GCED: Living human rights
Ask a bunch of students what “global citizenship” means and you will probably hear answers about passports, plane tickets, or the United Nations. For many, it sounds far away, even hard to grasp. But after weeks in the GCED Online Course facilitated by Dr. Jeff Plantilla under UNESCO-APCEIU, the phrase no

By Herman M. Lagon
By Herman M. Lagon
Ask a bunch of students what “global citizenship” means and you will probably hear answers about passports, plane tickets, or the United Nations. For many, it sounds far away, even hard to grasp. But after weeks in the GCED Online Course facilitated by Dr. Jeff Plantilla under UNESCO-APCEIU, the phrase no longer sounded like jargon. It became less about borders and more about survival and dignity. I began to picture it not in airports or summits, but in teachers in Manila, Nairobi, or Dhaka, turning classrooms into spaces for empathy, justice, and action.
The course stretched over five weeks—moving from history and human rights to sustainability and community building. It paired readings and case studies with conversations that spanned continents, reminding us that learning today is not bound by walls. UNESCO’s call to “Learn to Live Together” may sound simple, but it is radical: to see ourselves not only as citizens of barangays or nations but caretakers of a fragile planet.
What made it powerful were the stories. In Osaka’s Nishiyodogawa, residents once coughed through thick factory smog until they organized, built a clinic, and after 17 years of struggle, won recognition that clean air is a human right (Aozora Foundation, 2015). In India, slum residents used the Right to Information law to demand answers about missing food rations and delayed pensions. For them, transparency was not theory but survival. These struggles echo here in the Philippines, where our Freedom of Information order still falls short of a full law, leaving many poor communities unable to demand accountability.
This is why educators matter. We cannot write laws, but we can help young people question injustice, analyze policies, challenge the status quo, and act with courage. A debate on fake news, a recycling project, digging into sketchy flood program, or hearing a farmer’s story already teaches citizenship. GCED turns bayanihan into climate action, pakikipagkapwa into respect for diversity, and connects them with Ubuntu in Africa or panchayat in India.
Research supports this shift. Banks (2017) found that global citizenship lessons sharpen democratic values and empathy, while the EDCOM II report (2023) stresses that rote learning cannot solve functional illiteracy. Learning grows through projects, debates, dialogues, and immersion. I once watched students thrive when given responsibility—running drives for literacy or standing against bullying. They planted seeds of citizenship, more than school activities.
But teachers often battle crowded classes, low wages, overloads, and political sensitivities that make lessons on justice or accountability difficult. Yet GCED does not demand heroics. It begins with small but steady acts—helping students fact-check viral posts, vote wisely, reflect on flooding in their barangay, or design a simple community campaign. Each act affirms that their voices matter, and in a society often marked by silence, that is transformative.
The stories also reminded me that numbers matter but narratives move. The numbers are grim: most African ten-year-olds cannot read, and many Filipino children lag behind. Yet it is the scenes—smog-choked Osaka, hungry queues in Delhi, evacuees in Iloilo—that stay with us. GCED thrives in these lived accounts, because empathy deepens when data has a human voice.
In many ways, GCED echoes lessons I absorbed in Jesuit schools: reflection before action, finding dignity in all, treating learning as preparation for service. It is not another subject to add to the curriculum. It is a way of seeing—whether in math problems tied to carbon footprints, history lessons on revolutions, or literature discussions of marginalized voices.
What the course made clear is that we do not need graduates who can recite definitions but remain unmoved. We need citizens who can spot lies, challenge unjust systems, and empathize with strangers. UNESCO’s 2023 Recommendation states it plainly: education must empower learners “to think critically, act responsibly, and build sustainable futures.” That is the compass. It is up to teachers to make learning spaces alive with justice and empathy.
I see a child in Iloilo realizing that words affirm dignity, that climate action saves lives, and that raising questions builds democracy. That is global citizenship. It begins not in treaties or posters but in everyday teaching, lesson plans, and lived experiences. And if teachers embrace this role, classrooms will raise not just graduates, but guardians of peace, justice, and hope.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
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