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Money, Education and Tokens of Absence
Sabtu, 09 Maret 2013
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Money does amazing things to us. It can reach into the darkest recesses of any personality (however much they might wish to deny its power over them) and, at the very least, cause an emotional response. A £20 note lying on the road is likely to cause most of us to pick it up (whether or not we choose or intend to keep it; the possibility of keeping it is always there). There are few interventions in the environment which can have such a strong effect on agency.
As I argued here (http://dailyimprovisation.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/educational-technology-and.html) the materiality of money is important. It is a thing which everyone can see. Whilst its usage and meaning is constructed, our economy depends on our capacity to ascribe causal significance on a physical token.
What is it a token for? As I argued here (http://dailyimprovisation.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/capability-and-cultivation.html) money increases capability: the flexibility with which we can act in response to the challenges life throws at us. Having money and not having money make a difference when we are faced with risks. The impact of unemployment is far less if one has the liquid assets or other private means that would ensure one didn't lose one's house. With reduced risk comes greater confidence and courage - themselves attributes that build greater capability. Without money and social risks become smothering.
But I don't think money is a token for capability, although it increases capability. In economic exchange, something to which one is attached through having the relation that we call 'ownership' is given up. Money compensates for what is lost. If there is no compensation, then we would say that the thing in question has been 'stolen', although money is not the only compensation for loss (altruistic or potlatch-style "giving" brings its own compensation, for example). But I think this compensatory aspect of money suggests that money might be a token for anything which might be lost; it is a token of absence.
So there is a token of absence, whose use in exchange creates increased capability.
So what of education? It too, as I argued before, much like money, also increases capability. At first glance though, education doesn't appear to have a material 'token' - certainly not a universally recognised one. If it was someone's degree certificate lying on the road, I'm not sure that many people would pick it up. But a degree certificate is a token for the individual it is assigned to. But an educational certificate compensates for the loss of money by an employer. It does this by making a fiduciary statement: "this person will be able to do...". Most employers will not hand over their cash on the basis of certificates alone, but they will hand over their time in interviewing a person. The interview itself is a process of identifying whether the concerns of the employee and the concerns of the employer are compatible. The educational certificate is the first step in that process.
Understanding the processes of agreement, consensus and this kind of meeting of minds is important to understanding the relationship between the tokens of education and the process of employment. I do not think that consensus is achieved by a coordination of specific communications in agreement. I think a better explanation would look at the coordination of absences between people. It is a negative process. Communicating reveals the person by revealing their absences (the things which bear upon their being and shape their thoughts, but are not directly articulated). When two people fall in love (for example) it may be precisely around the impossible-to-articulate voids that both of them recognise that they are drawn together. To a lesser degree, the same may be true in processes of consensus.
This is important because it then allows us to consider the certificate as a 'token of personal absence'. It is the material, negative image of a person's identity which has the power (as a negative image) to draw the attention of others (including employers) into discussion. It's power lies both in what it says and in who says it (which institution). The latter matters because some certificates have a more universal recognition than others. But just as money serves as a compensator of absence in economic exchange, so might the 'token of personal absence' compensate for the effort that is expended in interview.
The processes of producing a 'token of personal absence' are opaque. Education might be a journey of self-discovery, but certifying personal absences is a game that can only be played by a few institutions. Those institutions maintain themselves on the desirability of certification, and the monopoly they hold in it. Informal learning is of course important, and some of the evidence of actions taken in informal learning can too have the property of a 'certification of personal absence'. But a degree certificate from Oxford will have more power because the absences will tend to be richer and more universally recognised.
All though our lives we go on creating certificates of 'personal absence'. These continue to operate in a way which draws others into engaged conversation with us: employers give up their time to interview us; or new acquaintances give up their current concerns to refocus some of their attention on us. Our certificates, the negative signs we bear, compensate for these decisions.
But at all levels, decision is the thing to understand. We decide to enter into education. Employers decide to employ people. The reasons for decision, however, are not (I think) causally deterministic in the linear manner of homo economicus. Decisions are made against a background of absences. If we can speak of causal determinism at all, it is that what is decided in all cases, is determined by what cannot be thought. The creating of symbols for what cannot be thought then can be seen as the most powerful mechanism for social behaviour.
As I argued here (http://dailyimprovisation.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/educational-technology-and.html) the materiality of money is important. It is a thing which everyone can see. Whilst its usage and meaning is constructed, our economy depends on our capacity to ascribe causal significance on a physical token.
What is it a token for? As I argued here (http://dailyimprovisation.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/capability-and-cultivation.html) money increases capability: the flexibility with which we can act in response to the challenges life throws at us. Having money and not having money make a difference when we are faced with risks. The impact of unemployment is far less if one has the liquid assets or other private means that would ensure one didn't lose one's house. With reduced risk comes greater confidence and courage - themselves attributes that build greater capability. Without money and social risks become smothering.
But I don't think money is a token for capability, although it increases capability. In economic exchange, something to which one is attached through having the relation that we call 'ownership' is given up. Money compensates for what is lost. If there is no compensation, then we would say that the thing in question has been 'stolen', although money is not the only compensation for loss (altruistic or potlatch-style "giving" brings its own compensation, for example). But I think this compensatory aspect of money suggests that money might be a token for anything which might be lost; it is a token of absence.
So there is a token of absence, whose use in exchange creates increased capability.
So what of education? It too, as I argued before, much like money, also increases capability. At first glance though, education doesn't appear to have a material 'token' - certainly not a universally recognised one. If it was someone's degree certificate lying on the road, I'm not sure that many people would pick it up. But a degree certificate is a token for the individual it is assigned to. But an educational certificate compensates for the loss of money by an employer. It does this by making a fiduciary statement: "this person will be able to do...". Most employers will not hand over their cash on the basis of certificates alone, but they will hand over their time in interviewing a person. The interview itself is a process of identifying whether the concerns of the employee and the concerns of the employer are compatible. The educational certificate is the first step in that process.
Understanding the processes of agreement, consensus and this kind of meeting of minds is important to understanding the relationship between the tokens of education and the process of employment. I do not think that consensus is achieved by a coordination of specific communications in agreement. I think a better explanation would look at the coordination of absences between people. It is a negative process. Communicating reveals the person by revealing their absences (the things which bear upon their being and shape their thoughts, but are not directly articulated). When two people fall in love (for example) it may be precisely around the impossible-to-articulate voids that both of them recognise that they are drawn together. To a lesser degree, the same may be true in processes of consensus.
This is important because it then allows us to consider the certificate as a 'token of personal absence'. It is the material, negative image of a person's identity which has the power (as a negative image) to draw the attention of others (including employers) into discussion. It's power lies both in what it says and in who says it (which institution). The latter matters because some certificates have a more universal recognition than others. But just as money serves as a compensator of absence in economic exchange, so might the 'token of personal absence' compensate for the effort that is expended in interview.
The processes of producing a 'token of personal absence' are opaque. Education might be a journey of self-discovery, but certifying personal absences is a game that can only be played by a few institutions. Those institutions maintain themselves on the desirability of certification, and the monopoly they hold in it. Informal learning is of course important, and some of the evidence of actions taken in informal learning can too have the property of a 'certification of personal absence'. But a degree certificate from Oxford will have more power because the absences will tend to be richer and more universally recognised.
All though our lives we go on creating certificates of 'personal absence'. These continue to operate in a way which draws others into engaged conversation with us: employers give up their time to interview us; or new acquaintances give up their current concerns to refocus some of their attention on us. Our certificates, the negative signs we bear, compensate for these decisions.
But at all levels, decision is the thing to understand. We decide to enter into education. Employers decide to employ people. The reasons for decision, however, are not (I think) causally deterministic in the linear manner of homo economicus. Decisions are made against a background of absences. If we can speak of causal determinism at all, it is that what is decided in all cases, is determined by what cannot be thought. The creating of symbols for what cannot be thought then can be seen as the most powerful mechanism for social behaviour.
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Teleodynamics and the Forms of Knowledge
Selasa, 05 Maret 2013
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It slightly amazes me that there is still such interest in Paul Hirst's Forms of Knowledge (my post on Hirst here: http://dailyimprovisation.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/hirsts-forms-of-knowledge.html attracts more hits than anything else on my blog!). Not that there's anything deeply wrong with the work - it's very good - but it dates from 1971! Has nothing changed regarding our thinking about subjects in the intervening 40 years? Yet, we see wave after wave of reform on the curriculum, assessment and school organisation. Reactionary moves like Free schools (which are rather costly!) seek organisational and institutional responses to autonomy over problems of the curriculum.
It's remarkable how some of these schools seem to be going after the 'Hogwarts' market - offering the kind of education that Michael Gove believes is good for us. This is a free school near me: http://www.kingsleadershipacademy.com/ I'm sure that the teachers are great and the kids and parents keen, but I find that everything about this, from the name of this establishment to the curriculum it offers speaks of deep confusion about education, curriculum, class, family and society. And that's not to mention the controversy about the incursion into the existing school and playing fields (see http://www.warringtonguardian.co.uk/news/9743569.Woolston_free_school_decision__called_in_/). But there's some heavyweight backing behind this...
Perhaps that answers my question: Hirst's work was at least a serious and thoughtful attempt to address the question "exactly what do we think we are doing with education?" What happened afterwards was generally characterised by a lack of thought: Thatcher, New Labour (education, education, education) and now Gove. How the years fly by!! Education has become a political football, like a child in a broken marriage, torn apart by political rhetoric when it just wanted to be left alone - and maybe loved a little.
I wonder if the problem we face is that Hirst's work wasn't good enough. It wasn't good enough to convincingly set the groundwork for a coherent alternative to the expedient likes of Keith Joseph, Kenneth Baker, Blair or Gove. The problems of education are caused by bad theory.
Can we do better? I think we need "critical holism" in educational thinking. What goes on the classroom is related to the question of how institutions are organised, how resources are allocated by government, how families cope with the pressures of raising children, how teachers cope with the pressures of bureaucracy, right up to the question of "what sort of a society do we want to live in?" Government supporters would say "Free schools precisely aim to increase flexibility and autonomy in the classroom by giving the administration independence". But a critical holist would say "Nonsense! What you've done is redirect resources from an established system to something untried for political short-term gain (and for the selfish gain of the sponsors of the free school institutions), with scant regard to the institutions that will suffer!". There's no critical holistic thinking there.
The greatest challenge for a holistic approach, however, is where to begin. Everything is connected to everything else; every layer of the system, from the cognitive demands on learners to the financial strictures bearing on institutions is related to every other layer. Indeed, government thinking since the 1970s has tended to be a see-saw process of focusing on one level to the exclusion of the others: boxed-in thinking has dominated education (I see this not least in my own institution, where - as in others - 'retention' is discussed in a way completely unrelated to pedagogy or assessment, because certain issues are outside the remit of the committee concerned).
I think the best place to start is the most difficult. It's "teaching and learning". We are not at all clear what learning or teaching is. But uninspected assumptions here snowball into other layers of thinking. Is learning the acquisition of content and teaching its presentation? Surely not! Is it axons and dendrites making stronger connections with reinforcement? perhaps... Is learning adaptation? Maybe... but adaptation to what? Is the teacher the regulator monitoring communications of learners as in Pask's 'teach-back'? Maybe... But... there's something missing. We can't prove any of this. They're all just metaphysical assertions (even the axons and dendrites!). But they hide their metaphysical essence behind an image of scientific respectability (thanks, Piaget)
Teaching and learning is the most difficult question because it is the most metaphysical. But metaphysics is unavoidable. I think a scientific starting point should acknowledge the metaphysics explicitly from the start: begin with what we can't know and see the effect it has on what we do know. That means beginning with the void - beginning with absence. Then things can get interesting...
Hirst's forms of knowledge are stratified entities of 'discourse'. His distinctions highlight some essential qualities and irreducible natures to particular aspects of the curriculum: Maths is different from Art which is different from French. He may be right here, but he offers no account of how this irreducibility of the curriculum arises: he just asserts it.
But taking absence into account might do this. Deacon's work on 'Teleodynamics' suggests a way in which irreducible structures emerge from an interplay between internal 'present' mechanisms and absences which form the context within which those structure emerge.
If something like the forms of knowledge can be shown to emerge from this kind of absence-driven process, then there are some important issues that can be addressed in the explanatory power of Hirst's work. The issue of reified knowledge is addressed because the 'reification' is seen as a consequence of an emergent mechanism. At the same time, that emergent mechanism is the learning process itself.
In other words, a critical holistic perspective becomes possible with the help of absences all the way through the educational system. The absences in the learning process shape the dynamics between teacher and learner. Whilst there is teach-back and coordination, there is also the emergence of irreducible structures (habits, concepts, etc) which carry their own absences. Irreducible structures at this level interact with larger-scale irreducible structures which are similarly emergent: the curriculum, timetable, institutional forms, etc.
The education system from this perspective is an emergent entity which is stratified and irreducible. Holism allows us to see the patterns of its emergence, deeper knowledge about which can give us an indication of the kinds of intervention we might make with it. But the ever-presence of absences means that the critical/negative aspect of continuous critique allows the never-ending probing of what's missing, the determination of shared absences, and the gradual unpicking of pathologies in the system.
The ultimate aim of a critical holist approach to education is the progressive determination of shared absence, achieved through deep systemic explanation and grounded critique.
It's remarkable how some of these schools seem to be going after the 'Hogwarts' market - offering the kind of education that Michael Gove believes is good for us. This is a free school near me: http://www.kingsleadershipacademy.com/ I'm sure that the teachers are great and the kids and parents keen, but I find that everything about this, from the name of this establishment to the curriculum it offers speaks of deep confusion about education, curriculum, class, family and society. And that's not to mention the controversy about the incursion into the existing school and playing fields (see http://www.warringtonguardian.co.uk/news/9743569.Woolston_free_school_decision__called_in_/). But there's some heavyweight backing behind this...
Perhaps that answers my question: Hirst's work was at least a serious and thoughtful attempt to address the question "exactly what do we think we are doing with education?" What happened afterwards was generally characterised by a lack of thought: Thatcher, New Labour (education, education, education) and now Gove. How the years fly by!! Education has become a political football, like a child in a broken marriage, torn apart by political rhetoric when it just wanted to be left alone - and maybe loved a little.
I wonder if the problem we face is that Hirst's work wasn't good enough. It wasn't good enough to convincingly set the groundwork for a coherent alternative to the expedient likes of Keith Joseph, Kenneth Baker, Blair or Gove. The problems of education are caused by bad theory.
Can we do better? I think we need "critical holism" in educational thinking. What goes on the classroom is related to the question of how institutions are organised, how resources are allocated by government, how families cope with the pressures of raising children, how teachers cope with the pressures of bureaucracy, right up to the question of "what sort of a society do we want to live in?" Government supporters would say "Free schools precisely aim to increase flexibility and autonomy in the classroom by giving the administration independence". But a critical holist would say "Nonsense! What you've done is redirect resources from an established system to something untried for political short-term gain (and for the selfish gain of the sponsors of the free school institutions), with scant regard to the institutions that will suffer!". There's no critical holistic thinking there.
The greatest challenge for a holistic approach, however, is where to begin. Everything is connected to everything else; every layer of the system, from the cognitive demands on learners to the financial strictures bearing on institutions is related to every other layer. Indeed, government thinking since the 1970s has tended to be a see-saw process of focusing on one level to the exclusion of the others: boxed-in thinking has dominated education (I see this not least in my own institution, where - as in others - 'retention' is discussed in a way completely unrelated to pedagogy or assessment, because certain issues are outside the remit of the committee concerned).
I think the best place to start is the most difficult. It's "teaching and learning". We are not at all clear what learning or teaching is. But uninspected assumptions here snowball into other layers of thinking. Is learning the acquisition of content and teaching its presentation? Surely not! Is it axons and dendrites making stronger connections with reinforcement? perhaps... Is learning adaptation? Maybe... but adaptation to what? Is the teacher the regulator monitoring communications of learners as in Pask's 'teach-back'? Maybe... But... there's something missing. We can't prove any of this. They're all just metaphysical assertions (even the axons and dendrites!). But they hide their metaphysical essence behind an image of scientific respectability (thanks, Piaget)
Teaching and learning is the most difficult question because it is the most metaphysical. But metaphysics is unavoidable. I think a scientific starting point should acknowledge the metaphysics explicitly from the start: begin with what we can't know and see the effect it has on what we do know. That means beginning with the void - beginning with absence. Then things can get interesting...
Hirst's forms of knowledge are stratified entities of 'discourse'. His distinctions highlight some essential qualities and irreducible natures to particular aspects of the curriculum: Maths is different from Art which is different from French. He may be right here, but he offers no account of how this irreducibility of the curriculum arises: he just asserts it.
But taking absence into account might do this. Deacon's work on 'Teleodynamics' suggests a way in which irreducible structures emerge from an interplay between internal 'present' mechanisms and absences which form the context within which those structure emerge.
If something like the forms of knowledge can be shown to emerge from this kind of absence-driven process, then there are some important issues that can be addressed in the explanatory power of Hirst's work. The issue of reified knowledge is addressed because the 'reification' is seen as a consequence of an emergent mechanism. At the same time, that emergent mechanism is the learning process itself.
In other words, a critical holistic perspective becomes possible with the help of absences all the way through the educational system. The absences in the learning process shape the dynamics between teacher and learner. Whilst there is teach-back and coordination, there is also the emergence of irreducible structures (habits, concepts, etc) which carry their own absences. Irreducible structures at this level interact with larger-scale irreducible structures which are similarly emergent: the curriculum, timetable, institutional forms, etc.
The education system from this perspective is an emergent entity which is stratified and irreducible. Holism allows us to see the patterns of its emergence, deeper knowledge about which can give us an indication of the kinds of intervention we might make with it. But the ever-presence of absences means that the critical/negative aspect of continuous critique allows the never-ending probing of what's missing, the determination of shared absences, and the gradual unpicking of pathologies in the system.
The ultimate aim of a critical holist approach to education is the progressive determination of shared absence, achieved through deep systemic explanation and grounded critique.
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"Homo Sovietus" and an Imagined Educational Dystopia
Senin, 04 Maret 2013
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I've been reading Andreï Makine's "A life's Music" which draws on Alexander Zinoviev's concept of "homo sovieticus" - the particular species of human being bent by the Soviet system. Zinoviev's concept was characterised by (from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_Sovieticus)
- Indifference to the results of his labour
- Indifference to common property and petty theft from the workplace, both for personal use and for profit.
- Isolation from world culture, created by the Soviet Union's restrictions on travel abroad and strict censorship of information in the media (as well as the abundance of propaganda).
- Obedience or passive acceptance of everything that government imposes on them.
- Avoidance of taking any individual responsibility on anything.
- a tendency to drink heavily
As Makine points out, Zinoviev's characterisation resonated with everyone. It was the concept everybody in the system could relate to. When everyone has a shared experience like that, a powerful concept can take root and be transformative in beginning to overturn the system.
But we all have a shared experience of education too. In the future, we might all have a shared experience of online education. If Homo Sovieticus was the result of an educational rather than a political system, what would we see? Perhaps Zinoviev's features can be transposed to education like this:
- Indifference to knowledge and wisdom
- Indifference to social responsibility and politics
- Isolation from each other
- Obedience to institutional rules and regulations
- Avoidance of taking personal responsibility or risk
- and a tendency to drink heavily!
We can probably recognise a few 'strategic learners' in there! But the point about Zinoviev is that everyone was like that. Could everyone become like that in our education system? What kind of education system might produce this kind of alienation?
I find this an interesting question. Most of the time we try to design educational utopias. We tend to spend less time designing dystopias. But it's quite good fun, so let's have a go...
To produce this kind of alienation, an education system would have to be oppressive, and individuals would be unable to escape it. No professional advancement would be possible without succumbing to the education system and gaining the certification it produced. So there would need to be high level legislation which restricted the actions of employers in ensuring only those with the appropriate paperwork could be employed. Further legislation could be produced which controlled the promotion of employees to particular roles depending on the gaining of further certificates. Competencies, dictated by institutions and professional bodies, and only capable of being signed-off by accredited institutions, would determine complete dependency on engagement with those institutions. Technology means that the scale of tracking and categorising competencies and certificates for each individual is easily managed with the help of a DNA fingerprint. There is no way of slipping through the net.
One would think that working for educational institutions would then be a safe place to be in such a system. But this is not the case. In this dystopian world, education is the biggest employer. (The jobs in sectors that education produces certificates for are largely automated and so provide few jobs, although each individual gaining certification hopes they will be lucky!) As an employer, education is a trap. Whilst each individual aims for the heights of educational virtue, the institutional system - struggling as it does to keep everyone busy - puts barriers in the way to prevent anything happening. But what does this do to the spirit of the people?
Like every human being, individuals in this dystopian education system search for meaning in their lives. They used to search for food - and at least that is plentiful thanks to the automation of the farms. But now they search for meaning in a world which is befuddling. In the complexity of this world of education, there is no way of connecting the dots. Each person hopes one day to have worked it out. But it is futile. The system preaches meaningfulness, but produces bureaucracy and petty rules. Each individual might plan their actions as 'the next step' towards a meaningful existence. But each step is thwarted by some official blockage or other "ah - but you need certified competency 2.3.5 to do that... go to this website... and there's a fee..." And then at every step of the way is an invitation to consume a bewildering and unpalatable array of financial products and services (in order to pay for education) which will further bear on the restrictions to act meaningfully for many years in the future.
So what emerges? The only meaning available is to play the system; become part of the bureaucracy. And from there the human indifference and isolation which is the hallmark of Zinoviev's Homo Sovieticus starts to reveal itself.
One would think that working for educational institutions would then be a safe place to be in such a system. But this is not the case. In this dystopian world, education is the biggest employer. (The jobs in sectors that education produces certificates for are largely automated and so provide few jobs, although each individual gaining certification hopes they will be lucky!) As an employer, education is a trap. Whilst each individual aims for the heights of educational virtue, the institutional system - struggling as it does to keep everyone busy - puts barriers in the way to prevent anything happening. But what does this do to the spirit of the people?
Like every human being, individuals in this dystopian education system search for meaning in their lives. They used to search for food - and at least that is plentiful thanks to the automation of the farms. But now they search for meaning in a world which is befuddling. In the complexity of this world of education, there is no way of connecting the dots. Each person hopes one day to have worked it out. But it is futile. The system preaches meaningfulness, but produces bureaucracy and petty rules. Each individual might plan their actions as 'the next step' towards a meaningful existence. But each step is thwarted by some official blockage or other "ah - but you need certified competency 2.3.5 to do that... go to this website... and there's a fee..." And then at every step of the way is an invitation to consume a bewildering and unpalatable array of financial products and services (in order to pay for education) which will further bear on the restrictions to act meaningfully for many years in the future.
So what emerges? The only meaning available is to play the system; become part of the bureaucracy. And from there the human indifference and isolation which is the hallmark of Zinoviev's Homo Sovieticus starts to reveal itself.
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