be ‘seen’ by outsiders, than on schools in the more isolated rural areas that bore the full impact of the earthquake (

TLU2

). Many TLCs remain exposed to the elements and lack basic provisions such as separate washing facilities, which are dissuading girls and other marginalised groups from attending school in affected areas (

NLU3

). The earthquake response also exposed patterns of caste-based discrimination. For example, many local political leaders did not pass on information of aid drops to Dalit communities (Pariyar 2015); whilst in the Dolakha district, aid relief was found to be distributed more on the basis of caste-hierarchy than on actual need, placing Dalits at the bottom of the list despite their tendency to live in areas of greater risk Lord (2017). Amnesty International (2017b) stated that there is a ‘…disproportionate burden on those very communities that need the government’s help the most, pushing them to the back of the queue, or abandoning them altogether’. An article in the Nepali Times also commented that whilst ‘Disasters affect everybody equally […] discrimination emerges during the rescue’ (Pariyar 2015). This provides evidence of lingering caste discrimination that was denied by many respondents (see Chapters 5 and 6).

2.3 The aid industry’s involvement in Nepal’s education system

Nepal is one of the top ten recipients of Overseas Development Aid for education in Asia (OECD 2018), and in the last year has received $60 million in grants for programmes relating to the Global Partnership for Education (GPE). However, despite sixty years of donor involvement in education, the overall impact is such that one author commented; ‘There is probably no greater indictment of international development in Nepal than the derelict state of public education’ (Bell 2016: 377). While previous efforts such as the School Sector Reform (2009) programme have had successes in raising primary school enrolment from 64% in 1990 to 92.6% in 2015, and in lengthening the period of free education from five years to eight years (Acharya and Leon-Gonzalez 2016), efforts at the secondary level have been less successful (Craig 2016). In 2015 for example, only 28% of public school pupils passed their school leaving exams compared to a target of 71% (Bell 2016)14. Like other developing countries, a focus on ‘short-term’ indicators of success, such as

enrolment statistics in primary education, has been pursued at the neglect of longer-term qualitative changes that could improve retention and pass rates at the secondary level (Riddell and Nino-Zarazua 2016). Indeed, previous studies have shown that education donors tend to take the ‘easy route’ in providing an account to the public at home of the results of their intervention by ‘focusing mostly on reporting on the numbers assisted’, rather than on actual quality (ibid: 24). A subsequent focus on short-term goals limits capacity development, and may ultimately be ‘undermining’ the education sector in the long term (ibid: 32).Similarly, Ferguson (1994) argued that in order to ‘move the money’, development actors tend to ‘portray development countries in terms that make them suitable targets’ (176), whilst also being at the behest of

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what, where and how long the donors deem appropriate15_{. In the words of one respondent: ‘Sometimes a}

project is for the project’s sake […] If you see on a national level […] how development is happening, in terms of the resources, spending in the country, and then outcomes, you will not be satisfied. We have very little you can find’ (NLU7).

This limited impact of aid on the education is further exacerbated by a lack of communication and trust between education stakeholders. For instance, a few respondents from smaller organisations cited the humanitarian response to the earthquake as being the ‘final straw’, causing a reluctance to work in partnership with larger aid agencies and INGOs, whom they perceive to be bureaucratically bloated, ineffective and propping up a wider system of endemic corruption in all levels of governance in Nepal (NEU1, NEU3, NLU3). This was illustrated in one respondent’s comment on a World Food Programme scandal following the 2015 earthquake:

‘You’ve done something wrong, you’ve supplied food that’s rotten, because your purchasers bought rotten food, lied on the bill and pocketed the difference. You’re not now gonna openly grab him, put him through a trial and then make an example of him, because that makes you look bad. So you’re gonna sweep it under the carpet and tell the locals that if they ever complain to the paper again they won’t get any more supplies from the WFP […] You’re threatening people that have lost everything, for being honest? […] Lost any little respect I had after the earthquake for the big boys, they’re all about money, they really are […] In poor countries, charity work is just a way to get rich’ (NEU3).

This attitude was shared by several respondents, who presented a ‘go it alone’ attitude; by which they purposefully avoid working in partnership with (or even in the same district/municipality as) larger organisations (NEU3, NEU1, NLU3). In some cases, this attitude also emerged following failed attempts to reach out to larger organisations only to be ignored or rejected (NLU5, NLU1). This has implications on the wider applicability of inclusive education strategies. As argued by Riddell and Nino-Zarazua (2016), ‘sustainable education outcomes will not be achieved merely by reproducing yet more successful but individual projects’ (32) Since the 2015 earthquake, international aid and development has been increasingly resisted by the Nepalese government on ‘nationalistic and sovereignty-based grounds’ (Sharma 2016), possibly out of fear of the creation of a ‘parallel state’ or ‘NGO republic’, as illustrated by Klarreich and Polman (2012) in the case of the Haiti earthquake in 2010. However, the fact that the Nepalese government itself has been criticised both internationally and domestically as being ‘poorly managed, inefficient, poorly resourced and corrupt’ (Karkee and Comfort 2016: 3) creates doubt that these ‘nationalist’ measures such as the ‘Prime Minister’s Relief Fund’16_{are little more than corruption in the guise of asserting sovereignty. There are also concerns}

that the proposed ‘National Integrity Policy’, nominally intended to ‘streamline’ the aid sector, is actually

15_{An example of this is the Save the Children Nepal website (2018), which talks almost exclusively about STC’s} humanitarian response to the 2015 earthquake, which it also frames as ongoing, despite the fact that 80-90% of its earthquake work has finished (ILU3).

16_{This effectively barred INGOs from engaging in independent relief activities following the 2015 earthquake and} flooding in 2017 (Sangroula 2018)

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designed to further curtail INGO involvement in rights, policy and advocacy work17_{, and would}

effectively be used to ‘remove organisations that draw the government’s ire with little reason’ (Bader 2018). This matches a comment made by one respondent who allegedly knew of colleagues that had ‘called out’ the government on cases of blatant corruption surrounding the earthquake response and later had their visas revoked (NEU3). A few respondents also gave examples of corruption in the education sector more specifically. For example, one described how he had to add another $20,000 on to a $55,000 cost-estimate of a school construction to effectively mask the fact that ‘various individuals’ from the department of education take a cut from the construction cost. In other words: ‘The whole system to get [a] school built was about having to lie about the cost, so that the government can then make more money when they build schools’ (NEU3). Another case involved a school that has been receiving foreign volunteers over the past few years and whose teachers have consistently lied to volunteers to elicit ‘donations’ from them. They reportedly hid previous items that had been donated, including sports equipment and laptops, to prompt further donations. Furthermore, they consistently reported having ‘record numbers of students’ to put pressure on the NGO to provide funding for the ‘construction of classrooms’18_{. These instances further}

demonstrate the strained relations between the government and NGOs, who are increasingly discouraged from operating because of government ambivalence towards the sector and a culture of corruption at multiple levels of Nepalese society.

2.4 The transition to federalism and its implications for education

One of the key facets of the 2015 Constitution was the transition of Nepal from a unitary state with five ‘development regions’ and 75 districts to a federal entity composed of seven provinces and 753 ‘gaupalika’ (municipalities) with a range of devolved powers in different sectors including education. The move to federalism was outlined in the peace process, as a concession to the Maoist party (now in power), and a direct response to the chronic centralisation and geographic inequality that was one of the major grievances which led to the civil war (Bell 2016). Federalism is significantly changing the administrative functioning of the country, and the delineation of the new federal and municipal boundaries bears little or no relation to existing district boundaries (Lohani 2018)19_{. Local administration is also shifting, as the new}

gaupalika will absorb the size of five to twelve Village Development Committees (the former local administrative unit); while each former district will now be replaced by seven to twelve municipalities. This

17_{A similar policy in 2015 outlined a registration cost for rights-based NGOs in Nepal that ranges from} $6000-$15,000 (NLU7).

18_{This case emerged through various informal conversations with volunteers and workers from a particular NGO.} Specific details have been omitted to maintain anonymity.

19_{In 2015, this exacerbated political tensions between the ‘hill elites’ and the Madhesi population of the Terai region} who perceived the new boundaries to be discriminatory and misrepresentational (Lord 2017). This led to months of protests and strikes and culminated in an ‘informal’ blockade at the Indian border that further crippled Nepal’s already damaged economy. The drawing of federal boundaries along ethnic lines was also mentioned by one respondent as a potential future area of conflict and discrimination (ILU2)

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has created an atmosphere of confusion among education stakeholders (

NLU3

, ILU3). For example, one interviewee from an INGO commented that:

‘…all of a sudden we don’t have a district system and everything goes back to the gaupalika […] So now instead of one unit, it has become like 7 or 9 units, and we don’t know how many people will be there, who will be in charge of what, how they will talk to each other, how they will centralise the data and information on education, how it will flood back to the central level, so it’s all blurry…’ (ILU2).

Meanwhile, respondents from smaller NGOs remarked that if they were to work in the same municipality as a larger organisation, they fear they would be ‘shouldered out’ or forced to relocate due to their unwillingness to work in partnership, potentially leaving a whole municipality to one organisation that has the capacity to only work in a few villages (NLU3).

The government has also struggled to provide adequate funding and staffing for the new offices (NLU3); and the lack of training and human resource-allocation20_{to the newly empowered gaupalika is such that}

many new public servants (such as the new role of ‘local education monitor’) ‘don’t know about their own roles and responsibilities’, or have a lack of experience, particularly in rural areas (NLU3)21. One senior civil

servant stated that:

‘[There is] a feeling that the local government is not in a position, financially-wise, resource-wise to deliver the intended specialism. So this is creating a lot of confusion […] the local level is very ill-prepared […] to deliver the intent.’ (PLU2).

It is intended that the gaupalika will eventually be ‘…in a position to devolve the curriculum, select teachers through local institutions and create a tax-base’, despite the system being in ‘chaos’ at present (PLU2). Indeed, a functioning local government administrating education without the need for ‘staggered approval’ through various district offices has the chance to improve efficiency, whilst tailoring to the needs to the specific communities themselves (NLU2). This was illustrated through one respondent, who described how:

‘…in the past we had to work through four organisations for one child. For health, we had to work with the district health office. Then, for the social security we had to work with the women and children’s office. And for education with the education office, And then local support, with the local office. Now all those four are in one place. Integrated.’ (NLU6)

Furthermore, increased school monitoring is already having some effect; one respondent stated that even though many education monitors are unclear on the specifics of their role, their presence is already having an impact on teachers, who are ‘a little bit scared’ (NLU1). The gaupalika education office is supposed to be governed in part by ex-teachers who ‘supervise, observe and train’ current teachers (TLR1). As these offices would have a smaller area to administer than the old district level, each individual school would receive more attention, which could have a positive effect on the overall quality (TLR1). However, this

20_{It was also suggested that many public sector employees are reluctant to leave the existing district offices to} relocate to the more isolated municipal offices (CLU, NLU3).

21_{One senior civil servant remarked that over 95% of elected people at the local level do not have a full grasp of} their positions, although this may have been an exaggeration (RCRD).

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also risks the recycling of an education system by the standards of the ‘old cohort’ of teachers, rather than by new standards of inclusion and child-centred pedagogy (see Chapter 5).

In sum, current relations between the relevant stakeholders are characterised by mutual distrust and a lack of coordination that have been exacerbated in the post-earthquake period and by a general culture of corruption. This, mixed with the apparent confusion and inefficiency surrounding the transition to the new federal state structure, amplifies a situation through which education stakeholders adopt inclusive strategies that are inconsistent, uneven and disproportionate in their application (Bell 2016). The following chapter takes a step back from contextual factors and focuses on establishing a conceptual understanding of ‘inclusive education’ that is used to analyse the findings in the final chapter.

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Chapter 3: Theoretical Framework

This chapter explores the philosophical and theoretical underpinnings of inclusive education and ways in which it can be implemented in practice. It takes a step back from the contextual factors outlined in the previous chapter to explore more abstract considerations of social justice through the lens of inclusive education. It conceptualises ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ forms of inclusion and relates this to existing theoretical stances. The development of inclusive education as a discourse will be explored, as well as consideration of how it translates to practical implementation; laying the groundwork for the empirical chapters.

3.1 The origins and development of Inclusive education

Inclusive education as a discourse has its origins in the disability movement, which urged a refocus of education to draw attention to discrimination and the barriers of participation for children with disabilities (CWDs) (Regmi 2017). The promotion of a ‘social model’ of disability also raised critique of ‘special needs’ education and segregation (Stofile 2008), and instead promoted the reforming and restructuring of ‘ordinary’ schools. The concept of inclusive education has since come to mean many things, from the specific inclusion of children with disabilities in mainstream schools (Florian 2008, Slee 2011), to the much broader notion of social inclusion currently used by governments and the international community as a way to respond to learner diversity (Forlin 2005; Armstrong et al. 2011) 22_{. Both ‘narrow’ and ‘broad’}

perspectives of inclusion have received their criticism. The narrow definition has, in some cases, ‘resulted in simply replacing the word ‘special’ with ‘inclusive’’ with little or no evidence of actual change (Florian 2008). On the other hand, there is a fear that the wider definition has become so broad it has essentially become meaningless, and risks downplaying important differences that require different teaching approaches (Florian 2008). This research presents both approaches, depending on their use by specific stakeholders, but ultimately adopts a broader understanding of the term to apply to all marginalised groups23_{. This is in}

line with the Nepalese government’s own conceptualisation of inclusive education:

22_{The Nepalese government has used both definitions over the last 10-15 years, and other education stakedholers} use both. This is expanded in the final chapter.

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‘Inclusive education is an education-development approach that ensures rights to life-long education in one’s own community in a non-discriminative environment by respecting cultural, class, caste and geographical diversities.’ (IEPPD, 2016: 1)

Similarly, they state that inclusive education strategies are aimed at ‘…children who are denied education due to whatever situational causes, or are at risk of dropping out from the school due to a lack of adaptive and accessible environments and support systems’ (IEPPD 2016: 1).

Both narrow and broad conceptualisations can be seen in the evolution of ‘inclusive’ education at the international institutional level and have been pivotal to the emergence and acceptance of inclusive education into the mainstream. The UN Declaration of Human Rights (1948) laid the groundwork in establishing education as a human right, reinforced with the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (1989), which ensured the right for all children to receive education free from discrimination on any grounds. The World Declaration on Education for All (EFA) (1990), while not using the term ‘inclusive education’ explicitly, made several provisions to promote equity among vulnerable and excluded children, including girls, street and working children, remote populations and ethnic minorities as well as children with disabilities (Regmi 2017). The Salamanca Statement and Framework for Action on Special Education (1994) is considered as one of the key international agreements on the principles and practises of inclusive education (Regmi 2017). This outlined the principal that schools should accommodate all children regardless of physical, intellectual, social, emotional, linguistic or other conditions. Article two of the Salamanca Framework also explicitly mentions that:

‘regular schools with this inclusive orientation are the most effective means of combating discriminatory attitudes, creating welcoming communities, building an inclusive society and achieving education for all’ (Unesco 1994: ix, emphasis added).

This was further expanded by the Dakar Framework (2000), which recommended that schools respond adaptably to the circumstances and needs of all learners, i.e. improving quality as well as access. The Dakar Framework’s aim to get all children (with a focus on girls and marginalised groups) into free and compulsory primary education by 2015 was also integrated into the Millennium Development Goals (2000). More recently, the Incheon Declaration of World Education Forum in South Korea (2015) clearly recognises ‘inclusion’ and ‘equity’ in education, while the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) have also clearly adopted inclusion as a central goal (Lamicchane 2017). The mainstreaming of ‘narrow’ inclusive education, meanwhile, was expanded by the UN Convention on Rights of Persons with Disabilities(2006), which outlined the role of governments in providing inclusive education for all learners based on five criteria:

1. Ensuring that people with disabilities are not excluded from mainstream education because of their disability

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2. Providing additional facilities for people with disability to increase access in education on the same basis as their peers in their own community

3. Making available the provision of reasonable accommodation to facilitate access

4. Ensuring the availability of support systems in mainstream schools to facilitate effective teaching and learning

5. Ensuring availability of effective individualised support to maximise social, emotional and academic progress within the parameters of inclusion.

Despite its acceptance into the mainstream, ‘inclusive education’ continues to lack a universally accepted definition (Ainscow and Miles, 2008). As well as disagreement on the ‘narrow’ and ‘broad’ perceptions of it, there are also different ways of framing it. Different ‘perspectives’ or drivers for inclusive education have been suggested by Dyson (1999) and Regmi (2017). Many of these overlap, but some stand out in regard to the actors focused on in this thesis. Firstly, the ‘efficacy-based’ perspective (Dyson 1999) focuses more on the ‘cost-effectiveness’ of inclusive education, something which is often referred to at the government and international institutional level. For example, The Salamanca Framework stated that inclusive education would ‘improve the efficiency and ultimately the cost-effectiveness of the entire education system’ (1994; ix, emphasis added). This is related to a ‘pragmatic perspective’ (Dyson 1999), which frames inclusive education as a process of improving the schooling system in general (this is demonstrated in section 3.3.). The political perspective (ibid), meanwhile, views inclusive education as a means to promote equity and social justice in the wider community, and relates to what Regmi (2017) describes as a ‘critical perspective’ that associates inclusive education with a qualitative transformation of the education system as a whole (Giroux 2003). Through these latter two perspectives, inclusive education could be described as a tool to break the cycle of ‘cultural reproduction’ (Bourdieau 1990) 24_{of exclusionary practices through an}

education system that embraces change and diversity These four approaches are outlined in Figure A:

Figure A: Perspectives on Inclusive Education (IE) (Drawn from Dyson (1999) and Regmi (2017))

Perspective Summary

Efficacy IE as a cost-effective model

Pragmatic IE as a means to improve general schooling

Political/Rights IE as a means to promote equity and justice

Critical IE as a transformational tool.

These approaches are not mutually exclusive, they often overlap and have a common thread in envisioning an education system that in some way addresses exclusionary practises in society (Cologon 2013). That being said, particular perspectives do appear to act as drivers for education stakeholders in

24_{Bourdieau (1990) argued that education is utilised by the dominant class to ‘reproduce’ the culture that reinforces} their power and thus sustains patterns of marginalisation and inequality.

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Nepal. Broadly, while the Nepalese government appears to adopt pragmatic and efficacy-based perspectives of inclusive education, (I)NGOs and CSOs tend to have a focus that is more rights-based and concerned with transforming the wider society (see Chapter 6). These drivers also inform the strategies adopted by different stakeholders, as shall be outlined in the following section of this chapter.

3.2 Conceptualising Primary and Auxiliary Inclusion

Theoretical understandings of social justice in relation to inclusion advocate different strategies that address the underlying forms in which exclusion occur. This includes a focus on (re)distribution that challenges socio-economic inequalities (Young 1990; Fraser and Honneth 2003), as well as socio-cultural and political ‘recognition’ which ultimately aims for full participation in the life of a community (Honneth 1996; Blunden 2004). Additionally, both of these approaches may require mainstream community to accommodate to the specific needs of minorities (Norwhich 2013). Inclusive education specifically has been interpreted as the minimising of exclusion in the public education system through constructive responses to include groups that are underrepresented (Hay 2003; Stofile 2008). Farrell (2004) expands this by arguing that inclusive education can be understood not only as the physical inclusion of marginalised groups, but the active involvement of those groups within the school so that they are encouraged to remain in education. Inclusive education is therefore about both quality as well as accessibility, ensuring universal access as well as increasing participation and a sense of belonging in the learning environment (Booth and Ainscow 1998). This was further developed by Tomasevski’s ‘4 A’s’ (2001), which divides inclusive education between the right to education (accessibility and availability) and rights in and through education (acceptability and adaptability). Tomasevski interprets accessibility as the elimination of barriers to compulsory schooling, whether that be legal, administrative, financial etc. Availability refers more to resource and fiscal allocations, such as matching the number and diversity of children. Acceptability is concerned with quality criteria such as parental choice, language of instruction, and the enforcement of minimal standards in education. Lastly, adaptability focuses on the inclusive capacity of schools to accommodate the vast range of children in a given social setting.

This thesis attempts to synthesise the approaches mentioned above through the concepts of ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ inclusion. Primary inclusion is focused on the access of schooling for all. This entails the removal of physical or socio-economic barriers, and so relates to concerns of redistribution, as well as of accessibility and availability. Auxiliary inclusion is more concerned with the quality of schooling. It is ‘auxiliary’ as it assumes a priori the existence of access through primary inclusion25_{, and instead focuses on}

25_{For example, elsewhere it has been argued that inclusive education is interpreted differently in ‘developed’ and} ‘developing’ countries. In the former, the access (primary inclusion) of marginalised groups is less of an issue, and so inclusive education is primarily focused on the quality (auxiliary inclusion) of special needs education (Sharma 2015).

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the retention of all children throughout both primary and secondary levels of education. This entails addressing qualitative concerns such as patterns of socio-cultural exclusion, whilst adapting to the specific needs of marginalised groups to provide an acceptable educational environment for all. In other words, whilst primary inclusion focuses on freedom from barriers to schooling26, auxiliary inclusion ultimately

seeks the freedom for learners to reach their full potential once within the learning environment. The approaches are summarised below:

Figure B: Conceptualising primary and auxiliary inclusion

Primary inclusion Auxiliary inclusion

Perceived driver of exclusion Socio-economic Socio-cultural Positive and negative freedom

(Berlin)

Freedom from Freedom to

Recognition and Redistribution (Fraser)

Redistribution Recognition

The Four As (Tomasevski) Right to education

(Availability and Accessibility)

Right in/through education (Acceptability and Adaptability)

Educational focus Enrolment (Hay 2003; Stofile 2008)

Retention (Farell 2004)

Distributive and social justice (Young)

Distributive justice Social justice

Value indicator Quantity Access

Quality Participation

As shown in Figure B, primary inclusion is more concerned with quantitative indicators such as the number of students from x background or with y disability enrolled in public school. Auxiliary inclusion, meanwhile, is focused on qualitative factors such as language of instruction, teaching quality and pedagogical approach, but can also be analysed via quantitative indicators such as dropout rates. Examples of both strategies will be listed in the next section (3.3.) and will be further utilised in analysing the strategies of inclusive education outlined in Chapter 6.

3.3 Inclusive Education in Practice

In many developing countries such as Nepal, the enrolment of many marginalised groups remains low, and so the application of auxiliary inclusion strategies remains limited unless and until primary inclusion strategies are adopted. 26_{Adapted from Isaiah Berlin’s (1958) discussion on ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ freedom}

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The practical implementation of inclusive education has been found to have a beneficial impact, not only for children from marginalised backgrounds but also on the wider class and even on society in general (Loreman 2014). It has been argued, for instance, that integrative schooling minimises the negative perceptions of disability and resultant marginalisation, stigmatisation and abuse suffered by people with disabilities in the general population (Rose et al 2011). In the broader sense, inclusive education is said to facilitate social development (Jordan et al 2009), as it enables and encourages children of diverse backgrounds to interact and form friendships (Finke et al 2009, Theodorou and Nind 2010), leading to a wider acceptance of diversity in society (Wong and Cumming 2010). Pupil diversity, therefore, rather than being a problem, has been shown to enrich the learning experience (UNESCO 2005; Pottas 2005). As stated by Korkmaz (2011); ‘…when children attend classes that reflect the similarities and differences of people in the real world, they learn to appreciate diversity’ (177).

Implementing Inclusive education (in the broader sense) necessitates a wide range of strategies, but ultimately aims for a set of similar characteristics, as outlined by Loreman (2009). These can be summarised in seven points, in which their applicability as primary (PI) and Auxiliary (AI) forms of inclusion have also been considered:

1. All children being able to attend their neighbourhood school. (PI)

2. All schools having a zero-rejection policy when it comes to registering and teaching children. (PI) 3. All children learning in regular, heterogenous classrooms with same-age peers. (PI)

4. All children following substantively similar programs of study, with curricula that can be adapted and modified if needed. (AI)

5. Modes of instruction are varied and responsive to the needs of all. (AI)

6. All children are involved and contribute to regular school and classroom-learning activities and events. (AI)

7. All children are able to make friends and be socially active. (AI)

A similar list was outlined by UNESCO (2009) who also emphasised the need for flexible teaching and learning methods adapted to different needs and learning styles, as well as the involvement of parents and the wider community, and for a reoriented teacher-training programme to match the diversity of the classroom. These strategies have also been advocated elsewhere (Westwood 2013; Ainscow 2005; Brackenreed 2011), suggesting a broad conensus for what is framed here as ‘auxiliary’ inclusion strategies such as training, flexibility and communication. Regarding children with disabilities, for instnace, sometimes a ‘partial inclusion’ approach is recommended (Heiman 2004), in which children with special needs or educational requirements attend smaller and more intensive sessions in a separate ‘resource room’, with the aim of eventually integrating into the regular classroom over time (Pottas 2005). These strategies are also ultimately dependent on the availability of necessary financial and human resources, and the sustianed efforts of policymakers and education practitioners (Johnson et al 2014: Sharm et al 2013).

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The application of ‘resource rooms’ in Nepal is also used partly as a way of counteracting large class sizes in which teachers are unable to provide adequate attention to every students’ needs, and of addressing a shortage of specialised staff by spreading them out through reserouce rooms. The implications and associated challenges of this will be discussed further in Chapter 6.

3.4 Limitations to the provision of inclusive education

As seen in the table above, the practical implementation of inclusive education is limited by a number of different factors at different levels. For instance, the conceptual fuzziness surrounding inclusive education results in a lack of clear understanding among teachers on its underlying philosophy and ultimate aims (Cologon 2013). Practically, there is also confusion among teachers between simple assimilation of new groups into the existing classroom structure, and of more nuanced ‘inclusion’ that may also require a change in pedagogical approach (Armstrong et al. 2011). Previous research has also indicated a negative attitude among teachers towards the inclusion of children with disabilities (Westwood 2013). Many doubt the feasibility of teaching a range of children with disabilities in a single classroom (Korkmaz 2011), and worry that disabled students detract instructional time from other students, or that they require specialised skills that the teacher is unable to provide (Jordan et al 2009). This concern is especially relevant in developing countries such as Nepal, where the student-teacher ratio remains high (Korkmaz 2011)

Other factors include the absence of relevant materials and training programmes, a lack of funding and inadequately trained personnel (Eleweke and Rodda 2001). This lack of quality teacher training leads to a shortage of the desired skills and expertise pertaining to the effective implementation of inclusive education (Westwood and Graham 2003; Slavica 2010; Vaugh et al 2011); whilst also reducing the motivation and self-esteem of staff to adopt new pedagogical approaches (Jordan et al 2009). The lack of financial resources further limits the effective implementation of inclusive education, even if it has been nominally accepted at the international institutional level (Kalyva et al. 2007). The lack of educational resources combined with issues of understaffing (Dagnew 2013) cause a significant barrier to the effective practise of inclusive education, which is largely dependent on a low to medium student to teacher ratio (Sharma et al. 2013). Globally, marginalised groups, including people with disability, also continue to face negative attitudes, social discrimination and stigmatisation that hinder the wider acceptance of inclusive education (Johnson et al 2014; Bailey 2015).

There is also danger in treating inclusive education as a top-down silver bullet that ignores local circumstance. Young (1990), for example, advocated the importance of context, and of recognising what

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may be dismissed as ‘background’ relationships of domination and oppression (Ackelsberg, 2008: 328). In the context of structural inequality, formal ‘impartiality’ (the ‘anti-politics’ element of the aid industry, for example27_{), ‘…may mask, and therefore leave in place, structural dimensions of domination and oppression’ (Young,}

1990: 18). Therefore, ‘seemingly just and fair policies can lead to occurrences of injustice and unfairness towards some of those whom they impact’ (McMenamin, 2013: 769). As social justice is more than just about economic equality, there is a difference between giving all equal rights and equal opportunities within an existing system (distributive justice) and altering the conditions under which the inequality or oppression arises (social justice) (Ackelsberg, 2008: 328; see also Fraser and Honneth 2003). This is also true of inclusive education, in which distributive justice and social justice can be related to primary and auxiliary inclusion respectively (see Figure B). A focus on primary inclusion alone entails the same consequence as focusing solely on distributive justice, in that it ‘inappropriately restricts the scope of justice’ by ignoring the social practices that underlie the ability for people to ‘participate in determining their actions and their ability to develop and exercise their capacities’ (Young, 1991: 21-22). Addressing social justice (or ‘auxiliary inclusion’) concerns entail accounting for the plurality of social structural phenomena (Robertson and Dale, 2013: 428), as well as focusing on participation and empowerment (Ackelsberg, 2008). This entails targeting what Sen (2000) refers to as ‘passive exclusion’, exclusionary practises that persist even in the absence of ‘active’ exclusion (deliberately exclusionary laws and policies, for instance). Regarding the Nepali context, Khanal (2015) for example argues that focusing just on the formal school setting without considering sociocultural and economic factors, will not adequately address the inclusion of Dalits in education; as ‘Only through [a] multi-dimensional and committed approach will Dalit students…have access to the type of education to which they are entitled’ (Khanal, 2015: 718)28_{. Additionally, Young (1990) suggests that achieving equality and the participation}

and inclusion of all groups ‘sometimes requires different treatment for oppressed or disadvantaged groups’ (158). This can be illustrated in the equitable vs equal distribution of aid, for example; as the latter approach risks reinforcing entrenched patterns of marginalisation (See Annex D).

There is also criticism that inclusive education is interpreted as a finite ‘end point’. Ensuring lasting access and participation has been described as an ‘ongoing engagement in removing the barriers of active involvement and participation in shared learning’ (Regmi 2017). In other words, inclusive education is not a static point that can be achieved, but one that requires constant re-evaluation to match the ever-changing social reality. Similarly, a critique of the social justice theory is that injustice is a permanent reality of life, and that shifts in political, economic and cultural landscapes continuously disturb social patterns and produce new sets of demands for recognition (Keddie, 2012); which make an ‘end point’ of social justice (and by extension, inclusion) seem utopian. This is a valid concern in the abstract sense, but detracts from potential moves towards social justice in the ‘here and now’. In the context of Nepal, the entrenched injustices based on caste, gender and disability can and are being challenged, albeit in a haphazard manner. Just because new

27_{See Ferguson (1990)}

28_{While this quote referred to the Dalit community specifically, it can also be applied to girls and other marginalised} groups.

Inclusion for all? : an analysis of inclusive education strategies for marginalised groups in Nepal

Inclusion For All? An Analysis of Inclusive

Education Strategies for Marginalised

Groups in Nepal

‘Inclusion For All? An Analysis of Inclusive

Education Strategies for Marginalised Groups in

Nepal’

Master of Science Thesis

MSc International Development Studies

July 2018

Samuel John

10855157

Word Count: 27,943

Supervisor: Dr. Simone Datzberger

Second Reader: Dr. Tina Harris

Graduate School of Social Sciences

University of Amsterdam

Acknowledgments

Abstract

Table of Contents

List of Abbreviations

List of Figures

Chapter 1: Introduction

1.1 Research overview

1.1.1 Marginalisation based on caste

1.1.2 Marginalisation based on Gender

1.1.3 Marginalisation based on disability

1.2 Overview of ‘primary’ and ‘auxiliary’ inclusion strategies

1.3 Thesis Overview

Chapter 2: Contextual background

2.1 Overview

2.2 The impact of the 2015 earthquake

NLU3

TLU2

NLU3

2.3 The aid industry’s involvement in Nepal’s education system

2.4 The transition to federalism and its implications for education

NLU3

Chapter 3: Theoretical Framework

3.1 The origins and development of Inclusive education

3.2 Conceptualising Primary and Auxiliary Inclusion

3.3 Inclusive Education in Practice

3.4 Limitations to the provision of inclusive education