One of the most consistent challenges in our field is the sheer disparity in what children experience in Religious Education. We all know the stories: one school where RE is rich, academic, and respected; another where it’s squeezed into collapsed timetable days or confused with PSHE. As someone who works across many schools, I’ve seen both ends of the spectrum — and everything in between. That’s why I believe it’s time to seriously consider a national curriculum for RE in England.
Yes, there are concerns. The biggest one I hear is: “But who decides what goes in it?” It’s a fair question. Religious Education sits in a complex and plural space, and we are rightly cautious about standardising it. But I come back to this one question: Would it raise standards and expectations for young people? And the answer is, without doubt, yes.
At the moment, the fragmented way RE is determined — with each local authority producing its own agreed syllabus or each academy group interpreting the requirements in their own way — creates wildly different experiences. A national curriculum would introduce a benchmark, a common expectation of quality, that all schools and leaders would be held to. That matters not just for teachers, but for leadership teams who too often still see RE as an afterthought (I was once told, “Let’s just map RE across the school and use the curriculum time for PSHE!”).
It is also worth noting that many locally agreed syllabuses today are developed with external expertise and support, often drawing on common frameworks and resources. This collaboration has led to a significant degree of consistency and similarity across these syllabuses nationwide. In many ways, this means we are already part way toward a national curriculum for RE, with shared aims and content emerging organically despite the absence of a formal, centralised document.
In the curriculum work I’m leading across our Trust, we’ve been clear: a strong central curriculum doesn’t restrict good teachers — it empowers them. Where there are passionate and knowledgeable specialists, a well-designed curriculum gives them the freedom to meet key outcomes in ways that reflect their local context and strengths. But — and this is crucial — where subject expertise is limited or non-existent, the same curriculum ensures that every student still receives a high-quality RE education. That’s the offer a national curriculum could make: consistency, without killing creativity.
Would some schools still do better than others? Of course. But right now, the gap between the best and worst provision is too wide. A national curriculum wouldn’t flatten everything out — it would lift the baseline. It’s about making sure everyone gets a good deal, even if not everyone gets the best deal.
I also think a national curriculum could be designed to offer more flexibility than many locally agreed syllabuses do now. If it followed the model of the national curriculum for History — with core knowledge and themes, but freedom in how to teach it — then RE specialists would have even more scope to innovate, not less. And in the long term, we’d see real benefits: more consistent pathways into GCSE and A level, a clearer subject identity, and more students going on to study religion and philosophy at university. That, in turn, grows the pool of future RE teachers — and that’s something we desperately need.
Imagine if trainee teachers were trained to teach a curriculum that had been carefully sequenced by national experts, rather than being handed an overwhelming list of every practice in every faith. It would be a game changer for workload, confidence, and subject knowledge.
So yes — a national curriculum for RE might take time. It might take negotiation. But if it raises the floor for all and raises the ceiling for many, then to me, that’s more than worth it.