It’s not just a story

F(ine) ARTS @ The Fake - June 12, 2013

Since the BAD day in the US I have set up three direct debits. I didn’t plan to, they just arose (and to be frank, they’re for small amounts). They are to Hack Education (sorry Audrey, should have done it ages ago), The New York Times and Stand Up to Racism. As I said, it wasn’t part of a plan, they were individual responses to prompts, but now I look at them they all have something in common, which is that they offer a counter narrative: to the Silicon Valley technodeterminism; to Trump’s post-truth approach; to the dominant anti-migrant story in the UK.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about education’s response to all this. Bonnie Stewart argues we need to start being proactive, in a way, creating a digital literacy narrative. This is true of education itself I think. When we have populist MPs like Jacob Rees Mogg declaring that experts are similar to astrologers, there is an urgent case for education to have a strong narrative about its purpose.

This falls on all of us in education, but particularly those in positions of authority. For many years now we have seen Vice-Chancellors appointed on their ability to make universities behave like businesses, to develop radical new models of higher education. What we need now from Vice Chancellors (and Chancellors, Pro Vice Chancellors, eminent Profs, public intellectuals, etc) is an ability to articulate clearly, and with passion, the importance of higher education to society and to individuals. And not just in a return on investment, monetised manner but in terms of preserving democracy, cultural values and social cohesion. Because narrative, more than facts, is important – it used to be said that the victor writes history, but now more than ever it seems the one who writes the version of history they want, becomes the victor.

Social media do-over

Holiday home

A bunch of us have been looking at Mastodon Social over the past week as an alternative social media platform. Kate Bowles and Maha Bali amongst others have been having some good discussion about how we want social media to work for us now. Kate, rightly I think, argues that we’re not looking for a replacement to Twitter, but an alternative. Mastodon as an open source platform that seems to have its heart in the right place might be that. But even if it’s not, I think the activity there is an indication of our changing attitude to social media.

Being on Twitter since reasonably early days (2007) has been like watching a city develop rapidly from a small town. And like a city Twitter now has many amazing things and people. It also has a very dark side and its share of crime. The hardened city dweller begins to yearn for a more simple, friendly life. An alternative social media platform then is more like a holiday home in a nice rural community, everyone knows your name, it’s got a couple of nice coffee bars but not much else. You mainly go for the walks and the quiet pace of life.

Reflecting on the activity on Mastodon made me realise two things. Firstly, we’ve become acutely aware of the role of social media in recent politic events – it’s not an innocent anymore. Secondly, we’re all social media experts now, in that we’ve been using it intensely for year. When we joined Twitter it was with an exploratory attitude, “what will this space turn out to be?”. Now it is more instructive, directed – we know what we want from a social media space and how can we fashion this one to be like that?

Even if Mastodon fades, I think this new attitude to social media will be revisited with increased vigour over the next few years. If we accept it isn’t going away (although I admire those who consciously decide to opt out) then establishing the sort of online community you want to spend time in is worthwhile.

Break my arms around the one I love

Embrace Sculpture

I’ve written before about my love of blogging. But post-Trump victory, I’m questioning everything. On the plus side it has seen a flurry of great blogging. With news forced to normalise it, and fake news a testimony to our ability to drown in comfort rather than face truths, blogs are the place to turn to for informative comment often.

But on the downside, as David Kernohan points out, much of the grinding engine of paranoia and hatred is driven by these same tools and approaches. The ones I’ve happily championed for years. And more fundamentally I think we have to question the role of education, educational technology and educators now. As a blogger I don’t want to write about the new world, because there are others who have a better understanding of the socio-political threads coming together in this new fabric, and I don’t think I have anything new to say (apart from a long primal scream). But I can’t write about anything else. This post then really is just flagging up some blogistential angst. Damn Trump and his ilk, they’ve even contaminated this space.

While I figure this out for me, here’s a selection of some great posts:

Sherri Spelic – Incuriosity is a thing

Jesse Stommel – This paragraph was written before the world went to shit

Mike Caulfield – Fake news does better on Facebook than real news

Audrey Watters – Education Technology under Trump: A syllabus

Tressie McMillan Cottom – Digital redlining after Trump

Helen Beetham – Ed Tech and the circus of unreason

Lorna Campbell – The wrong side of history

Amy Collier – Love/Resistance

And while we’re here, let’s have some National:

Acts of resistance

Resistance

So I had the Trump chat with my daughter last night. It’s a useful way to frame your own reaction, as you have to balance the anger, depression and anxiety with some practicality and hope. She wanted to know what she could do, and I explained that one thing to remember is that time and demographics are against the Alt-right world order. In 10 years time Brexit or Trump would not have been successful (probably). And also their own incompetence and failure to deliver on their vague promises will be their undoing. So just getting through the next 5-10 years is a strategy in itself. In our discussion (it was actually more her analysis than mine) we thought of it in terms of resistance:

  • Staying healthy is an act of resistance – whatever you need to do to get through it is fine. There is no one way to do this, but being there when the chance for the backlash comes is important. We are those demographics.
  • Being kind is an act of resistance – these politics are based largely in hate, fear and paranoia. Kindness sounds weak but it requires strength.
  • Encouraging diversity is an act of resistance – the people who voted for Trump are the ones who think a remake of Ghostbusters with all women leads destroys their childhood. Fuck them, let’s see more of this everywhere.
  • Supporting others is an act of resistance – there are others who will be affected more adversely, and whatever we can do to support those helps, be it marches, donations, speaking up.
  • Education is an act of resistance – the Trump campaign declares open hostility to knowledge and expertise. Combatting this attitude itself negates their appeal.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Take care.

OpenEd16 & my manel shame

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I’ve been at OpenEd in Richmond this week, and I feel bad about this post, because it’s been an amazing conference. For example, I’ve just come from post conference drinks with Audrey Watters, Ken Bauer, Christina Hendricks, Autumm Caines, Laura Gogia, Jim Luke, and so on. Anything that brings those people together in one place is worth applauding. So what follows is meant in the best possible friendly critique manner.

OpenEd conference needs to do better at, well, being open. Before we start, I’ll say I dislike the way people use ‘open’ as a means to bash others eg “if you’re open why do you charge conference fees at all?”. I understand the realities of running a conference. But I think OpenEd could do better here. My example involves myself and a moment of shame I felt, but I think it’s symptomatic, so this isn’t just catharsis. I was asked relatively late to be on a panel, talking about the Future OER essays people were asked to contribute. I like to be accommodating so I agreed. But I didn’t pay it much attention (in an effort to redeem myself here, I was presenting, taking part in 3 Virtually Connecting sessions and had arranged numerous meetings with people). Then, when it came to walk on stage I was one of 7 men to just one woman on the panel. I mean, really? In open ed, you could throw a cookie in the air and it’d land on any one of a number of women doing amazing things. It almost seems like it’d be harder to have a 7:1 ration than not.

I called this out when asked to introduce myself, but I know I lack a good degree of moral courage. I should have a) paid more attention when asked to be on the panel and b) walked off the stage when I saw it’s make up. This shit isn’t hard, it just takes a millisecond additional thought.

But I think it goes beyond that panel – there didn’t feel like the appropriate mix of voices beyond north America at that conference. It felt different from OE Global, which feels, well, global. I understand it is predominantly the conference for open ed in North America – that’s what it is, so that community will dominate. But I think we could do better. In a Virtually Connecting session later, I commented that often we (Virtually Connecting) feel grateful for conferences letting us be part of it (and OpenEd did a really great job here, for which they should be applauded), but also they should feel grateful to Maha and team for bringing in some different voices to the conference also.

I won’t address all the issues why it’s good practice to get these different perspectives involved, as so many better informed people than me have written about it, but just to add that it’s not a luxury, it’s vital. Anyway, I’ve learnt never agree to be on a panel without asking a few questions first, and for my failure to do that, I apologise.

Let’s think inside the box

Intergalactic (Cardboard edition)

I’m interested in the way language influences our behaviour (without getting into linguistic determinism), and one aspect I think we’re witnessing is the seepage of Silicon Valley language and values into society. In the software world terms such as ‘radical’, ‘disruptive’ and ‘revolutionary’ are all used freely, and always with positive connotations. However, the same terms have now been taken up across society, and particularly in politics. Both Brexit and Trump could match those adjectives, but I would argue they are not positive forces. These are larger examples of a smaller phenomenon that values a radical new solution over an improvement to an existing one. Competence is a much undervalued trait in this new world, because competence relies on working in existing paradigms, and well, we’re all about the new paradigms. Never has this contrast been so stark than with Trump and Clinton. Whatever your views of Clinton, she is very competent at being a politician. And Trump clearly isn’t, because he’s never been one (and doesn’t seem to possess any of the skills required).

But this post isn’t about politics, I just use those as examples of the end point of a larger trend, and to illustrate the point that ‘disruptive’ does not equate with ‘good’. In education terms, I feel this language has been influential also. Too many universities want to be start-up businesses, or expand into new overseas markets. They want to be something new, instead of being the best at what they already are. ‘Let’s Engage on a Program of Improvement’ is, admittedly, not as sexy as “Let’s start a revolution!”. Another aspect of the Silicon Valley language and mindset is that falsely posits the choice as either complete transformation or absolute status quo. I reject this choice, there is plenty of change and excitement to be done by working ‘inside the box’ (sadly ‘inside the box‘ has itself become a bit of a management guru approach already).

The use of technology in education I think provides an ideal example of this tendency. You can make the question about its use “how can we use technology to radically transform higher education into something different?” or it can be “how do we use technology to really improve what we do?” Those two questions lead you to very different answers. Too often I think being the person who wants to answer the first question will get you status, whereas the answer to the second question is what we really need. This is particularly true as we enter uncertain times as a result of the political context which arises from the same thinking.

We need a shift from the desirable adjectives being ‘radical’, ‘disruptive’ and ‘revolutionary’ to ‘competent’, ‘sustainable’ and ‘enhancing’. If you don’t think language is important in this, then try the following – the next time someone uses ‘disruptive’ in a meeting, act as if that is quite an offensive term and really question them on why they have used it (as I said before, do you really want disruption?). Maybe then people will start to question what it is they really want.

OER as educational heritage

Tragic face

There has been a pruning of A-level subjects in the UK recently, with Art history, Archeology, and Classical studies all for the chop. It’s like the Beeching Report for education. It is puzzling in many respects – everyone talks about how the workplace is becoming increasingly fragmented, diverse in terms of jobs. We are told things like 65% of today’s students will be doing jobs that don’t exist yet (which reminds me of Anchorman’s “60% of the time it works every time“), and yet we are making the education sector increasingly homogeneous. And with higher ed funding increasingly focused on STEM subjects, it is not just at secondary level that this restriction of choice will occur.

This perhaps hints at another role for OER, which is preserving some aspect of the necessary diversity in educational topics. Just to be clear, I’m not suggesting OER should replace A levels in these subject, but rather arguing that if they are being scrapped, then thank goodness OER can at least keep them going in some format. OER provide good quality content that is specifically aimed at learners, which is distinct from other resources (documentaries, books) in the area. The OU’s OpenLearn site for instance has a fine collection of material on Art History. OER then can at least help the motivated learner stay in touch with a subject. There may be further possibilities however, in the often talked about model of accrediting informal learning. In such a model maybe we can bring some diversity to a curriculum by having OER electives. You may be studying Physics, say, but there is one open elective so you can add in an option of Archeology through the provision and accreditation of OER.

That is of course, nowhere near the same as having rich diversity in official courses, but it at least keeps appreciation of these subjects alive, until such time as a more enlightened educational regime is in place.

The lesson of Mabon’s Day

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This is one of those “thoughts I had while walking the dog that I might as well blog before I forget them” posts. It concerns a little known holiday in Wales, and the relevance this has for (educational) technology. Mabon’s Day started in 1888, around the South Wales coal mines, in which the 1st Monday of every month was declared a holiday. Named after the Lib-Lab politician William Abraham (who was better known as Mabon) who fought successfully for the miners to have this holiday. His argument was largely that they were physically exhausted through labour, and thus could not devote time to intellectual pursuits. A day a month would allow them to focus on self development. Needless to say the pit owners opposed the move, which they saw purely in terms of lost coal output.

It was successful however, through lobbying by politicians such as Mabon and Trade Unions. Alas, Mabon’s ideal that it would be used for holding union meetings, studying and general intellectual pursuits was not borne out. Anyone who has been in the UK on a bank holiday weekend will know what happened – everyone got very drunk. This isn’t quite true, there were meetings, but attendance was often low, and instead fairs, and entertainments were set up in parks, which attracted more people.A local newspaper noted that ‘in many cases the day is spent in dissipation’. This led to much moral outrage, and complaints from the pit owners, as subsequent days were lost also. In 1898 it was abolished.

I like the story of Mabon’s Day – there’s lots going on there. The attitudes of owners and the press to workers is obvious, but so also is the moralising of their supporters such as Mabon. It is worth noting that Mabon was a lay preacher and teetotaller. While he fought passionately for workers’ rights, it was to do what he deemed appropriate. I don’t want to raise drinking 10 pints of beer to some political statement, but I quite like that the miners gave them a clear message, and used the day as they saw fit.

And this is the link with technology I was musing – many NGOs, Foundations, and Start-ups have very good intentions about how technology can help developing nations, or underprivileged groups. But it often feels like it comes with the Mabon clause – it’s to do the things we view as worthwhile (study, entrepreneurship, creating community). Those are worthwhile things, but a freedom given is one to be used by those people in the manner they see best. Getting drunk on Mabon’s Day may not be the wholesome practice the politicians envisaged, but think of the fun people had at those big public fairs, with races, stalls and entertainment. That was what they wanted and maybe it made the dangerous job and relentless nature of life much more bearable.

So, whenever you hear a tech entrepreneur (for example in a TED talk) talking about the noble, utopian vision they have for the freedom they are gifting to a particular group of people, it’s worth having the lesson of Mabon’s Day in the back of your head, and asking what the equivalent would be, and how that person would then react.

(All of my knowledge on this holiday is from Andy Croll’s article “Mabon’s Day: The Rise and Fall of a Lib–Lab Holiday in the South Wales Coalfield, 1888–1898“)

Ed Tech as discipline

Perseus with the Head of Medusa

(There’s probably a really good metaphor I could make about this image, but I’ve included it just for the Vasari ref below and because Cellini was something of a ‘character’).

There was an article that did the rounds a few days ago about Ed Tech should become a discipline. And last week Audrey Watters gave a tremendous keynote which touched upon why she felt it was a bad idea (it’s worth reading Audrey’s keynote in full not just for the content but as an example of someone really crafting a keynote, developing an idea and articulating it with clarity cf. my approach of chucking together a bunch of slides at the last minute and mumbling my way through them). Audrey’s keynote is a plea for situating educational technology in a broader society and being critical:

“I want to suggest that what we need instead of a discipline called “education technology” is an undisciplining. We need criticism at the center of our work.”

I agree very much with Audrey, that too often ed tech is not critical, it idolises the technology, or at least fails to question what values it carries within its software kernel. But, I wonder (and I wonder a lot about ed tech without getting to firm conclusions), if some of these reservations might not be best overcome by ed tech becoming a discipline. Which sounds paradoxical, but bear with me.

For a start we should ask what we mean by it becoming a discipline? It should have its own journals? Tick. Its own conferences? Check. Recognised accreditation? Hello CMALT. A professional society? Nice to meet you ALT. So, in many ways, it is one already. I guess the defining characteristic though is a number of undergraduate degree in that area. There are a few “Education and IT” type degrees out there, but not really a range of Ed tech ones.

So how might ed tech being a discipline in this respect help? Firstly, it allows us to bring in a range of perspectives. One of the criticisms of ed tech is that people come in from one discipline and are unaware of fundamental work in a related one. So the Ed Tech discipline might well have components from psychology, sociology, education, computer science, statistics, etc. This would help establish a canonical body of texts that you could assume most people in ed tech are familiar with.

Secondly, another criticism of ed tech is that it lacks rigour. Claims are often based on anecdote, small trials, or just hopes about the power of technology. As well as establishing a set of common content, Ed Tech can establish good principles and process in terms of evaluating evidence. These first two I would argue are vital as ed tech becomes more significant in education and the claims made for it more extravagant (why are you thinking of MOOCs?).

Lastly, and for me, most interestingly, it creates a body against which criticism can push. By way of analogy, let us consider Art History, which I’m currently struggling through a Masters in. Art History used to be predominantly about the history of Art. Starting with Vasari’s Lives of the Artists it focused on the ‘great’ artists and their works. Later it shifted to talking about styles as a way of framing the history of art. But in the 1970s there was a reaction to this, bringing in marxist, feminist and multi-cultural perspectives. The implicit assumptions in the previous approaches were directly challenged, leading to the New Art History. Now Art History is as much about “Art History the discipline and practice” as it is about “the history of Art”. By making Ed Tech a discipline there is the possibility that we facilitate a similar perspective. You could only have a New Art History if there was an Old Art History. When a subject becomes a discipline, then it is not long before you get a version of it prefaced by the word “Critical”. Critical Educational Technology sounds fine to me, and could sit alongside Practical Educational Technology to the mutual benefit of both.

Open education and the Unenlightenment

64/365 Ignorance

Generally I don’t go in for a romantic view of the past, and a sense of displeasure with the present. We forget just how grim the past was for most people, for most of history. But lately, I’ve become disillusioned with what we might call “the Unenlightenment”. Now, the Enlightenment is not an unproblematic historical concept (it’s decidedly Euro-centric for a start), but as a general principle it saw a culture that sought to understand the world, through science and art. This desire for knowledge, the very belief that acquiring knowledge was a worthwhile pursuit, underpinned much of cultural development through to the 20th century. And although it started out as a privileged pursuit, the basic premise, which we can summarise as “knowing stuff is good”, went through all of society, as witnessed by the strong links between education and the trade union movements during the industrial revolution. And while the Enlightenment was a European flavour of this principle, there were similar strands before and after in many cultures. When people used to talk of “bettering themselves” they sometimes meant it in purely financial terms, but more often they meant in terms of gaining knowledge (and yes I appreciate it’s a loaded term, but it was one in common usage).

The Unenlightenment sees a reversal of this basic principle: wilful avoidance of knowledge. During the Brexit campaign we saw Michael Gove proudly declare that he didn’t listen to experts. Brexit may be the most complex political task currently underway anywhere in the world – I don’t begin to understand the legislative, trading, social, implications of realising it. Whatever your own view on the vote, it is surely bizarre that experts should be deliberately excluded by some from commenting on a task of such complexity. And with Donald Trump, we repeatedly see him, his team and supporters dismiss facts and experts. This is not incidental, it is core to his appeal. The Daily Show clip below captures this attitude: “Do I have proof? No. Do I have articles? No. But my mind is made up” one supporter declares proudly towards the end.

Trump and the Brexit campaign can be seen as the culmination of a much longer trend of anti-intellectualism however, particularly in the West. In a complex world, people don’t want to hear that there aren’t simple solutions, so the media has dismissed anyone who says otherwise. We can all find our favourite reasons for this I guess: globalisation, neo-liberalism, mass media, etc. That’s beyond the scope of this post. But it does seem that deliberately, and wilfully remaining ignorant is now seen as acceptable, and indeed desirable in a way that once was not the case. That’s my contention anyway, I’m happy to be corrected.

The question then is how does education, and particularly open education operate in this changed context? Education is often promoted as the removal of ignorance. But ignorance can often result from a lack of opportunity. This is something that can be addressed. Indeed my own institution was founded exactly for this purpose, to give educational opportunities to those who were previously excluded. But that is a very different context from when people have opportunity, but deliberately do not want to gain knowledge. You can’t force people to learn. When knowledge and expertise are seen as part of the problem, the elite, the conspiracy, then you are up against more than just opportunity and barriers to learning – it’s a kind of anti-learning.

In this culture, how does education proceed? Simply creating great OERs about climate change, racial history, evidence based approaches, feminism, evolution, or whatever is not enough. They will be avoided, or dismissed. But having those resources is useful I think should someone come to the stage where they want to learn, and having a variety of ways in is important (OER, MOOCs, local college, night classes, blended learning – not just a three year degree). And academics through social media, blogs etc can show that they don’t live in an ivory tower, they’re real people who do know what the “real world” looks like.

But that won’t be enough. And I don’t know what the answers are beyond this. Education needs to fight not only for its own relevance, but for the culture within which it is situated. Open education needs to ask this of itself though. The effects of the Enlightenment were felt for centuries, we have to hope the same isn’t true for the Unenlightenment.

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